2 10 42 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/d4984616994646a139e69ff145a7333b.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=gJxqB8DvHS9LVcTd6U3VzHBqis%7EP%7ESuTPf4KNUyco-AjaUR6Px4t8dCi56qEGwwvArq6K7u68o-093pVUP%7EIsoP6DRafyBjRe%7ESZqW02BJ79j23QZ0biQtHEIMYo9XHDBBWYCQkFZntx43pK6KqjeQ05khf%7EUdLZ9%7EvFAY5KlA5PfMsYavW2rebToWMGZSkwTkH9mH1zzf9SgtJs7flj928aLXlW7GgWlYBSVZZ8nqhpCjMO2Nj6zROi66w-sRKxRwvwlhOU96FyAJpymclfelpvkbhaZiGCSIceuo5pUby8S052wKNDblhwTwQYC%7EDCo4JrTEGxBKfZApMh1%7E-kaQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 78555919476e18da67ce162c35f47c20 PDF Text Text SECOND ANNUAL ADDRESS OF THE PRESIDENT / TO THE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY, Delivered at the Anniversary Meeting, Friday, 16th May, 1873. BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, Esq. SUMMARY OF CONTENTS. Introduction ..........................................................................................................' ... Report by the President on Phonology ........... Report by the President on the Papers read before the Philological Society in the three years ending 31st December, 1872 ............................ Report by the President, assisted by Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte, on Basque .......................................... Report by A. J. Patterson, Esq., on Hungarian..................... Report by J". Muir, Esq., of Edinburgh, on Sanscrit Lexicons ............ Report by Prof. Aufrecht, of Edinburgh, on Sanscrit Grammars .................... Report by J. Peile, Esq., Tutor of Christ's College, Cambridge, on Greek ... Report by Dr. W. Wagker, of the Johanneum, Hamburg, on Latin ...... Report by F. J. Furnivall, Esq., on Parly English, p. 35, with an Appendix by Rev. W. W. Skeat ........................................................................................ Report by the President on the formation of an English Hialect Society ... Report by the President on Professor Max Miiller’s latest views of the Philosophy of the Origin of Language ........................ PAGE 1 3 9 12 16 19 22 26 29 45 47 48 �PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY COUNCIL, 1873-4. President. ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. Vice-Presidents. THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. THE ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. THE BISHOP OF ST. DAVID’S. EDWIN GUEST, ESQ., LL.D., Master of Caius College, Cambridge. T. HEWITT KEY, ESQ. WHITLEY STOKES, ESQ. THE REV. DR. RICHARD MORRIS. Ordinary JOSEPH PAYNE, ESQ. (Chairman). TH. AUFRECHT, ESQ. E. L. BRANDRETH, ESQ. C. CASSAL, ESQ. C. B. CAYLEY, ESQ. THE REV. B. DAVIES. II. H. GIBBS, ESQ. J. W. HALES, ESQ. E. R. HORTON, ESQ. THE REV. DR. KENNEDY. Members. HENRY MALDEN, ESQ. J. MUIR, ESQ. JAS. A. H. MURRAY, ESQ. RUSSELL MARTINEAU, ESQ. HENRY NICOL, ESQ. J. PEILE, ESQ. CHARLES RIEU, ESQ. THE REV. W. W. SKEAT. HENRY SWEET, ESQ. HENSLEIGH WEDGWOOD, ESQ Treasurer. DAN BY P. FRY, ESQ., Local Govt. Board, Gwydr House, Whitehall, S.W. Hon. Secretary. FREDK. J. FURNIVALL, ESQ., 3, St. George’s Square, Primrose Hill, N.W. Extracts from the Philological Society's Pules. “The Philological Society is formed for the investigation of the Structure, the Affinities, and the History of Languages; and the Philological Illustration of the Classical Writers of Greece and Rome.” “Each Member shall pay two guineas on his election, one guinea as entrance fee, and one guinea for his first year’s contribution. The Annual Subscription shall become due on the 1st of January in each year. Any Member may compound for his contribution by the payment of Ten Guineas, exclusive of his entrance-fee.” Members are entitled to a Copy of all Papers issued by the Society, and to attend, and introduce a friend to, the Meetings of the Society, on the first and third Fridays in every month, from November to June. Subscriptions are to be paid to the Treasurer, or to the Society’s Bankers, Messrs. Ransom, Bouverie, & Co., 1, Pall Mall East, W. Applications for admission should be made to the Honorary Secretary, F. J. Furnivall, Esq., 3, St. George’s Square, Primrose Hill, N.W. �SECOND ANNUAL ADDRESS OF THE PRESIDENT TO THE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY, Delivered at the Anniversary Meeting, Friday, 16th May, 1873. By ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, Esq. SUMMARY OF CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction ............................. 1 Report by the President on. Phonology ............ 3 Report by the President on the Papers read before the Philo­ logical Society in the three years ending 31st December, 1872 .................................... 9 Report by the President, assisted by Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte, on Basque ... 12 Report by A. J. Patterson, Esq., on Hungarian............................ 16 Report by J. Muir, Esq., of Edin­ burgh, on Sanscrit Lexicons ... 19 Report by Prof. Aufrecht, of Edinburgh, on Sanscrit Gram- Report by J. Peile, Esq., Tutor of Christ’s College, Cambridge, on Greek............... Report by Dr. W. Wagner, of the Johanneum, Hamburg, on Latin ............... Report by F. J. Furnivall, Esq., on Parly English, p. 35, with an Appendix by Rev. W. W. Skeat ..................................... Report by the President on .the formation of an English Dialect Society ........... Report by the President on Professor Max Muller’s latest views of the Philosophy of the Origin of Language ...... 26 29 45 47 48 Introduction. Ladies and Gentlemen, Members of the Philological Society,— The address I delivered at the last Anniversary was con­ fessedly merely an introduction to that series of Annual Reports upon the Progress of Philology which our late esteemed President, Dr, Groldstiicker, bequeathed as an obliga­ tion to his successors in this Chair. In endeavouring to carry out his views, I feel how just was his estimation of the diffi­ culties of the task proposed, which are indeed sufficient to prevent any President from carrying it out single-handed. The necessity for seeking assistance from others who should 1 �2 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 be Members of the Society was in Dr. Goldstiicker’s eyes the very essence of his plan. I have not been able to carry out this limitation strictly, but, as an experiment, I have en­ deavoured to do so as far as possible. On other occasions circumstances may induce your President to seek assistance in any accessible quarter rather than abstain from laying desirable information before the Society. On the present occasion I have been very careful in distinguishing con­ tributed adornments from my own web. My original intention was to supplement the valuable summary given by Pott in the last edition of his “ Etymologische Forsch ungen” at the close of 1869, and bring down the account of philological research to the close of 1872. This intention I soon abandoned. I found not only that it would require special laborious research, for which my other duties left me no leisure, but that, if I attempted to compress the account into the limits of an address, it would probably result in a mere catalogue of books, tedious to listen to, and impossible to remember. It then occurred to me that as this was to be practically the first Report presented to the Society, it should rather deal with the present state of philology, than with its special progress during the last three years. But even this design I have been unable to carry out as I could have wished. On future occasions it will be open to my successors either to review the whole history of the pre­ ceding year, or to take up some special parts, which may have become prominent during that time, or to which the President has been naturally led to pay more attention. We must, I think, never attempt too much. Few things are more tedious to listen to than a scramble over a wide subject. Notwithstanding the kind assistance of many friends, to whom I here tender my best thanks on the part of the Society, my present Report, although almost unreasonably long, is very defective and even fragmentary. Our Homer is too plethoric for any nutshell. The illness or other en­ gagements of Members from whom I hoped to receive assistance have also led me to abandon several special branches, some of which will I hope be taken up next year. �(DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 3 My present Report is therefore merely an attempt, not a model. “ On le peut; je l'essaye; un plus savant le fasse.” But enough of exordium which threatens to bear a whaleshead proportion to the body of my address. Phonology. Phonology (to begin with my own department) is the side where philology touches physics. Philology overflows into many regions. Language is essentially the visible symbol of man’s views of natural relations. It teems with incunabular metaphysics and logic. It bears the impress of changing civilisation. It is the only indisputable tradition. And the science of language, when constituted, must meander through all these regions. But language is first of all a col­ lection of audible sounds generated by a special apparatus. How it is generated, and how when generated it is appre­ ciated, is consequently the first problem of philology, and it is purely physical and physiological. Until it is solved, better than by the first cunning alphabet-maker, we cannot understand how it has been solved by his numerous com­ peers, each no doubt with his own theory founded on his own narrow knowledge and local habits. And until this is ac­ complished, we do not know the-words we see, that is, we do not know the most rudimentary facts on which the science we contemplate must be established. How far are we ad­ vanced towards the solution of this problem ? The research is almost entirely of modern growth in Europe, and it has had much to contend with in the passage of an Aryan language through a Semitic symbolisation utterly inadequate to represent any of the numerous phonetic systems which are in practical daily European use. Men first attacked the problem for its practical value—to teach the deaf and dumb to speak, to teach a foreigner to pro­ nounce, to make a child learn reading more easily. Kempelen’s speaking machine, which has been reproduced by Wheatstone, and to which Faber’s was mainly due, made the sounds of language a physical phenomenon, independent ’ �4 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 of life. Johannes Muller’s researches, followed by those of Willis, Briicke, Merkel, Helmholtz, and Donders, aided by the beautiful apparatus of Konig, have made them a physio­ logical phenomenon. The especial requirements of the singer led to Garcia’s laryngoscope, which in the hands of Czermak, Merkel, Madame Seiler, and Herr Behnke of Birmingham,1 has quite recently thrown new light upon some of the obscurest problems of speech-sounds, by making the actual motions of the glottis visible. The necessities of correcting defective utterance have given occasion for the closest observations upon convulsive, nervous actions in the various mobile cavities whence speech issues, and in their natural interceptors. None seem to have turned their obser­ vations on these matters to better account than Mr. Melville Bell, whose Visible Speech marks an era in phonology, and contrasts most favourably with the purely physiological contemporary alphabets of Briicke and Merkel. The neces­ sities of missionary enterprise have rendered imperative the actual reduction of unwritten languages to a visible form, and no system has found more favour in this respect than Lepsius’s. In the pure interest of comparative linguistics, Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte has endeavoured to find signs for all the sounds which he has heard actually pro­ nounced. But his most recent collection of sounds, far larger than any of those hitherto formed by his predecessors in the same field of research, has not yet been published. The great care with which these sounds have been actually ascertained to form parts of spoken language, as distinguished from the possibilities of theorists, makes them an indispens1 See Czermak’s papers read before the Vienna Academy, especially: Sitzungsberichte, Matb. Cl. Band xxix, No. 12, 29th April, 1858, pp. 557-584, and Band lii, Abth. 2, Heft x, 7th Dec., 1865, pp. 623-641. Merkel: Die Funktionen des menschlichen Sehlundund Kehlkopfes, 1862. Mad. Seiler: Aites und Neues uber die Ausbildung des Gesangorganes, 1861, of which a revised English translation was pub­ lished in Philadelphia, U.S., in 1871, under the title of: The Voice in Sing­ ing. Herr Emil Behnke has twice lec­ tured on this subject before the Tonic Sol-fa College: once to the medical students of University College (re­ ported in the Lancet for Feb. 8, 1873), and once to a musical audience there. He has the rare power of shewing his glottis reflected in the laryngoscope while he is in the act of singing, and of hence demonstrating the meaning of the registers of the human voice. �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 5 able thesaurus for future phonologists, the value of which is greatly increased by its skilful arrangement. It is to be hoped that the key-words at least of this tabular arrange­ ment will be made accessible to all phonologic students. I have personally to thank the Prince for the kindness with which he has made it accessible to me, both in a laborious transcription, and by oral communication. With the Russian extensions of the Cyrillian alphabet to meet the wants of their comparative philologists, I am unfortunately not ac­ quainted. Lepsius’s alphabet is also meant for philology, but both his, Prince L. L. Bonaparte’s and the Russian system—as also Bell’s, Briicke’s, and Merkel's, in a still greater degree—labour under typographical difficulties. It was to obviate these, without proposing any system of phonology, that I introduced my own Palaeotype, from which the commonest jobbing printer can set up a repre­ sentation of sounds, that can be transliterated almost exactly into Bell’s, and, with certain modifications, into Lepsius’sj Briicke’s, or Merkel’s. But we have within the last few years reached such an advanced stage of phonological re­ search, that the fundamentally different habits and views of nations respecting speech-sounds, formerly quite overlooked, become sensible. It is the inability of English and Germans to understand one another as to the most common sounds in their own languages which creates the difficulty. The dif­ ference is really one of great philological importance. It is at the base of the whole difficulty of mediae et aspiratae. It will, when thoroughly overcome, probably lead to the ex­ planation of Grimm’s law. The difficulty is not indeed felt only between England and Germany; German phonologists in different districts misunderstand each other.1 Naturally 1 The following passage contained in a note from Mr. Henry Sweet, received (Sth March, 1873) while I was en­ gaged in preparing this address, forcibly illustrates my meaning. “ I find that Ivar Aasen (who has written the first ■Norwegian Grammar) actually takes the description given by the Danes of their glottal catch, and by a little alteration makes it so utterly unin­ telligible, that he is able to apply it to the modulative Norse tones! This shews us what we may expect from . written accounts of sounds. I may note that Aasen is on the whole de­ cidedly above the philological average in describing sounds.” Now the Nor­ wegian modulation (consisting in a �6 THE PRESIDENT S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 we Northern Europeans all misunderstand Romance and Indian phonologists. Now I think this very satisfactory—of course not as an end, but as a means. The present stage of phonology is that of an acknowledged and felt necessity for more inquiry, more observation, more experiment, especially more internation­ ality. Writers like Rumpelt and Scherer/ who seek to turn Brucke to philological account, because he is an acute physi­ ologist, are rather too hasty. It is a healthy sign that philologists should seek such help, but it is a pity that they do not also go beyond their own national, or rather local habits. Philology deals especially with geographical trans­ missions, and with hereditary tendencies to pronounce in certain ways, at least as marked as other linguistic and racial characteristics. We shall never understand comparative philology till these are properly weighed and understood. We are still seeking the path through a shifting bog of ignorance. This also complicates some phonological questions which are exciting much interest at the present day. How did our ancestors speak in Europe ? In other words, what is the value of their letters ? Grimm was unfortunately no phonologist. “ Die Luft ist zu diinn,” was his celebrated phrase. Hence the whole Gothic, Teutonic, and Scandinavian languages have still to be investigated. Mr. Sweet’s recent paper on Danish pronunciation will serve to shew you what difficulties have to be here encountered, and the necessity of attending to what outsiders are apt to consider as absurdly minute distinctions, forgetting that all beginnings are minute, and that development must be studied in cell-growth, not in adult forms. Corssen’s ponderous work on Latin pronuncia­ tion is a great mine, but is deficient in comparative phonology; he is evidently a German speaking Romance. Roby’s Latin change of pitch while uttering sounds) is a substitute for the Danish glottal catch (consisting in a momentary stoppage of voice by complete closure of the glottis), but is of an utterly different character. Mr. Sweet is for­ tunately familiar with both, and hence can detect the confusion. But fancy an uninformed Englishman endeavour­ ing to discover the facts amid this fog! 1 Rumpelt: Das natiirliche System der Sprachlaute, 1869. Scherer: Zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache, 1868. �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 7 grammar endeavours to make use of the most recent English phonology, but (as he so often quotes my own writings, I feel a right to say as much) modern English and ancient Latin sounds had probably such different bases, that the modern restoration may be very unlike the ancient edifice. The investigation is going on. . The Oxford and Cambridge profes­ sors have issued a syllabus of Latin Pronunciation for schools, and we shall probably soon be speaking in a way which a Roman Rip van Winkel, with sinological anticipations, might call “ pigeon Latin.” Still all these are steps in the right direction. The danger is dogmatism. In modern languages I may mention in passing my own attempts to reach Early English, which have this vantage-ground, that the modern and ancient phonological systems in this case are at least genealogically related. Much still remains to be done in the Romance languages, Diez notwithstanding. Greek is almost a terra incognita. We talk of the glorious sounds of that language, which we read in a way that would be, no doubt, as unintelligible to ancient, as it certainly is to modern Greeks, and about as pleasant to both as is to us a Frenchman’s attempt at reading English before he has learned the alphabet. And all Europe utters equally insane cries, and thinks it spouts Homer and Aeschylus. One word on the direction of phonological inquiry which is now specially needed. It is not so much more analysis and systematisation that we require. In fact we rather labour under a load of systems of universes, themselves un­ explored. It is a careful examination of the synthesis of sounds in different nations, and even small localities, that is principally wanted. Whether in proceeding from (p) to (aa), we commence with an open or closed glottis, and, if with the latter, whether we insert a dull non-vocal intrapharyngeal thud, or whether we come on the vowel smoothly or explosively, or even with a jerk accompanied by a puff,— these are questions of real philological importance. These varieties in progression from sound to sound generate new sounds, which lead to various linguistic transformations. Hence we should obtain information about them if possible �8 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNEAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 first hand, by observations on the life. The different theories hitherto propounded by philologists, from the depths or rather the shallows of their own limited experience, are mere ignes fatui. Alphabetists have uniformly shirked the whole inquiry. The various actual results produced from the same apparent combinations of letters under different national habits are as surprising as they are important for comparative philologists to understand with accuracy. It is with great satisfaction that I can turn to two papers read before our own Society, as exemplifying in the happiest manner the kind of phonetic research which philology now urgently requires,—the intelligent, practical, minute, ex­ haustive analysis of existing usage. Of Mr. Jas. A. H. Murray’s treatise on “ The Dialect of the Southern Counties of Scotland,” read at the close of 1869, but only just pub­ lished as the Second Part of the Philological Transactions for 1870-2, further mention will be made in the Report on Early English, as respects its linguistic value. But I would here draw attention to the admirable manner in which the real Scotch sounds have been for the first time presented to an English reader, their historical relations considered, and their dialectal differences explained, on pp. 93 to 149, and 237 to 248 of that work. The only piece of phonological work on dialects comparable with this is Schmeller’s Mundarten Bayerns, 1821, which is, however, greatly inferior in phonetic knowledge and powers of discrimination, though more minute in local details. The two works together form models on which to base future dialectal work. The paper of Mr. Henry Sweet on Danish Pronunciation '{Philological Transactions for 1873-4, pp. 94-112), which I have already mentioned in passing, is one of the acutest phonological investigations of recent times. Mr. Murray was writing of his own native pronunciation, and comparing it with Southern English, with which he had been for years familiar. Mr. Sweet spent a summer over an entirely new language, in which the orthography offered no assistance, and pronouncing dictionaries did not exist. He had with his own spade, as it were, to dig the pronunciation of every �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 9 word out of the native mine; first to bring his ear to recog­ nize the novel sounds and their very remarkable synthesis, and then to determine when and where they had to be used. Mr. Sweet fortunately began his phonetic career by a study of Mr. Bell’s Visible Speech, and he was already a good Scandinavian scholar before he attacked the modern lan­ guage. This paper shews what we may look for from such a combination. It will, I hope, some day be enlarged to the dimensions of a book. The clear account of the Danish and Norwegian systems of tones, their contrast and relation; the discrimination of the exceedingly curious anomalies in the labialised vowels; the original rules, deduced from ex­ haustive lists made by himself, for the peculiar distinctive use of close and open vowels; the degradations of the consonants into the second elements of diphthongs; the whole treatment of initial and final consonants; the remarkable determinations of the comparative lengths of consonants after long and short vowels in Danish and English; each observation enough to make an observer’s reputation;—will stamp this paper as a classical example of the phonological treatment of language. Philology in the Philological Society. Our own Society has certainly developed a decided inclina­ tion for phonologic research. Of the 51 papers which have been read during the three years ending last December, 15 or nearly 30 per cent, are more or less closely connected with Phonology. Prof. Hewitt Key gave us three papers on Latin Accent and Rhythm. Mr. Sweet criticised the late Prof. Koch’s theory of the Anglo-Saxon ea, and gave us that valuable paper on Danish pronunciation already characterised. Mr. Cayley treated the hard and soft consonants and discre­ pancies in early alphabets. Dr. Weymouth raised a theory of old English and Anglo-Saxon pronunciation, in opposition to one I had ventured to propose. Mr. Brandreth expatiated on vowel-intensification. Mr. Nicol selected the old French labials, and Prof. Cassal the modern French accent tonique. �10 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 And finally I troubled the Society with my paper on Glossic and some conversational remarks on accent, quantity, and diphthongs. My Glossic paper was indeed related to one by Mr. Fry on improving English orthography ; and these two papers, arising out of many meetings in committee, finally gave rise to a two-nights’ discussion, which confessedly left the matter where it would have probably continued to lie whatever had been our decision—namely with the conservativism, negligence, fancifulness, pedantry, purism, or radicalism of individual scribes. As to the languages with which we dealt during the same time, Prof. Hewitt Key’s papers on Latin accent and rhythm, already referred to, and three others on some errors and omissions in Latin dictionaries, with another on the com­ pression of Latin words (which I might have classed among the phonetic papers), and a short paper on an ode of Horace by Mr. Schonemann, gave Latin the preference over English. But our own language had several papers by Prof. Joseph Payne, especially in relation to the origination of many pro­ vincial English words through the Norman. Mr. Murray illustrated Shakspere’s usages from modern dialects, and re­ marked on the dialectic varieties of the prose works attributed to Hampole. Mr. Fry dealt with “ Chinee” and kindred words; Dr. Morris read some notes on English grammar and the old Kentish dialect, and amused us with detailing various eccentricities in the older and newer forms of our language; and Mr. Wedgwood contributed a few additional etymolo­ gies. Mr. Yates wrote on the orthography of past tenses and participles. Mr. Sweet finally gave us an interesting paper on the special characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon language of the time of Alfred. These were our main subjects. But French in its old form was treated by Dr. E. Mall in a paper on Marie de France, and in its modern form by Mr. Dawson, and afterwards by Prof. Cassal for genders, in addition to his phonetic re­ searches. The Celtic and Sanscrit were the only other languages which had more than a single contribution. We had a paper on the accusative plural in the British language �DEmVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 11 and on the Irish verb by Dr. Whitley Stokes, and one on Welsh affixes by Mr. Powell. I think that my passing notice on scoring sheep in Yorkshire belongs rather to this head. Sanscrit was treated two or three times by Dr. Goldstiicker, Pennsylvania German by Prof. Haldeman, Danish by Mr. Sweet, the Mosquito dialect by Messrs. Charnock and Blake. The other papers were more general. Mr. Wheatley gave us some more reduplicated words, Dr. Weymouth treated Euphuism, Dr. Goldstiicker spoke of the derivation of words from sound, Dr. Oppert discussed the Graal, and I read my address on the relation of thought to sound. As our friend Dr. Wagner’s extra volume on Mediaeval Greek does not come under consideration, we have nothing in our list relating to Greek or Hebrew, nothing about Gothic, Teutonic, or Old Horse, almost nothing about the older Romance languages, and nothing at all about aggluti­ native or monosyllabic languages. Native Asiatic, African, and American are ignored. Egyptian and Assyrian re­ searches have had no interest for us. It is evident therefore that several of our Members who are well qualified to give us the result of their studies on some of these languages, have been either absent or too busy to prepare papers. The fifty-one papers have been read by or for twenty-seven authors, all of whom, however, were not Members of our Society.1 This summary shews the active state of philology among ourselves. The passive mine is much richer, but owing to circumstances not workable. There will always be some prevalent study in such societies. We began with classics. For the last three years we have not cared to touch Greek. The First Part of our Transactions for 1873-4, which has just been delivered to Members, contains three , 1 The following is an alphabetic list of the authors, the figures annexed shew the number of the papers. When a paper was divided into parts read on different evenings, each part has been counted as a separate paper, The two evenings devoted to discus­ sions have not been reckoned:—Bran- dreth 1, Cassal 2, Cayley 2, Charnock and Blake 1, Dawson 1, Ellis 5, Fry 2, Goldstiicker 3, Haldeman 1, Jere­ miah 1, Key 7, Mall 1, Morris 2, C. Murray 1, J. A. H. Murray 2, Nicol 1, Oppert 1, Payne 5, Powell 1, Schonemann 1, Stokes 2, Sweet 3, Wedgwood 1, Weymouth 1, Yates 1. �12 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 papers read this year, and omits many of those already menJ tioned. This partly arose from the circumstance that many of the other papers were not ready for press, and it was desirable to issue this Part before our anniversary. But as our year terminates in December, it will be convenient to defer noticing such papers as have been read subsequently, till the next address of the President. And now let us look to the outside world. Basque. Education in English schools was contrived when I was a boy,—and though somewhat improved, I am glad to think, during the intervening forty years, yet, like the tree, it preserves its old bend, and may therefore be still regarded as contrived, undesignedly of course, and perhaps unconsciously (which makes amendment not particularly hopeful),—to bring * up a boy’s mind in the one Aryan faith, of the one Aryan linguistic mode of thought. The instrument was mainly the Latin grammar, to which even all other Aryan heresies were made to succumb. Boswell reports a speech of Johnson which puts the feeling thus generated in a very strong light. “I always said,” quoth the oracle, “ Shakspere had Latin enough to grammaticise his English” (anno 1780, aet. 71). We know now what to conclude of Johnson’s own knowledge of English grammar. Latin and Greek, eternally ground in, with French as an “ extra,” and English merely as a medium for “ construing,” is the received English prepara­ tion for linguistic study. Well, we have got out of it a little. Thanks to Christianity, some people had to learn Hebrew, and the Semitic verb at least ought to have opened our eyes. But if any philologist wishes to see how truly all Aryanism and Semiticism are merely the favoured literary dialects of the world, how extremely remote they are from representing all logical connections of thought, to indicate which inflections and insertions, reduplications, guna, and umlaut and ablaut, conjugational forms and voices, and the other paraphernalia developed by these systems of language in different proportions, are supposed to have been constructed, �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 13 in ways which different scholars have wanted words laudatory enough to characterise ; if any philologist wishes to see radiearianism and hereditary preservation of forms of words break utterly down, and find a system of language which preserves its individuality by its mere mode of grammatical construction, let him study the Basque. We are indebted to the personal labour, critical acumen, and unwearied perse­ verance of Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte, for our only trustworthy knowledge of this extraordinary language. Gifted with great power of appreciating sounds, and having long studied their representation, he has been able to write them down intelligibly from oral delivery. The phonetie peculiarities of Basque, especially in the sibilants, are such as never occurred to our a priori alphabetists, and require considerable phonetic acrobatism to imitate. The Prince has lately presented our Society with his linguistic maps of the Basque provinces, which he has promised to explain at our next meeting, and he has also furnished us with copies of almost all his publications on the Basque languages, in­ cluding his recent remarkable studies on the Basque verb, perhaps the most complicated in existence, some of the peculiarities of which he will, doubtless, point out, as they form the criteria for dialectic separation. These I will not anticipate. The Society is, as I have said, through the kindness of the Prince, in possession of these works, usually extremely difficult to procure, and can therefore peruse them at leisure. That Aryan scholars should be put into a position to study such remarkable phenomena in their libraries, in­ stead of hunting them through mountain and vale, from village to village, and mouth to mouth, is a great gain to philology. The Prince has not completed his task, although he has completed his collections, and it must be the desire of all linguistic scholars that he will have life and health, as he has the desire and the intellectual power and requisite patience, to accomplish a task he has so worthily begun.1 1 Besides his account of the Basque verb and his map of the Basque dialects, the Prince has published numerous works, either written hy himself or by his direction, forming materials for the study of the language. His second �14 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 The Basque language is one of the most ancient in the world; but it has no literature. The oldest existing trace of the Basque language is a list of forty words, incidentally introduced into a work by Marineo Siculo in 1530. The oldest book is a short set of poems, in rhyme, by Bernard Dechepare, rector of St. Micbel-le-Vieux, partly devotional, partly erotic, printed at Bordeaux in 1545, of which only one copy is known to exist, being Y 6194 P in the National Library at Paris.1 The next in date, and the only one really of value, is a Protestant translation of the New Testament, with Liturgy and Catechism, printed at Rochelle in 1571.2 Another edition of the Catechism with Calendar was printed the same year, with a different form of the so-called dative plural, which is extremely rare. The more recent Basque works seem to be chiefly prayers, hymns, catechisms, and devotional or ascetic works. Many, though not the most important, of its words have materially changed in the course of time. It has a power of adopting and in­ corporating new and foreign words with ease. Its' different dialects sometimes use totally different words for even the commonest objects, such as sun and moon. But the immense majority of words are of course common, with mere variations of form, to all the dialects. The Basque is an agglutinative language, but is widely different from the other great agglu­ tinative families, with which it scarcely shares more than the negative properties of being non-Aryanic and non-Semitic. The peculiar construction of its verb, which, with sharply marked distinctions, runs through all the dialects, binds catalogue, extending to the year 1862, has 25 entries respecting Basque, and I find 24 more in the additions to that catalogue. These consist of translations into various Basque dia­ lects of the Song of the Three Children, the Lord's Prayer, a text of John, Dialogues, Genesis to Leviticus, the whole Gospel of St. Matthew, the Re­ velations, Doctrina Cristiana, the Books of Ruth and Jonah, Song of Songs, Miserere, Catechism, the whole of the French-Basque Bible, together with a Vocabulary, Comparison of Basque and Finnish, Basque Sermon preserved at Arbonne, Note on supposed genitives and datives plural, and the great work on the Basque verb, with maps, already mentioned. It is the labour of a life­ time devoted to linguistic science. 1 Reprinted and translated into French, so far as decency allowed, in 1847. 2 The first complete Bible in the Basque language, comprising both the Old and New Testaments, is that in the dialect of Labourd, brought out by Prince L. L. Bonaparte, begun m 1859 and concluded in 1865. �DEuJpvERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 15 them firmly together, and separates them clearly and defi­ nitely from all other languages.1 These investigations into Basque mark then a great step in philology. . They give us a new visual instrument for seeing the circula­ tion of the blood corpuscules of language. We must not be in too great a hurry to systematise and genealogise. It is said that Adam and Eve spoke Basque in Paradise. I can’t disprove it. But if so, the descendant tongues of to-day are not so like their parents as man is to the gorilla. I cannot conclude this reference to Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte’s labours on Basque, without special reference to the magnificent donation which he has made to our Society, not merely of his works on this particular subject, but of an almost unique collection of all his linguistic works on Uralian, Albanian, Celtic, French, Spanish, Italian, and English dialects, phonetics, and other linguistic researches, comprising 138 out of his 162 distinct publications, the missing twentyfour being generally such as were printed in very limited numbers, or consisting of cancelled editions.2 Even of those which are presented, there are many that he could not replace if lost. Probably no such collection of his works exists in England, except at the British Museum, the Athenaeum Club, 1 Not being myself acquainted with the Basque, I have submitted the above statement of characteristics to Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte; and I believe that it will be found substantially correct. 2 An analysis of the numbers in the printed catalogues of the Prince’s works gives the following results. A “number” is any distinct paper or work, from a single page to 1376 pages (as in the case of the French Basque Bible). For the classification of these languages see below, p. 17 note. Polyglot Basque Celtic Modern Greek Albanian Italian Spanish Portuguese French German English Friesic Russian Uralian Total in Presented to Catalogue. Philo. Soc. 5 49 7 1 3 36 1 2 7 1 35 3 1 11 3 35 5 1 3 35 1 1 6 1 32 3 1 11 Catalogues, etc. Maps, Verb, Dialects, Bible, etc. Cornish, etc. Corsican Mai’not.—St. Matthew. St. Matthew. Italian and Sardinian.—St. Matthew. Asturian.—St. Matthew. Galician.—St. Matthew. Picard, Provenqal, etc.—St. Matthew. Transylvanian.—Song of Solomon. St. Matthew and Song of Solomon. St. Matthew. Song of Solomon. Karelian, Livonian, Syrjanian, Permic, etc.—St. Matthew. �16 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 and on his own shelves; nor could he form another. Originally destined for the Library of the Louvre, the Prince determined, after the burning of that Library during the time of the Commune, to present this collection to a linguistic society. We must all feel much gratified at the choice which he has made ; and I hope that we shall be stimulated to return our thanks to the donor in the way which, I am sure, will be most pleasing to himself,—by prosecuting the studies for which he has given us such ample materials. Hungarian. There is another non-Aryan tongue, surrounded by Aryanism, but unlike the last, with a literature full of life, the language of a nation which is growing into political im­ portance, becoming indeed, as the principal portion of the Austrian empire, one of the great powers of Europe. The Magyar or Hungarian language is very little known or studied by linguists. But it is the most accessible and literary of the so-called agglutinative languages, with speakers pos­ sessing all European culture, and perfectly acquainted with the principal European tongues—men who can speak in English as Kossuth spoke to us awhile ago—and it is written with Roman letters after a system readily under­ stood, which puts our own orthography to shame, whereas its Dravidian congeners, which are scarcely studied by any but Madras officials, have entirely new systems of writing, and its Turkish cousin is of all tongues spoken in Europe the worst spelled. Our Society, thanks to a former member, Mr. Pulszky, possesses a fine collection of Magyar books, and I should be glad to find some member taking up so important a study, and furnishing us with a comparative view of Hun­ garian and Aryan forms of thought as traceable in linguistic structure. Thus the absence of grammatical gender, the same word d serving for he, she, or it, must correspond to a direction of thought entirely different to the Aryanic. The Hungarians have devoted much attention to their own philo­ logy, 80 that materials are abundant. I am indebted to Mr. Arthur J. Patterson, an eminent English authority on this �17 DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. remarkable language, which, by the bye, presents several curious phonetic characters, for the following account of the recent philological activity of the Hungarians. tf Perhaps the most fruitful advance that has been made in philological study in Hungary during the last two years has been the establishment, at the commencement of 1872, of a new philological periodical, entitled Magyar Nyelvor. Its title is formed on the analogy of the German compound Sprachwart, and may be translated Watchman of the Hunga­ rian Language. As it concerns itself with Hungarian etymology, questions of Hungarian grammar, corrections of mistakes made in the current literature of the day, the ex­ amination of remains of old Hungarian literature, and the recording of popular songs, proverbs, dialectical peculiarities, etc.,—reference to the cognate Ugrian languages 1 being 1 In a brochure recently published, summing up the researches that have been made in the field of the FinnUgrian family of languages, Dr. Donner, of Helsingfors, divides that family into five branches: (1) the Finnish proper, including the Karelian, Estonian, etc.; (2) the Lapp dialects; (3) the Syrjanian; (4) the Permic dialects; (5) the Ugrian, properly so called, comprising the Ostiak, Vogul, and Magyar languages. Dr. Donner’s brochure has been carefully analyzed by M. Edouard Sayous in the Revue Critique for the first quarter of 1873.— A. J. P. Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte’s classification is as follows, shewing more exactly the position of this group of languages. It is taken from his “ Classification Morphologique des Langues Europeennes,” with MS. ad­ ditions. “ Premiere Classe. A. Souche basque: 1 Basque. B. Souche altaique. . . a. Famille ouralique.—a) Sousfamille tchoude: i. Branche finnoise : 2 Finnois. 3 Esthonien. 4 Livonien. n. Branche laponne: 5 Lapon.—b) Sous-famille permienne: 6 Permien et zyriain. 7 Votiak.-c) Sous-famille volgaique: i. Branche tche'remisse: 8 Tcheremisse. ii. Branche morduine: 9 Morduin.-«Z) Sous-famille oi'goure : I. Branche hongroise : 10 Hongrois. ii. Branche Vogoule: 11 Vogoule. iii. Branche ostiaque : 12 Ostiaque. (N.B. Le finnois avec 1’esthonien et le li­ vonien, different du lapon a peu pres comme le grec differe du latin. Il en est de meme du tchdremisse par rapport au morduin, et du hongrois, du vogoule et de 1’ostiaque entre eux.) . ... fl. Famille samoyede, y. Famille tartare, 8. Famille tongouse, e. Famille mongole, avec leur sous-familles et leur branches. C. Souche Dravidienne, etc. D. Souche caucasique occidental?, etc. E. Souche Caucasique orientale, etc. F. G. H., etc., etc. Autres Souches tres-diffdrentes entre elles, quoique appartenant a cette pbemi^re classe.” The remainder of this classification is subjoined, as being important to the Members of the Philological Society, in connection with the works presented to them by the Prince, and analyzed in the footnote to p. 15. “ Deuxieme classe. A. Souche indo-germanique. (N.B. Les noms des langues mortes sont imprimes en caracteres italiques.) . ... a. Famille celtique: i. Branche gaelique: 13 Gaelique. n. Branche bretonne :—a. 14 Gallois.—b. 15 Cornouaillais.—c. 16 Breton................ j9. Famille greco-latine: i. Branche albanaise: 17 Albanais. ii. Branche grecque: 18 Grec. 19 Grec moderne. iii. Branche latine :—a. 20 Latin.— b. 21 Italien. [22. Espagnol. 23 Portugais].—c. 24 Franqais. 25 Ro- 2 �18 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 strictly subordinated to the above objects,—it is of a more popular character and appeals for support to a wider public than the philological journal of an older standing—Philologiai Kozlony (Philological Gazette), which came to an end with the year 1872. The editor of Magyar Nyelwr, Mr. Szarvas, whose speciality is the study of the remains of mediaeval Hungarian, has published during the last year a treatise on the tenses of the Hungarian verb. “ Dr. Budenz has, during the period in question, read some interesting papers before the Hungarian Academy, one of them being an elaborate critique of Dr. Vambery’s treatise on the words common to the Hungarian and Turkish lan­ guages. But it is understood that he has in an advanced stage of preparation a work on the words common to the Hungarian and Ugrian languages, somewhat on the model of Curtius’ Griechische Etymologie. Dr. Budenz is also preparing a short Finnish Grammar and Beading-book, for the use of Hungarian students, which will soon be pub­ lished. “ Another Ugrian scholar, Mr. Paul Hunfalvy, has recently brought out a book on the dialect of the Vogul language spoken on the banks of the Konda, in Siberia. It contains a grammar and glossary of the translation of the Gospel of St. Matthew into the Konda Vogul dialect, executed by M. Popov, and revised by Professor Wiedemann, of St. Peters­ burg, and published by Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte.1 Before this translation the only specimens of the Vogul language that Mr. Hunfalvy had to work on were two series of questions and answers on the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments, communicated by Satigin, the representaman. 26 Rhetique.—d. 27 Valaque. . . . y. Famille germano-scandinave. i. Groupegermanique.—a. 28 Gothique. 29 Allemand ancien. 30 Bas-allemand ancien. 31 Anglo-Saxon. 32 Frison. —b. 33 Allemand. [34 Bas-allemand. 35 Hollandais.] 36 Frison moderne. —c. 37 Anglais, ii. Groupe scandinave.—a. 38 Islandais.—b. [39 Suedois. 40. Danois]............... 8. Famille slavo-lettonienne. i. Branche slave.— a. 41 Slavon. 42 Russe. [43 Illyrien. 44 Slovene.] 45 Bulgare.— b. 46 Polonais. 47 Boheme. 48 Lusaeien. 49 Folabe. (N.B. Le dialecte cassubien est encore parle.) ii. Branche lettonienne.—a. 50 Li­ thuanian.—b. 51 Frussien.— c. 52 Letton.”—A. J. E. 1 This work is among those pre­ sented to the Philological Society by the Prince.—A. J. E. �BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 19 Bye of the independent Vogul princes, to. the Hungarian traveller, Reguly. In his preface Mr. Hunfalvy shews that although the translator of the Gospel is a Russian, the Vogul of the version is much less Russianised than that of Satigin, and consequently proportionably more valuable for philologists. Of course, too,, the Gospel affords a much larger store of linguistic materials. “ Lastly it may be mentioned,, as a sign of increased in­ terest in philology, that a translation of the Finnish epic Kalevala into Hungarian verse, by M. Barna, appeared in 1871. It was reviewed by Dr. Budenz in the Academy, September 15th, 1871, with especial reference to the lin­ guistic side of the work, and the relation of Magyar to Finnish.” Sanscrit. Passing at once to the Aryan languages, we naturally turn first to Sanscrit. As my predecessor, Dr. Goldstiicker, was an eminent Sanscrit scholar, who had devoted himself especially to Sanscrit lexicography, on which he held pecu­ liar opinions with great tenacity, I was anxious to secure a communication on this especial subject from one in whom Dr. Goldstiicker himself had confidence. Mr. John Muir, of Edinburgh, a Member of our Council, a friend of Dr. Goldstucker, and an eminent .Sanscrit scholar, has kindly furnished me with the following contribution on this sub­ ject. “In 1843 a ‘Notice of European grammars and lexicons of the Sanskrit language,’ written by the late Prof. H.. H. Wilson, appeared in our Transactions. Since that time contributions to Sanskrit lexicography have been made by Professors Benfey,. Goldstiicker, Max Muller, Aufrecht, Grassmann, and others. But I must pass over the labours of these scholars, in order to be able to notice at more length the Sanskrit Worterbuch of Messrs. Bohtlingk and Roth, compiled with the co-operation of Professors Weber, Whitney, Schiefner, Stenzler, Kuhn, and Kern, and at one time of Prof. Aufrecht, begun in 1852 and steadily .continued to the �20 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 present time. Of this work six quarto volumes have alreadyappeared, and it will apparently be completed in one other volume. This great and epoch-making Thesaurus, by far the most important work of its kind which has yet been published, whether as regards its compass or its intrinsic .value, contains, as far as it has come out, 7976 columns^: 3988 pp. Not only is the number of words greatly in excess of those in Wilson’s second edition (though a few are omitted, and some of the significations of those retained are excluded as without authority), but the senses of the words are more systematically and scientifically arranged. In particular, the compound verbs, which are ranged alphabetically after the simple roots, are far more copiously expounded. Refer­ ences are given either to the native Dictionaries in which the words are found, or to the passages of the books in which the different meanings occur. “The most interesting feature in this work is, perhaps, the interpretation of words occurring in the hymns of the Veda, many of them obsolete, or employed in different senses, in later Sanskrit. For this portion of the work Prof. Roth is avowedly responsible. The principles upon which he proceeds are stated in the introduction to the first volume.1 He asserts that the native interpreters of the Vedic hymns, living in comparatively modern times, when the ideas, re­ ligion, and institutions of the people of India had undergone a long series of modifications, and holding all the opinions current in their own age,—destitute (it may be added) of the faculty (only recently acquired even by European thinkers) of transporting themselves into the past, of entering into its feelings, and thinking its thoughts,—did not possess the quali­ fications requisite for the correct comprehension of those hymns, which not only represent a far more ancient set of con­ ceptions and beliefs, but are full of obsolete words. He con­ siders that the writings of these commentators do not form a rule for the scientific expositor, but are merely one of those 1 See a translation of his remarks in the Journal Royal Asiatic Society, vol. ii., new series, pp. 307 ff, and Prof. Roth’s article, Reber GelehrteTradition u.s.w. in the Zeitschrift der morgenlandischen Gesellschaft, xxi. 1, ff.—J. M. �DELIVERED B¥ ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 21 helps of which the latter will avail himself for the execution of his difficult task, a task which is not to be accomplished at the first onset, or by any single individual. He therefore seeks to proceed philologically to derive from the texts themselves the sense which they contain by a juxtaposition of all the passages which are cognate in diction and contents. This method is no doubt a correct one, though everything depends on its proper application. This scheme of interpretation, though approved by all, or most, other eminent Sanskritists,1 was emphatically condemned by our late President,2 who main­ tained that the Indian commentators were quite as able as European scholars to bring together and compare all the passages in which particular words occur, that in the case of hapax legomena the guesses of the former were as good as those of the latter, and that their methods of procedure were not purely ^etymological, but involved a reference to an ancient and genuine tradition. In support of his own views on the interpretation of the Veda, Prof. Goldstiicker read a paper before the Koyal Asiatic Society in answer to one by my­ self, of which nothing more than a meagre abstract (pub­ lished in the Athenceum at the time) ever appeared. It is to be regretted that this paper was never elaborated by the author, and his views supported by the great learning and ingenuity of which he was master, as, although it may be doubted if he would have gained many converts among scholars able to form a correct judgment, he would prob­ ably have brought together much important information, and thrown additional light on many questions connected with Indian antiquity. 1 To the previous supporters of this view may now be added Mr. A. C. Burnell, who, in the valuable preface to his edition and translation of the VamQa Brahmana (Mangalore, 1873), —in which he gives much information regarding Sayana, and identifies him with Madhava and Vidyaranya,—ex­ presses himself as follows: “ The great controversy which has prevailed so long respecting Sayana’s competence to ex­ plain the Vedas, is fast approaching its end; the above sketch of his life and works will shew that the followers of the ‘ German school ’ are historically right. That they are so theoretically, is established by an amount of proof offered by Max Miiller, Weber, Whit­ ney, Roth, Muir, and others that has long vanquished all reasonable hesita­ tion on the part of the Sanskritists who were once inclined to prefer Sayana and Indian precisians to the results of com­ parative philology.”—J.M. 2 See his Panini, pp. 241 ff.—J. M. �22 the president’s annual ADDRESS FOR 1873 “Prof. Goldstiicker’s own Dictionary, ‘extended and im­ proved from the second edition’ of Wilson’s, has unfortunately remained a mere fragment, embracing only a portion of the words beginning with the first letter of the alphabet. The first fasciculus was published in 1856, and the sixth and last in 1864. The scale on which it is composed, as compared with Wilson’s, may be understood from the fact that its 480 pages reach no further than p. 66 of the latter. The number of words is greatly increased, and the explanations of many of them are far more elaborate than in Wilson. Some of the articles are of encyclopaedic dimensions. Perhaps the most important parts of the work are those which define the mean­ ings of the technical terms of Indian philosophy, in which the author was a high proficient. But the entire work, so far as it goes, is of great value. “The only other work calling for notice is that of Prof. Monier Williams, published last summer (containing 1186 4to. pp., much more closely printed than the 988 pp. of Wilson’s), which supplies, in a practical manner, the want, so long felt, of a complete Sanskrit and English Dictionary, and will tend greatly to facilitate and promote the study of Sanskrit in this country. It includes an immense number of words not to be found in Wilson, and embodies in a con­ densed form the new materials to be found in the parts of Bohtlingk and Roth’s work published up to the time of its appearance.” Prof. Aufrecht, of Edinburgh, who is also a Member of our Council, has kindly supplemented the preceding lexico­ graphical remarks of Mr. Muir by the following relating to Sanscrit Grammaticography. “ Sanskrit Grammar is based on the grammatical aphorisms of Panini, a writer now generally supposed to have lived in the fourth eentury b.c. At that time, Sanskrit had oeased to be a living language, and was only kept up artificially by being made the vehicle for the education of the upper classes. It would be interesting to know what style of language Panini chose as the standard of his observations. It was certainly not the idiom of the Vedas, as he seldom treats �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 23 this with his usual accuracy, and only mentions it in order to show its discrepancies from the classical style, or, as he terms it, the language of the world. We believe that long before his own time a scientific and poetical literature had already sprung up, and that a certain number of writers were chosen by him and his predecessors as the representatives and patterns of the classical language. Panini was himself a poet, and the great commentary on his grammatical rules contains many fragments of early poetry. Treatises on law, long anterior to the law-book of Manu, are still in existence, and names of ancient writers on other than sacred subjects are frequently cited. However this may be, it is quite certain that the so-called classical Sanskrit, as taught by Panini and his numerous commentators and imitators, is not a language which had its foundation in the colloquial usage of an entire nation or the educated portion of it, but rather in the confined sphere of grammatical schools which fed themselves on the rich patrimony of previous illustrious ages. This development of the Sanskrit finds a striking analogy in the Rabbinic language, which’also is to be traced back to the endeavours of religious scholars to endue with new life an idiom rapidly dying out. “ The introduction of Sanskrit lore into Europe forms a new epoch in the study of the language. The European Grammarians tried from the very first to arrange Sanskrit grammar, not according to the chaotic manner of the Natives, but after the models of their own Greek and Latin grammars. They used more or less fully and accurately the native sources, but tried to free themselves from the trammels of a system which for its comprehension required years of study. It is principally owing to the genius of Bopp that Sanskrit grammar has become as lucid as that of any other ancient or modern language which we are in the habit of studying. But Bopp was not satisfied with the compara­ tively easy task of digesting the principles of Sanskrit grammar according to European models ; this had been done before him in a very satisfactory way by Wilkins. But his principal merit consists in having brought to bear on his �24 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 subject the light of his philological discoveries, and in basing his rules on purely scientific principles. His aim was to trace everywhere the genesis of the grammatical forms, not to content himself with a mere classification. Advanced scholars might from time to time discover, and have some­ times too severely criticised, the want of a thorough know­ ledge of the native grammarians, and the mistakes which in consequence here and there disfigured his grammar. Never­ theless, it may be said that all the distinguished Sanskrit scholars of the present time have learned from him their Sanskrit; and Bopp was not slow to correct in subsequent editions any mistakes which had been pointed out to him. Bopp’s Grammar appeared in six editions,1 five in German, and one in Latin. Its principal defect is the absence of Syntax. Wilson and Williams are the only scholars who, to some extent, have tried to supply this deficiency. “ Bohtlingk, the editor of Panini, published in 1843 and 1844 two essays on Sanskrit Declension and Accent, both based solely on native sources. The latter essay is of some historical importance, as having first called attention to a subject entirely unknown before. Benfey, in a review, entered more fully on the latter topic, availing himself for this purpose of the few then accessible accentuated texts of the Vedas. Bopp, in a separate book, showed the agreement between the Sanskrit and Greek accent. Aufrecht published an essay on the accent in Sanskrit Compounds, and Whitney wrote a treatise on the system of accentuation in the Atharva Veda.1 2 “Professor Boiler, of Vienna, published in 1847 a Sanskrit Grammar, in which an attempt was made to give the ma­ terial, as supplied by the native grammarians, in some completeness, and to accentuate every part of the grammar. This work does not seem to have attracted much notice, although it is done both accurately and systematically. “ A more ambitious aim was pursued by Professor Benfey 1 The fourth edition of his smaller Grammar appeared after his death in 1868. 2 An account of Prof. Whitney’s view of Sanscrit accent is given in the last footnote to my paper on “Accent and Emphasis,” in the Philological Trans­ actions for 1873-4, p. 163.—A. J. E. �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 25 in his Complete Grammar of Sanskrit, Leipzig, 1852. Ac­ cording to his own statement, it was his object to show precisely and clearly all that is forbidden and allowed in Sanskrit, and to render fully the native exposition of gram­ mar. There can be no doubt that Benfey has brought together a heap of material for the erection of a palace, but, unfortunately, in endeavouring to outvie all that had been done before him, he has not sufficiently separated cumbersome rubbish from the really valuable bricks and stones. The beginner, wishing to learn Sanskrit from this book, would arrive at the conviction that it is a language in which the exception forms the rule; and the advanced scholar will find it an easier task to consult his Panini, than to have recourse to this exposition of the native system. We have to speak with more praise of the Practical Grammar by the same author, brought out in English by Messrs. Trubner, although experience has proved to us that the epithet ‘practical’ is hardly justified. A grammar in which declension is placed at the end of the book, and which in all earnest contains a de­ clension of sutus, said to mean ‘ well shining,’ a word sprung up in the muddled brain of a crazy grammarian, would, at least in this country, not be called practical. “ Professor Stenzler has put together in 42 pages (Breslau, 1868) the Essentials of Sanskrit Grammar in a most satisfactory manner, and we know of no other book so well adapted to the use of those who wish to learn the elements of the language. “ Within the last thirty years, several grammars have been published in England, and have gone through new editions. The grammars of Professors Wilson, Williams, and Muller are too well known to require a special criticism. But we cannot conclude without drawing attention to Pro­ fessor Kielhorn’s Grammar, printed at Bombay in 1870. Both for clearness and accuracy we consider it the best gram­ mar hitherto published in the English language. “ The books we have hitherto spoken about were written for practical purposes. But a historical grammar, after the model of Grimm’s Deutsche Grammatik, still remains a de­ sideratum. We should like to see a work which would trace �26 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 the language through the different stages of the Vedical writings down to the great Epics and Puranas, and show the gradual development of Sanskrit into the ancient and modern popular dialects, which have arisen on its ruins. Materials for such a task are gradually accumulating, and it requires only a master-spirit to complete and properly digest them.” • Greek. For the following account of recent researches on Greek I am indebted to Mr. John Peile, Tutor of Christ’s College, Cambridge, a Member of our Council. Allow me in especial to direct your attention to the phonetic questions which arise in them, and to the concluding observations upon general syntactical transformation in language: the former shew the impossibility of advancing in philology without much increased knowledge of phonology; the latter bring the solidarity of languages strikingly before us, and warn us against the confusion of development with decay. “ A careful discussion of the Ionic dialect has been given by Erman in Curtius’ Studien. This has been long wanted. The results are not very full, but they at least shew how much can be certainly known. Erman has printed all the prose Ionic inscriptions which we possess: those of the Corpus, and those edited more lately by Newton, and by Lenormant: he has also availed himself of the labour of Kirchhoff (Studien zur Gfeschichte des Gfriechischen Alphabets}. We thus have the inscriptions of the sixth and fifth centu­ ries—those of Magna Graecia and Euboea, of the twelve Ionic cities, and of Thasos, Halicarnassus, etc.: then those of the fourth century, in number 40. To these inscriptions he rightly attributes much greater importance than to the MSS. of Herodotus, which sometimes shew Atticisms, some­ times hyper-Ionicisms. His principal conclusion is, that the later Ionic dialect differed much less from the Attic than is commonly supposed. But he shews considerable divergence (as might be expected) among the western Ionians from the typical form : and in that form itself some slight variations, �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 27 the natural result of time. Among other results of his in­ vestigation is a clear proof that the v e^eX/cvo-rifcov was found in older Ionic (a fact commonly denied), with precisely the same irregularity as in Attic, and more rarely in the later inscriptions. . The Euboean inscriptions shew the natural influence of Hellas proper, in the preservation of a in some words where Ionia weakened it into y. He thinks that a difference of sound underlies the variants e and ei found nross-wise in both Attic and Ionic, though not com­ monly, ei being the usual spelling : one sound he thinks belonged to the true diphthong arising from the meeting of e and t, or from the intensification of i; the other to the merely compensatorily lengthened e. It is not probable that the diphthongal sound was long preserved pure : it possibly sank first into the close e-sound followed by a glide, though denoted still by ec: while e probably denoted the close e pure, and the open e. With respect to the absence of contracted vowels, which is commonly assumed to be peculiar to Ionic, Erman has shewn conclusively that contraction was common to all the branches, except that of Thasos, as early as the 5th century. u In the same journal Siegismund has an exhaustive paper on Greek metathesis. The facts are admirably arranged. In Greek, as in other languages, the greater number of the sounds so transposed are liquids; and Siegismund rightly explains the fact by the nature of the sound. He thinks it probable that the liquid expanded itself (so to speak) into a liquid and vowel: it thus stood between two vowels,—the original vowel of the root, and its own offspring:1 and either of these could be dropped: so that the place of the liquid was altered if the original vowel was the one that suffered. Undoubted examples of vowels thus engendered are seen in 1 “ An r is combined -with a halfrnora [or measure, svaramo.tra] in the middle of the vowel mora of the rvowel, just as a nail is with the finger; like a pearl on a string, some say; like a worm in grass, say others.” Native commentator on the rule i. 37 in the Atharva-Veda Prati<;akhya, as translated by Prof. Whitney. This in­ terposition of an r in the midst of a vowel, ready therefore to obliterate either end, as in old Sanscrit ar and later ri, corresponds precisely to the view in the text.—A. J. E. �28 the president’s annual ADDRESS FOR 1873 rap{a))(r]—fromVrap^, and paX(a)Kos—fromVpaXtc: but here both vowels remained. Other cases of metathesis are excel­ lently explained by Siegismund as due to a principle which we see in daily operation, i.e. that in pronouncing a word hastily, when we have each component part of it in our mind, we sometimes in our hurry anticipate one element, and so bring it forward out of its proper place: thus, e.p., he would explain the curious form apidpos for apifipos attributed to Simonides, and found (in the form of a verb aptOpeoy) in Callimachus and Theocritus. No doubt this is but one operation of the ordinary principle of phonetic change. “ Prof. Campbell, in the preface to his edition of Sophocles, has called attention to the character of the Greek language in the fifth century, which differs from the uniformity found alike in Epic construction and (rather differently) in the Attic orators. It was (as he says) a creative period, when the resources of the language were fully felt, and not yet limited by grammarians; when each author developed, not only his thought, but also the instrument of its expression, as he pleased;—a transition-time, when the original instinct of language breaks forth afresh, and throws the old materials into new combinations impossible in a more advanced literary period. Striking examples of this force are to be seen in Pindar, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Thucydides : in all of these we see creative power, not merely of thought, but also of language, breaking out in a tentative, irregular, and often incomplete way. Written composition was still a novelty: the writers were conscious of their manner of expression, as well as of their matter: they analyzed their language; and thus arose a mass of minute distinctions in expression be­ longing rather to the language than to the thought: they concentrated their language ; whence came considerable obscurity : lastly they gave free play to their language ; and thus came change of construction in the very middle of a sentence, so that the connection of the words is natural, rather than grammatical. No doubt, each of these authors struck out a different path from each of the others: but all �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 29 were subject to the same influences, and the common result is very noticeable. tf Much light may be thrown by studies like these, not only upon the syntax of a particular language, but also on the history of syntax as a whole: that is upon the limits in expression imposed upon itself by human thought. In Greek we thus ascertain approximately the accretions of the Sophoclean era: we may apply the same kind of calculus to the Epic dialect, so far as is possible under the uncertainty of the age of some of the poems: and in the Iliad and Odyssey, whatever the age of each poem may be, it seems to me at least certain that the syntax is old. We may thus eliminate from each of these periods the special, and ascertain their common, element; and so find out the simply Greek form of expres­ sion natural to it from its earliest beginnings as a separate language. We might then compare this residuum with a similar (not equally rich) result to be gained from the Latin: then compare this Graeco-Italian form of expression with the result of tracing the much simpler development of Sanskrit syntax from the plays back to the Vedas. Lastly a still smaller representation of the growth of North Europe might be gained from the Lithuanian: no Teutonic language is at once sufficiently pure from foreign admixture and in possession of a sufficiently rich inflexional system. We should thus arrive at a starting-point, from which to investi­ gate the common syntax of the Indo-European family.” Latin. Our old colleague in the Council, Dr. W. Wagner, whose absence we have had much cause to regret since he has been re­ called to his own country to hold a position at the Johanneum in Hamburg, has kindly consented to come among us in spirit if not in body, and has sent us a short resume of Latin philology. And we must be the more indebted to him, that he has not hesitated to rewrite it for us, after his original paper miscarried by post, and undaunted by this misfortune, promises a longer contribution on another occasion. He says:— �30 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 “.Latin philology has been advancing steadily within the last year. The powerful impulse given to a more careful study of the Latin language and its literature by Ritschl and Lachmann is still producing new effects, and the school of philologers trained by Ritschl are developing a surprising activity. The great collection of inscriptions originally undertaken at the suggestion of Ritschl and Mommsen is proceeding with a rapidity far surpassing the rival publica­ tion of the Corpus inscriptionum Graecarum. A collection of the Pompeian inscriptions, executed by Dr. Zangemeister, appeared only two years ago, and we have already received a new instalment of the work, comprising the inscriptions of the regio decima of Italy, edited by Th. Mommsen himself. Besides its linguistic interest, this volume may also be con­ sidered an important contribution to the ancient geography of the district, as it has been possible to. ascertain the exact situation of more than one place by means of these in­ scriptions. “ Among the various editions of authors published last year, we may mention in the first place Lucian Muller’s edition of the fragments of Lucilius, a stout volume with a most careful index and prolegomena. A collection of the important fragments of the earliest Roman satirist, the model of Horace, had been promised by Lachmann, but his prema­ ture death had not allowed him to publish more on the subject than a few very suggestive treatises prefixed to the indices lectionum of the Berlin University. Other scholars having been deterred from the attempt by M. Haupt’s re­ peated insinuations that he was going to publish Lachmann’s edition left in MS., L. Muller has done wisely not to delay his work, as the more than twenty years elapsed since Lach-I mann’s death and the procrastination peculiar to Haupt rendered vain any further hope to obtain Lachmann’s work. In an author so difficult as Lucilius, it is but natural that we should not always agree with the Editor’s suggestions and emendations, but we owe him a debt of gratitude for fur­ nishing us with a scholarly edition of Lucilius. “ The editions of Horace, Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 31 and Rutilius Numatianus, lately published by the same scholar, are merely intended as forerunners of his contem­ plated great Corpus poetarum latinorum, which is to supersede the antiquated Corpus by Weber, and the unscholarly work of Sidney Walker generally current in England. L. Muller’s criticism in his edition of the erotic poets will of necessity frequently provoke contradiction, but there still remains a great deal of what is new and original, much that is sugges­ tive, and some that is true. His Propertius seems to be the least satisfactory part; but this is a most difficult author, and one that requires repeated study to become familiar with his peculiar manner. Mr. Paley’s edition of Propertius, with English notes, is convenient for practical use, but lacks actual scholarly insight, and displays a peculiar want of critical faculty in an editor who seems to be so thoroughly at home in his tragedians, but less familiar with Latin scholarship. “ In speaking of Latin literature, we must needs mention the firm of Teubner at Leipzig, to whose exertions so many valuable works are due. They have lately published a new volume of the Latin grammarians (by Keil), containing that most important writer Marius Vic.torinus, whose work in­ cludes such valuable notices on archaic Latin. Among the new publications of the Bibliotheca Scriptorum Lat. et Graec. Teubneriana, we notice chiefly an excellent edition of the Controversiae of the elder Seneca (Seneca rhetor) by Pro­ fessor M. Kiessling of Greifswald, an edition containing many sagacious emendations of the text, and excellent in­ dexes ; an important edition of Cicero’s Letters (in two volumes) by the Danish scholar Wesenberg, whose separate treatises and occasional observations communicated to his friend Madvig had previously excited much interest, and who has now placed before us what may be called a sur­ prising performance in point of familiarity with Cicero’s diction and Latin style in general. This edition , is to be followed up by a fasciculus containing the arguments justi­ fying the principal emendations. The editions of Dictys and Dares, the two fabulous historians of the Trojan War, by F. Meister, belong likewise to the Bibl. Teubn. The edition �32 the president’s annual ADDRESS FOR 1873 of Dares contains an interesting review of the influence exercised by this author upon the writers and poets of the middle ages, and will therefore be acceptable to a wider circle of readers. “ In the Tauchnitz collection of Latin authors we may mention A. Riese’s edition of Ovid, the second volume of which contains a valuable edition of the Metamorphoses, with the best and most concise critical commentary to be had for this work. “ In the grammatical investigation of the Latin language a new system has been successfully adopted of late. The comprehensive works of Vossizts and Rudimanmis, which seem to embrace the whole of Latin literature, belong to a naive period which held it still possible that one man should exhaust the whole literary life of the language ; of late, we have preferred detailed and minute investigation to issuing new grammars of the whole language. The pronunciation and letter-changes of Latin have been carefully investigated by Corssen, Latin spelling has been historically revised by Brambach (who has also made his results accessible to teachers in his Kulfsbuclilein fur lateinische Rechtschreibung'), and two important monographs have been published on the syntax of quom by Lubbert and Autenrieth. Liibbert’s method is sta­ tistical, and has led to important results. The distinction made by our grammars between quom causal and quom tem­ poral did not, as he shews, exist in early Latin; it was only gradually forming in the time of Plautus and Terence, neither of whom ever uses quom temporal with the subjunctive im­ perfect and pluperfect. The historical and statistical method is also employed in Drager’s Kistorische Syntax, a work greatly to be recommended for its accuracy and careful elabo­ ration. The author gives nothing but what he himself has collected, and this is perhaps the only point to which excep­ tion might be taken. His work would be more complete had he also utilised the labours of his predecessors. By the same author we possess a valuable monograph on the style of Tacitus, and a very good work on Apuleius and African Latin has lately been published by Koziol, an Austrian scholar. �83 DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. The best work, however, of this kind, is Kuhnast’s Hauptpunkte der Livianischen Syntax (Berlin, Weber, 1872), quite a masterly work in every respect. A similar work on Cicero would be quite a boon to the student of Latin. It is in­ credible how many erroneous statements concerning Cicero and classical Latin keep floating through our grammars, one of which always carefully copies the errors of its predecessors. Kiihnast shews that many phrases and constructions, dis­ dained by over-anxious purists, are most excellent Latin, but somehow have not got admitted into dictionaries and grammars. “ The texts of the principal authors of the Latin language have been so much changed and improved by the labours of this Century, that there is now a wide field for energetic young philologers in cultivating the historical grammar of the language. In return, textual criticism will also be bene­ fited by these detailed investigations, and the nice shades of thought will be brought out by this kind of study. We have passed the stage of a sentimental admiration of the ancient authors, such as we find it in the editions of Heyne and his school; our eyes are fully open to the shortcomings and failings of Latin literature when considered aestheti­ cally, nor do we any longer attribute to this literature the ‘ humanizing ’ influence so naively believed in by former centuries—there is among us very little of that which may be termed elegant scholarship—which is all very nice, but perfectly useless—in fact, we do not work like ladies, but like men mindful of a serious purpose, which is in the first line : to trace the intellectual life of the great Roman nation in its literature; and secondly to shew and follow the con­ necting links between this literature and the other nations of Europe and Asia. To attain this end it is necessary to pursue the most minute investigations, but not to generalize without sufficient data and foundations. But the days in which it was held the height of Latin scholarship to write a splendid Ciceronian style, and to turn neat Latin verses, are past, and will never return.”1 Owing most probably to some incompletness in the expression of my intentions, Dr. Wagner has confined his remarks to the contributions to 3 �34 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 Our friend Dr. Wagner gauges woman’s work by the old standard. But when we find a lady, like Miss Anna Swan- 1 wick, translating JEschylus; another, like Miss Stockwell, taking the first Greek prize at Antioch College, U.S., against all the 700 young men there; and another, like Miss White, at the same College, solving a problem in mathematics in which 1500 male students had failed; we may remember past times when Hypatia taught at Alexandria, or more recent days when Mrs. Somerville translated Laplace, and own that superficiality does not depend on sex, but on habits of civilization, which may change, and we hope will change for the better—if indeed it be true that two heads are better than one, and that in literature and science as well as sociality, it is not good for man to be alone. The above account of the two American ladies is given on the authority of Miss Beedy, herself a graduate of Antioch, who justly remarked that of course such successes did not necessarily represent the general powers of American women, as naturally only the most capable had as yet availed them­ selves of the recently granted University privileges. But as it was suggested to me that some information should be obtained respecting the progress of ladies at Cambridge in England—Cambridge in America is still closed to them—I applied to Mr. Henry Sidgwick himself, whose name is widely known in connexion with ladies’ studies at Cambridge, and he has kindly sent me the following account: “ The facts as to our young ladies are these. Two have been examined by the examiners for our Classical Tripos, • one of whom would have obtained a second class and the other a third; one other, similarly, by the mathematical examiners, who would have obtained a second class. So the result is not exactly triumphant, though sufficiently en­ Latin Philology in 1872. Hence his omission of all English publications except Paley’s Propertius. He, how­ ever, wishes me to state that there are very few English scholars for whom he entertains a higher respect than Prof. Munro, whose Lucretius was published in 1866. Roby’s grammar, of which the first volume in its first edition came out in 1871, and the second has not yet appeared, Conington’s Virgil, and Robinson Ellis’s Catullus, have conse­ quently been passed over. It was im­ possible to alter this arrangement in time for the anniversary.—A. J. E. �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 35 couraging. It ought, however, to be borne in mind, that they had not been to classical schools, like the young men. I believe the quality of their work was in all cases better than what would be expected from their places, as they had not learnt to answer questions as quickly as the young men. The quality of Miss Cook’s work (the 2nd class classic) was especially commended. I have not myself taught any classics to ladies, but my experience of two years’ teaching of philosophy is that they (my pupils at least) quite equal the best young men in the closeness and thoroughness of their study.” Mr. Peile, who informed me that he has taught Greek, by correspondence only, to a few ladies during the past two years, although of course finding it difficult to arrive at any definite conclusion from such small data, has been led to “ believe that with a similar training women could become fully as good scholars as most of our first-class men at Cam­ bridge,” although, under the circumstances, of course, he “ cannot prove it.” It would be out of place to go into the general question of the intellectual rivalry of the sexes, but the preceding re­ marks and information respecting the aptitude of the female mind for the severer forms of University study in comparison to that displayed by young men of the same age engaged on the same subjects, although suggested by a passing allusion in Dr. Wagner’s contribution, while enforcing an opinion in which all earnest philologists must cordially agree, cannot be considered inappropriate in addressing a Philological Society, which, like our own, numbers ladies among its members. Early English. The great attention which our Society has paid to the early stages of our home-grown language, from the time that it was more or less distinctly separable from the imported tongues whence it was elaborated, as a cultivated plant from a wild flower, requires me to devote a large section of this Report to its consideration, and this I have been more easily able to effect, owing to the necessity of deferring especial �36 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 reference to its incunabula, Anglosaxon (including Gothic and the other Teutonic branches), Old Norse (including the other Scandinavian forms), and Old Norman (with the older Romance languages). The Members of our Society could not desire a better reporter on Early English than their own Honorary Secretary, Mr. Eurnivall, the Director of the Early English Text and Chaucer Societies; and I have great pleasure in presenting them with the following sketch from his pen. “As the revival of the study of Early English, which has been such a marked feature of linguistic inquiry of late years, originated with the Philological Society, I may, perhaps, be allowed to reach back some years, and remind our Members that delay on the part of our late much-lamented President, Prof. Goldstiicker, in producing his Sanskrit Affix paper for our Transactions of 1858, led to the printing of my Early English Poems and Lives of Saints early in 1862; that this encouraged Dr. Richard Morris to edit the Liber Cure Cocorum later in 1862; and in 1863 to begin, with Hampole’s Pricke of Conscience, that series of dialectal texts, accompanied by treatises on their peculiarities, which has done so much for his own renown, and for the firm founda­ tion of Early English work. In 1862 Dr. Whitley Stokes edited for the Society The Play of the Sacrament; in 1864 Dr. Weymouth followed with his critical edition of the Castel off Loue; and in the latter year was-founded the Early English Text Society, to carry on the publication of Early English Texts, which the Philological Society had so well begun, but, from want of funds, had been forced to abandon. “ Since that time the work at Early English, viewed philologically or linguistically, has been continued mainly in four directions :—I. the development of the characteristics of our early dialects ; II. the clearing-up of the limits and ‘ notes ’ of the several periods of our language ; III. its lexicography; IV. its pronunciation at different periods. “ I. Dialectal Characteristics.—As in his Preface to Ham­ pole’s Pricke of Conscience Dr. Richard Morris had, in 1863, gathered together the distinctive marks of the great Northern �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 37 dialect, so, in 1864, in his Early English Alliterative Poems (written perhaps about 1360 a.d., and edited from the unique MS. Cotton Nero A x.), he collected the characteristic signs of the Western division of that Midland dialect,1 which afterwards became the groundwork of our standard English speech. In 1865 Er. Morris edited, from the unique MS. in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, The Story of Genesis and Exodus, written about 1250 a.d. in the East-Midland dialect; and in his Preface to this work he shewed, not only what were the differences between the Eastern and Western divi­ sions of the Midland dialect, but also those' between the Southern and Northern parts of the East-Midland speech. He assigned the Genesis and Exodus1 to the Southern section. 2 By contrasting both Southern and Northern East-Midland forms and vocabulary with those of the Southern dialect, he was able to shew the large influence of Danish in the lan­ guage of our Mid-Eastern counties. “ In 1866> Er. Morris dealt with the third great division of our dialects, the Southern (in which he included the speech of the district formerly called Western), as shewn by the Kentish treatise of Dan Michel, of St. Austin’s, Canter­ bury, The Ayenbite of Inwyt, 1340 a.d. As this was written in the South, just about the time that Richard Rolle of Hampole wrote his Pricke of Conscience in the North, Dr. Morris, in a long Grammatical Introduction to the Ayenbite, carefully contrasted the distinctive peculiarities of the Southern and Northern dialects,—a task to which he devoted 70 pages,—and then,, after shortly noticing the lexicogra­ phical differences of the two dialects, gave, in pp. 72-85, full ‘ Outlines of Kentish Grammar, a.d. 1327-40.’ “Dr. Morris’s results were soon summarized, and addi1 An extract from the West-Midland, version of the Cursor Mundi is printed in Dr. Morris’s “ Legends- of the Moly Hood," 1871, pp. 108-161. In his First Series of Old English Homilies, “The Wooing of our Lord” contains West-Midland peculiarities which are discussed in the Preface.—F. J. F.. 2 The Bestiary, from the unique Arundel MS., re-edited by Dr. R. Morris in his Old English Miscellany, 1872, be­ longs also to the Southern section of the East-Midland dialect, while the Ormulum belongs to the Northern. A fragment on p. 200 of this Old English Miscellany is like in dialect to the Genesis and Exodus; and a copy of the Moral Ode in Dr. Morris’s Old English Homilies, Series II., 1873, has EastMidland peculiarities.—F. J. F. �38 the president’s ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 tional illustrations of his positions added, in a short treatise by Dr. Wm. T. P. Sturzenbecker, of Copenhagen, called ‘ Some Notes on the leading Grammatical Characteristics of the principal Early-English Dialects.’ This was drawn up at the suggestion of Prof. George Stephens, the well-known Professor of English in the University of Copenhagen, of whom Dr. Sturzenbecker had been a pupil. But in 1867 Dr. Morris had the opportunity of summing-up his own results in the Grammatical Introduction to his ‘ Specimens of Early English, selected from the chief English Authors, a.d. 1250-1400,’ in the Clarendon Press Series of School and College Class-books, which gave the English public for the first time in their history a general view of their early gram­ mar and language, and introduced them to a number of authors and works they had hardly heard of before. On the edition becoming exhausted, Dr. Morris arranged to increase the book in size, and extend it upward to Anglo-Saxon times, so as to join on to Thorpe’s Analecta. He therefore divided the work into two parts, and put the second into the Rev. W. W. Skeat’s hands to re-edit. A second edition of this second part (which was itself a second edition) is now in the press ; but the re-edited enlarged edition of Part I. has not yet appeared, though the text of it is all printed. In 1872 Dr. Morris made a further contribution to our knowledge of the early Southern dialect by his short sketch of the grammatical forms in five Old Kentish Sermons of the 13 th century, which he edited from the unique MS. Laud 471, in his Old English Miscellany, 1872. He also pointed out the differences between the forms in these Sermons and those in the Ayenbite a hundred years later. “A very valuable sketch of the Northern dialect as a whole, and its subsequent fortunes in Scotland, to which country it was, as a literary language, confined after the fifteenth century, is contained in Mr. J. A. H. Murray’s Historical Introduction to his ‘Dialect of the Southern Counties of Scotland,’ forming Part II. of the Society’s Transactions for 1870-2. The merits of Mr. Murray’s thorough discussion and description of the South-Scotch �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 39 dialect, its history and present characteristics, are too well appreciated by our Members to need further confirmation by me. Dr. Kaufmann, in his Inaugural Dissertation1 for ■his Doctor’s degree last year, summarized and discussed the grammatical and phonetic characteristics of the language of the Scotch poet William Dunbar, who wrote in the beginning of the 16th century. “ II. Linguistic Periods.—The second part of Dr. Morris’s great services to the knowledge of English historically was seen in 1867, when he produced his First Series of Old English Homilies and Homiletic Treatises of the 12th and 13th centuries. In his Grammatical Introduction to this work he dealt with the specially transitional period of the formation of English inflexions, which Sir Frederic Madden had termed Semi-Saxon,2 as being half-way between AngloSaxon and Early English. Dr. Morris showed that the lan­ guage of the 12th century must be divided into two halves, in the former of which the older Anglo-Saxon forms prevailed, while in the latter the modern forms had the predominance; and that in the former the unsuspected and unobserved phenomenon appeared, of a number of different endings (five for the genitive only) struggling for ascendancy, till the language settled down into the comparative peace of the first version of Layamon’s Brut, the early period of the victorious final e, which had been before supposed to repre­ sent the preceding fermenting period as well as its own. “ In 1872 Dr. Morris laid the results of his ten years’ work before the public in a much condensed form, in his ‘ Historical Outlines of English Accidence,’ which—with appendices based on the admirable work of our late Honorary Member, Dr. C. Friedrich Koch, ‘Die Historische Grammatik der Englischen Sprache,’ 1863-1869, and incorporating much of the excellent Grammars of Matzner and Sachs and Fiedler—has far 1 Traite de la Langue du Poete Ecossais William Dunbar, precede d’une Esquisse de sa Vie et de ses Poemes, et d’une Choix de ses Poesies: par Johannes Kaufmann, Docteur en Philosophie a El­ berfeld. Bonn,E. Weber, 1873.—F.J.F. 2 This name has been much ridiculed by a newspaper writer, whose know­ ledge of the details of English histori­ cally is ludicrously beneath what Sir Frederic’s was.—F. J. F. �40 THE PRESIDENT S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 surpassed any work of like kind in English, and proved the superiority of the historical treatment over all others.1 This book is to be followed by ‘ Historical Outlines of English Syntax’; and then I trust that Dr. Morris will enlarge his Accidence by a series of examples of every word and con­ struction in each of our three dialects, somewhat after Burguy’s manner in his Grammaire de la Langue d'O'il. “Mr. Murray’s researches have likewise resulted in the establishment of distinct stages in the development of the Low­ land Scotch, which he has designated the Early, the Middle, and the Modern periods respectively; the first of these ends about 1475, the second with the union of England and Scotland, and the disuse of the Scotch as a literary medium. Mr. Murray has pointed out numerous characteristics by which genuine specimens of the early period may be at once distinguishedfrom those of the 16th century, and thus works which have been vaguely thrown together as ‘ Old Scots ’ satisfactorily arranged in chronological order. In many respects this is perhaps the most important result of his investigations. “ In the present year Dr. Morris has issued a Second Series of Old English Homilies, from the unique MS. in Trinity College, Cambridge, which he has shewn to have been copied by a scribe who adapted them to his own dialect,8 that of the Southern division of the East Midland, so that these Homilies rank with the Bestiary, Genesis and Exodus, and Havelok. “To the many other publications of the Early English Text Society, Mr. Skeat’s excellent edition of the FourText St. Mark,3 etc., I do not allude, as they rather offer material for the philologist to deal with hereafter, than advance his knowledge now, save so far as they work out Dr. Morris’s views. Still, in Mr. Skeat’s Prefaces to his Havelok, William of Palerne, Partenay, and Joseph of 1 Compare the latest Grammar by Dr. Wm. Smith and Mr. T. D. Hall, in which muster is given as an example of the feminine ending ster; and kine is called a contraction of cow-en!—F.J.F. 2 The original version of these Homilies was in the Southern or West-Saxon dialect.—F. J. F. 3 The latest of these Texts, the Hatton MS. 38, illustrates the same period as the First Series of Old English Homilies.—F. J. F. �DEWOSKED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 41 Arimathie, will be found very valuable independent discus­ sions of the dialectal and grammatical peculiarities of these several Texts, while in his Preface to Text B of ‘William’s Vision of Piers the Plowman,’ Mr. Skeat has shewn how widely the practice of his author and the best scribes of the B Text, in their treatment of the final e of the perfect tense, etc., differs from the accepted theories on this subject. Mr. Henry Sweet’s important essay on the characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon of Alfred’s time, Prof. March’s Anglo-Saxon Grammar, etc., belong to the subjects deferred. “ III. Dictionaries.—The admirably full Glossaries of the late Sir Frederic Madden to Havelok, William and the Were­ wolf, Sir, Gfawayne, Layamon, the Wicliffite Versions of the Bible, etc., together with those of Dr. Morris, Mr. Skeat, Mr. Brock, and other Early-English-Text-Society editors, offered a capital foundation for any scholar to build up a Dictionary on. The first1 to raise such a structure was Dr. F. H. Stratmann, of Krefeld, the second edition of whose ‘ Dictionary of the Old English Language, compiled from writings of the xn, xm, xiv, and xv centuries,’ 1871-3, is just completed. So far as the Vocabulary goes, the book is admirably trust­ worthy and careful; but unluckily Dr. Stratmann did not conceive that his duty was to register all the words found in our printed texts from MSS. of the dates assigned in his title: and I believe that his book must be at least trebled in bulk (or number of entries), before it can supply the student with all he requires in a real Early-English Dictionary. Dr. Stratmann is now hard at work on a Supplement to his excellent book, so that the defect I have pointed out is in course of being remedied. Of Dr. E. Matzner’s EarlyEnglish Dictionary only the first part has yet appeared. It 1 Our friend Herbert Coleridge’s ‘ Glossarial Index to the printed Eng­ lish Literature of the Thirteenth Cen­ tury,’ Triibner & Co. 1859, led the way; but it was confined to the half century 1250-1300 a.d. Mr. Way’s profusely annotated and excellently edited Promptorium, and Mr. Thomas Wright’s Volume of Vocabularies for Mr. Joseph Mayer, are universally known as most valuable contributions to Early English Lexicography. Mr. Wright’s second volume of Vocabularies from the 10th to the 15th century is just ready. "Ultimately the two are to be amalgamated, and sold to the general public.—E. J. F. �42 the president’s ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 unfortunately has a misleading title: 1 Altenglische Sprachproben, nebst einern Worterbuche. Zweiter Band: Worterbuch. Erste Lieferung.’ This has led many people to sup­ pose that it is only a dictionary to the words in the editor’s excellent Altenglische Sprachproben, or Specimens of Early English (Part I. in verse, Part II. in prose, the only desidera­ tum in which is, that the texts should have been compared with their MSS.). But such is not the case. The Worterbuch covers the whole range of Early English, and is refreshingly full in vocabulary and quotations, with careful distinctions of the shades of meaning in the uses of every word—a point in which Dr. Stratmann’s work is defective. The only fault that I see in Dr. Matzner’s book is, that the quotations are not arranged in either strictly chronological or dialectal order, so that the student gets confused as to the history and locality of the forms of a word; and the only drawback I know to an Englishman’s use of the book is, that the meanings of the early words are given in Grennan only, instead of both German and English. But it is very grati­ fying to us Englishmen to see how soon, and how zealously, our Teutonic brethren have come forward to share our work at our own branch of the common tongue. If only we can persuade our German kin to abstain from “ re-writing ” all Early English texts, and turning them, full of the variations of individuality and nature, into monstrosities of uniformity, impossibilities of systematic spelling and form, we shall have nothing but cause to rejoice at the help of the grand German legion of learning whose fame fills the world. “ To general English Lexicography many important con­ tributions have of late years been made. The first edition of Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood’s English Etymology was fol­ lowed by Eduard Mueller’s excellent etymological English Dictionary, Kothen, 1865-7. This, by the revised edition of Webster, to which Dr. E. Mahn, of Berlin, contributed the etymologies — a wonderful improvement on the author’s, making the new Webster the most generally useful Dic­ tionary that I have come across. This again, by Mr. Wedg­ wood’s second and thoroughly revised and enlarged edition �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 43 of his ‘Dictionary of English Etymology? a book which, notwithstanding occasional weaknesses,—though departing from the historical method that it generally pursues,—is yet full of suggestiveness, of research, and happy insight, and points always to the discovery of those answers which the philo­ logist longs to find, for his questions to every root, ‘ Where did you spring from ? What did you first mean ? Tell me for help to know the history of mind and man.’ Dr. Latham’s new edition of Todd’s Johnson scarcely calls for notice here, as hardly any Early English was added to it, and its etymology is miserably meagre; but its enlarged vocabulary and additional quotations (though these are not always arranged chronologically) are points in its favour. The small dictionaries of Mr. Donald for Messrs. Chambers, and Mr. Stormonth for Messrs. Blackwood, are, on the whole, creditable performances. “ In special English Lexicography, the most noteworthy books are Mr. J. C. Atkinson’s Glossary of the Cleveland Dialect, 1868; those in our Society’s Transactions—Mr. Barnes’s Grammar and Glossary of the Dorset Dialect, 1864; Mr. Gregor’s Dialect of Banffshire and Glossary of Words not in Jamieson’s Dictionary, 1866; Mr. Edmon­ ston’s Glossary of the Shetland Dialect, 1866; Mr. Peacock’s Glossary of the Lonsdale Dialect, 1867. The ‘ Etymological and Comparative Glossary of the Dialect of East Anglia,’ by John Greaves Hall (London, 1866), I have not seen.1 “IV. Pronunciation.—Mr. Bichard Grant White made an exaborate attempt to ascertain Elizabethan pronunciation by means of rhymes, puns, and misspellings, in 1861,2 and 1 The Manchester Literary Club have printed and circulated, for com­ ments and additions, sheets of the A, B, and C words of the collections for their “ Glossary of the Lancashire Folk-Speech”; and state that having, “since the issue of the B sheets, re­ ceived from Mr. James Pearson, of Milnrow, a manuscript list of dialectal words current in the Fylde of Lanca­ shire, the Club Committee intend in future lists, as in the C sheets, to mark those words which are believed to be peculiar to the Fylde, Furness, Lons­ dale, and other districts, leaving it to be understood that the words not specially so denoted are current either in South and East Lancashire or generally throughout the county.”— F. J. F. Arrangements have been made for placing copies of this Glossary in the hands of members of the English Dialect Society, mentioned on p. 47.— A. J. E. s A full abstract of Mr. Grant White’s appendix to vol. 12 of his �44 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 Messrs. Noyes and Peirce applied the works of the 16th century orthoepists to the same purpose in 1864; although, unfortunately, these two writers were not acquainted with the best of them, Salesbury.1 But a connected history of the pronunciation of English had never been attempted— probably never thought of—until our present President, Mr. Ellis, took it up, and in 1867 produced the First Part of his ‘Early English Pronunciation, with Especial Reference to Shakspere and Chaucer,’ followed in 1869 by Part II., and in 1871 by Part III., while it is confidently anticipated that Part IV., completing the work, will appear early in 1874? Considering that Mr. Ellis has to read this Report himself, I will confine myself to saying that I rejoice that our Society has been the means of producing it. These phonetic investi­ gations have been worthily supplemented by Mr. J. A. H. Murray’s treatise, lately issued by our Society, on the Dialect of the Southern Counties of Scotland.” You will have doubtless noticed one curious omission in Mr. Furnivall’s contribution. The American abolitionist, Garrison, is reported to have said, that he had so much to do in saving the bodies of the slaves that he had no time to think of his own soul. Mr. Furnivall has been so much occupied in recording the work done by others that he has had no time to think of the mainspring, his own unceasing labours in setting others to work, and in setting others the example of how to work, on Early English. The extra volumes of our Society are mainly due to his suggestion, and have been produced under his stimulus. The Early English Text, the Chaucer, and the Ballad Societies are really his creations, and live by his life. I omit to notice his editions edition of Shakspere, containing these researches, is given in my Early English Pronunciation, pp. 966-973.—A. J. E. 1 In the North .Amer. Rev., April, 1864, pp. 342-369. All the authorities cited by them are mentioned in my E. E. Pron., p. 917, note, and all their re­ sults are given in the footnotes to pp. 975-980 of the same work.—A. J. E. 2 The state of the work is as follows. Part IV. will consist of four chapters and the indexes. The two first of these will be sent for press on 1 June. The third will probably be completed in MS. by the end of June. One of the most laborious sections of the last is com­ plete in draft. How long the indexes will take it is impossible to say, but I hope, if the many adverse circumstances which I am obliged to allow for as possible, are good enough to permit me, to have the text printed by 1 Sept., and if so the fourth part ought to be ready before our next Anniversary.—A. J. E. �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 45 of Robert of Brunne, the Babees Book, and other minor works, to draw especial attention to his great contribution to accurate English philology, the magnificent Six-Text Edition of Chaucer, still in progress, which I regard as entirely his own in conception and execution. Mr. Furnivall has in this work inaugurated a new era in philology. No one will henceforth be satisfied with collations of important works. An editor may patch up a text to shew his own particular views, and defend them in elaborate comments. But students, who wish to know what the works are like, will now require the lively counterfeits of their oldest existent forms placed side by side for actual comparison one with another and each part with its whole; not a mosaic presentment of disaccordant patches. This is what Mr. Furnivall has done for our first English poet, mostly with his own hand, entirely by his own thought, and no notice of Early English philology read from this Chair can be complete without fitting mention of this great philological work accomplished by our own Honorary Secretary. Mr. Skeat, whose admiration for the English language is certainly not founded on ignorance, for few have ex­ amined its documents more minutely, has supplemented Mr. Furnivall’s sketch by the following plea for the due position of English scholarship :— “ The careful and acute researches of Dr. Morris with respect to questions of dialect well illustrate the new method which has arisen of regarding our old literature, not as a compilation of unintelligible monstrosities of forms, but as representing modes of speech which were actually in the mouths of men in the olden times. Yet this is only one side of the matter. Equally careful work has been expended upon questions of etymology, both by Dr. Morris and by other editors. Perhaps few have contributed so much to forming habits of strict scholarly accuracy as the late Sir Frederic Madden. He clearly regarded our English speech as worthy of the same kind of exact critical study—both in kind and degree—as it has generally been the English habit to reserve for the study of the “ classical languages ” only. �46 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 This principle has been conscientiously followed out by most of the editors for the Early English Text Society, with the hope that wild etymological speculations and guess-work derivations that set at defiance all known laws of language may soon become things of the past. The due recognition of this important principle, now that it has once been per­ mitted to see the light, must never more be lost sight of. It is not for us to make premature guesses, but patiently to in­ vestigate. Our own tongue yields to none other in copious­ ness, in versatility, in many-sidedness; and there is no reason why English scholarship should not be as critical, as exact, as minute, and in every way as sound as any other. It is just because our English editors have at last begun both to per­ ceive this and to act upon it, that the Glossaries to our texts have also begun to have a solid value, very different from that of those in some old editions wherein the editor fre­ quently refrained from indicating by references to what passages his explanation referred ; in order, we may suppose, that the reader might not so easily be enabled to catalogue, and in some cases to rectify, his blunders.” Finally, English takes a prominent place in the Proceed­ ings of the American Philological Association. In those for 1871, there is an important paper by the late Prof. James Hadley, of Yale College, Connecticut, U.S., on “English Vowel Quantity in the Thirteenth Century and the Nine­ teenth,” and another by Prof. Francis A. March, of Easton, Pennsylvania, on “Anglo-Saxon and Early English Pro­ nunciation.” In those for 1872, Prof. Hadley, who was then a Vice-President, read a paper on “ The Byzantine Pronun­ ciation of Greek in the Tenth Century, as illustrated by a Manuscript in the Bodleian Library,” which I had adduced as collateral evidence of Anglo-Saxon Pronunciation (Early English Pronunciation, pp. 516-527). This was Professor Hadley’s last paper. Prof. Whitney, of Yale College, in sending me a copy of it, says: “You will see what a loss English studies, as well as classical and comparative philplogy, have suffered by his death. No more painful and disabling blow, certainly, could have fallen on our com­ �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 47 munity of American scholars.” To Prof. Hadley we owe, according to Prof. Whitney, “ a clear and succinct view of the history and connections of English Speech, prefixed to the latest edition of Webster’s Dictionary,”1 and I must record my personal obligations to him for an appreciative and disc.riminating review of the first two parts of my Early English Pronunciation in the North American Review (April 1870, pp. 420-437). English philology can ill spare so able a worker in her vineyard. Among other papers read before this American Philological Association in 1871, I notice Dr. Fitz Edward Hall on “the imperfect tenses of the passive voice in English,” presented by Prof. Whitney, notes on my Early English Pronunciation by Mr. Bristed, and Mr. Trumbull on “ a mode of counting, said to have been used by the Wawenoc Indians of Maine,” which is my Yorkshire Sheep-scoring, already referred to. In the session for 1872, we have Mr. Bristed on “ erroneous and doubtful uses of the word such’' Mr. W. Worthington Fowler on “ the derivation of English monosyllabic personal surnames,” Mr. Trumbull on “ English words derived from Indian lan­ guages of North America.” Prof. March inquires: “Is there an Anglo-Saxon Language ? ” and follows this up by a paper on “ some irregular verbs in Anglo-Saxon,” shewing that he had no doubt on his own mind. Finally Prof. S. S. Haldeman read a paper on “Some Points of English Pro­ nunciation and Spelling.” English Dialects. In connection with English studies, I am delighted to have ’it in my power to announce that the Rev. W. W. Skeat, a‘ Member of our Council, to whom our own and the Early English Text Society are so deeply indebted for long, la­ borious, and accurate work, has started, and with his usual promptitude and vigour actually set on foot, an English Dialect Society. Many of you are aware that I mooted this question in the introduction to the Third Part of my 1 “Language and the Study of Language,” 1867, p. 211. See also the last two lectures of this work with reference to Prof. Max Miiller’s theories, infra p. 49. �48 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 Early English Pronunciation. But I have never felt vigorous enough to carry it out. It is to me a matter of faith that we cannot at all properly understand varied Early English—which consists solely of dialects—without under­ standing the varied English of to-day, whether in phonetical or grammatical construction, and I have long felt that time is running distressingly short. Intercommunication is draw­ ing a wet sponge over the living records of our nascent tongue. The intentions of the English Dialect Society started by Mr. Skeat are—1) to bring together those in­ terested in Provincial English, that is, every one interested in the history of our language, 2) to combine the labours of collectors by providing a common centre and means of record, 3) to publish, subject to proper revision, MS. col­ lections of words, and 4) to supply information to collectors. One of the first labours of the Society will be to form a complete catalogue of all existing works on the subject, and I am greatly pleased to announce that Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte has agreed to allow his private collection of nearly 700 works—from little pamphlets to large books—in, on, and about the English dialects, to be catalogued for the use of this Society. I am sure that merely to mention the launching of such a scheme under such guidance, is to recommend it to every Member of our own Society, and I hope that there will not only be a general cry of good speed! but an early and general promise of co-operation.1 Origin of Language. In my last year’s address considerations of the relations of thought to sound as the pivot of philological research, natu­ rally brought me face to face with some of the theories of the origin of language, as the pooh pooh I bow wow ! and ding 1 The Treasurer is the Rev. J. W. Cartmell, Christ’s College, Cambridge; the Subscription, half a guinea only; Tankers, J. Mortlock & Co., Cam­ bridge, whose London correspondents are Messrs. Smith, Payne, & Smith, 1, Lombard Street; Hon. Secretary, Rev. W. W. Skeat, 1, Cintra Terrace, Cambridge, to whom all communica­ tions on dialects are to be addressed, and who will supply printed rules of directions for collecting and recording words. Early adhesions are of great importance. �49 DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. together with the notion of roots. In this country Prof. Max Muller has long been favourably and popularly known as the defender of radicarianism, or the hypothesis of roots. He has just completed a course of lectures at the Royal Institution (22 and 29 March, and 5 April, 1873), on what he termed “ Mr. Darwin’s Philosophy of Language,” but which, after hearing, I think should have been entitled:— ■ the Annihilation of Mr. Darwin’s theory of evolution, by Prof. Max Muller’s philosophy of language.” The object of the lectures was indeed to shew that language, as conceived by Prof. Max Muller, formed an impassable barrier between the ape and man. i( Ho animal speaks,” said the lecturer, quoting with serious approval Schleicher’s joke, “ if a pig were to say to me, I am a pig, he would thereby cease to be a pig.” In which case, perhaps, a logician might doubt whether it was a pig before it spoke. But in order to arrive at this result, Prof. Max Muller had to separate language into two domains, emotional and rational. The first he admitted to be common to man and animal. The second he considered the appanage of man. But this rational language he made to consist in using phonetic forms to represent general concepts. These general concepts were asserted to be in fact the peculiarity of man. The Professor seems to consider that they are obtained a, priori. “ You cannot say, this is green, unless you have first the idea of green,” were the words he used. In this case I fear that when I, for one, say “this is green,” I speak like a parrot. I own not to having “the idea of green,” not even to guessing what it is. I know of course the disputes about primary colours, whether green is simple or mixed, primary or secondary. I know grass green, pea green, sea green, arsenical green. When I bought penny colours as a child I knew bice green, chrome green, sap green. When I mixed prussian blue and gam­ boge I made blue greens and yellow greens. I have since learned to recognize red greens, brown greens, purple greens, neutral greens; in fact, a whole bunch of greens. But I have no “idea of green,” that is, of “green absolutely,” nothing separable from light passing into and being reflected 4 �50 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873 from a definite absorber, or passing through a definite re­ fracting medium with a definite angle of incidence, or from a mixture, natural or artificial, of several such beams. And when I look upon all these greens I see that the name has passed from one to another by a process of joint consimilation and differentiation, all entirely a posteriori, nothing at all a priori. And I have had several friends who, through colour-blindness, saw resemblances wher,e I saw differences, and put among the greens what I put among the reds, and conversely. So having no general concept of green, I doubt whether I have a general concept of anything else. And then I come to think, whether upon Prof. Max Muller’s theory, the people who class me among men may not be committing a mistake entirely similar to that of my colour­ blind friends, whether in fact I am not a gorilla myself, or at most the missing link. Seriously, these questions are not, so far as I can see, to be solved d priori. Animals, to my mind, have concepts, with quite as much a right to be termed general as any which I possess myself, the difference being one of degree. As to the impossibility of speechless animals ever becoming speaking men, I feel that this is a mere postulate. The embryonic man passes through foetal stages of lower animalism.1 The born man passes from 1 See, M. Serres, Principes d’ Embryogenie, de Zoogenie et de Teratogenie, forming vol. 25 of the M emoires de l’Academie des Sciences de l’lnstitut Imperial de France, 1860, 4to. pp. 942, with 25 plates. On p. 380 we find: “ S’il est curieux de voir, comme nous venons de l’indiquer, l’anatomie comparee reproduire 1’embryogenie humaine, combien n’est-il pas plus im­ portant de voir celle-ci repeter a son tour, sur d'autres points, l’organisation des animaux! Quoi de plus remarquable et de moins remarque, avant nos travaux, que ce singulier prolongement caudal que presente l’embryon de l’homme de la cinquieme a la sixieme et septieme semaine ? Si un caractere saillant distingue l’homme des mammiferes et des quadrumaines, c’est assurement l’absence du prolongement caudal. Or voici que l’embryon nous reproduit ce prolongement, nous decelant, pour ainsi dire, par un signe tout exterieur, les ressemblances qui le lient plus profondement a la chaine des etres dont il constitue le dernier anneau. Ce caractere presente meme cette particularite veritablement saississante, que c’est lors de sa manifestation et pendant sa dure'e que se reproduisent les repetitions organiques de l’anatomie comparee. . . . c’est alors enfin que l’encephale humain se deguisent sous les formes de'volues aux poissons, aux reptiles et aux oiseaux. Et ce qui complete la chose, c’est que ce pro­ longement caudal n’a qu’une existence dphemere, comme toutes les ressem­ blances organiques de l’embryon, il disparait dans le cours du troisieme mois; et c’est aussi a partir de cet instant que l’homme, laissant derriere lui tous les etres organises, s’avance a grands pas vers le type d’organisation qui le constitue dans sa vie exterieure.” �DELIVERED BY ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, ESQ. 51 speechlessness to speech—provided he can hear, and with Prof. Whitney I put in a plea for the deaf and dumb. The rapidity with which the bom man, his transitional stages passed, develops into a speaking animal under favourable circumstances of audition and environment, is what the evo­ lutionary hypothesis would lead us to anticipate. But, with all that, he is usually twelve months dumb, less amenable to command at first than most adult dogs. Then in another twelve months he slowly acquires extremely concrete or par­ ticular concepts. The general concepts, under favourable circumstances, grow rapidly, but in twenty years they are seldom very distinct or numerous. After forty years he begins to clarify them. At sixty, which I am fast approach­ ing, he ceases to be surprised at their paucity, but rather wonders at their mere existence, and sometimes doubts that. Yet he has then conversed, according to the usual accept­ ation of the term, for half a century. The belief in a necessity of general concepts for the formation of roots, and thence of language (itself to be considered as connate with thought, so that all four, general concepts, roots, lan­ guage, and thought, are but phases of one act, which is the theory I understand Prof. Max Muller to maintain), seems to me dissipated by the mere history of talking man. Space does not allow me to treat such a subject with the necessary detail or necessary seriousness. I mention it, as one of the most recent statements put forth by a well-known philologist. But I conceive such questions to be out of the field of philology proper. We have to investigate what is, we have to discover, if possible, the invariable unconditional relations under which language, as we observe it, forms, de­ velops, changes, or at least to construct an empirical state­ ment of definite linguistic relations, and ascertain how far that statement obtains in individual cases. Real language, the go-between of man and man, is a totally different organism from philosophical language, the misty ill-understood expo­ nent of sharp metaphysical distinctions. Our work is with the former. We shall do more by tracing the historical growth of one single work-a-day tongue, than by filling �52 THE PRESIDENT’S ANNUAL ADDRESS FOR 1873. waste-paper baskets with reams of paper covered with specu­ lations on the origin of all tongues. What enormous work is wanted for the historical investigation of one single branch of philology is shewn by the labours of Grimm and his compatriots in Germany, supplemented by the existing inves­ tigations of Early English explorers. What still greater work is required for the comparison of a single family of related languages, is shewn by the work which Bopp initiated and Pott is unweariedly carrying on for Aryanism. The danger is that we should shut ourselves up in one little “clearing,” and not see the primeval forest in which we work for the fine trees that immediately surround us. Societies like ours are intended to obviate this defect, and addresses like the present are meant in some small degree to focus inquiry, that we may better see one in all and all in one. I regret much that the work has not fallen at first into abler hands, but I would raise up my own feeble voice, which I feel acutely to be the voice of an outsider in philology, to beg philologists to relegate these philosophical questions on origins to a period when more is known of actualities and development, and to work, with “ a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether,” to make the real living organism intelligible, and to track its growth day by day as it can now be watched, in order to understand not only-how it has reached its present state from anterior conditions traceable in existing monuments and documents, but how its present state will hereafter change, whether such changes have or have not conduced to the improvement of language as the expression of thought, and what connection there is between the development of man, and the chief instrument by which it can be recorded. When I think of what all this implies, I may well repeat the Horatian invocation, recalling the Queen of Fair Speech from the heaven of speculation to the earth of investigation, from the trump divine to the pipe human, and proclaiming the comparative endlessness of the task before her— “Descende caelo, et die, age, tibia Regina longum, Calliope, melos.” � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Second annual address of the President to the Philological Society delivered at the anniversary meeting, Friday, 16th May, 1873 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Ellis, Alexander John Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 34 p. ; 22 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Inscription on front page: M D Esq from the author 1 June 1873. Includes bibliographical references. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Philological Society Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5276 Subject The topic of the resource Philology Language Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Second annual address of the President to the Philological Society delivered at the anniversary meeting, Friday, 16th May, 1873), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Philology Press https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/9435f4bd7629630215b897db4d4dccd2.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=MIO7hQ7qKBoinJJN9z08It9pWE1ZVRbORUpUXXmeKdB2LQScYVx4GahiojAgxAWG38cuRqqjRdzDGKN09tU1JgvsZOOFJNwclTZ8QzrVyIldY9w84cylkAMSx8HRThr6zHEkkSarr1XUM2NcmGbNS5H37Gdn8cw9Jo4u-xjdW8CWWKwpVnRz9wCYlqiLhmkbfqIeVF4iF3pR9o9CiTi%7EELMMWwngGVCVAwKzjgwQU5vQicgTt25y6LWURSy--tgwwwNpBX6ZrupsLLrH%7EUVrhfY4nOAxnGKB%7E939rn8oqIRo-AelcQax6bzhsrnZXGe1qc6HNuGuUJ1G5gyTkAMVTQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 8fb7ba1254ed918e0f909e531f63cf0d PDF Text Text God the Image of Man. Man’s Dependence upon Nature the last and only Source of Religion. BY LUDWIG FEUERBACH, _A.uth.or of “The Essence of Christianity,” &o., &o. TRANSLATED BY ALEXANDER LOOS, ----- ♦ 3VE, ------------ New York : K. BUTTS <& CO., No. 36 DEY STREET �Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by ASA K. BUTTS, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. �nxao ■; LUDWIG FEUERBACH, A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. In submitting to the American public the subsequent argument for the natural origin of religion, by a thinker whose name has, during the last year, received a well-de­ served but long withheld prominence on this side of the Atlantic, by the eloquence of"one of his noblest peers in the realm of thought, as well as by the lamentable news of his recent death: we consider it not altogether su­ pererogatory to introduce it by a brief sketch of the author’s life, especially for the sake of assigning to the following paragraphs their true place in his life work. Ludwig Feuerbach was the fourth of the five sons of the celebrated German criminalist Anselm von Feuerbach, born July 28th 1804, at Landshut in Bavaria. The vi­ cissitudes of his simple life do not present any sensation­ al features, and neither his position in life, nor his incli­ nation tended to bring him prominently before the pub­ lic. His life was eminently a life of thought, and his writings are his real biography. What Feuerbach was at any time of his fife, he was with his whole soul. In his youth, as a pupil of the Gym­ nasium at Anspach, he was a pious Christian—pious with all the energy of his character. In the fervor of his piety, he devoted himself from free choice to the study of the­ ology at the University of Heidelberg, but without find­ ing there any satisfactory nourishment for the restless cravings of his aspiring mind. He therefore left Heidel- �li LUDWIG FEUERBACH. berg in 1824 for Berlin, whence he wrote to his father as follows : “ I have abandoned theology, not however wan­ tonly or recklessly or from dislike, but because it does not satisfy me, because it does not give me what I indis­ pensably need. I want to press Nature to my heart, from whose depth the cowardly theologian shrinks back; I want to embrace man, but man in his entirety.” Feuer­ bach could not resist the power with which Hegel then attracted the young students ; but he possessed too inde­ pendent a mind to swear upon the master’s word, and gradually not only emancipated himself from Hegel’s philosophy, but determined to throw off speculative phil­ osophy altogether and to exclusively devote himself to the only true science, that of Nature. But the death of King Max the First of Bavaria, whose liberal patronage had enabled Anselm von Feuerbach to give to each of his five talented sons a liberal education, frustrated this inten­ tion, and prevented Ludwig Feuerbach from continuing his studies. He accordingly settled in 1828 as a private tutor at the University of Erlangen and lectured on Logic, and Metaphysics, but he soon realized that the prevailing scholasticism of a royal university was not a congenial atmosphere for his independent mind, and throwing up all official connection with licensed institu­ tions and systems, he retired into the rural solitude of Bruckberg, a small villagenear Anspach,where Nature and Science absorbed all the fervor of his enthusiasm and in­ spired him, during a residence of 25 years, with the most im­ portant of his literary creations—a residence that was in­ terrupted only by a short visit at Heidelberg in 1848, whither he had been invited by the student youth to give a course of lectures before a promiscuous audience on “ The Essence of Religion.” The feelings with which he hailed this self-emancipation from the thraldom of of­ fice and scholastic influences can best be realized from the words in which he gave vent to his exultation, when in 1838 he had been united in blissful wedlock to the sisterin-law of the friend who had secured for him the asylum at Bruckberg: “Now I can do homage to my genius; now �LUDWIG FEUERBACH. I can devote myself independently, freely, regardlessly to the development of my own being !” Among his writings which have been published in a uniform edition comprising ten volumes, the following deserve especially to be mentioned: Thoughts on Death and Immortality, (1830); History of Modern Philosophy from Bacon of Verulam to Spinoza, (1833); Representa­ tion, Development and Criticism of Leibnitz’s Philosophy, (1837); Pierre Bayle, (1838); Essence of Christianity, (1841, second edition 1843, third edition 1848—trans­ lated by Marion Evans); Essence of Religion, (1845). This last named work which is here for the first time presented to the American public in translation, forms the principal basis for the thirty lectures on “ The Essence of Religion,” which Ludwig Feuerbach, as before stated, held in the winter of 1848-1849 at Heidelberg before a promiscuous audience, and in which he endeavor­ ed to fill a gap left in his “Essence of Christianity,” by enlarging the argument of the latter, according to which “all theology is anthropology” by the addition of “and physiology,” so that his doctrine and conception of religion is embraced in the two words Nature and Nan. The last principal work of Ludwig Feuerbach is “Theogony according to the sources of Classic, Hebrew and Christian antiquity,” which forms the 9th volume of his works; the 10th volume (1866) consisting of a promiscuous col­ lection of essays on “ Deity, liberty and immortality from the stand-point of anthropology.” Afterwards Feuerbach transferred his residence from Bruckberg to Rechenberg near Nuremberg, where he lived exclusively to his family and a small circle of inti­ mate friends. Solely devoted as he had been to the ser­ vice of science, he had not hoarded up any riches and in consequence suffered toward the evening of his life from severe and annoying deprivations. A due sense of grat­ itude on the part of his contemporaries in Europe and America, secured the success of a national subscription, intended to relieve him and his family from want and cares for the rest of his life. But his health, undermined �.iv LUDWIG FEUERBACH. by severe mental labor and deprivation, failed more and more rapidly and disabled him even from fully realizing the enjoyment of a nation’s grateful recognition, when a repeated stroke of apoplexy overshadowed his existence with the gloom of partial unconsciousness, until, on the 12th of Sept., 1872, he died at Rechenberg. In trying to briefly point out, in conclusion, the sub­ stance of Ludwig Feuerbach’s writings in general and of the subsequent argument in particular, we do not know how to do this better or more strikingly, than in his own words in which he speaks of his life-work as follows: “ My business was, and above everything is, to illu­ mine the dark regions of religion with the torch of reason, that man at last may no longer be a sport to the hostile powers that hitherto and now avail them­ selves of the mystery of religion to oppress man­ kind. My aim has been to prove that the powers before which man crouches are creatures of his own limited, ignorant, uncultured, and timorous mind, to prove that in special the being whom man sets over against himself as a separate supernatural existence is his own being. The purpose of my writing is to make men tmzJ/iwpologians instead of /Aeologians ; man-lovers instead of God-lovers ; students of this world instead of candidates of the next; self-reliant citizens of the earth instead of subservient and wily ministers of a celestial and terrestrial monarchy. My object is therefore any­ thing but negative, destructive, it is positive : I deny in order to affirm. I deny the illusions of theology and re­ ligion that I may affirm the substantial being of man.” �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION, GOD THE IMAGE OF MAN. MAN’S DEPENDENCE UPON NATURE THE LAST AND ONLY SOURCE OF RELIGION. [The following treatise forms the basis and substance of the author’s larger work, published under the same title, as a complement to his previous: “Essence of Christianity” (translated into English by Marion Evans, the translator of Strauss’ “Life of Jesus.” It will re­ commend itself to the unbiased reader as by far the most striking and powerful argument for the human origin of religion in general, and Christianity in particular, before which all claims and pretensions of dogmatism sink into naught.—Translator.] § 1. That being which is different from and inde­ pendent of man, or, which is the same thing, of God, as represented in the “ Essence of Christianity,”—the being without human nature, without human qualities and without human individuality is in reality nothing but Nature.^) § 2. The feeling of dependence in man is the source of religion; but the object of this dependence, viz., that �2 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. upon which man is and feels himself dependent, is orig­ inally nothing but Nature. Nature is the first original object of'religion, as is sufficiently proved by the history of all religions and nations. § 3. The assertion that religion is innate with and natural to man, is false, if religion is identified with Theism ; but it is perfectly true, if religion is considered to be nothing but that feeling of dependence by which man is more or less conscious that he does not and can­ not exist without another being, different from himself, and that his existence does not originate in himself. Religion, thus understood, is as essential to man as light to the eye, as air to the lungs, as food to the stomach. Religion is the manifestation of man’s conception of him­ self. But above all man is a being who does not exist without light, without air, without water, without earth, without food,—he is, in short, a being dependent on Na­ ture. This dependence in the animal, and in man as far as he moves within the sphere^of the brute, is only an un­ conscious and unrefiected one; but by its elevation into consciousness and imagination, by its consideration and profession, it becomes religion. Thus all life depends on the change of seasons; but man alone celebrates this change by dramatic representations and festival acts. But such festivals, which imply and represent nothing but the change of the seasons, or of the phases of the moon, are the oldest, the first, and the real confessions of human religion. § 4. Man, as well as any individual nation or tribe considered in its particularity, does not depend on nature or earth in general, but on a particular locality—not on water generally, but on some particular water, stream or fountain. Thus the Egyptian is no Egyptian out of �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 3 Egypt; the Indian is no Indian out of India. For this very reason those ancient nations which were so firmly attached to their native soil, and not yet attained to the conception of their true nature as members of mankind, but which clung to their individuality and particularity as nations and tribes, were fully justified in worshiping the mountains, trees, animals, rivers and fountains of their respective, countries as divine beings; for their whole individuality and existence were exclusively based upon the particularity of their country and its nature—just as he who recognizes the universe as his home, and himself as a part of it, transfers the universal character of his being into his conception of God. § 5. It is a fantastic notion that man should have been enabled only by “Providence,” through the assist­ ance of “superhuman” beings, such as Gods, Spirits, Genii and Angels, to elevate himself above the state of the animal. Of course man has become what he is not through himself alone; he needed for this the assistance of other beings. But these were no supernatural creat­ ures of imagination, but real, natural beings—no beings standing above but below himself, for in general every thing that aids man in his conscious and voluntary actions, commonly and pre-eminently called human, every good gift and talent, does not come from above, but from below; not from on high, but from the very depths of Nature. Such assistant beings, such tutelary genii of man, are especially the animals. Only through them man raised himself above them; only by their protection and assistance, the seed of human perfection could grow. Thus we read in the book of Zendavesta, and even in its very oldest and most genuine part, Vendidad: “ Through the intellect of the dog is the world upheld. �4 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. If he did not protect the world, thieves and wolves would rob all property.” This importance of the animals to man, particularly in times of incipient civilization, fully justifies the religious adoration with which they are looked upon. The animals were necessary and indis­ pensable to man ; on them his human existence depended —but on what his life and existence depends, that is his God. If the Christian no longer adores Nature as God, it is only because in his belief his existence does not depend on Nature, but on the will of a being different from Nature; but still he considers and adores this being as a divine, i. e. supreme being, only because he deems it to be the author and preserver of his existence and life. Thus the worship of God depends only on the self-ad­ oration of man, and is nothing but the manifestation of the latter; for suppose I should despise myself and my life—and man originally and normally does not make any distinction between himself and his life—how should I praise and worship that upon which such pitiful and contemptible fife depends ? The value which I con­ sciously attribute to the source of life reflects therefore only the value which I unconsciously attribute to life and myself. The higher therefore the value of life, the higher also the value and dignity of those who give fife, viz. of the Gods. How could the Gods possibly be resplendent in gold and silver, unless man knew the value and the use of gold and silver ? What a differ­ ence between the fullness and love of life among the Greeks, and the desolation and contempt of life among the Indians—but at the same time what a difference be­ tween the Greek and Indian mythology, between the Olym­ pian father of the Gods and of man and the huge Indian opossum or the rattlesnake—the ancestor of the Indians J �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 5 § 6. The Christian enjoys life just as much as the Heathen, but he sends his thankofferings for the enjoy­ ments of life upward to the father in Heaven: he accuses the Heathen of idolatry for the very reason that they confine their adoration to the creature and do not rise to the first cause as the only true cause of all benefits. But do I owe my existence to Adam, the first man? Do I revere him as my parent ? Why shall I not stop at the creature ? Am I myself not a creature ? Is not the very nearest cause which is equally defined and individ­ ual with myself, the last cause for me, who myself am not from afar, as I myself am a defined and individual being ? Does not my individuality, inseparable and undistinguishable as it is from myself and my existence, depend on the individuality of my parents ? Do I not, if I go further back, at last lose all traces of my existence ? Is there not a necessary limit to my thus going back in search of the .first cause ? Is not the beginning of my ex­ istence absolutely individual ? Am I begotten and con­ ceived in the same year, in the same hour, with the same disposition, in short under the same internal and exter­ nal conditions as my brother? Is not therefore my origin just as individually my own as my life without contradiction is my own life ? Shall I therefore extend my filial love and veneration back to Adam ? No, I am fully entitled to stop with my religious reverence at those things which are nearest to me, viz., my parents, as the cause of my existence. § 7. The uninterrupted series of the finite causes or objects, so-called, which was defined by the Atheists of old as an infinite and by the Theists as a finite one, exists only in the thoughts and the imagination of man, like time, in which one moment follows another without �6 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. interruption or distinction. In reality the tedious mon­ otony of this causal series is interrupted and destroyed by. the difference and individuality of the objects, which individuality causes each by itself to appear new, inde­ pendent, single, final and absolute. Certainly water, which in the conception of natural religion is a divine Oeing, is on the one hand - a compound, depending on hydrogen and oxygen, but at the same time it is some­ thing new, to be compared to itself only, and original, wherein the qualities of its two constituent elements, as such, have disappeared and are destroyed. Certainly the moonlight, which the Heathen, in his religious sim­ plicity, adored as an independent light, is derived from the immediate light of the sun, but at the same time, dif­ ferent from the latter, the peculiar light of the moon, changed and modified by the moon’s resistance, and therefore a light which could not exist without the moon, and whose particularity has its source only in her. Certainly the dog, whom the Persian addresses in his prayers as a beneficial and therefore divine being on ac­ count of his watchfulness, his readiness to oblige and his faithfulness, is a creature of Nature, which is not what he is through himself; but still it is only the dog himself, this particular and no other being, which possesses those qualities that call for my veneration. Shall I now in recognition of these qualities look up to the first and general cause, and turn my back on the dog ? But the general cause is without distinction just as much the cause of the friendly dog as of the hostile wolf, whose existence I am obliged to destroy, in spite of the general cause, if I will sustain the better right of my own existence. § 8. The Divine Being which is revealed in Nature, �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. is nothing but Nature herself, revealing and representing herself with irresistible power as a Divine Being. The ancient Mexicans adored among their many Gods alfeo a God ( or rather a Goddess ) of the salt. This God of the salt may reveal to us in a striking exemplification the God of Nature in general. The salt ( rock-salt) repre­ sents in its economical, medicinal and other effects, the usefulness and beneficence of Nature, so highly praised by the Theists ; in its effect on the eye, in its colors, its brilliancy and transparency, her beauty ; in its crystalline structure and form, her harmony and regularity ; in its composition of antagonistic elements, the combination of the opposite elements of Nature into one whole — a combination which by the Theists was always considered as an unobjectionable proof for the existence of a ruler of Nature, different from her, because in their ignorance of Nature they did not know that antagonistic elements and things are most apt to attract one another and com­ bine into a new whole. But what now is the God of the salt ? That God whose domain, existence, manifestation, effects and qualities are contained in the salt ? Nothing but the salt itself which appears to man on account of its qualities and effects as a divine, i. e., as a beneficent, magnificent, praiseworthy and admirable being. Homer expressively calls the salt divine. Thus, as the God of the salt is only the impression and expression of the deity or divinity of the salt, so also is the God of the world or of Nature in general, only the impression and expression of Nature’s divinity. § 9. The belief that in Nature another being is mani­ fested, distinct from Nature herself, or that Nature is filled and governed by a being different from, herself, is in reality identical with the belief that spirits, demons. �8 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. devils &c. manifested themselves through man, at least in a certain state, and that they possess him ; it is in very truth the belief, that Nature is possessed by a strange, spiritual being. And indeed Nature, viewed in the light of such a belief, is really possessed by a spirit, but this spirit is the spirit of man, his imagination, his soul, which transfers itself involuntarily into Nature and makes her a symbol and mirror of his being. § 10. Nature is not only the first and original object but also the lasting source, the continuous, although hidden background of religion. The belief that God, even when he is imagined as a supernatural being, differ­ ent from Nature, is an object existing outside of man, an objective being, as the philosophers call it; this belief has its only source in the fact, that the objective being, which really exists outside of man, viz., the world or Na­ ture, is originally God. The existence of nature is not, as Theism imagines, based upon the existence of God but vice versa, the existence of God, or rather the belief in his existence, is only based upon the existence of Na­ ture. You are obliged to imagine God as an existing being, only because you are obliged by Nature herself to pre-suppose the existence of Nature as the cause and con­ dition of your existence and consciousness, and the very first idea connected with the thought of God is nothing but the very idea that he is the existence preceding your own and presupposed to it. Or, the belief that God exists absolutely outside of man’s soul and reason, no matter whether man exists or not, whether he contem­ plates him or not, whether he desires him or not—this belief or rather its object, does not reflect anything to your imagination but Nature, whose existence is not based upon the existence of man, much less upon the �ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 9 action of the human intellect and imagination. If, there­ fore, the theologians, particularly the Rationalists, find the honor of God pre-eminently in his having an exist­ ence independent of man’s thoughts, they may consider that the honor of such an existence likewise must be at­ tributed to the Gods of blinded Heathenism, to the stars, stones and animals, and that in this respect the existence of their God does not differ from the existence of the Egyptian Apis. Those qualities which imply and express the difference between the divine being and the human being or at least the human individual, are originally and implicitly only qualities of Nature. God is the most powerful or rather the almighty being, i. e., he can do what man is not able to do, what infinitely surpasses his powers, and what therefore inspires him with the humiliating feeling of his limitedness, weakness and nullity. “ Canst thou,” says God to Job, “bind the sweet influences of Pleiades or loose the bands of Orion ? Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go unto thee and say, here we are ? Hast thou given the horse strength ? Does the hawk fly by thy wisdom; Hast thou an arm like God, or canst thou thunder with a voice like Him?” No, that man cannot do, with the thunder the human voice can­ not be compared. But what power is manifest in the power of the thunder, in the horse’s strength, in the flight of the hawk, in the restless course of the Pleiades ? The power of Nature. God is an eternal being. But in the Bible itself we read: “ One generation passeth away and another gener ation cometh : but the earth abideth forever.” In the books of Zendavesta, sun and moon are expressively called “ immortalf on account of their duration. And �10 ESSENCE OK RELIGION. a Peruvian Inca said to a Dominican monk, “ You adore a God who died on the cross, but I worship the Sun which never dies.” God is the all-kind being, “for he maketh the sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust;” but that being which does not distinguish between good and evil, between just and un­ just, which distributes the enjoyments of life not accord­ ing to moral merits ; which in general impresses man as a kind being, because its effects, such as for instance the refreshing sunlight and rain-water are the sources of the most beneficial sensations : that being is Nature. God is an all-embracing, universal and unchangeable being; but it is also one and the same sun which shines for all men and beings on the earth; it is one and the same sky which embraces them all; one and the same earth which bears them all. “ That there is one God,” says Ambrosius, “is proved by common Nature: for there is only one world,” “ just as the sun, the sky, the moon, the earth and the sea are common to all,” says Plutarch, “ although they are differently called by each one, so exists also one spirit, who rules the universe, but he has different names and is worshipped in different ways.” God “ dwelleth not in temples made with hands,” but Nature neither. Who can enclose the light, the sky, the sea, within human limits? The ancient Persians and Germans worshipped only Nature, but they had no tem­ ples. The worshipper of Nature finds the artificial, wellmeasured halls of a temple or of a church too narrow, too sultry; he feels at his ease only under the lofty, boundless sky which appears to the contemplation of his senses. �ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 11 God is that being which cannot be defined with human measure, a great, immeasurable, infinite being; but he is such a being only because his work, the universe, is great, immeasurable and infinite, or at least appears to be so. The work praises its master: the magnificence of the creator has its origin only in the magnificence of his product. “ How great is the sun, but how much greater is he who made, it ?” God- is a superterrestrial, superhuman, supreme being, but even this supreme being is in its origin and basis nothing but the highest being in space, optically considered: the sky with its brilliant phenomena. All religions of some imagination transfer their Gods into the region of the clouds, into the ether of the sun, moon and stars: all Gods are lost at last in the blue vapor of heaven. Even the spiritual God of Christianity has his seat, his basis above in heaven. God is a mysterious, inconceivable being, but only because Nature is to man, especially to religious man, a mysterious inconceivable being. “ Dost thou know,” says God to Job, “ the balancings of the clouds ? Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea ? Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth ? Hast thou seen the treasures of the hail ?” Finally, God is that being which is independent of the human will, unmoved by human wants and passions, always equal to himself, ruling according to unchange­ able laws, establishing his institutions unchangeable for all time. But this being again is nothing but Nature, which remains the same in all changes, never exhibiting the vacillations of an arbitrary, willful ruler, but subject in all her manifestations to unalterable laws: inexorable, regardless Nature. (3) �12 ESSENCE OF RELIGION. § 12. Although God, as the author of Nature, is imagined and represented as a being different from Nature, still what is implied and expressed by this being, its real contents, is nothing but Nature. “Ye shall know them by their fruits,” we read in the Bible, and the apostle Paul points expressively to the world as to the work wherein God’s existence and being can be un­ derstood, for what one produces, that contains his being and shows what he is able to do. What we have in Nature, that we have in God, only imagined as the author or cause of Nature—therefore no moral and spiritual, but only a natural, physical being. A worship founded only upon God as the author of Nature, without attributing to him any other qualities, derived from man, and without imagining him at the same time as a poli­ tical and moral, i. e. human lawgiver—such worship would be a mere worship of Nature. It is true that the author of Nature is thought to be endowed with intellect and will; but what his will desires, what his intellect thinks, is just that which requires no will nor intellect, but only mechanical, physical, chemical, vegetable and animal forces and impulses. § 13. As little as the formation of the child in the womb, the pulsations of the heart, digestion and other organic functions are effects of the intellect and will, so little is Nature in general the effect or production of a spiritual being, i. e. of a being that wills and knows or thinks. If Nature was originally a product of the mind, and therefore a manifestation of mind, then also the natural phenomena of the present time would be spiritual effects and manifestations. A supernatural commence­ ment necessarily requires a supernatural continuation. For man thinks intellect and will to be the cause of �THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. 13 Nature only where the effects defy his own will, and surpass his intellect, where he explains things only through human analogies and reasons, where he knows nothing of the natural causes, and therefore derives also the special and present phenomena from God, or—as for instance the movements of the stars which he cannot understand—from subordinate spirits. But if now-a-days the fulcrum of the earth and of the stars is no longer the almighty word of God, and the motive of their move­ ment no spiritual or angelic but a mechanical one: then the first cause of this movement is also necessarily a mechanical, or, in general, a natural one. To derive Nature from intellect and will, or in general from the mind, is to reckon without the host, is to bringforth the saviour of the world from the virgin without the co­ operation of a man, through the Holy Ghost,—-is to change water into wine,—is to appease storms with words, to transfer mountains with words, to restore sight to the blind with words. What weakness and narrow­ mindedness does it betray to do away with the secondary causes of superstition, such as miracles, devils, spirits etc., in explaining the phenomena of Nature, but to leave untouched the first cause of superstition ! § 14. Several of the ancient ecclesiastical writers as­ sert, that the Son of God is not a product of God’s will, but of God’s nature ; that the product of Nature is ear­ lier than the product of the will, and that, therefore, the act of begetting, as an act of Nature, precedes the act of creation as an act of the will. Thus the acknowledg­ ment of Nature and her omnipotent laws prevails even within the sphere of the belief in the supernatural God, although in the plainest contradiction of his own will and being. The act of begetting is presupposed to the �14 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. act of the will; the activity of Nature is considered as preceding the activity of thought and will. This is per­ fectly true. Nature must necessarily exist before any­ thing exists which distinguishes itself from Nature, and which places Nature, as an object of the act of thinking and willing, in opposition to itself. The true way of philosophy leads from the want of intelligence to intel­ lect ; but the direct way into the madhouse of theology, goes from the intellect to the want of intellect. To base the mind not upon Nature, but, vice versa, Nature upon the mind, is the same as to place the head, not upon the abdomen, but the latter upon the former. Every higher degree of development presupposes the lower one, not vice versa, (4) for the simple reason, that the higher one must have something below it, in order to be the higher one. And the higher a being stands and the greater its value or dignity is, the more it presupposes. Eor this very reason not the first being, but the latest, the last, the most depending, the most needful, the most compli­ cated being is the highest one, just as in the history of the earth’s formation, not the oldest and first works, such as the slate and granite, but the latest and most recent products, such as the basalts and the dense lavas, are the heaviest and weightiest ones. A being which has the honor of presupposing nothing, has also the honor of being nothing. But it is true that the Christians under­ stand well the a_t of making something out of nothing. § 15. “ All things come from and depend upon God.” —so the Christian says in harmony with his godly faith— “ but,” he adds immediately with his ungodly intellect, “only indirectly^ God is only the first cause after which comes the endless host of subordinate Gods, the regiment of intermediate causes. But the intermediate �THE ESSENCE OB RELIGION.; 15 causes, so-called, are the only real and effective ones, the only objective and sensible causes. A God who no longer casts down man with the arrows of Apollo, who no longer arouses the soul with Jove’s thunder and lightning, who no longer threatens the sinner with comets and other fiery phenomena, who no longer with his own high hand attracts the iron to the loadstone, pro­ duces ebb and tide, and protects the Continent against the overbearing power of the waters which always threat­ en another deluge—in short, a God driven from the em­ pire of the intermediate causes is only a cause by name, a harmless and very modest creature of imagination—a mere hypothesis for the purpose of solving a theoretical problem, for explaining the commencement of Nature or rather of organic life. For the assumption of a being different from Nature, with the purpose of explaining her existence, lias its origin only in the impossibility— although this is only a relative and subjective one—of explaining organic and particularly human life from Na­ ture, inasmuch as the Theist makes his inability to ex­ plain life through Nature, an inability of Nature to produce life out of herself, and thus extends the limits of his intellect to limits of Nature. § 16. Creation and preservation are inseparable. If, tnerefore, a being different from Nature—-a God— is our creator, he is also our preserver, and not the power of the air, of heat, of the water or of bread, but the power of God sustains and preserves us. “In him we live and move and have our being.” “ Not bread ” says Luther, “ but the word of God nourishes also the body naturally, as it creates and preserves all things.” “Because it exists, he ( God ) nourishes by it and under it, so that we do not see it, and think that the bread does it. But �16 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. where it does not exist, he nourishes without the bread, through his word only, as he does it by the bread.” “In fine, all creatures are God’s masks and mn mm cries which he permits to assist him in all kind of work that he otherwise can, and really does perform without their co-operation.” But if, instead of Nature, God is our preserver, Nature is a mere disguise of the Deity, and, therefore, a superfluous and imaginary being, just as vice versa, God is a superfluous and imaginary being if Nature preserves us. But now it is manifest and undeniable that we owe our preservation only to the peculiar effects, qualities and powers of natural beings, therefore we are not only entitled, but compelled, to conclude that we owe also our origin to Nature. We are placed right in the midst of Nature, and should our beginning, our origin, lie outside of Nature ? We live within Nature, with Na­ ture, by Nature, and should we still not be of her ? What a contradiction! § 17. The earth has not always been in its present state, on the contrary, it has come to its actual condition through a series of developments and revolutions, and geology has discovered that in the different stages of its development several species of plants and animals existed, which no longer exist nor even have existed for ages. Thus, for instance, there exist no longer any Trilobites nor any Encinites or Ammonites or Pterodactyles or Ichthyosauri, or Plesiosauri, or Megatheria or Dinotheria, &c. And why not ? Apparently because the condition of their existence no longer exist. But if the end of any life coincides with the end of its conditions, then also the beginning, the origin of such life coincides with the origin of its conditions. Even now-a-days where plants, at least those of higher organizations, �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 17 come to life only by organic procreation, they can—in a very remarkable, yet unexplained manner—be seen to appear in numberless multitudes as soon as the pecu­ liar conditions of their life are given. The origin of or­ ganic life cannot, therefore, be thought of as an isolated act, as an act after the origin of the conditions of life, but rather as the act by which and the moment in which the temperature, the air, the water, the earth in general, re­ ceived such qualities, and oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, nit­ rogen entered into such combinations as were necessary for the existence of organic life — this moment must also be considered as the moment when these elements combined for the formation of organic bodies. If, there­ fore, the earth, by virtue of its own nature, has in the course of time developed and cultivated itself to such a degree that it adopted a character , agreeable to the exist­ ence of man and suitable to man’s nature, or so to say, a human character: then it could produce man also by its own power. § 18. The power of Nature is not unlimited like the power of God, i. e. the power of human imagination ; "she cannot do everything at all times and under all circum­ stances—her productions and effects on the contrary are dependent on conditions. If, therefore, Nature now-adays cannot or does not produce any organic bodies by generatio cequivoca, this is no proof that she could not do it in former times. The present character of the earth is that of stability; the time of revolutions is gone by, the earth has done raging. The volcanoes only are some single turbulent heads which have no influence on the masses, and which therefore do not disturb the existing order of things. Even the grandest volcanic event with­ in the memory of man, viz., the rising of Jorullo in �18 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. Mexico, was nothing but a local rebellion. But as man manifests only in extraordinary times extraordinary powers, or as he can do only in times of the highest exultation and emotion what at other times is impossible for him, and as the plant only at certain epochs, such as the period of germinating, blooming and impregnation produces heat and consumes carbon and hydrogen, thus exhibiting an animal function, which is directly in con­ tradiction to its ordinary vegetable functions; so also the earth only in the time of its geological revolutions, when all its powers and elements were in a state of highest fermentation, ebullition and tension, developed its power of producing animals. We know Nature only in its present state; how then could we conclude that what does not happen now by Nature, might not happen at all—even at entirely different times, under entirely different conditions and relations ?5) § 19. The Chi’istians have not been able to express with sufficient strength their astonishment that the heathen adored created beings as divine ones, but they might rather have admired them on that account, for such ado­ ration was based on a perfectly true contemplation of Nature. To be produced, to come into life, is nothing else but to be individualized. All individual beings are produced, but the general fundamental elements or be­ ings of Nature which have no individuality are not produced. Matter is not produced. But an individual being is of a higher, more divine quality than that with­ out individuality. It is true that birth is disgraceful and death painful, but he who does not wish to begin and to end may resign the rank of a living being. Eternity excludes life, and life excludes eternity. Certainly does the individual presuppose another being which pro­ �the essence or religion. 19 duces it; but the latter does not stand above, it stands below its product. True, the producing being is the cause of existence and in that respect the first being; still it is at the same time the mere means and material; the basis of another being’s existence, and therefore a subordinate being. The child consumes the mother, disposes of her strength and of her substance to his own advantage, paints his cheeks with her blood. And the child is the mother’s pride; she places it above herself, subordinating her existence and welfare to that of the child; even the animal mother sacrifices her own life for that of her young ones. The deepest disgrace of any being is death, but the source of death is the act of begetting. To beget is nothing but to throw one’s self away, to make one’s self common, to be lost among the multitude, to sacrifice one’s singleness and exclusiveness to other beings. Nothing is more full of contradiction, more perverse and void of sense, than to consider the natural being as produced by a supreme, perfectly spirit­ ual being. According to such a process, and in consis­ tency with the creature’s being only an image of the creator, also the human children ought not to originate in the disgraceful, lowly placed organ of the womb, but in the highest organization, the head. § 20. The ancient Greeks derived all springs, wells, streams, lakes and oceans from Oceanos ; and the ancient Persians made all mountains of the earth originate in the mountain Albordy. Is the derivation of all beings from one perfect being any tiling different or better ? No, it is based upon the same manner of thinking. As Albordy is a mountain like all those which have their origin in it, so also the divine being, as the source of those derived from it, is like them, not different from them as to �20 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION species; but as the Albordy is distinguished from all other mountains ■ by preserving their qualities preemin­ ently, i. e. in a degree exaggerated by imagination to the utmost, up to heaven, beyond the sun, moon and stars, so also the divine being is distinguished from all other beings. Unity is unproductive; only dualism, contrast, difference is productive. That which produces the mountains is not only different from them, but something manifold in itself. And those elements which produce water, are not only different from the water, but also from them­ selves, nay, even antagonistic to one another. Just as genius, wit, acumen and judgment are produced and de­ veloped only by contrasts and conflicts, so also life was produced only by the conflict of different, nay, of antagonistic elements, forces and beings. § 21. “ How should he who made the ear not hear ? How should he who made the eye not see ?” This biblical or theistical derivation of the being endowed with the senses of hearing and seeing from another being endowed with the same senses, or to use an expression of the modern, philosophic language, the derivation of the spiritual and subjective being from another spiritual and subjective being, is based upon the same foundation, and expresses the same as the biblical explanation of the rain from heavenly masses of water collected beyond or in the clouds, or the Persian derivation of the mountains from the original mountain, Albordy, or the Grecian ex­ planation of fountains and rivers from Oceanos. Water from water, but from an immensely great and all-embrac­ ing water; mountain from mountain, but from an infinite all-embracing mountain; so spirit from spirit, life from life, eye from eye—but from an infinite, all-embracing eye, life and spirit. �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 21 § 22. When children inquire about the origin of babes, we give them the explanation that the nurse takes them from the well where they swim like fishes. The explanation which theology gives us of the origin of organic or natural beings in general is not much differ­ ent. God is the deep or beautiful well of imagination in which all realities, all perfections, all forces are contained, in which all things swim already made like little fishes. Theology is the nurse who takes them from this well, but the chief person, Nature, the mother who brings forth the children with pangs, who bears them during nine months under her heart, is left entirely out of considera­ tion in such an explanation, which originally was only childlike, but now-a-days is childish. Certainly such an explanation is more beautiful, more pleasant to the heart, easier, more intelligible and conceivable to the children of God than the natural way, which only by degrees and through numberless obstacles rises from darkness to fight. But also the explanation which our pious forefathers gave of hailstorms, epidemics among cattle, drought and thunderstorms, by tracing them to the agency of weather-makers, sorcerers, and witches, is far more practical, easier, and, to uneducated men even now-a-days much more intelligible than the explanation of these phenomena from natural causes. § 23. “The origin of life is inexplicable and incon­ ceivable.” Be it so; but this incomprehensibility does not justify us in drawing from it the superstitious conse­ quences which theology draws from the deficiencies of human knowledge, nor in going beyond the sphere of natural causes: for we can only say, “we cannot explain life from these natural phenomena and causes which are known to us, or as far as they are known to us”—but �22 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. we cannot say, “life cannot be explained at all from Nature, without pretending to have exhausted al­ ready the ocean of Nature even to the last drop. This incomprehensibility does not justify us in explain­ ing the inexplicable by the supposition of imagined be­ ings, and in deceiving and deluding ourselves and others by an explanation which explains nothing. It does not justify us in changing an ignorance of natural material causes into a non-existence of such causes, and in deify­ ing, personifying, representing our ignorance in a being which is to destroy such ignorance, and which yet does not express anything but the nature of such ignorance, the deficiency of positive, material reasons of explana­ tion. For what else is the immaterial, incorporeal, not natural, extramundane being to whom we thus try to trace back all lite, but the precise expression of the intellectual absense of material, corporeal, natural, cosmical causes? But instead of being so honest and modest as to say frankly: “We do not know any reason, we do not know how to explain it, we have no data nor materials,” you change these deficiencies, these nega­ tions, these vacancies of your head by the activity of your imagination into positive beings, into immaterial beings, i. .e into beings which are not material nor natural, because you do not know of any material or natural causes. While 'ignorance however is contented with immaterial, incorporeal, unnatural beings, her in­ separable companion, wanton imagination, which al­ ways and exclusively indulges in the intercourse with beings of the highest perfection, immediately elevates these poor creatures of ignorance to the rank of super­ material, supernatural beings, § 24. The idea that Nature or the universe in general �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 23 has a real beginning, and that consequently at sometime there was no Nature, no universe, is a narrow idea, which seems acceptable to man only as long as he has a narrow, limited conception of the world. It is an magination without sense and foundation—this imagin­ ation that at some time nothing real existed, for the universe is the totality of all reality. All qualities or definitions of God which make him an objective, real being are only qualities abstracted from, Nature, which presuppose and define Nature, and which therefore would not exist if Nature did not exist. It is true, if we abstract from Nature : if in our thoughts or our ima gination we destroy her existence, i. e. if we shut our eyes and extinguish all images of natural things reflected by our senses and conceive Nature not with our senses (not in concreto as the philosophers say) there is left a being, a totality of qualities such as infinity, power, unity, necessity, eternity; but this being which is left after deducting all qualities and phenomena reflected by our senses is in truth nothing but the abstract essence of Nature, or Nature ££ in abstract? in thought. And such derivation of Nature or the universe from God is therefore in this respect nothing but the derivation ci the real essence of Nature, as it appears to our senses, from her abstract, imagined essence, which exists only in our idea—a derivation which appears to be reason­ able because in the act of thinking we are accus­ tomed to consider the abstract and general as that which is nearer to thought, and which therefore must be pre­ supposed to the individual, the real, the concrete, as that which is higher and earlier in thought, although in reality just the reverse takes place, inasmuch as Nature exists before God, i. e. the concrete before the abstract �24 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. that which we conceive with our senses before that which is thought. In reality, where everything passes on naturally, the copy follows the original, the image the thing which it represents, the thought its object— but on the supernatural, miraculous ground of theology, the original follows the copy, the thing its own likeness. “ It is strange ” says St. Augustine, “ but nevertheless true, that this world could not exist if it was not known to God.” That means: the world is known and thought before it exists; nay, it exists only because it was thought of—the existence is a consequence of the knowl­ edge or of the act of thinking, the original a conse­ quence of the copy, the object a consequence of its likeness. § 25. If we reduce the world or Nature to a totality of abstract qualities, to a metaphysical, i. e. to a merely imagined object, and consider this abstract world as the real world, then it is a logical necessity to consider it as finite. The world is not given to us through the act of thinking, not at least through the metaphysical and hy­ perphysical thinking which abstracts from the real world and founds its true and highest existence upon such ab­ straction—the world is given to us through life, by per ception, by the senses. For an abstract being which only thinks there exists no light, because it has no eyes, no warmth, because it has no feeling, in general no world because it has no organ for its perception; for such a being there exists in reality nothing. The world, there­ fore, exists for us only because we are no logical or meta­ physical beings, because we are other beings, because we are more than mere logicians and metaphysicians. But just thisj?Zw<s appears to the metaphysical thinker as a minus, this negation of the art of thinking as an abso­ �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 25 lute negation. Nature to him is nothing but the oppo­ site of mind. This merely negative and abstract definition he makes her positive definition, her essence. Conse­ quently it is a contradiction to consider as a positive being that being, or rather that nonentity which is only the negation of the act of thinking, which is an imagined thing, but according to its nature an object of the senses, that is antagonistic to the act of thinking and to the mind. The being which exists in thought is for the thinker the true essence, therefore it is self-evident to him that a being which does not exist in thought cannot be a true, eternal, original essence. It implies already a contradiction for the mind to think only of its opposite ; it is only in harmony with itself when it thinks only itself ( on the standpoint of metaphysical speculation,) or at least (on the standpoint of theism) when it thinks an es­ sence which expresses nothing but the nature of the act of thinking, which is given only by thought, and which therefore in itself is nothing but an imagined being. Thus Nature disappears into nothing. But still she exists, though according to the thinker she neither can nor should be. How then does the metaphysician explain her existence ? By a self-privation, a self-negation, a self­ denial of the mind which apparently is a voluntary one? but which in very truth is contradictory to, and only en­ forced upon his inner nature. But if Nature on the standpoint of abstract thinking disappears into nothing, on the other hand on the standpoint of the real observa­ tion and contemplation of the world, that creative mind disappears into nothing. On this standpoint all deduc­ tions of the world from God, of Nature from the mind, of physics from metaphysics, of the real from the ab­ stract, are proved to be nothing but logical plays. �26 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. § 26. Nature is the first and fundamental object of religion, but she is such an object even where she is the direct and immediate object of religious adoration, as e. g. in the natural religions so-called, not as such, as Nature, i. e., in the manner and in the sense in which we regard her from the standpoint of theism or of philosophy and of the natural sciences. Nature is to man originally, i. e., where he regards her with a relig­ ious eye, rather an object of his own qualities, a person­ al, living, feeling being. Man originally does not dis­ tinguish liimself from Nature, nor consequently Nature from himself, therefore the sensations which any object in Nature excites in him appear to him immediately as qualities of the object. The beneficial, good sensations and effects are caused by good and benevolent Nature, the bad, painful sensations, such as heat, cold, hunger, pain, disease, by an evil being, or at least by Nature in a state of evil disposition, of malevolence, of wrath. Thus man involuntarily and unconsciously, I. e., necessarily— although this necessity is only a relative and historical one—transforms the essence of Nature into a feeling, i. e. a subjective, a human being. No wonder that he then also expressively, knowingly and willingly trans­ forms her into an object of religion, of prayer, i. e. an object which can be influenced by the feelings of man, his prayers, his services. Really, man has made Nature already subservient and subdued her to himself by assimilating her to his feelings and subduing her to his passions. Besides, uneducated natural man does not only presuppose human motives, impulses and passions in Nature, he sees even real men in natural bodies. Thus the Indians on the Orinoco think the sun, the moon and the stars, to be men—“ those up there,” they say “are �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 27 men like unto usThe Patagonians think the stars to be “ former Indiansthe Greenlanders think the sun, moon and stars, to be their ancestors, who at a particular occasion were translated into heaven.” Thus also the an­ cient Mexicans believed that the sun and the moon which they adored as gods had been men in former times. Behold thus the assertion made in my “ Essence of Christianity ” that man in religion is in relation to an intercourse with himself only, and that his God in reality reflects only his own essence—this assertion is confirmed even by the most uncultivated, primary manifestations of religion ; where man adores things the most distant from and most unlike to himself, such as stars, stones, trees, nay, even the claws of crabs, and snail shells ; for he adores them only because he transfers himself into them, because he believes them to be such beings, or at least to he inhabited by such beings as himself. Re­ ligion therefore exhibits the remarkable contradiction, which however is easily understood, nay, even necessary, that, while on one hand (from the standpoint of theism or anthropologism) she worships the human essence as a divine one, because it appears to her as different from man, as an essence not human—on the other hand (from the materialistic standpoint) she adores vice versa the essence which is not human as a divine one, because it appears to her as a human one. § 27. The mutability of Nature, especially in those phenomena which most of all cause man to feel his de­ pendence on her, is the principal reason why she appears to man as a human, arbitrary being, and why she is re­ ligiously adored by him. If the sun stood always in the sky, he would never have kindled the fire of religious passion in man. Only when he disappeared from man’s �28 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. eye and inflicted upon him the terrors of night, and when again he re-appeared, man fell down on his knees before him, overcome by joy at his unexpected return. Thus the ancient Apalachites in Florida greeted the sun with hymns at his rising and setting, and prayed to him at the same time that he might return and bless them with his light. If the earth always produced fruits, where would there be a motive for religious celebrations of the time of sowing and harvesting? Only in consequence of her now opening, now closing her womb, her fruits ap­ pear to be her voluntary gifts which oblige man to be grateful. The changes in Nature make man uncertain, .humble, religious.. It is uncertain, whether the weather to-morrow will be favorable to my undertakings; is it uncertain whether I shall harvest what I sow, and there­ fore I cannot depend upon the gifts of Nature as upon a tribute due, or an infallible consequence. But where mathematical certainty is at an end, there theology commences, even now-a-days in weak minds. Religion is the conception of the necessary—or of the accidental —as of something arbitrary, or voluntary. The opposite sentiment, that of irreligion and ungodliness, on the other hand, is represented by the Cyclops of Euripides, when he says: “Earth must produce grass for feeding my flock, whether she be willing to do so or not” § 28. The feeling of dependence upon Nature in combination with the imagination of her as of an arbi­ trarily acting, personal being, is the motive of the sacri­ fice,. the most essential act of natural religion. The de­ pendence upon Nature is particularly sensible to me by my want of her. The want is the feeling and expression of my nothingness without Nature; but inseparable from want is enjoyment, the opposite feeling, the feeling of �THE ESSENCE OE BELTGION. 29 my self-existence, of my independence in distinction from Nature. Want, therefore, is pious, humble, religious— but enjoyment is haughty, ungodly, void of respect, fri­ volous. And such frivolity, or at least want of respect in enjoyment, is a practical necessity for man, a necessi­ ty upon which his existence is founded—but a necessity which is in direct contradiction to his theoretical respect for Nature as for an egotistic, sensible being, which suffers as little as man that anything be taken from her. The appropriation or the use of Nature appears therefore to man, as if it were an encroachment upon her right, as an appropriation of another one’s property, as an outrage. In order now to propitiate his conscience as well as the object of his imaginary offence; in order to show that his robbery has its origin in want, not in arrogance, he dimin­ ishes his enjoyment and returns to the object a part of its plundered property. Thus the Greeks believed that if a tree were cut down, its soul, the Dryad, lamented and cried to Fate for revenge against the trespasser. Thus no Roman ventured to cut down a tree on his ground without sacrificing a farrow for • the propitiation of the god or goddess of this grove. Thus the Ostiaks, after having slain a bear, suspend its skin on a tree, pay to it all sorts of reverences, and. apologize as well as they can to the bear for having killed him. “ They believe in this manner politely to avert the damage which the spirit of the animal possibly could inflict upon them.” Thus North American tribes by similar ceremonies propitiate the departed souls of slain beasts. Thus the Philippines asked the plains and mountains for their permission, if they wished to cross them, and deemed it a crime to cut down any old tree. And the Bramin hardly dares to drink water or to tread upon the ground with his feet, �so THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. because each step, each draught of water causes pain and death to sentient beings, plants as well as animals, and he must therefore do penance “in order to atone for the death of creatures which he possibly, although unconsci­ ously might destroy by day or night.” (6) § 29. The sacrifice makes perceptible to the senses the whole essence of religion. Its source is the feeling of dependence, fear, doubt, the uncertainty of success, of future events, the scruples of conscience on account of a sin committed; but the result, the purpose of the sacri­ fice is self-consciousness, courage, enjoyment, the cer­ tainty of success, liberty and happiness. As a servant of Nature I observe tlie sacrifice; as her master I depart from it. Therefore, although the feeling of dependence upon Nature is the source and motive of religion: its very purpose and end is the destruction of such feeling, the independence from Nature. Or, although the divin­ ity of Nature is the basis, the foundation of religion generally and of Christian religion in particular, still its end is the divinity of man. § 30. Religion has for its presupposition the contra­ diction between will and ability, desire and satisfaction, intention and success, imagination and reality, thought and existence. In his desire, in his imagination, man is unlimited, free, almighty—God; but in his ability, in reality, he is bound, dependent, limited—man] man in the sense of a finite being, in contradistinction from God. “Man proposes, God disposes,” as the saying is. “Man plans and Jove accomplishes it differently.” The thought, the will is mine; but what I think and will is not mine, is outside of me, does not depend on me. The destruction of such a contrast or contradiction is the ten­ dency, the purpose of religion; and that being in which �THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. 31 it is destroyed, and wherein that which I wish and imag­ ine as possible, which however my limited power proves to be impossible for me, is possible, nay even real—that being is the divine being. § 31. That whieh is independent from the will and the knowledge of man is the original, proper, character­ istic cause of religion—the cause of God. “ I have planted” says Paul, “Apollos watered, but God gave the increase. So then neither is he that planteth any­ thing, neither he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase.” And Luther says: “We must praise and thank God that he suffers grain to grow, and acknowl­ edge that it is not our work, but his blessing and his gift, if grain and wine and all sorts of fruit grow which we eat and drink to satisfy our wants.” And Hesiod says, that the industrious husbandman will richly harvest if Jove grants a good end. The tilling of the soil then, the sowing and watering of the seed, depends on me, but not the succes. This is in God’s hand, therefore it is said: “ God’s blessing is the main thing.” But what is God? originally nothing but Nature, or the essence of Nature ; but Nature as an object of prayer, as an exorable and consequently willing being. Jove is the cause or the essence of meteorological phenomena; but this does not yet constitute his divine, his religious charac­ ter ; also he who is not religious assumes a cause of the rain, of the thunder storm, of the snow. He is God only, because and in so far as these phenomena de­ pend on his good will. That which is independent of man’s will is, therefore, by religion, made depen­ dent upon God’s will as far as the object itself is con­ cerned (objectively); but subjectively (as far as man is concerned,) it is made dependent on prayer, for what �32 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. depends on will is an object of prayer and can be changed. “Even the Gods are pliable. A mortal can change their minds by incense and humble vows, by li­ bations and perfume.” §32. The only or at least the principal object of re­ ligion is an object of human purposes and wants, at least where man has once risen beyond the unlimited arbi­ trariness, helplessness and accidentalness of Fetishism proper. For this very reason those natural beings which are most necessary and indispensable to man enjoyed al­ so the most general and the highest religious adoration. But whatever is an object of human wants and purposes, is for the same reason an object of human wishes. I need rain and sunshine for the successful growth of my seeds. In times of continuous drouth I therefore wish for rain; in times of continuous rain I wish for sunshine. This wish is a desire whose gratification is not within my power ; a will, but without the might to prevail, although not absolutely so, yet at least at a given time, under cer­ tain circumstances and conditions, and such as man wishes it on the stand point of religion. But just what my body, my power in general, is unable to do, is within the power of my wish. What I ask and wish for, that I enchant and inspire by my wishes. (7) While under the influence of an affect—and religion roots only in affect, in feeling—man places his essence without himself; he treats as living what is without life, as arbitrary what has no will; he animates the object with his sighs, for he cannot possibly in a state of affect address himself to an insensible being. Feeling does not confine itself within the limits prescribed by intellect; it gushes over man ; his breast is too narrow for it; it must communicate it­ self to the outer world and by so doing make the insensi­ �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 33 ble essence of Nature a sympathetic one. Nature en­ chanted by human feeling, Nature agreeing with and as­ similated to man’s feeling, i. e., Nature herself endowed with feeling, is Nature such as she is an object of reli­ gion, cl divine being. The wish is the origin, the very essence of religion—the essence of the G-ods is nothing but the essence of the wish. (8) The Gods are superhu­ man and supernatural beings; but are not wishes also of a superhuman and supernatural nature ? e. g. am I in my wish, in my imagination still a man, if I wish to be an immortal being, free from the fetters of the earthly body? No ! He who has no wishes has no gods either. Why did the Greeks lay such a stress upon the immor­ tality and happiness of the Gods ? Because they them­ selves did not wish to be mortal and unhappy. Where no lamentations about man’s mortality and misery are heard, no hymns are heard in honor of the immortal and happy Gods. Only the water of tears shed within the human heart evaporates in the sky of imaginatian into the cloudy image of the diVine being. From the univer­ sal stream, Oceanos, Homer derives the Gods ; but this stream abounding with Gods is in reality only an efflux of human feelings. § 33. The* irreligious manifestations of religion are best adapted to disclose in a popular manner the origin and essence of religion. Thus it is an irreligious mani­ festation of religion and therefore most severely criticized already by the pious heathen, that as a general thing man takes recourse to religion, that he applies to God and thinks of him, only in times of misfortune ; but this very fact reveals to us the source of religion. In times of misfortune or distress, no matter whether it be his own or another one’s, man realizes the painful experience �34 THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. of his.inability to do what he wishes—he finds his hands tied. But the palsy of the motory nerves is not at the same time also the palsy of the sensory nerves; the fetters of my physical power are not also at the same time the fetters of my will, of my heart. On the contrary, the more my hands are tied, the more boundless are my wishes, the more ardent is my desire for redemption, the more energetic my strife after freedom, my will not to be limited. The power of the human heart or will which by the influence of distress has been exaggerated and overexcited to a superhuman one, is the power of the Gods for whom there is no necessity nor limit. The Gods are able to do what man desires, i. e. they obey the laws of the human heart. What man is only in re­ gard to his soul, the Gods are also physically; what he can do only within his will, his imagination, his heart, i. e., mentally, as e. g. to be in the twinkling of an eye at a distant place, that the Gods are able to do physically. The Gods are the embodied, realized wishes of man— the natural limits of man’s heart aud will destroyed— creatures of the unlimited will, creatures whose physical powers are equal to those of the will. The irreligious manifestation of this supernatural power of religion is the practice of witchcraft among uncivilized nations, where in & palpable manner the mere will of man ap­ pears as God, commanding over Nature. But when the God of Israel at Joshua’s command bids the sun stand still or suffers it to rain in compliance with Elijah’s prayer, and when the God of the Christians for the sake of proving his divinity, i. e., his power to fulfill all wishes of man, by his word alone appeases the raging sea, cures the sick, raises the dead : here as well as in the practice of witchcraft, the mere will, the mere wish, the mere �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 35 word is declared a power that overrules Nature. The only difference is that the sorcerer realizes the end of re­ ligion in an irreligious manner, whilst the Jew and the Christians do it in a religious manner, inasmuch as the former places within himself, what the latter transfers into God, inasmuch as the former makes the object of an expressive will or command what the latter make the object of a still submissive will, of a pious wish; in short inasmuch as the former does by and for himself, what the latter do by and with God. But the common say­ ing : “quod quis per alium fecit ipse fecisse putaturf i. e. what one does through another one that is imputed to him as his own deed, finds its application also here: what one does through God, that he does in reality himself. § 34. Religion has—at least originally and in rela­ tion to nature—no other office and tendency than to change the unpopular and haunted essence of Nature into a familiar and known one; to melt Nature, who in her­ self is impliant and hard as iron, in the glowing fire of the heart for the sake of human purposes; i. e., it has the same end as civilization or culture, whose end also is no other than to make Nature theoretically an intelligible and practically a pliable being, agreeable to the wants of man—with this only difference, that what culture tries to attain by means, and that too by means learned from Na­ ture, religion attains without means, or what is the same, through the supernatural means of prayer, of faith, of sacraments, of witchcraft. Thus we find that everything which with the progress of the civilization of mankind became a cause of activity, of self-activity, of anthropol­ ogy, in former times was a cause of religion or theology ; as, for instance, jurisprudence, politics, medicine, which �36 THE THENCE OF RELIGION. latter even now-a-days among uncivilized nations is a thing of religion. (9) It is true, culture and civilization always come short of the wishes of religion, for it cannot destroy those limits of man which have their foundation in his Nature. Thus culture succeeds for instance in improving the science of prolongating life (Macrobio­ tics) but it never attains to immortality. This as a boundless wish which cannot be realized is left to re­ ligion. § 35. In natural religion man addresses himself to an object directly antagonistic to the original will and sense of religion; for here he sacrifices his feelings and his intellect to a being which in itself is without feeling and intellect; he places above himself what he would like to have below himself; he serves what he wishes to govern, adores what in reality he abhors, entreats for assistance that against which he seeks assistance. Thus the Greeks at Titane sacrificed to the winds in order to appease their rage; thus the Romans dedicated a temple to the Fever in order to render it harmless; thus the Tungusians at the time of an epidemic pray devotionally and with solemn bows to tke disease that it may pass by their huts (according to Pallas.) Thus the Widahians in Guinea sacrifice to the raging sea in order to prevail upon it that it may be calm and not prevent them from fishing; thus the Indians at the approach of a storm ad­ dress the Manitou (z. e. Spirit, God, Being) of the air, at the crossing of water the Manitou of the waters, that he may preserve them from all danger ; thus in general many nations expressively do not adore the good but the evil essence (10) of Nature, or at least what appears to them, as such. Upon the standpoint of natural religion Iman declares his love to a statue, to a corpse; no wonder �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 37 therefore, that in. order to make himself heard he resorts to the most desperate, most insane means; no wonder that he divests himself of his humanity in order to ren­ der Nature humane, that he even sheds the l>lood of man in order to inspire her with human feelings. Thus the northern Germans believed expressly that “ sanguinary sacrifices were apt to bestow human language and feel­ ings to wooden idols and to endow with the gifts of language and divination the stones which they adored in the houses devoted to gory sacrifices.” But in vain are all attempts to imbue her with life ; Nature does not respond to man’s lamentations and questions ; she throws him inexorably back upon himself. § 36. As the limits which man imagines or at least such as he imagines them on the standpoint of religion (as e. g. the limit which is the cause that he does not know the future, or does not live forever, or does not enjoy happi­ ness without interruption and molestation, or has no body without weight, or cannot fly like the Gods, or cannoi thunder like Jove, or cannot add anything to his size nor make himself invisible at will, or cannot, like the angels, live without sensual wants and impulses, or in short cannot do what he wills and desires)—as all these limits are such only in his imagination and mind, while in reality they are no limits, because they have their necessary foundation in the essence, in the nature of things; so also is that being which is free from such limits, the unlimited divine being, only a creature of imagination, of reflection, and of a mental disposition which is governed by imagination. Whatever therefore may be the object of religion, be it even only a snail shell or pebble, it is such an object only in.its quality as a creature of the heart, of reflection, of imagination. �38 THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. This justifies the assertion that men do not adore the stones, the trees, the animals, the rivers themselves, but the Gods within them, their manitous, their spirits. But these spirits of natural objects are nothing but their re­ flected images or they as reflected objects, as creates uf imagination in distinction from them as real, sen­ sual objects, just as the spirits of the dead are nothing but the imagined images of the dead which live in our remembrance—beings that once really existed, as imag­ ined beings, which however by religious man, i. e. by him who does not discriminate between the object and its idea, are considered to be real, self-existing beings. Man’s pious, involuntary self-deception upon the stand­ point of religion is therefore within the natural religion an apparent, self-evident truth ; for here man gives to his religious object eyes and ears which he knows and sees to be artificial eyes and ears of s e or wood, and yet believes to be real eyes and ears. Thus religious man has his eyes only in order not to see, to be stoneblind, and his reason only in order not to reason, to be block-headed. Natural religion is the manifest contra­ diction between idea and reality, between imagination and truth. What in reality, is a dead stone or log, is in the conception of natural religion a living individual; apparently, no God, but something entirely different, yet invisibly, according to belief, a God. For this rea­ son, natural religion is always in danger of being most bitterly undeceived, as it requires only a blow with an axe in order to satisfy her, <?. g. that ,no blood flows from adored trees, and that therefore no living, divine being dwells within them. But how does religion escape these strong contradictions and disappointments to which she is exposed by adoring Nature? Gnly by making her �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 39 object an invisible, not sensual one, by making it a being that exists only in faith, reflection, imagination— in short, within the mind, which therefore itself is a spiritual being. § 37. As soon as man from a merely physical being becomes a political one, or in general a being distinguish­ ing himself from Nature, and concentrating himself within himself, his God is also changed from a merely physical being into a political one, different from Na­ ture. That which leads man to a distinction of his essence from Nature, and in consequence to a God dis­ tinguished from Nature, is therefore only his association with other men to a commonwealth, wherein the objects of his consciousness and of his feeling of dependence are powers distinguished from those of Nature and ex­ isting only in thought or imagination; political, moral, abstract powers, such as the power of law, of public opinion, (u) of honor, of virtue—while his physical ex­ istence is subordinated to his human, political or moral existence, and where the power of Nature, the power over death and life, is degraded to an attribute and in­ strument of political or moral power. Jove is the God of lightning and thunder; but he possesses these terrible weapons only in order to crush those who disobey his commandments, the perjurer, the perpetrators of vio­ lence. Jove is father of the kings—“from Jove are the kings.” With lightning and thunder therefore Jove sustains the power and dignity of the Kings. (12) “The King,” we read in the law-book of Menu, “ burns eyes and hearts like the sun, therefore no human creature upon earth is able even to look upon him. He is fire and air, he is sun and moon, he is the God of criminal laws. �40 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. Fire burns only a single one who by carelessness may have approached too near to it, but a King’s fire when he is in wrath, burns a whole family with all their cattle and property-------------------- In his courage dwelleth con­ quest and death in his wrath” In a similar manner the God of the Israelites commands amid lis-htnine’ and thunder his people to walk in all ways which he has commanded them “in order that they may prosper and live long in the land.” Thus the power of Nature as such and the feeling of dependence on her disappears before political or moral power! Whilst the slave of Nature is so blinded by the brilliancy of the sun, that he like the Katchinian Tartar daily prays to him: “do not kill me,” the political slave on the other hand is so much blinded by the splendor of royal dignity, that he prostrates himself before it as before a divine power, be­ cause it commands over death and life. The titles of the Soman Emperors, even still among the Christians were: “Your divinity,” “Your eternity.” Nay, even now-adays among Christians “Holiness” and “Majesty,” the titles and attributes of the Deity, are titles and attributes of kings. It is true the Christians try to justify this political idolatry with the notion that the king is nothing but God’s representative upon earth, God himself being the King of kings. But such a justification is only a self-deception. Not considering that the king’s power is a very sensible, direct and sensual one which represents itself, while that of the King of kings is only an indirect and reflected one—God is defined and regarded as the world’s ruler, as a royal or political being in general, only where the royal being occupies, influences and rules man so as to be considered by him as the supreme being. “Brahma” says Menu, “formed in the beginning of time �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 41 for his service the genius ofpunishment with a body of pure light as his own son, nay even as the author oi criminal justice, as the protector of all things created. Fear ofpunishment enables this universe to enjoy its happiness.” Thus man makes even the punishment of his criminal code divine, world-governing powers, the criminal code itself the code of Nature, no wonder that he makes Nature to sympathize most warmly with his political sufferings and passions, nay, that he even makes the preservation of the world dependent on the preserva­ tion, of a royal throne or of the Holy See. What is im­ portant to him, naturally is also of importance for all other beings ; what dims his eye, that also dims the bril­ liancy of the sun; what agitates his heart, that also moves heaven and earth—his being to him is the univer­ sal being, the world’s being, the being of beings. § 38. Why has the East not a living, progressive history such as the West? Because in the East to man Nature is not concealed by man, nor the brilliancy of the stars and precious stones by the brilliancy of the eye, nor the meteorological lightning and thunder by the rhetorical “ lightning and thunder,” nor the course of the sun by the course of daily events, nor the change of the year’s seasons by the change of fashion. It is true, the eastern man prostrates himself into the dust before the magnificence of royal, political power and dignity, but this magnificence itself is only a reflex of the sun and the moon; the king is an object of his adoration not as an earthly and human, but as a heavenly and divine being. But man disappears by the side of a God; only where the earth is. depopulated of Gods, where the Gods ascend into heaven and change from real beings to imagined ones; only there men have space and room for �42 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. themselves, only there they can show themselves without any restraint as men and put themselves forward as such. The eastern man bears the same relation to the western man as the husbandman to the inhabitants of the city. The former depends on Nature, the latter on man; the former is led by the barometer, the latter by the state of the stock-market; the, former by the ever equal con­ stellations of the zodiac, the latter by the ever fluctuating signs of honor, fashion and public opinion. Only the inhabitants of cities, therefore, make up history, only human “vanity ” is the principle of history, only he who can sacrifice Nature’s power to that of opinion, his life to his name, his physical existence to his existence in the mouth and in the remembrance of generations to come—he only is capable of historical deeds. § 39. According to Athenaeus, the Greek writer of comic plays, Anaxandrides addresses the Egyptians as follows: “I am not fit for your society; our manners and laws do not agree,—you adore the ox which I sacri­ fice to the Gods; the eel to you is a great God, but to me a great dainty; you shun pork, I enjoy it with a relish; you revere the dog, I beat him if he snaps a morsel from me; you are startled if something is the matter with the cat, I am glad of it and strip off her skin; you give a great deal cf importance to the shrew-mouse, I none.” This address perfectly characterizes the con­ trast between the bound and the unbound, i. e. between the religious and irreligious, free, human consideration of Nature. There Nature is an object of adoration, here of enjoyment; there man exists for Nature’s sake, here Nature for man’s sake, there she is the end, here the means; there she stands above, here below man.(13) For this very reason man is there eccentric, out of himself, out �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 43 of the sphere of his destination which points mm only to himself; here, on the other hand, he is considerate, sober, within himself, self-conscious. There man degrades him­ self consistently even to coition with animals (accord­ ing to Herodotus), in order to prove his religious humil­ ity before Nature; but here he rises in the full conscious­ ness of his power and dignity up to amalgamation with the Gods as a striking proof that even in the heavenly Gods courses no other than human blood, and that the peculiar ethereal blood of the Gods is only a poetical imagination which does not hold good in reality and practice. § 40. As the world, as Nature appears to man, so she isi. e. for him, according to his imagination; his sensations and imaginations are to him directly and un­ consciously the measure of truth and reality; and Nature appears to him just as he is himself. As soon as man perceives that in spite of sun and moon, heaven and earth, fire and water, plants and animals, man’s life re­ quires the application and even the just application of his own powers; as'soon as he perceives that “the mortals unjustly complain of the Gods, and that they themselves in spite of fate, through imprudence, produce their misery,” that the consequences of vice and folly are di­ sease, unhappiness and death, but those of virtue and wis­ dom, health, life and happiness, and that, therefore, those powers which influence man’s destiny, are intellect and will; as soon, therefore, as man no more like the savage, is a being governed by the habits of momentary impres­ sions and effects, but becomes a being which decides him­ self by principles, rules of wisdom, laws of reason, i. e. a thinking, intelligent being—then also Nature, the world appears and is to him a toeing dependent on, and influ. enced by, intellect and will. �44 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. §41. When man with his will and intellect rises above Nature and becomes a supematuralist, then also God becomes a supernatural being. When man estab­ lishes himself as a ruler “ over the fishes in the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth over the earth,” then the Government of Nature is to him the highest idea, the highest being ; the object of his adoration, of his religion therefore, the creator of Na­ ture, for creation is a necessary consequence, or rather presupposition, of Government. If the Lord of Nature is not also her author, then she is independent of him as to her origin and existence, his power is limited and de­ ficient ;—-for if he had been able to create her, why should he not have created her ?—his government is only an usurped one, no inherent, legal one. Only what I produce and make is entirely within my power. Only from authorship the right of property is to be derived. Mine is the child, because I am his father. Therefore, only in creation government is acknowledged, realized, exhausted. The Gods of the heathen were also already masters of Nature, it is true, but no or :ators of hers, therefore they were only constitutional, limited, not ab­ solute monarchs of Nature, L e. the heathen were not yet absolute, unconditional, radical sup ernaturalists. § 42. The Theists have declared the doctrine of the unity of God a revealed doctrine of supernatural origin, without considering that the source of Monotheism is in man, that the scource of God’s unity is the unity of the human conscience and mind. The world is spread before my eyes in endless multitude and diversity, but still all these numberless and various objects : sun, moon and stars, heaven and earth, the near and the distant, �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 45 the present and the absent, are embraced by my mind, my head. This being of the human mind or conscience, so wonderful and supernatural for religious, i. e. unedu­ cated man, this being which is not restrained by any limits of time or space, which is not limited to any par­ ticular species of things, and which embraces all things and beings, without being himself an object or visible being—this being is, by Monotheism, placed at the head of the world, and made its cause. God speaks, God thinks the world and it is, he says that it is not, he thinks and wills it not, and it does not exist, i. e. I can in my imagination cause at will all things and conse­ quently also the world itself to come and to disappear, to originate and to pass away. That • God has also created the world from nothing, and, if he will, thrusts it again into nothing, is nothing but the personification ofthe human power of abstraction and imagination, which enables me at will to imagine the world as exist­ ing or not existing, and to affirm or deny its existence. This subjective or imagined non-existence of the world, is by Monotheism made its objective, real non-existence. Polytheism and natural religion in general make the real objects imagined ones. Monotheism, on the other hand, makes imagined objects and thoughts real objects, or rather the essence of intellect, will and imagination die most real, absolute, supreme being. The power of God, says a theologian, extends as far as the imaginative power of man, but where is the limit of this power ? What is impossible to imagination ? I can imagine every­ thing that is, as not existing, and everything that does not exist as real; thus I can imagine “this” world as not existing, and on the other hand, numberless other worlds as existing. What is imagined as real is possible. �46 the essence oe religion. But God is the being to whom nothing is impossible, he is the creator of numberless worlds, as far as his power is concerned, thepossibility of all possibilities, of everything that can be imagined ; i. e. in reality, he is nothing but the realization or personification of human imagination, intellect and reflection, thought or im­ agined 4 as real, nay, as the most real, as the absolute being. § 43. Theism, properly so-called, or Monotheism, arises only where man refers Nature only to himself, because she suffers herself to be used without will and conscious­ ness, not only to his necessary, organic functions, but also to his arbitrary, conscious purposes and enjoyments, and where he makes this relation her essence, conse­ quently making himself the purpose, the centre and uni­ ty of Nature. (14) Where Nature has her end outside of herself, she necessarily has also her cause and beginning without herself; where she exists only for anotherbeing, she necessarily exists also by another being, and that by a being whose intention or end at the time of her creation was man, as that being who was to enjoy and to use Nature for his good. The beginning of Na­ ture coincides therefore with God only where her end coincides with man, or in other words, the doctrine that God is the creator of the world has its source and sense in the doctrine that man is the end of creation. If you feel ashamed of the belief that the world is created, made for man, then you must feel ashamed of the belief that it is created, made at all. Where it is written: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” there it is also written: “ God made two great lights. He made the stars also, and set them in the fir­ mament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth, and �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 47 to rule over the day and the night” If you declare the belief in man as the end of Nature to be human pride, then you must also declare the belief in the creator of Nature to be human pride. That light only which shines on account of man is the light of theology, that light only which exists exclusively on account of the seeing being, presupposes also a seeing being as its cause. § 44. The spiritual being which man places above Nature and presupposes as her founder and creator, is nothing but the spiritual essence of man himself, which, however, appears to him as another one, different from and incomparable to himself, because he makes it the cause of Nature, the cause of effects which man’s mind, will and intellect cannot produce, and because he conse­ quently combines with that spiritual essence of man, the essence of Nature which is different. (15) It is the di­ vine spirit who makes the grass grow, who forms the child in the womb, who holds and moves the sun in his course, who piles up the mountains, commands the winds, incloses the sea within its limits. What is the human mind compared with this spirit! How small, how limited, how vain ! If therefore the rationalist rejects God’s incarna­ tion, the union of the divine and human nature, he does so particularly because the idea of God in his head hides only the idea of Nature, especially of Nature such as she was disclosed to the human eye by the telescope of astron­ omy. How should—thus he exclaims provoked—how should that great, infinite, universal being, which has its adequate representation and effect only in the great, in­ finite universe, descend for man’s sake upon the earth, which certainly disappears into nothing before the im­ measurable greatness and fullness of the universe ? What unworthy, mean, “ human” imagination ! To concentrate �48 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. God upon earth, to plunge God into man, is about the same as to try to condense the ocean into one drop, to reduce the ring of Saturn into a finger-ring. Truly it is a rather narrow idea to think the universal being as limited only to earth or man, and to believe that Nature exists only on his account, that the sun shines only on account of the human eye. You do not see, however, short-sighted rationalist, that it is not the idea of God, but the idea of Nature, which within yourself objects to a union of God and man, and shows it to be a nonsensical con­ tradiction; you do not see that the centre of union, ter­ tium comparationis, between God and man is not that being to which you directly or indirectly attribute the power and effects of Nature, but rather that being which sees and hears, because you see and hear, which possesses consciousness, intellect and will, because you possess these faculties, or, in other words, that being which you distinguish from Nature, because you distinguish your­ self from her. What, then, can you really object if this being finally appears as areal man before your eyes? How can you reject the consequences if you adhere to the premises ? How can you deny the son if you ac­ knowledge the father ? If the God-man to you is a creat­ ure of human imagination and self-deification, then you must acknowledge, also, the creator of Nature to be a creature of human imagination and self-exaltation over Nature. If you wish for a being without any anthro­ pomorphism, without any human additions, be they addi­ tions of the intellect, or the heart, or of imagination, then be courageous and consistent enough to give up God altogether, and to appeal only to pure, naked, god­ less nature as to the last basis of your existence. As long as you admit a difference, so long you incarnate �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 49 in God your own difference, so long you incorporate your own essence and, nature in the universal and primary being ; for as you do not have nor know in distinction from human nature any other being than Nature, so, on the other hand, you neither have nor know any other being in distinction from Nature than the human one. § 45. The conception of man’s essence as an objective being different from man, or, in short, the personification of the human essence, has for its presupposition the in­ carnation of the objective being which is different from man, i. e. the conception of Nature as of a human being. (16) Will and intellect therefore appear to man as the primary powers or causes of Nature only because the unintentional effects of Nature appear to him in the light of his intellect as intentional ones, as ends and purposes; Nature herself consequently as an intelligent being (or at least as a mere thing of intellect). As everything is seen by the sun—the God of the sun, “ Helios ” hears and sees everything—because man sees everything in the sunlight, sc everything in itself has been thought, because man thinks it; a work of intellect, because for him an object of his intellect. Because he measures the stars and their distances, they are measured; because he applies mathe­ matics in order to understand Nature and her laws, they have also been applied to her production; because he sees the end of a certain motion, the result of a certain development, the function of a certain organ, this end, function or result is in itself a foreseen one ; because he can imagine the opposite of the position or direction of a heavenly body, nay even numberless other directions, while at the same time he perceives that if this direction were changed, also a series of fruitful, benevolent con­ �50 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. sequences would be made impossible, so that he com siders this series of consequences as the motive of that very direction: therefore such direction has really and originally been selected with admirable wisdom, and only with regard to its benevolent consequences, from the multitude of other directions which also exist only in man’s head. Thus the principle of thinking is to man directly and without discrimination the principle of exist­ ence ; the thing thought, the thing existing; the idea of the object, its essence, (the a posteriori the a priori)) Man thinks Nature otherwise than she really is; no won­ der that he also presupposes as her cause and the cause of her existence another being than herself, a being which exists only in his mind, nay, which is even only the es­ sence of his own mind. Man reverses the natural order of things; he founds the world in the very sense of the word upon its head, he makes the apex of the pyramid its basis—the first thing in or for the head, the reason why something is, the first thing in reality, the cause through which it exists. The motive of a thing precedes in the mind the thing itself. This is the reason why to man the essence of reason or intellect, the essence of thinking not only logically, but also physically, is the first, the primary being. § 46. The mystery of teleology is based upon the con­ tradiction between the necessity of Nature and the ar­ bitrary will of man, between Nature such as she really is and such as man imagines her. If the earth were placed somewhere else, if e. g. it were placed where Mer­ cury now is, everything would perish in consequence of insupportable heat. How wisely, therefore, is the earth placed just where it appears best according to its quality. But in what does this wisdom consist ? Only in the con­ �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 51 tradiction, in the contrast to human folly, which arbi­ trarily in thought places the earth somewhere else than where it is in reality. If you first tear asunder what in Nature is inseparable, as for instance the astronomical place of a heavenly body from its physical quality, then certainly the unity in Nature must afterwards appear to you as expediency, necessity as plan, the real and necessary place of a planet which agrees with its nature in contrast to the unfit one which you have thought of and chosen, as the reasonable one which has been justly chosen and wisely selected. “ If the snow had a black color, or if such color prevailed in the arctic regions, all the arctic countries of the earth would be a gloomy desert, unfit for organic life. Thus the arrangement of the colors of bodies offers one of the most beautiful proofs for the wise arrangement of the world.” Certainly, if man did not change white into black, if human folly had not disposed arbitrarily of Nature, no divine wisdom would rule over Nature. § 47. “Who has told the bird that it has only to raise its tail if it wants to fly downward, or to depress it, if it wants to ascend ? He must be perfectly blind, who, in observing the flight of birds, does not perceive any higher wisdom has thought in their stead” Cer­ tainly he must be blind, not for Nature, but for man, who makes his nature the original of Nature, Xkw, power of intellect the original power, who makes the birds’ flight dependent upon the insight into the mechanical laws of flying, and who elevates his ideas abstracted from Nature into laws which the birds apply to .their flight, just as the rider applies the rules of the art of riding, or the swimmer the rules of the art of swimming; with the only difference that to the birds the application of the �52 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. art of flying is created with them. But the flight of birds is founded on no art. Art is only where also the oppo­ site of art is to be found, where an organ performs a function which is not directly and necessarily connected with it, which does not exhaust its essence, and is only a particular function by the side of many other real or possible functions of the same organ. But the bird can­ not fly otherwise than it does, nor is it at liberty not to fly; it must fly. The animal always knows how to do only that whicli it is able to do, and for this very reason it can do this one thing so perfectly, so masterly, so unsurpassably, because it does not know anything else, be­ cause its power is exhausted in this one function, because this one function is identical with its nature. If we therefore are unable to explain the actions and functions of the animals, especially those of the lower ones, which are endowed with certain artistic impulses, without pre­ supposition of an intellect which has thought in their stead, this is only because we think that the objects of their activity are objects to them in the same manner as they are objects to our consciousness and intellect. As soon as we consider the works of the animals as work of arty as arbitrary works, we must necessarily also con­ sider the intellect as their cause, for a work of art pre­ supposes choice, intention, intellect, and consequently, as we know by experience that animals do not think them­ selves, another being as thinking in their behalf. (17) “ Do you know how to advise the spider how it is to carry and to fasten the threads from one tree to another, from one housetop to another, from a height this side of the water to another one on the other side ?” Certainly not; but do you indeed believe that there is any advice needed in this instance, that the spider is in the same condition �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 53 in which you would be, if you were to solve this problem theoretically, that for it, as well as for you, there is any difference between “ this side ” and “ that side ?” Between the spider and the object to which it fastens the threads of its net, there is as necessary a connection as between your bone and muscle; for the object without it is for it nothing but the support of its thread of life, as the support of its fangs. The spider does not see what you see; all the separations, differences and distances which, or at least such as your intellectual eye perceives them, do not at all exist for it. What therefore to you is an insolvable theoretical problem, that is done by the spider without any intellect, and consequently without all those difficulties which exist only for your intellect. “Who has told the vine-fretters that they find their food in the fall of the year in greater abundance at the branch and at the bud than at the leaf? Who has shown them the way to the bud and to the branch? For the vine-fretter which was born upon the leaf, the bud is not only a distant but an entirely unknown province. I adore the creator of the vine-fretter and of the cochineal and remain silent.” Certainly you must be silent if you make the vine-fretters and cochineals preachers of Theism, if you endow them with your thoughts, for only to the vine-fretter viewed from the standpoint of man is the bud a distant and unknown province, but not to the vine-fretter itself, to which the leaf and the bud are objects not as such, but only as matter which can be assimilated and is chemically related to it. It is there­ fore only the reflex of your eye which shows you Nature as the work of an eye, which obliges you to derive the threads the spider draws from its hind part, from the head of a thinking being. Nature is for you only a �54 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. spectacle, a delight of the eye; therefore you think that what delights your eye, also rules and moves Nature. Thus you make the heavenly light in which she appears to you, the heavenly being which has created her ; the rays of the eye the lever of Nature ; the optic nerve the motory nerve of the universe. To derive Nature from a wise creator is to produce children with a look; to sat­ isfy hunger with the perfume of food; to move rocks by the harmony of sounds. If the Greenlander derives the shark’s origin from human urine because it smells to man like it, this zoological genesis has the same founda­ tion as as the cosmological genesis of the Theist, when he derives Nature from intellect, because she makes upon man the impression of intellect, and intention. Certainly the manifestation of Nature for us is reason, but the cause of such manifestation is as little reason as the cause of light is light. § 48. Why does Nature produce monsters? Because the result of a formation to her is not the object of a pre. existing purpose. Why supernumerary limbs ? Because she does not number. Why does she place at the left hand side what generally lies on the right hand side, and vice versa ? Because she. does not know what is right or left. Monsters are therefore popular arguments, which for this very reason have been insisted on already by the Atheists of old, and even by such Theists as emancipated Nature from the guardianship of theology, in order to prove that the productions of Nature are unforeseen, unintentional,’ involuntary ones; for all reasons which are adduced for the sake of explaining monsters, even those of the most modern naturalists, according to which they are only consequences of diseases of the foetus, would be done away with, if with the creative or pro­ �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 55 ductive power of Nature at the same time will, intellect, forethought and consciousness were connected. But although Nature does not see, she is not therefore blind; although she does not live (in the sense of human, that is subjective, sensible life) she is not dead; and although she does not produce according to purposes, still her productions are not accidental ones; for where man de­ fines Nature as dead and blind, and her productions as accidental ones, he defines her only so in contrast to him­ self, and declares her to be deficient because she does not possess what he possesses. Nature works and produces everywhere only in and with connection—a connection which is reason for man, for wherever he perceives con­ nection, he finds sense, material for the thinking, “suf­ ficient reason,” system—only from and with necessity. But also the necessity of Nature is no human, i. e. no logical, metaphysical or mathematical, in general no ab­ stracted one; for natural beings are no creatures of thought, no logical or mathematical figures, but real, sensual, individual beings; it is a sensual necessity and therefore eccentric, exceptional, irregular, which, in con­ sequence of these anomalies of human imagination, ap­ pears even as freedom, or at least as a product of free will. Nature generally can be understood only through herself; she is that being whose idea depends on no other being; she alone admits of a discrimination between what a thing is in itself and what it is for our conception; she alone cannot be measured with any human measure, although we compare and designate her manifestations with analo­ gous human manifestations in order to make them intelligi­ ble for us, and although in general we apply, and are obliged to apply to her, human expressions and ideas, such as order, purpose, in accordance with the nature of our �1)6 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. language, which is founded only upon the subjective ap­ pearance of things. §. 49. The religious admiration of divine wisdom in Nature is only an incident of enthusiasm ; it refers only to the means, but is extinguished in reflecting on the purposes of Nature. How wonderful is the spider’s web, how wonderful the funnel of the ant-lion in the sand 1 But what is the purpose of these wise arrangements ? No­ thing but nourishment—a purpose which man in regard to himself degrades to a mere means. “ Others,” said Socrates—but these others are animals and brutish men— “ others live in order to eat, but I eat in order to live.” How magnificent is the flower, how admirable its struc­ ture I But what is the purpose of this structure, of this magnificence ? Only to magnify and protect the genitals which man in himself either hides from shame, or even mutilates from religious zeal. “ The creator of the vinefretters and of the cochineals'1'’ whom the naturalist, the man of theory adores and admires, who has only natural life for his purpose, is therefore not the God and creator in the sense of religion. No! only the creator of man, and that of man such as he distinguishes himself from Nature, and rises above Nature, the creator in whom man has the consciousness of himself, in whom he finds represented the qualities which constitute his nature in distinction from external Nature, and that in such a manner as he imagines them in religion, is the God and creator such as he is an object of religion. “ The water” says Luther, “ which is used in baptism and poured over the child is also water not of the crea­ tor but of God the SaviourS Natural water I have in common with animals and plants, but not the water of baptism ; the former amalgamates me with the other nat- �THE ESSENCE OE KELIGrlON. 57 ural beings, the latter distinguishes me from them. But the object of religion is not natural water, but the water of baptism; consequently not the creator or author of natural, but of baptismal water is an object of religion. The creator of natural water is necessarily himself a nat­ ural, and therefore no religious, i. e. supernatural being. Water is a visible being, whose qualities and effects there­ fore do not lead us to a supernatural cause ; but the baptismal water is no object for the corporeal eye,', it is a spiritual, invisible, supersensuous being, i. e. one that exists and works only for faith, in thought, in imagina­ tion—a being which therefore requires also for its cause a, spiritual being that exists only in faith and imagination. Natural water cleanses me only of my physical, but baptismal water of my moral impurities and diseases; the former only quenches my thirst for this temporal, transient life, but the latter satisfies my desire for life eternal; the former has only limited, defined, finite ef­ fects, but the latter infinite, all-powerful effects which surpass the nature of water, and which therefore repre­ sent and show the nature of the divine being, which is bound by no limit of Nature, the unlimited essence of man’s power to believe and to imagine, bound to no limit of experience and reason. But is not also the creator of baptismal water the creator of natural water ? In what re­ lation therefore does the former stand to the latter ? In the very same as baptismal to natural water; the former can­ not exist if the latter does not exist; this one is the con­ dition, the means of that one. Thus the creator of Na. ture is only the condition for the creator of man. How can he who does not hold the natural water in his hand combine with it supernatural effects ? How can he who does not rule over temporal life give life eternal ? How �58 THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. can he whom the elements of Nature do not obey, restore my body turned to dust ? But who is the master and ruler of Nature unless it be he who had power and strength to produce her from naught by his mere will ? He, therefore, who declares the union of the supernatural essence of baptism with natural water a contradiction, without sense, may also declare the union of the super­ natural essence of the creator wkh Nature such a con­ tradiction ; for between the effects of baptismal and com­ mon water is just as much or as little connection as between the supernatural creator and natural Nature. The creator comes from the same source from which the supernatural, wonderful wate® of baptism gushes forth. In the baptismal wrater we see only the essence of the' creator, of God, jn a sensible illustration. How there­ fore can you reject the miracle of baptism and other miracles, if you admit the essence of the creator, i. e. the essence of the miracle ? Or in other words: how can you reject the small miracle if you admit the great miracle of creation ? But it is in the world of theology just as in the political world; the small thieves are hanged, the great ones are suffered to escape. § 50. That providence which is manifested in the order, conformity to purpose and lawfulness of Na­ ture, is not the providence of religion. The latter is based upon liberty, the former upon necessity; the latter is unlimited and unconditional, the former limited, de pending on a thousand different conditions; the latter is a special and individual one, the former is extended only over the whole, the species, while the individual is left to chance. A theistic naturalist says: “ Many (or rather all those in whose conception God was more than the mafrhematioal, imagined origin of Nature) have imagined �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 59 the preservation of the world and especially of mankind, as direct and special., as if God ruled the actions of all creatures, and led them according to his pleasure. But after the consideration of the natural laws, we are unable to admit such a special government and superintendence over the actions of men and other creatures. . . We learn this from the little care which Nature takes of single individuals. (1§) Thousands of them are sacrificed with­ out hesitation or repentance in the plenty of Nature. . . Even with regard to man we make the same experience. Not one half of the human race reach the second year of their age, but die almost without having known that they ever lived. We learn this very thing also from the misfortunes and mishaps of all men, the good as well as the bad, which cannot well be made to agree with the special preservation or co-operation of the creator.” But a government, a providence which is no special one, does not answer to the purpose, the essence, the idea of providence; for providence is to destroy accident, but just that is upheld by a merely general providence which therefore is no better than no providence at all. Thus, e. g. it is a “law of divine order in Nature,” i. e. a conse­ quence of natural causes, that according to the •number of years also the death of man occui’s in a definite ratio ; that ' for instance, in the first year one child dies out of from three to four children, in the fifth year one out of twentyfive, in the seventh one out of fifty, in the tenth one out of one hundred, but still it is accidental, not regulated by this law, depending on other accidental causes, that just this one child dies, while those three or four others sur­ vive. Thus marriage is an “institution of God,” a law of natural providence, in order to multiply the human race, and consequently a duty for me. But whether I �60 THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. am to marry just this one, whether she is not perhaps in consequence of an accidental organic deficiency unfit or unproductive, that I am not told. But just because natural providence, which in reality is nothing but Nature herself, does not come to my assistance when I come to apply the law to the special, single case, but leaves me to myself just in the critical moment of decis­ ion, in the pressure of necessity; I appeal from her to a higher court, to the supernatural providence of the Gods whose eye shines upon me just where Nature’s light is extinguished; whose rule begins just where that of natural providence is at an end. The Gods know and tell me, they decide what Nature leaves in the darkness of ignorance and gives up to accident. The region of what commonly, as well as philosophically, is called ac­ cidental, “positive,” individual, not to be foreseen, not to be speculated upon, is the region of the Gods, the region of religious providence. And oracles and prayer are the religious means by which man makes the acci­ dental, obscure, uncertain, an object of certainty, or at least of hope. (19) § 51. The Gods, says Epicurus, exist in the intervals of the universe. Very well; they exist only in the void space, in the abyss which is between the world of imagi­ nation and the world of reality, between the law and its application, between the action and its result, between the present and the future. The Gods are imagined beings, beings of imagination which therefore owe also their existence, strictly speaking, not to the present but only to the future and the past. Those Gods who owe their existence to the past, are those who no longer exist, the dead ones, those beings which live only in mind and imagination? whose worship among some nations consti­ �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 61 tutes the whole religion, and with most of tnem an im­ portant essential part of religion. But far more might­ ily than by the past, is the mind influenced by the future; the former leaves behind only the quiet perception of re­ membrance, while the latter stands before us with the ter­ rors of hell or the happiness of heaven. The Gods which rise from the tombs are therefore themselves only shades of Gods; the true living Gods, the rulers over rain and sunshine, lightning and thunder, life and death, heaven and hell, owe their existence likewise only to the powers fear and hope, which rule over life and death, and which illuminate the dark abyss of the future with beings of the imagination. The present is exceedingly prosaic, ready made, determined, never to be changed, final, ex­ clusive ; in the present, imagination coincides with real­ ity ; in it therefore there is no place for the Gods; the present is godless. But the future is the empire of poetry, of unlimited possibility and accident—the future may be according to my wishes or fears; it is not yet subject to the stern lot of unchangeableness; it still hovers between existence and non-existence, high over “ common ” reality and palpability; it still belongs to another a invisible ” world which is not put in motion by the laws of gravitation, but only by the sensory nerves. This world is the world of the Gods. Mine is the present, but the future belongs to the Gods. I am now; this present moment, although it will immediately be past, cannot be taken any more from me by the Gods; things that have happened cannot be undone even by divine power, as the ancients have already said. But shall I exist the next moment ? Does the next mo­ ment of my life depend on my will, or is it in any neces­ sary connection with the present one ? No ; a number­ �62 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. less multitude of accidents; the ground under my feet, the ceiling over my head, a flash of lightning, a bullet, a stone, even a grape which glides into my windpipe in­ stead of passing into the eesophagus, can at any moment tear forever the coming moment from the present one. But the good Gods prevent this violent breach; they fill with their external, invulnerable bodies, the pores of the human body which are accessible to all possible de­ structive influences; they attach the coming moment to the one that is past; they unite the future with the present; they are, and possess in uninterrupted con­ tinuity, what men—the porous Gods—are and possess, only in intervals and with interruptions. § 52. Goodness is an essential quality with the Gods ; but how can they be good if they are not almighty and free from the laws of natural providence, i. e. from the fetters of natural necessity, if they do not appear in the individual instances which decide between life and death, as masters of nature, but friends and I)enefac­ tors of men, and if they consequently do not work any miracles'? The Gods, or rather Nature, has endowed man with physical and mental powers in order to be able to sustain himself. But are these natural means of sustain­ ing himself always sufficient ? Do I not frequently come into situations where I am lost without hope if no super­ natural hand stops the inexorable course of natural order? The natural order is good, but is it always good ? This continuous rain or drought e. g. is entirely in order; but must not I or my family, or even a whole nation perish in consequence of it, unless the Gods give their aid and stop it ? (20) Miracles therefore are inseparable from the divine government and providence; nay, they are the only proofs, manifestations and revelations of the Gods, �THE ESSENCE OE RELIGION. 63 as of powers and beings distinguished from Nature ; to deny the 'miracles is to deny the Gods themselves. By what are Gods distinguished from men ? Only by their being without limits, what the latter are in a limited manner, and especially by their being always what the latter are only for a certain time, for a moment. (21) Men live—living existence is divinity, essential quality and primary condition of the Deity—but alas ! not for ever; they die—but the Gods are the immortal ones who always live; men are also happy, but not without interruption as the Gods; men are also good but not always, and just this constitutes according to Socrates the difference between Deity and humanity, that the former is always good; according to Aristotle, men also enjoy the divine happiness of thinking, but their mental activity is interrupted by other functions and actions. Thus the Gods and men have the same quali­ ties and rules of life, only that the former possess them without, the latter with limitations and exceptions. As the life to come is nothing but the continuation of this life uninterrupted by death, so the divine being is no­ thing but the continuation of the human being uninter­ rupted by Nature in general—the uninterrupted, un­ limited nature of man. But how are miracles distin­ guished from the effects of Nature ? Just as the Gods are distinguished from men. The miracle makes an effect or a quality of Nature which in a given case is not good, a good or at least a harmless one; it causes that I do not sink and drown in the water, if I have the misfortune of falling into it; that fire does not burn me; that a stone, falling upon my head, does not kill me—in short, it makes that essence which now is beneficent,' then de­ structive now philanthropic, then misanthropic, an essence �64 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. always good. The Gods and miracles owe their exist­ ence only to the exceptions of the rule. The Deity is the destruction of the deficiencies and weaknesses in man which are the very causes of the exceptions; the miracle is the destruction of the deficiencies and limits in Nature. The natural beings are defined and consequently limited beings. This limit of theirs is in some abnormal cases the cause of their injuriousness to man ; but in the sense of religion it is not a necessary one, but an arbitrary one, made by God and therefore to be destroyed if necessity, i. e. the welfare of man requires it.—To deny the mir­ acles under the pretext that they are not becoming to God’s dignity and wisdom in virtue of which he has fixed and determined everything from the beginning in the best manner, is to sacrifice man to Nature, religion to intellect, is to preach Atheism in the name of God. A God who fulfills only such prayers and wishes of men as can be fulfilled also without him, the fulfillment of which is within the limits and conditions of natural causes, who therefore helps only as long as art and Nature help, but who ceases helping as soon as the materia medica is at an end—such a God is nothing but the personified ne­ cessity of Nature hidden behind the name of God. § 53. The belief in God is either the belief in Nature (the objective being) as a human (subjective) being, or the belief in the human essence as the essence of Nature. The former is the natural religion, polytheism, (22) this one spiritual or human religion, monotheism. The poly­ theist sacrifices himself to Nature, he gives to the human eye and heart the power and government over Nature ; the polytheist makes the human being dependent on Nature, the monotheist makes Nature dependent on the human being; the former says: if Nature does not �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 65 exist, I do not exist ; but the latter says vice versa: if I do not exist, the world, Nature does not exist. The first principle of religion is : Iam nothing compared with Nature, everything compared with me is God ; every­ thing inspires me with the feeling of dependence ; every­ thing can bring me, although only accidentally, fortune and misfortune, welfare and destruction, (but man origi­ nally does not distinguish between cause and accidental motive); therefore everything is a motive of religion. Religion on the stand-point of such non-critical feeling of dependence is fetishism so-called, the basis of poly­ theism. But the conclusion of religion is : everything is nothing compared with me—all the magnificence of the stars, the supreme Gods of polytheism disappear before the magnificence of the human soul; all the power of the world before the power of the human heart; all the necessity of dead unconscious Nature, before the neces­ sity of the human, conscious being; for everything is only a means for me. But Nature would not exist for me, if she existed by herself, if she were not from God. If she were by herself and therefore had the cause of her existence in herself, she would for this very reason have also an independent essence, an original existence and essence without any relation to myself, and independent from me. The signification of Nature according to which she appears to be nothing for herself, but only a means for man, is therefore to be traced back only to creation; but this signification is manifested above all in those instances where man—as e.. g. in distress, in danger of death—comes into collision with Nature, which however is sacrificed to man’s wel­ fare— in the miracles. Therefore the premiss of the miracle is creation ; the miracle is the conclusion, the �66 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. consequence, the truth of creation. Creation is in the same relation to the miracle, as the species to the single individual; the miracle is the act of creation in a special, single case. Or, creation is theory ; its practice and application is the miracle. God is the cause, man the end of the world i.e. God is the first being in theory, but man is the first being in practice. Nature is nothing for God—nothing but a plaything of his power—but only in order that in an exigency, or rather generally, she is and can do nothing against man. In the creator man drops the limits of his essence, of his “ soul,” in the mira­ cle the limits of his existence, of his body; there he makes his invisible, thinking and reflected essence, here his in­ dividual, practical, visible essence, the essence of the world; then he legitimates the miracle; here he only per­ forms it. The miracle accomplishes the end of religion in a sensual, popular way—the dominion of man over Na­ ture, the divinity of man becomes a palpable truth. God works miracles, but upon man’s prayer and although not upon an especial prayer, still in man’s sense,in agree­ ment with his most secret innermost wishes. Sarah laughed when in her old age the Lord promised her a little son, but nevertheless even then descendants were still her highest thought and wish. The secret worker of miracles therefore is man, but in the progress of time— time discloses every secret—he will and must become the manifest, visible worker of miracles. At first man re­ ceives miracles, finally he works miracles himself; at first he is the object of God, finally God himself', at first God only in heart, in mind, in thought, finally, God in flesh. But thought is bashful, sensuality without shame; thought is silent and reserved, sensuality speaks out openly and frankly; its utterances therefore are exposed to be ridi­ �THE ESSENCE OK RELIGION. 67 culed if they are contradictory to reason, because here the contradiction is a visible, undeniable one. This is the reason why the modern rationalists are ashamed to believe in the God in the flesh i. e. in the sensual, visible miracle, while they are not ashamed to believe in the not-sensual God, i. e. in the not sensual, hidden miracle. Still the time will come when the prophecy of Lichten­ berg will be fulfilled, and the belief in God in general, consequently also the belief in a rational God will be con­ sidered as superstition just as well as already the belief in the miraculous Christian God in flesh is considered as superstition, and when therefore instead of the church light of simple belief and instead of the twilight of rational­ istic belief, the pure light of Nature and reason will en­ lighten and warm mankind. § 54. He who for his God has no other material than that which natural science, philosophy, or natural obser­ vation generally furnishes to him, who therefore con­ strues the idea of God from natural materials and con­ siders him to be nothing but the cause or the principle of the laws of astronomy, natural philosophy, geol­ ogy, mineralogy, physiology, zoology and anthropology, ought to be honest enough also to abstain from using the name of God, for a natural principle is always a nat­ ural essence and not what constitutes the idea of a G-od. (23) As little as a church which has been turned into a museum of natural curiosities, still is and can be called a house of God, so little is a God really a God, whose nature and efforts are only manifested in astronomical, geological, anthropological works; God is a religious word, a religious object and being, not a p/hysical, astronomi­ cal, or in general a cosmical one. “ Deus et cultus” s&ys Luther in his table-discourses, “ sunt relativaf God �68 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. and worship correspond to one another, one cannot be without the other, for God must ever be the God of a man or of a nation and is always in prraedicamento relationis, both being in mutual relation to each other. God will have some who adore and worship him; for to have a God and to adore him correspond to each other, sunt relativa, as man and wife in marriage—neither can be without the other.” God therefore presupposes men who adore and worship him; God is a being the idea or conception of whom does not depend on Nature but on man, and that on religious man; an object of adoration is not without an adoring being, i. e. God is an object whose existence coincides with the existence of religion, whose essence coincides with the essence of religion, and which therefore does not exist apart from religion, different and independent from it, but in whom objectively is contained no more than what religion con­ tains subjectively. Iff) Sound is the objective essence, the God of the ear; light is the objective essence, the God of the eye; sound exists only for the ear, light only for the eye; in the ear we have what we have in sound: trembling, waving bodies, extended membranes, gelatin­ ous substances; but in the eye we have organs of light. To make God an object of natural philosophy, astronomy or zoology, is therefore just the same thing as making sound an object of the eye. As the tone exists only in the ear and for it, so God exists only in religion and for it, only in faith and for it. As sound or tone as the object of hearing expresses oidy the nature of the ear, so God as an object which is only the object of religion and faith, expresses the nature of religion and faith. But what makes an object a religious one? As we have seen, only man’s imagination and mind, Whether you �THE ESSENCE CE RELIGION. 69 worship Jehovah or Apis, the thunder or the Christ, your shadow, like the negro on the coast of Guinea, or your soul like the Persian of old, the flatus ventris or your genius—in short, whether you worship a sensual or spirit­ ual being, it is all the same; something is an object of religion only in so far as it is an object of imagination and feeling, an object of faith ; for just because the object of religion, such as it is its object, does not exist in real­ ity, but rather contradicts the latter, for this very reason it is only an object of faith. Thus e. g. the immortality of man, or man as an immortal being is an object of re­ ligion, but for this very reason only an object of faith, for reality shows just the contrary, the mortality of man. To believe, means to imagine that something exists which does not exist; e. g. to imagine that a certain picture is a living being, that this bread is flesh, wine blood, i. e., something which it is not. Therefore it betrays the greatest ignorance of religion if you hope to find God with the telescope in the sky of astronomy, or with a magnifying glass in a botanical garden, or -with a miner­ alogic hammer in the mines of geology, or with the ana­ tomic knife and microscope in the entrails of animals and men—you find him only in man’s faith, imagination and heart; for God himself is nothing but the essence of man’s imagination and heart. § 55. “As your heart, so is your God.” As the wishes of men, so are their Gods. The Greeks had limited Gods—that means: they had limited wishes. The Greeks did not wish to live forever, they only wished not to grow old and die, and they did not ab­ solutely wish not to die, they only wished not to die now — unpleasant things always come too soon for man—only not in the bloom of their age, only not of a �70 THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. violent, painful death ; they did not wish to be saved in heaven, only happy, only to live without trouble and pain; they did not sigh as the Christians do, because they were subject to the necessity of Nature, to the wants of sexual instinct, of sleep, of eating and drinking; they still submitted in their wishes to the limits of human na­ ture ; they were not yet creators from nothing, they did not yet make wine from water, they only purified and distilled the water of Nature and changed it in an or­ ganic way into the blood of the Gods; they drew the contents of divine and blissful life not from mere imagi­ nation, but from the materials of the real world; they built the heaven of the Gods upon the ground of this earth. The Greeks did not make the divine, i. e. the possible being, the original and end of the real one, but they made the real being the measure of the possible one. Even when they had refined and spiritualized their Gods by means of philosophy, their wishes were founded upon the ground of reality and human nature. The Gods are realized wishes; but the highest wish, the highest bliss of the philosopher, of the thinker as such, is to think undisturbed. The Gods of the Greek philos­ opher—at least of the Greek philosopher par excellence, of the philosophical Jove, of Aristotle—are therefore un­ disturbed thinkers; their happiness, their divinity, con­ sists in the uninterrupted activity of thinking. But this activity, this happiness is itself a happiness, real within this world, within human nature—although here limited by interruptions—a defined, special, and therefore, in the conception of Christians, limited and poor happiness which is contradictory to the essence of true happiness; for Christians have no limited but an unlimited God, sur­ passing all natural necessity, superhuman, extramundane �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 71 transcendental, i. e. they have unlimited, transcendental wishes which go beyond the world, beyond Nature, beyond the essence of man — i. e. absolutely fantastic wishes. Christians wish to be infinitely greater and happier than the G-ods of the Olympus ; their wish is a heaven in which all limits and all necessity of Nature are de­ stroyed and all wishes are accomplished; (26) a heaven in which there exist no wants, no sufferings, no wounds, no struggles, no passions, no disturbances, no change of day and night, light and shade, joy and pain, as in the heaven of the Greeks. In short the object of their belief is no longer a limited, defined God, a God with the determined name of Jove, or Pluto, or Vulcan, but God without appellation, because the object of their wishes is not a named, finite, earthly happiness, a deter­ mined enjoyment, such as the enjoyment of love, or of beautiful music, or of moral liberty, or of thinking, but an enjoyment which embraces all enjoyments, yet which for this very reason is a transcendental one, surpassing all ideas and thoughts, the enjoyment of an infinite, unlim­ ited, unspeakable, indescribable happiness. IT :ppiness and divinity are the same thing. Happiness as an object of belief, of imagination, generally as a theoretical object, is the Deity, the deity as an object of the heart, of the will, (27) of the wish as a practical object generally, is happiness. Or rather, the deity is an idea the truth and reality of which is only happiness. As far as the desire of happiness goes, so far, and no further, goes the idea of the deity. He who no longer has any supernatural wishes, has no longer any supernatural beings either. �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. (1) The theme of this treatise, or at least its starting point, is Religion, Inas­ much as its object is Nature, which I was obliged to disregard in my “Essence of Christianity,” since the centre of Christianity is not God in Nature, but Godin man.—[Author’s note]. (2) Nature, according to my conception, is nothing but a general word for denoting those beings, things and objects which man distir guishes from himself and his productions, and which he embraces under the common name of “Na­ ture,” but by no means a general being, abstracted and separated from the real objects and then personified into a mystical existence. (3) All those qualities which originally are derived only from the contempla­ tion of Nature, become in later times abstract, metaphysical qualities, just as Nature herself becomes an abstraction or creation of human reason. On this later standpoint, where man forgets the origin of God in Nature, when God no longer is an object of the senses, but an imag:nary being, we must sav: God without human qualities, who is to be distinguished from the properly human God, is nothing but the essence of reason. So much as regards tbe relation between this work and my former ones “ Luther” and “The Essence of Christi­ anity.” (4) This may be true in a logical sense, but never as far as the real genesis is concerned. (5) It is self-evident that I do not intend to finally dispose in these few words of the great problem of the origin of organic life; but they are sufficient for my argument, as I give here only the indirect proof that life cannot have any other source but Nature. As regards the direct proofs of natural science, we are still far from the end, but in comparison with former times—especially in consequence of .the lately proved identity of organic and inorganic phenomena—at least far enough to be able to be convinced of the natural origin of life, although the man­ ner of this origin is yet unknown to us, or even if it never should be revealed unto us. (6) Under this head we may also mention the many rules of etiquette which the ancient religions lay upon man in his intercourse with Nature, in order not to pollute or to violate her. Thus, e. g. no worshiper of Ormuzd was permitted to tread barefoot on the ground, because earth was sacred; no Greek was allowed to ford a river with unwashed hands. (7) The expression for to wish is in the ancient German language the same as that for to “enchant." (8) The Gods are blissful beings. The blessing is the result, the fruit, the end of an action which is independent from, but desired by me. “To bless” says Lu­ ther, “means to wish some thing good." “If we bless, we do nothing else but to wish something good, but we cannot give what we wish ; but God's blessing sounds fulfillment and toon proves its effect.” That means : men are desirii.g beings; the Gods are those beings which fulfill the desire. Thus even in common life the word God, so frequently used is nothing but the expression of a wish. “ May God grant you children!” That means : I wish you children, with the only difference that the latter expression contains the wish as a subjective, not religious one, while the former implies it as an objective religious one. (9) Thus in uncultivated times and among uncivilized nations religion may be a means of civilization, but in times of civilization religion represents the cause of rudeness, of antiquity, and is hostile to education. �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 73 (10) Under this head we may also consider the adoration of pernicious animals. (11) Hesiod expressly says ; also pheme (i. e., fame, rumor, public opinion) is a deity. (12) The original kings, however, are well to be distinguished from the legiti­ mate ones, so-called. The la tt<r, except in some extraordinary instances, are ordinary individuals, insignificant in themselves, while the former were extraor­ dinary, distinguished, historical individuals. The deification of distinguished men, especially after their death, forms therefore the most natural transition from the properly naturalistic religions to the mythological and anthropological ones, although it may also take place at the same time with natural adoration. The worshiping of distinguished men, however, is by no means confined to fab­ ulous times. Thus the Swedes deified their king Erich at the time of Christianity and sacrificed unto him after his death. (13) I range here the Greeks with the Israelites, while in my “Essence of Christianity” I contrast them with each other. This is by no means alogical con­ tradiction, for things which, when compared with one another are different, coin­ cide in comparison with atnird thing. Besides, enjoyment of Nature includes also her aesthetic, theoretical enjoyment. (14) An ecclesiastical writer expressively calls man “the tie of all things” {syndesmon hapanton), because God in him wished to embrace t.l.e universe into a unity, and because, therefore, in him all things as in their end are combined, and result in his advantage. And certainly man, as Nature’s individualized essence, is her conclusion, but not in the anti-natural and supernatural sense of teleology and theology. (15) This union, or the amalgamation of the “ moral" and "physical" of the human and not human being, produces a third, which is neither Nati.re norman, but which participates of both, like an amphibial, and which, for this very mystery of its nature, is the idol of mysticism and speculation. (16) Viewed from this standpoint the creator of Nature is therefore nothing but the essence of Nature, which, by means of abstracting from Nature, has been dis tinguished and abstracted from Nature, and such as she is anobject of the senses and by the power of imagination has been changed into a human or man-like being, and thus popularized, anthropomorphized, personified. (17) Thus, generally, in all syllogisms from Nature tb a God, the antecedent, the presupposition, is a human one; no wonder therefore that their result is a human being or being similar to man. If the world is a machine there must necessarily be an architect. If the natural beings are as indifferent toward one another as the human individuals which can be employed and uni cd only by means of higher power for any arbitrary purpose of state, as for instance war, there must natu rally also be a ruler, a governor, a chief general of nature—a captain of the cloud—if she shail not be dissolved into nothing. Thus man first makes Nature un­ consciously a human work, i. e. he makes his essence her fundamental essence, but as he afterwards or at the same time perceives the difference between the works of Nature and those of human art, his own essence appears to him as an other, but analogous, similar one. All arguments for God’s existence have there­ fore only a logical or rather anthropological signification, since also the logical forms are forms of human nature. (18) Nature however “cares’’ just as little for the species or genus. The latter is preserved because it is nothing but the totality of the individuals which �Y4 - THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. by coition propagate and multiply themselves. While single individuals are ex­ posed to accidental, destructive influences, others escape them. The plurality is thus preserved. But still, or rather from the same reasons which cause the single individual to perish, even species die away. Thus the Dronte has disappeared, thus the Irish gigantic deer, thus even now-a-days many animal species disappear in consequence of man’s persecution and of the evermore extencing civilizati n from regions where they once or even a short time ago still existed in great numbers, as, e. g. the seal from some inlands ; and in time will disappear entirely from the earth. (19) Compare in regard to this matter the expressions of Socrates in Xen­ ophon’s writings as to oracles. (20) The Christians pray likewise to their God for rain as the Greeks did to Jove, and believe that they are heard with such prayers. ‘‘There was,” says Luther, in his table-discourses, “ a great drought, as it had notrained fora long time, and the grain in the field began to dry up when Dr. M. L. prayed continu­ ally and said finally with heavy sighs: O, Lord, pray regard our petition in behalf of thy promise.......... I know that we cry to thee and s'gh desirously; why dost thou not hear us ? And the very next night came a very fine fruitful rain.” (21) It is true the omission of the limits has increase and change for its conse­ quences ; but it does not destroy the essential identity. (22) The definition of polytheism generally and without further explanation as natural religion, holds good only relatively and comparatively. (23) Arbitrariness in the use of words is unbounded. But still no words are used so arbitrarily, nor taken in so contradictory significations as the words God and religion. Whence this arbitrariness and confusion ? Because people from reverence or from fear to contradict opinions sanctioned by age, retain the old names (for only the name, the appearance, rules the world, even the world of believers in God), although they connect entirely different ideas with them which have been gained only in the course of time. Thus it was in regard to the Grecian Gods which in the course of time received the most contradictory significations; thus in regard to the Christian God, Atheism calling itself theism is the religion, anti-Christianity calling itself Christianity is the true Christianity of the present day.—Mundus vult decipi. (24) A being therefore which is only a philosophical principle, and conse­ quently only an object of philosophy, but not of religion, of worship, of prayer, of the heart; a being that does not accomplish any wishes, nor hear a>'y prayers, is only a nominal God, but not a God in reality. (25) While therefore in the paradise of Christian phantasms man could not die and would not die if he had not sinned, with the Greiks man died even in the blissful age of Kronos, but as easily as if he fell asleep. In this idea the natural wish of man is realized. Man does not wish for immortal life; he only wishes for a long life of physical and mental ht alth and a painless death agreeable to Na­ ture To resign the belief in immortality requires nothing less than an inhuman Stoic resignation ; it requires nothing but to be convinced that the articles of the Christian cr< ed are founded only upon supematuralistic, fantastic wishes, and to return to the simple real nature of man. �THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. 75 (26) Luther e.g. says: ‘‘But where God is (i.e. in heaven) there must also he all good things which even we may possibly wish for.’’ Thus in the Koran, accord­ ing to Savary’s translation it is said of the inhabitants of Paradise : “ Tous leurs desirs seront combles." (All their wishes will be accomplished.) Only their wishes are of a different kind. (27) The will however, especially in the sense of the moralists, does not consti­ tute the specific essence of religion ; because what I can attain by my will, for that I need no Gods. To make morals the essential cause of religion is to retain the name of religion, but to drop its essence. One can be moral without God, but happy—in the supernaturalistic, Christian sense of the word—one cannot be without God ; for happiness in this sense lies beyond the limits and the power of Nature and mankind, it therefore presupposes for its realizition a supernatural being which is and can do, what is impossible to Nature and mankind. If Kant therefore made morals the essence of religion, he was in the same or at least a similar relation to Christian religion as Aristotle to the Greek religion, when the latter made theory the essence of the Gods. As little as a God who is only a spec­ ulative being, nothing but intellect, still is a God, so little a merely moral being ora “personified law of morals” is still a Ged. It is true, Jove already is also a philosopher, when he looks smilingly dowu from Olympus upon the struggles of the Gods, but he is still infinitely more; certainly also the Christian Gad is a moral being, but still infinitely more ; morals are onlv the condition of happiness. The true idea which is at the bottom of Christian happiness, especially in contrast to philosophic heathenism, is however no other than the one, that true happi­ ness can be found only in the gratification of man's whole nature, for which reason Christianity admits also the body, the flesh, to the participation in the divinity or what is the same thing, in the enjoyment of happiness. But the development of this thought does not belong here, it belongs to the “Essence of Christianity.” �Seleot List of Books published and for sale by Asa K. Butts & Co. -A. NEW ZKTDITIOUST OF* BY O. B. FROTHINGHAM. ‘With Fine Steel Portrait. One Volume, IQ JVEo. Olotb., $1.50. “ It is rich, strong, weighty, fresh, original—not merely in the sense of saying new things, but of stating old tilings in the new light of to-day. * * * * His book is brave, healthful and heroic from beginning to end. The two closing chapters are, “The Soul of Good in things Evil/'and “ The Soul of Truth in Error.” They will help many a sensitive and no­ ble nature in its struggle to save itself from a relapse into Romanism or Calvinism.”—The Index. “Frotningham has his feet always on the earth; he knows precisely what he means to say, and says it. When it is said, he finds—so clear is his brain, and firm and consecutive his thought- -that it is precisely the state­ ment for which many are waiting, and in which many can sympathize. “ The careful student must recognize in Frothingham a more original, more continuous, and far better trained thinker than Parker. Heis intel­ lectually far closer grained; rivets his thoughts together; whereas Parker was discursive, popular and repeated himself profusely. More than any man in America, Frothingham occupies the middle ground between Emer­ son and Parker,—sharing the high literary standard of the one with the other’s hearty allegiance to men and to affairs; and uniting a systematic method which is all his own.”—T. W. Higginson. The Influence of Christianity upon Civilization. BY B. F. UNDERWOOD, 12mo. PAPER, 88 PAGES, 25 CKNTTS. For Distribution, 10 copies Two Dollars. By the same Author, Christianity and. Materialism Contrasted. 12mo. PAPER, 4-3 PAGES, 15 CENTS. For Distribution, 10 copies One Dollar, 50 copies $4.50. Any of the above sent free bv mail on receipt of price, � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. 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Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The essence of religion : God the image of man. Man's dependence upon nature the last and only source of religion Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Feuerbach, Ludwig [1804-1872] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: New York Collation: iv, 75 p. ; 18 cm. Notes: "Forms the basis and substance of the author's larger work, published under the same title, as a complement to his previous: 'Essence of Christianity'."--p. [1]. First published in German in 1845. Publisher's advertisements on back cover. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Asa K. 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THE FREE-WILL CONTROVERSY. BY THOMAS DANCER HUTCHISON, Ex-Siz. T.C.D. PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, NO. 11, THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E. Price Sixpence. ��ON THE FREE-WILL CONTROVERSY. HATEVER may be thought of the interest and importance hitherto attaching to the Problem of the Human Will, whether regarded as the subject of religious or of metaphysical disputation, it is certain that at no period in its history has it come forward with such weighty and urgent claims to the serious attention of all thinking men, as in our own immediate times. Emerging into notoriety some fourteen hun­ dred years ago, in the celebrated Pelagian controversy concerning human freedom, it was not until the middle of the seventeenth century that it escaped from the dark and bewildering mists of theological discussion, into the higher and serener atmosphere of purely philosophical enquiry. Eor our own time was reserved the further step which it was destined to take, and whereby it has descended from the remoteness of abstract speculation, to take its place among the importunate problems of practical life, challenging with an ever increasing emphasis the exertion of our highest efforts in its solution. Tremendous as were the issues that hung upon the decision of the theological phase of the Free-Will controversy, it must not be supposed that these issues were any of them of a distinctively practical character. Terrible and repugnant as it might well seem to be forced to regard man “ as incurably wicked—wicked by the constitution of his flesh, and wicked by eternal decree—as doomed, unless exempted by special grace W �4 On the Free-Will Controversy. which he cannot merit, or by any effort of his own obtain, to live in sin while he remains on earth, and to be eternally miserable when he leaves it,—to regard him as born unable to keep the commandments, yet as justly liable to everlasting punishment for break­ ing them,” *—nevertheless these, and all other such conclusions of theology, left the men by whom they were entertained, for all practical purposes pretty much in the same position as that in which they found them. We do not observe that the possession of a fatalist creed exercised any blighting or paralysing influence on the active nature of the great leaders ou the Calvinistic side: indeed, if we are to believe Mr Froude, “they were men possessed of all the qualities which give nobility and grandeur to human nature,—unalterably just when duty required them to be stern, but with the tenderness of a woman in their hearts ; frank, true, cheerful, humorous, as unlike sour fanatics as it is pos­ sible to imagine any one.” However stupendous, then, the questions involved in the Arminian controversy concerning Human Freedom, this much is certain, that these questions had, one and all' of them, little or no bearing upon the conduct of men in this present life. As far as external behaviour went, you would have had no grounds for distinguish­ ing between Libertarian and Calvinist,—between the man who believed himself to be the arbiter of his own destiny, and the man who regarded himself as a mere puppet in the hands of an irresistible and unyielding external Power. In a word, the differences which separated the Calvinist from the Arminian were theological, not moral,—points of belief, and not of practice. In matters involving considerations purely ethical,—good or evil, virtue, responsibility, wrong­ doing—the two antagonistic parties met on common ground. While it is thus manifest that the theological phase * Froude, “ Short Studies,” vol. ii. p. 3. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 5 of this great controversy is open to the charge of a want of practical interest, it must at the same time be allowed that the Problem of the Will, when viewed in the aspect which it presents to us of the present day, comes home to men’s business and bosoms with a cogency and force which are unquestionable. The main controversy now-a-days lies between those who uphold the Principle of Determinism, or the uniformity of Sequence between motive and action, on the one hand, and the defenders of the metaphysical theory * of Pree-Will, on the other. The Determinists maintain (to use the words of one of the ablest of their number)! that “ an invariable sequence exists between the sum of motives present in the mind of a given individual, and the action (or attempted action) which follows ; ” and that consequently the phenomena of human voli­ tion constitute a legitimate subject for scientific explanation, calculation and prediction. Thus the great department of human action is brought under the sway of the law of causation ; and as a necessary result following the recognition of the correlation between mental and cerebral changes, the vast principle of the transformation and equivalence of forces is seen to embrace and pervade, not only the action, organic and inorganic, of the external world, but also the widelyextended field of volitional agency, whether individual or in the aggregate.| It may readily be imagined how numerous and how momentous are the results of the application of this Determinist principle or doctrine to the subjects of morality and education; but its import­ ance does not rest on this alone. It is made the basis of a science of politics or sociology, which, applying the laws of mind to the scientific explanation of the * We say metaphysical theory, as opposed to the practical feeling of freedom, which, as J. Stuart Mill points out, (Logic, Bk. vi. ch. ii.) is in no wise inconsistent with the Determinist, or (as it is often improperly called), the Necessitarian theory. + See Review for October 1873. t Cf. Herbert Spencer’s work “ On the Study of Sociology,” p. 6. �6 On the Free-Will Controversy. actions of mankind in the aggregate, seeks thereby to arrive at a system of general principles for the guidance of the politician. Nay more,—-this principle is at the very root of the science of Psychology itself; for if we refuse to acknowledge uniformity of succession in the phenomena of volition,—if we believe that the normal action of motives is liable to be at any time neutralised and superseded, in a manner wholly irregular and un­ foreseeable by us,—then indeed the attempt to establish any even approximate general principles or laws of the association and reproduction of ideas becomes as absurd as it would be to set about developing a science of mechanics “ on a planet where gravitation was liable to fits of intermission.” Annihilate the principle of Determinism, and Mental Science becomes the baseless fabric of a vision. Thus it is quite clear that the principle of Determinism, if admitted to be true, carries with it practical results of wide and deep importance. To the Determinist, the ordinary notions of responsibility and punishment will appear to be merely the vague and unreal products of the imagination; virtue will be simply good luck, and vice misfortune, while punishment will be regarded simply as a means to an end—the end being the refor­ mation of the criminal and the protection of society. For him, the science of education opens a prospect of unlimited advancement in the condition of the indi­ vidual ; while Sociology, through the long vista of future years, gives glimpses of a coming golden age. He is possessed with the idea “ of the gradual develop­ ment of the human mind—of the spiritual unity of the human race; ” and throughout the troubles and anxieties that attend the fluctuating and often appar­ ently retrogressive movement of his day, he is sustained and cheered by a firm belief in the mighty “ human organism, fraught with the vast results of ages, and big with a life which stretched over myriads of years,” * * WWwi winter Review for October 1860, p. 308. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 7 ever slowly growing more and more unto the light of perfect day. It need hardly be said that all this is absolutely incompatible with the Libertarian’s creed. He believes that the phenomena of volition are marked out in the strongest manner from all other phenomena whatever ; that whereas by reason of the uniformity of sequence which is permitted to prevail in the material world, the whole of the vast department of physical phenomena forms a legitimate subject for scientific explanation and prediction, the individual and collective action of man­ kind, on the contrary, admits neither “ scientific calcu­ lations before the fact,” nor “scientific explanations after the fact.” His theory maintains that there is inherent in man a mysterious power, completely inde­ pendent of motives, and capable of acting against the preponderance of them—“ as if ” (to quote the words of Dr Carpenter), “ when one scale of a balance is inclining downwards, a hand placed on the beam from which the ocher scale is suspended, were to cause that lighter scale to go down.” It arrogates for man a faculty of ■undetermined Choice, called forth indeed into active operation on the presentation of some motive or motives to the mind, but in no wise conditioned or coerced by their influence. This notion of an undeter­ mined power of choice is regarded by those who hold the doctrine of Dree Will as a necessary factor in our common emotions of admiration, disapprobation, and contrition. “ If there is no free choice ” (says Mr Froude), “ the praise or blame with which we regard one another are impertinent and out of place.” Of course, those who maintain this theory ipso facto deny the possibility of the sciences of Psychology and Sociology, together with the fair hopes which they hold out to us. Mr Froude talks of the time 11 when the speculative formulas into which we have mapped out the mysterious continents of the spiritual world shall have been consigned to the place already thronged �8 On the Free-Will Controversy. with the ghosts of like delusions which have had their day and perished ”—thus contemplating the possible collapse of Psychology at some future day. He scouts at the notion of a science of History (i.e., a social science developed after the Deductive or Historic method) so long as “ natural causes are liable to be set aside and neutralised by what is called volition.” True, men are “ at least half animals, and are subject in this aspect of them to the conditions of animals. So far as those parts of man’s doings are concerned, which neither have, nor have had, anything moral about them, so far the laws of him are calculable. . . . But pass beyond them, and where are we 1 In a world where it would be as easy to calculate man’s actions by laws like those of positive philosophy as to measure the orbit of Neptune with a foot-rule, or weigh Sirius in a grocer’s scale.” After what has been already said, it will be readily admitted that the decision of the Pree Will question at the present day, carries with it results of no small practical importance, and that it is manifestly incuim bent on us to put forth our best efforts in the attempt to solve it. In some quarters, indeed, our endeavours would meet with small encouragement. Many persons —notably, Professor Huxley—believe that the battle between Libertarian and Necessitarian is destined for ever to remain a drawn one. But it is only right that before we acquiesce in so disheartening an opinion, we should ourselves review with some carefulness the con­ troversy as it stands at present, and try to find out whether after all the battle does not afford us indica­ tions, however faint, of a definite issue. “The advocate of Eree Will appeals to conscience and instinct—to an b priori sense of what ought in equity to be. The Necessitarian falls back upon the experienced reality of facts.” * It is admitted on all hands that the testimony of experience is in favour of * Froude, “Short Studies,” vol. i. p. 4. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 9 necessity. Thus even Mr Mansel writes :—“ Were it not for the direct testimony of my own consciousness to my own freedom, I could regard human actions only as necessary links in the endless chain of phenomenal cause and effect/ * This fact, when taken in connec­ tion with the extremely unique and exceptional nature of the Free Will theory (according to which there is, as Herbert Spencer says, “ one law for the rest of the universe, and another law for mankind ”), seems fully to justify the enquiry whether in thus denying the universality of the law of uniform Succession, men may not be under the influence of some bias which misleads their judgment. Now, it is a well known fact that the universality of this law has often been denied, both in ancient and in modern times, the supposed excep­ tions to it being always some one or other of the more mysterious and apparently unpredictable phenomena of nature. Thus Sokrates denied that Astronomy or Physical Philosophy in general were fit subjects for human study, maintaining that these two departments were under the immediate and special control of the gods. We are all familiar with that type of the pietist which sees the handiwork of an all-wise and doubt­ less retributory Providence in each of the petty acci­ dents of life —so long as these be advantageous to himself or calamitous merely to his neighbour.t This attitude of mind is well illustrated by the following story, which Dean Stanley relates as having been told of a late dignitary of the Church by himself :—“ A friend,” he used to relate, “ invited me to go out with him on the water. The sky was threatening, and I declined. At length he succeeded in persuading me, and we embarked. A squall came on, the boat lurched, and my friend fell overboard. Twice he sank, * “ Metaphysics,” p. 168. t “ Think ye that those eighteen upon the tower of Siloam fell,” is the characteristic lesson of the Gospel on the occasion of any sudden visitation. Yet it is another reading of such calamities which is commonly insisted upon.”—“ Essays and Reviews,” p. 365. �IO On the Free-Will Controversy. and twice he rose to the surface. He placed his hands on the prow, and endeavoured to climb in. There was great _ apprehension lest he should upset the boat. Pt ovidentially I had brought my umbrella with me. I had the presence of mind to strike him two or three hard blows over the knuckles. He let go his hand, and sank. The boat righted itself, and we were saved.” Mr Huxley reminds us of the vast difference between our mode of accounting for the Great Plague and the Great Fire which devastated London in the 17th cen­ tury, and that which recommended itself to our ances­ * tors. It can hardly be asserted even of the most cultivated classes of this country, that there prevails amongst them a unanimous belief in the uniformity of physical phenomena. The Prayer Book of the Estab­ lished Church of England still contains prayers for rain and for fair weather ; and a public Thanksgiving was celebrated not long since on the recovery of the heir to the Throne from a dangerous illness ; though in this latter case (as Herbert Spencer points out) a different interpretation of the issue would seem to be indicated by the conferring of a baronetcy upon the attendant physician. The doctrine of a particular providence, as it is preached from our pulpits, while conceding the prevalence of law in all those phenomena which are familiar and thoroughly understood, main­ tains that in the as yet unexplained mysteries of nature (such as the changes of the weather, the process of deliberative thought, &c.), the Deity may and does direct the course of nature according to his pleasure. We see then that there is, and always has been, in the human mind a tendency to refer all the apparently irregular and unforeseeable phenomena of nature to the agency of some free and unconditioned power. Viewed in the light of this fact, the undoubtedly complex and (to all appearance) variable nature of volitional action “ Lay Sermons: Essay pn the Advisableness of Improving' Natural Knowledge.” �On the Free-Will Controversy. 11 assumes at once a deep significance in the explanation of the origin of the Free Will hypothesis. Another influence modifying our conceptions of the will is to he found in the conservative power which language exercises over our thoughts and beliefs. It is notorious that the Libertarian theory can claim a far higher antiquity than its rival; indeed, even during the period in which speech was in process of formation, some conception more or less crude of Indeterminism must have prevailed amongst mankind. This concep­ tion has by means of language become fixed and crystallised in the general mind, to such a degree that it is only by means of a considerable effort, and after some practice, that we can entertain the notion of an unbroken sequence of antecedent and consequent in the world of human action. Thus it is seen that a potent influence on the side of the Free-Will theory is con­ stantly at work in the language of every-day life. Here too we must call attention to the unfortunate complication which has been introduced into the Pro­ blem of the Will by the general adoption of the figure embodied in the terms “ Freedom of the Will,” “ NecessityI’ and others of like nature. This metaphor originated with the Stoics, who declared the virtuous man to be free, the vicious man to be a slave. It was subsequently adopted, and applied in a similar sense, by Philo Judaeus and the early Christian Fathers. It need hardly be said that this figure was addressed to the heart rather than to the understanding; “as regards appropriateness in everything but the associa­ tions of dignity and indignity” says Professor Bain, “ no metaphor could have been more unhappy. So far as the idea of subjection is concerned, the virtuous man is the greater slave of the two.” * The epithet “ free ” was subsequently adopted by those who controverted the Predestinarian theories of Augustine. This theologian taught that all men were the slaves of some * Bain, “Mental and Moral Science,”p. 398.'; �12 Qn the Free-Will Controversy. external constraining power—the elect being subject to irresistible grace, and the reprobate to original sin. As opposed to this notion of external compulsion, the term Free-Will had a definite intelligible meaning. Augustine maintained that for every man there existed a certain class of motives, the due operation of which in arousing him to volitional action was hindered by some external force—that the elect were restrained from sinning, and the reprobate from doing what was good. This was evidently to suspend volitional action, quite as much as it is suspended when men are thrown into prison; and in opposition to this notion, any conscious being “under a motive to act, and not interfered with by any other being, is to all intents free ; ” * and this moreover is the only meaning which can possibly be attached to the word Freedom. But, most unhappily, after the emergence of the theory of determinism in the writings of Hobbes and his followers, this term “ Freedom of the Will ” was borrowed from the ancient theological controversy by the opponents of the new philosophical system, and, carrying with it all the inveterate and potent associations of dignity which had belonged to it in its former employment, thus intro­ duced an emotional bias of immense force into the question now at issue. The Determinists were called Necessitarians, and their antagonists were men who upheld the Freedom of the Human Will. In conse­ quence of the associations attaching to these words, necessity and freedom, it came to pass that “ the doctrine of causation, when considered as obtaining between our volitions and their antecedents, was almost, universally conceived as involving more than uniform sequence.................Even if the reason repudiated, the imagination retained, the feeling of some more intimate connection, of some peculiar tie, or mysterious con­ straint exercised by the antecedent over the consequent. Now this it was which, considered as applying to the human will, conflicted with men’s consciousness * Bain, “ Mental and Moral Science,” p. 398. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 13 and revolted their feelings. They were certain that, in the case of their volitions, there was not this mysterious constraint. They felt, that if they wished to prove that they had the power of resisting the motive, they could do so (that wish being, it needs scarcely he observed, a new antecedent;) and it would have been humiliating to their pride, and (what is of more import­ ance) paralysing to their desire of excellence, had they thought otherwise. But neither is any such mysterious compulsion now supposed, by the best philosophical authorities, to be exercised by any other cause over its effect. Those who think that causes draw their effects after them by a mystical tie, are right in believing that the relation between volitions and their antecedents is of another nature. But they should go further, and admit that this is also true of all other effects and their antecedents. If such a tie is considered to be involved in the word necessity, the doctrine is not true of human actions ; but neither is it then true of inanimate objects. It would be more correct to say that matter is not bound by necessity, than that mind is so.” * There is a further emotional influence tending to foster the belief in Free-Will which must be briefly noticed here. It is manifest that when men claim to have a direct consciousness of liberty, they are thinking, not so much of their past conduct as of their future and yet unrealised volitions. With regard to the past, as has already been remarked, most persons are ready to admit that experience proves their actions to have uniformly followed some preponderating motive. Now the con­ templation of a man’s past history does not, in the majority of cases, bring with it any keen emotions of pride or satisfaction ; too often it is but the record of the conquest of temporary fleeting solicitations of the present over the permanent interests embodied in our more comprehensive and ideal motives. Hence the belief that our course of action will be pretty much the * J. S. Mill, “ Logic,” Bk. vi., Chap, ii., § 2. > �14 On the Free-Will Controversy. same in the future as it has been in the past is one which administers a heavy blow to our feelings of self­ satisfaction and of power ; and we are apt under the influence of these feelings to imagine that in our future course of life the higher and more permanent aims will, through the operation of our hitherto inactive power of Free Choice, predominate over the more sensual and transient motives,—“the fleeting actualities of pleasure and pain.” Here also, then, it is evident that the notion of an undetermined Will finds strong support in the natural instincts of emotion. In concluding this portion of our subject, it will be necessary to call attention to a well-known infirmity of thought, which plainly operates in favour of the per­ sistence of Libertarianism. We allude to the strong tendency existing in the mind to objectify, or ascribe separate existence to, its abstractions. “ Mankind in all ages have had a strong propensity to conclude that wherever there is a name, there must be a distinguish­ able separate entity corresponding to the name ; and every complex idea which the mind has- formed for itself by operating upon its conceptions of individual things, was considered to have an outward objective reality answering to it. Fate, Chance, Nature, Time, Space, were real beings, nay, even gods. In ancient times to the vulgar and to the scientific alike, whiteness was an entity, inhering or sticking in the white sub­ stance : and so of all other qualities.” * Language favours this fallacious tendency of the mind; the abstract name (“alike the facility and the snare of general expression,” as it has been aptly described), is generally understood to denote something more than the bare fact of similarity between a number of objects, some mysterious entity wherebij they resemble each other as they do, and which resides in each and all of them. We are inclined to believe that for every name there must be a corresponding thing. In this * Mill, “ Logic,” Bk. v., Chap, iii., § 4. �On the Free-Will Controversy. *5 manner, after that men had fonnd it convenient to frame a general term which should embrace all volitional phenomena, the constant employment of this term (velle “to will,”) easily generated a belief in some mysterious entity or power, underlying all volitional action, and originating within itself all those effects of “deliberating, weighing, and choosing,” which con­ stituted the most obvious common element originally embodied in the abstract idea of Will. Just as the Eleatic Philosophy taught that a peculiar entity or sub­ stance, to sv or Oneness, inhered in all things which are said to be one, so did men frame for themselves “ the conception of an underlying substantive power, the will, from which all single acts of volition were supposed to emanate.”* Having now enumerated some of the principal psychological causes for the wide and early prevalence, and the long continuance of the doctrine of Free-Will, we will now proceed to pass in review some of the de­ finitions of freedom which have been advanced by the upholders of this doctrine. In doing so, we shall pass over without comment the theological phase of the controversy, as conducted on principles, and proceed­ ing by a method wholly alien to the spirit of scientific enquiry, and we shall commence with a notice of Descartes, who may be said to be the first of the purely philosophical libertarians. Descartes was a cotemporary of Hobbes, the first philosopher who consistently taught and believed the doctrine of Determinism. It would be a mistake, how­ ever, to suppose that in writing on the subject of the Will, Descartes had any conception of this doctrine in his mind; for the pamphlet in which Hobbes made known his system to the world was not published until * Westminster Review, July 1871. Whoever desires to attain to an adequate conception of the various causes of the genesis and per­ sistence of Libertarianism, cannot do better than read the masterly article on the subject contained in this number of the Review. �16 On the Free-Will Controversy. after the year 1655, while the writings in which Descartes’ opinions concerning the Will are chiefly found, appeared at Paris in the year 1641. As might have been expected, then, Descartes’ doctrine of FreeWill was set up in opposition, not to Determinism, but to that system of Necessitarianism or Fatalism with which Bishop Butler deals in his Analogy, and which, it need hardly be said, is altogether distinct from and incompatible with the Determinist theory. Accord­ ingly, Descartes’ definition of Freedom is such as might be conscientiously adopted by the most scrupulous of Determinists. “ The power of will,” he says, “ consists in this alone, that in pursuing or shunning what is proposed to us by the understanding, we so act that we are not conscious of being determined to a particular action by any external force. * This is a perfectly truthful, though inadequate, definition of the Will, and it is with strict justice that Descartes replies to Hobbes (who had remarked on the passage quoted above, that it assumed, without proving, the doctrine of Free-Will) • “ I have assumed or advanced nothing concerning Freedom, save that which we experience to be true every day of our lives, and which the light of nature plainly teaches us.” * That Descartes was not far off from Determinism in his views is seen from his remarks on Indifference. “ In order to be free,” he says, “ it is not necessary that I should be indifferent as to the choice of one or other of two contrary things. Nay, rather, the more I incline towards one .thing (whether because I see clearly that right and truth agree in it, or because God has so ordered the course of my feelings), with so much the greater freedom do I make my choice and adhere to that thing. And assuredly the grace of God and my natural understanding, far from diminishing my freedom, augment it and strengthen it ratherj so that the indifference which I feel when I am not led away on one side more than on the other by ♦ Q.uatrieme Meditation. + Troisieme Response. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 17 the influence of any motive, is the lowest kind of liberty, and indicates rather a defect in knowledge than a perfection of the will. For if I always knew clearly what was true and what was good, I would never have to go to the trouble of deliberating what decision and what choice I should make; and so I should be per­ fectly free without ever being indifferent. * Accord­ ing to Descartes, then, “ every sentient being, under a motive to act, and not interfered with by any other being, is to all intents freef’t and thus “the fox impelled by hunger, and proceeding unmolested to the poultry yard, would be a free agent.But this, it needs hardly be said, is precisely the teaching of De­ terminism. Indeed Descartes has fallen short of that system merely in so far as he has admitted the con­ ception of a liberty of indifference. This is, of course, to give a double sense to the word liberty, and so to confuse the question not a little. But we have already seen that on this point Descartes speaks with hesitation, and we may safely agree with Professor Bain in regard­ ing him as “ willing to give up the liberty of in­ difference,” while anxious to establish the internal feel­ ing of freedom. While Descartes is thus to be regarded merely as the exponent of the popular practical feeling of liberty protesting against the paralysing creed of fatalism, or of an overruling and irresistible external power which guides men’s actions irrespective of their will; Clarke, Price, and Reid, on the other hand, have each framed definitions of Freedom, having special reference to, and combating, the doctrine of Determinism. Clarke and Price agree in making freedom to consist in a power of self-motion or self-determination, -which in all animate agents, is spontaneity, in moral agents, is liberty. How, they asked, can it be supposed that motives are the immediate cause of action ? It is true that our faculty * Quatrifeme Meditation. I Bain, “Mental and Moral Science,” page 398. t Bain, “Mental and Moral Science,” p. 398. B �18 On the Free-Will Controversy. of self-determination is never called forth into action save on the presentation of some end or design to the mind. But it is unmeaning to make such ends or motives the physical causes of action. “ Our ideas may be the occasion of our acting, but are certainly not mechanical efficients.” “ If,” says Clarke, “ every action of man is to be regarded as determined by some motive, then either abstracted notions (t.e. motives) have a real subsistence (which would be Realism), or else what is not a substance can put a body in motion.”* According to Leibnitz, the will is to be compared to a balance, whose motion one way or an­ other is determined by the weights in the scales (the motives). In the opinion of Clarke and his followers, however, the true comparison would be to a hand placed on either side of the beam, and determining the motion of the scales irrespective of, and possibly in opposition to, the preponderance of weights. In thus assimilating Spontaneity and Freedom, Clarke and Price laid themselves open to the severe criticism of Sir W. Hamilton, who writes (note to Reid on “The Active Powers”):—“The Liberty from Co-action or Violence—the Liberty of Spontaneity—is admitted by all parties; is common equally to brutes and men; is not a peculiar quality of the Will; and is, in fact, essential to it, for the will cannot possibly be forced. The greatest spontaneity is the greatest necessity. Thus a hungry horse, who turns of necessity to food, is said, on this definition of liberty, to do so with freedom, because he does so spontaneously; and, in general, the desire of happiness, which is the most necessary tendency, will, on this application of the term, be the most free. The definition of liberty given by the celebrated advocate of moral freedom, Dr Samuel Clarke, is in reality only that of the liberty of spontaneity.” But while Clarke and Price, by incautiously identi* For an explanation of the misconception involved here, see Bain “ Mind and Body,” pp. 76, 132. �On the Free-Will Controversy. i9 fying spontaneity and liberty, were guilty of confusing together the freedom of self-determination with the freedom which is opposed to external constraint (i.e., the “ liberty from co-action” of Hamilton, Reid is careful to withhold from the brute creation the posses­ sion of any faculty analogous to our volitional power. Reid, Clarke, and Price, however, unite in regarding this power as a faculty of self-determination. “ By the liberty of a Moral Agent,” says Reid, “I understand a power over the determinations of his own will.” “A free agent,” says Clarke, “when there is more than one perfectly reasonable way of acting (i.e., when there is a perfect equilibrium of motives), has still within itself, by virtue of its self-motive principle, a power of acting.” This notion of a self-determining agent has been criti­ cally examined both by Edwards and Hamilton, a brief outline of whose remarks on the subject will next he given. Edwards starts by proclaiming the inconceivability of such a notion as that of self-determination. The Will, he says, is said to determine its own acts. Now, / it is manifest that it can do this solely by means of an act of volition ; for (to quote Hamilton’s words) “ it is only through a rational determination or volition that we can freely exert power.” But if this be so, then it follows that every free volitional act requires a preceding volition to constitute it free; and so on ad infinihtm. This evidently is to bring the matter to an absurdity. If it be answered that the act of determining the volitional action, and the act of willing, are one and the same, then the obvious rejoinder is, that a free action is determined by nothing, and is entirely un­ caused. Self-determinism, therefore, is a misnomer, and the correct name for such a creed is Indeterminism. Now Indeterminism teaches that the actions of our will do not originate in any causes. It therefore contradicts the law of causality. But if this law be made void, then the foundation of all reasoning—nay, the only possible proof for the existence of God—will have vanished; and there will remain nothing save the �20 On the Free-Will Controversy. fleeting thoughts present to our consciousness, of the existence of which we can be certain. * Nor is Sir William Hamilton less emphatic when he exposes the inconsistent and inconceivable character of Heid’s definition of Freedom. “According to Reid,” he writes, “ Moral Liberty does not merely consist in doing wliat we will, but in the power of willing what we will. For a power over the determinations of our will supposes an act of will that our will should deter­ mine so and so. . . . But here question upon question remains (and this ad infinitum)—Have we a power (a will) over such anterior will ? And until this question shall be distinctively answered, we must be unable to conceive the possibility of the fact of Liberty I’ To those Libertarians who endeavoured to evade the charge of denying causality by affirming that the per­ son was the cause of his volitions, Hamilton puts the question :—“ Is the person an original undetermined cause of the determination of his will ? If he be not, then he is not a free agent, and the scheme of Necessity is admitted. If he be, in the first place, it is imposs­ ible to concewe the possibility of this; and, in the second, if the fact, though inconceivable, be allowed, it is impossible to see how a cause, undetermined by any motive, can be a rational, moral, and accountable cause.” But while Sir William Hamilton insisted so unspar­ ingly on the inconceivability of the liberty of a moral agent as defined by Reid, and on the fact that, if conceived, it could only be conceived as morally worth­ less, it is nevertheless notorious that he regarded this * “To show that any doctrine contradicted the law of cause and effect was, Edwards conceived, a perfect reductio ad absurdum. He did not anticipate that anyone would impugn the universality of cause and effect.” Some Libertarians, endeavouring to save the law of causation by a verbal quibble, asserted that the soul was the cause of its volitions. “Edwards answers, that this may explain why the soul acts at all, but not why it acts in a particular manner. And unless the soul produce diverse acts, it cannot produce diverse effects, otherwise the same cause, in the same circumstances, would produce different effects at different times.”—Bain, Mental and Moral Science, page 417. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 21 definition as correct, and that he was a strenuous upholder of the doctrine of self-determination. Hamil­ ton adopts a peculiar attitude towards the controversy of the Will, and his positions on this subject cannot be understood without a reference to his general philo­ sophical system. In this system a very prominent place is assigned to what he calls the Law of the Conditioned, which is expressed thus :—“ All that is conceivable in thought lies between two extremes, which, as contradictory of each other, cannot both be true, but of which, as mutual contradictories (by the Law of Excluded Middle), one must.’" This law Hamilton illustrates by adducing our conceptions of Space and Time. “ Space must be bounded or not bounded, but we are unable to conceive either alter­ native. We cannot conceive space as a whole, beyond which there is no further space. Neither can we conceive space as without limits. Let us imagine space never so large, we yet fall infinitely short of infinite space. But finite and infinite space are contradictories ; therefore, although we are unable to conceive either alternative, one must be true and the other false. The conception of Time illustrates the same law. Starting from the present, we cannot think past time as bounded, as beginning to be. On the other hand, we cannot conceive time going backwards without end ; eternity is too big for our imaginations. Yet time had either a beginning or it had not. Thus ‘ the con­ ditioned or the thinkable lies between two extremes or poles ; and these extremes or poles are each of them unconditioned, each of them inconceivable, each of them exclusive or contradictory of the other.’ ” * To apply this doctrine to the subject of the Will; the two unconditioned extremes or poles are here represented by the contradictory doctrines of Deter­ minism and Casualism (or the self-determinist theory of Liberty). These two contradictory schemes are * Bain’s Compendium of Mental and Moral Science, Appendix B, p. 68. �22 On the Free-Will Controversy. equally inconceivable. “ For, as we cannot compass in thought an undetermined cause, an absolute com­ mencement—the fundamental hypothesis of the one ; so we can as little think an infinite series of determined causes—of relative commencements,-—the fundamental hypothesis of the other. The champions of the opposite doctrines are thus at once resistless in assault and impotent in defence. The doctrine of Moral Liberty cannot be made conceivable, for we can only conceive the determined and the relative. * All that can be done is to show, (1.) That, for the fact of Liberty, we have immediately or mediately, the evidence of con­ sciousness ; and (2.) that there are, among the phenomena of mind, many facts which we must admit as actual, but of whose possibility we are wholly unable to form any notion.” Thus according to Hamilton, the inconceivability of the self-determinist scheme is counterbalanced by a co-equal inconceivability in the doctrine of determinism, and the scale is turned in favour of self-determinism by the testimony, mediate or immediate, of consciousness. If Sir William Hamilton has displayed no small stringency in his destructive criticisms upon the defini­ tions of Freedom coming from Clarke and Reid, and has thus saved his adversaries a considerable amount of trouble by vigorously demolishing his friends, his own peculiar doctrines, on the other hand, have been subjected to an examination no less searching and no less destructive, by the illustrious philosopher recently gone from among us, John Stuart Mill. In one of the concluding chapters of his masterly work, the “ Examination of Sir W. Hamilton’s Philosophy,” Mill enters upon a minute and exhaustive discussion on the subject of the Will, and of the Libertarian theories of it. After severely censuring Hamilton for his attempt to give a fictitious importance to his doctrine of Freedom by representing it as affording the * It has already been pointed out that Hamilton rejects the evasive quibble that the soul is the cause of our volitions. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 23 only valid argument in support of the existence of God, he proceeds :—“ Let us concede to Hamilton the co­ equal inconceivability of the conflicting hypothesis, an uncaused commencement and an infinite regress. But this choice of inconceivabilities is not offered to us in the case of volitions only. We are held, as he not only admits but contends, to the same alternative in all cases of causation whatever. But we find our way out of the difficulty, in other cases, in quite a different manner. In the case of every other kind of fact, we do not elect the hypothesis that the event took place without a cause : we accept the other supposition, that of a regress, not indeed to infinity, but either generally into the region of the unknowable, or back to a universal cause, regarding which, as we are only con­ cerned with it in relation to what it preceded, and not as itself preceded by anything, we can afford to make a plain avowal of our ignorance.” Now why do we thus, in all cases save only our volitions, accept the alternative of regress ? “ Apparently it is because the causation hypothesis, inconceivable as he ” (Hamilton) “ may think it, possesses the advantage of having experience on its side. And how or by what evidence does experience testify to it? Not by disclosing any nexus between the cause and the effect, any sufficient reason in the cause itself why the effect should follow it. ■ No philosopher now makes this supposition, and Sir W. Hamilton positively disclaims it. What experience makes known, is the fact of an invariable sequence between every event and some special com­ bination of antecedent conditions, in such sort that wherever and whenever that union of antecedents exists, the event does not fail to occur. Any 'must in the case, any necessity, other than the unconditional universality of the fact, we know nothing of. Still this a posteriori “does,” though' not confirmed by an a priori “ must,” decides our choice between the two inconceivables, and leads us to the belief that every event within the phenomenal universe, except human �24 On the Free-Will Controversy. volitions, is determined to take place by a cause. Now the so-called Necessitarians demand the application of the same rule of judgment to our volitions. They maintain that there is the same evidence for it. They affirm as a truth of experience that volitions do, in point of fact, follow determinate moral antecedents with the same uniformity and . . . with the same certainty as physical effects follow their physical causes. . . . Whether they must do so, I acknowledge myself to be entirely ignorant, be the phenomenon moral or physical; and I condemn accordingly the word necessity as applied to either case. All I know is that they do.”* The testimony of experience, then, which is admitted on all hands to be in favour of (so called) Necessity, is that on which the Determinists ground their system. The Libertarians, on the other hand, agree in claiming the evidence of consciousness as making for their side. “We have by our constitution,” says Reid, “a natural conviction or belief that we act freely.” In his notes to Reid’s essay on the Active Powers, Hamilton hesitates between regarding the sense of freedom as an ultimate datum of consciousness, and treating it as involved in our consciousness of the law of moral obligation or responsibility; in his lectures on Meta­ physics, however, he speaks of it more plainly as a fact of which we are directly conscious. Is it really the case, then, asks Mill, that the admitted testimony of man’s universal experience, is hopelessly at variance with the testimony of his consciousness 1 If this b.e so, then is the mental philosopher in an unenviable plight indeed. But let us examine more nearly what is meant by the testimony of consciousness. “ To be conscious of free-will, must mean, to be conscious before I have decided that I am able to decide either way. Exception may be taken, in limine, to the use of the word consciousness in such an application. Consciousness tells me what I do or feel. But what I am able to do, * “ Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy,” p. 500. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 25 is not a subject of consciousness. Consciousness is not prophetic; we are conscious of what is, not of what will or can be. We never know that we are able to do a thing except from having done it or something equal or similar to it. . . . If our so-called conscious­ ness of what we are able to do is not borne out by experience, it is a delusion. It has no title to credence but as an interpretation of experience, and if it is a false interpretation it must give way.” Our so-called consciousness of, or belief in, freedom, therefore, must be an interpretation of our past experience, i.e., with regard to foregone acts of deliberation and choice, we must be conscious that we could have decided the other way; “ but, the truth is, not unless we preferred that way. When we imagine ourselves acting differ­ ently from what we did, we think of a change in the antecedents, as by knowing something that we did not know. Mill therefore altogether disputes the assertion that we are conscious of being able to act in opposition to the strongest present desire or aversion.”* Having in this manner pointed out the error of those who claim the testimony of consciousness in support of the Freedom or Indeterminatensss of the will, Mill proceeds to consider the other position assumed by Hamilton, viz., that the fact of freedom is involved in our consciousness of moral obligation or responsibility. To quote Hamilton’s words :—“ Our consciousness of the moral law, which, without a moral liberty in man, would be a mendacious imperative, gives a decisive preponderance to the doctrine of freedom over the doctrine of fate. We are free in act, if we are account­ able for our actions.” Now this is the main argument of the Indeterminist; it seeks to establish the doctrine of free-will by representing it as inextricably involved in the common conception of accountability or moral desert, so that the two must stand or fall together. There is not a writer on the side of Libertarianism who has not dwelt with emphasis upon this argument. * Bain, “Mental and Moral Science,” p. 427. �26 On the Free-Will Controversy. Thus Reid writes, “Let us suppose a man necessarily determined in all cases to will and to do what is best to be done • he would surely be innocent and inculp­ able. But as far as I am able to judge, he would not be entitled to the esteem and moral approbation of those who knew and believed this necessity. . . . On the other hand, if a man be necessarily determined to do ill, this case seems to me to move pity, but not dis­ approbation. He was ill because he could not be otherwise. Who can blame him ? Necessity has no law.” “If there is no free choice,” writes Mr Froude, “ the praise or blame with which we regard one another are impertinent and out of place.”* “ Man,” says Hamilton in another place, “ is a moral agent only as he is unaccountable for his actions—in other words, as he is the object of praise or blame ; and this he is only inasmuch as he has prescribed to him a rule of duty, and as he is able to act, or not to act, in conformity with its precepts. The possibility of morality thus depends on the possibility of liberty; for if a man be not a free agent he is not the author of his actions, and has, therefore, no responsibility,—no moral personality at all.” Now, in order to determine whether freedom from causation is involved in the notion of moral responsi­ bility, we shall be obliged to subject that notion to a careful analysis. What, then, is meant by the feeling of responsibility? Simply a conviction that if we committed certain actions, we should deserve punish­ ment for so doing. A sense of responsibility is pre­ cisely identical with a sense of the justice of punish­ ment. Now, punishment presupposes Law, of which it is the sanction, i.e., to ensure obedience to -which it is inflicted on the disobedient. Accountability, then, or responsibility, involves a sense of the justice of Law; and the question before us resolves itself into this—Is it necessary to assume that human voluntary action is undetermined by any moral antecedents, in order to * Quoted before on p. 7. �On the Free-Will Controversy. justify the institution of law and punishment ? So far is this from being the case, that (to use the words of Herbert Spencer) “ if there is no natural causation throughout the actions of incorporated humanity, government and legislation are absurd. Acts of Par­ liament may, as well as not, be made to depend on the drawing of lots or the tossing of a coin; or, rather, there may as well be none at all.”* The exigencies of human society require that restrictions should be placed upon the conduct of the individuals who together make it up ; this justifies the institution of Law. The justi­ fication of Punishment absolutely necessitates the assumption that men’s actions follow the law of cause and effect. “ Unless pain, present or prospective, impels hnman beings to avoid whatever brings it, and to perform whatever delivers from it, punishment has no relevance, whether the end be the benefit of the society, or the benefit of the offender, or both to­ gether.’’ f It may be asked—“ Is it just to punish a man for what he cannot help ? Certainly it is, if punishment is the only means by which he can be enabled to help it. Punishment is inflicted as a means towards an end—that is to say, if our volitions are not determined by motives, then punishment is without justification. If an end is justifiable, the sole and necessary means to that end must be justifiable. Now the Necessitarian theory proceeds upon two ends —the benefit of the offender himself and the protection of others. To punish a child for its benefit, is no more unjust than to administer medicine.” J Such is a brief outline of Mill’s answer to the position of Hamilton, that freedom is involved in our consciousness of moral responsibility. Those who wish to examine the arguments on both sides in detail, will find them in the 26th chapter of Mill’s “Examination of Sir W. Hamilton’s Philosophy,” and in the admir. * “Study of Sociology,” p. 46. t Bain, “ Compendium,” p. 404, + Bain, “ Compendium,” p. 428. �28 On the Free-Will Controversy. able remarks on “Liberty and Necessity,” contained in the 11th chapter of Bain’s “Exposition of the Will,” to be found in his invaluable “ Compendium of Psy­ chology and Ethics.” We have seen that in demolish­ ing this position of his opponent, Mill has established the very opposite principle, viz., that the doctrine of Determinism is necessarily implicated in the notion of moral agency or responsibility. This, however, does not hinder but that there should be some truth in the assertion that the common notion of responsibility involves in it the hypothesis of a free and undeter­ mined will. Eor, according to the common conception of moral desert, there is inherent in moral evil or wrong-doing a heinousness and a perniciousness quite unique, irrespective of its consequences; and it is obviously difficult to reconcile with this view the hypo­ thesis of a will determined by the strongest motive, seeing that the peculiar pravity which is the essential characteristic of moral evil ought in the natural course of things to exercise a deterring influence stronger than any counter-influence arising from the prospect of pos­ sible advantage to be gained thereby. Accordingly, the notion of a free and undetermined will, raised above the influence of motive, and resolving on a course of wickedness in spite of the dissuasive considerations suggested by the horrible nature of wrong-doing, was called in to explain the phenomena of man’s moral frailty; and this notion soon generated a conception of punishment as of a kind of vengeance, rightly and duly inflicted upon the ill-doer, without regard to any bene­ ficial results accruing to himself or to society. Now, this vague notion of the nature of punishment is wholly incompatible with the definition of it which has been already given, and which is admitted on all hands to embody some at least, if not all, of the elements con­ tained in the positive signification of the word “ pun­ ishment.” On the Determinist theory of volition, therefore, the vulgar notions of virtue and of vice, as qualities to be lauded and reprobated irrespective of �On the Free-Will Controversy. 29 their consequences, as well as the conception of punish­ ment as a righteous retribution for ill-doing, apart from any consideration of the useful ends to he served by it, must disappear altogether. Virtue is “ a great happi­ ness, but no merit in the vulgar sense of the term; ” and vice is “ a great misfortune, but no demerit.” * We have now concluded our review of the great controversy of the Will. Starting with the considera­ tion of the question as it stands at the present day, we saw how numerous and how momentous are the practi­ cal issues involved in its solution. We then went on to enquire whether any, and if so, what psychological or other causes there were, which would exercise a dis­ turbing influence in the decision of this question, and, as a result, we found that there were many and potent emotional and other agencies at work in generating and fostering the belief in an indeterminate will. Finally, we have passed in review the leading definitions of Free-Will which have been advanced on the side of Indeterminism, and have given a brief outline of the destructive criticism of these definitions which has pro­ ceeded from Edwards, Hamilton, and Mill successively. We have seen that our consciousness, which has been so triumphantly appealed to by the supporters of free­ will, does not in truth, when closely interrogated, yield any evidence whatever in favour of that doctrine ; and that the testimony of experience, which is universally regarded as a sufficient ground for the belief in the law of causality as holding throughout the phenomenal uni­ verse (volitional acts alone being excepted), is admitted by everybody to be altogether in favour of Determinism, i.e. of the law of causality as extending over the field of human action also. We have noticed, however, that the theory of Determinism involves the sacrifice of the common notions of moral excellence and depravity; and it is precisely here (as has been shown by the writer in the Westminster Revieio) that the strength of Libertar­ ianism lies. Men are indignant when it is insinuated * Westminster Review, October 1873, p. 311, �3° On the Free-Will Controversy. that the popular beliefs with regard to merit and demerit, responsibility, and punishment, are in great part the products of lying imagination. They refuse to allow any moral excellence to actions performed unconsciously under the constraining influence of unreflecting love or sympathy. Mr Mivart declares that “acts unaccom­ panied by mental acts of conscious will directed towards the fulfilment of duty ” are “ absolutely destitute of the most incipient degree of real or formal goodness.”* According to Reid, a man necessarily determined by the constitution of his nature to will and to do what is best to be done, “ would not be entitled to the esteem and moral approbation of those who knew and believed this necessity.” “ What was by an ancient author said of Cato, might indeed be said of him -.—lie was good be­ cause he could not be otherwise. But this saying if understood literally and strictly is not the praise of Cato, but of his constitution, which was no more the. work of Cato than his existence/’ Now, in the first place, be it remarked that this view of moral excellence, as involving free and undetermined choice of the good, excludes not only the man who does good without thinking about it, but the Deity also, from the category of beings possessed of a claim to our moral approbation. We are compelled to think of God as necessarily good; to attribute to Him the power of moral evil is, as Hamilton has pointed out, to detract from his essential goodness. Precisely in the same sense as Cato was said to be good, because he could not be otherwise, so is God declared to be, in virtue of his nature, necessarily determined to goodness. “As Euripides hath it, h Oeo'i ri (tpaxriv auty'p'ov, ovz zlsiv Oeo/.”t According to the Libertarian definition of moral excellence, then, we shall be obliged to deny that God possesses any moral attributes at all, or else to detract from his essential goodness by admitting the possibility of his becoming * “On the Genesis of Species,” quoted by Huxley, “Critiques,” &c. p. 287. f Hamilton, note to Reid’s Essay on the Active Powers. �On the Free-Will Controversy. 3i evil; and it need hardly be said that this is a corollary of their doctrine from which most Libertarians would recoil with horror. But, not to press this point any further—can it be possible that we are to regard all actions prompted by unreflecting sympathy and affection as “ absolutely destitute of the most incipient degree of real or formal goodness ?” Surely not; the unanimous verdict of mankind forbids it. The perfect ideal of a virtuous character is that of the man whose actions invariably have for their spring and source an instinc­ tive feeling of sympathy for his fellow-men, irrespective of any selfish considerations. Or do Mr Mivart and those who agree with him think to persuade us that the mother who rushes forward to save her child’s life at the sacrifice of her own—that a Howard and a Nightingale, whom the importunate promptings of their inner nature urge irresistibly forth from the refinements and the pleasures of domestic life, to all the horrors and miseries of an existence passed in the midst of prisons, lazar-houses, and hospitals—that these are creatures devoid of any “ title to our esteem or moral approbation?” Such a doctrine only requires to be fully and definitely stated, in order to be instantly and unequivocally repudiated. Our space will not permit us to enter upon a con­ sideration of the various collateral arguments urged by the two sides of this great controversy of the will. Bor a full account of these, the reader is referred to the admirable “ History of the Tree-Will Controversy,” to be found in Professor Bain’s Compendium of Mental and Moral Science. We will merely add, in conclusion, that the Determinist hypothesis has always been practi­ cally recognised by men in their dealings with one another. It has been already shown that the institution of Law presupposes the fact of a uniform connection between pain and the action necessary to avoid it, that is, of the law of uniform succession in our acts and their moral antecedents. Nor does the conduct of individuals towards one another show less clearly the �32 On the Free-Will Controversy. conviction of such a principle of uniformity. For ex­ ample (to quote an instance from J. Stuart Mill), “Men often regard the doubt what their conduct will be, as a mark of ignorance of their character, and sometimes even resent it as an imputation.”* Indeed, not only is prevision concerning the conduct of others constantly necessary, in virtue of the interdependence of human beings aggregated in society; it is also no less easy and sure than the prevision of physical phenomena. “ If, in crossing a street, a man sees a carriage coming upon him, you may safely assert that, in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, he will try to get out of the way. ... If he can buy next door a com­ modity of daily consumption better and cheaper than at the other end of town, we may affirm that, if he does not buy next door, some special relation between him and the remoter shopkeeper furnishes a strong reason for taking a worse commodity at greater cost of money and trouble.”! Finally, what logical justification of sympathy can there be—how is it possible to reconcile reason and fellow-feeling, save on the hypothesis of determinism? Is it not in this creed that we find the strongest incentive to mercy, charity, long-suffering— to “ hatred of the sin, and yet love for the sinner ; ” in a word, to all that is highest and noblest in the charac­ ter of man as a social being ? May the day soon come —and perhaps it is not far distant—when a public and practical recognition shall he given to this great prin­ ciple, and when the popular sanction shall establish a basis and a system of psychology so fruitful in beneficial result, not only in Legislation, but in the Sciences of Morality and Education also. This paper will not have been written in vain, if it should arouse any to the earnest and sincere examination of the great sub­ ject with which it has dealt. * Mill, “ Logic,” Book VI., chapter if., § 2. I Spencer, “Study of Sociology,” page 38. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. 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Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CT165 Subject The topic of the resource Determinism Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (The free-will controversy), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Free Will and Determinism https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/3a9487f82e39b4a8d892686c585b0e4a.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=rR8IvJEpy7XMtQH6-zF5x3SBeNK6T8yL1I1-3TDZB1a-DxcuHNTrsMY31XU-p%7EqoA%7EijuP7V9E%7EMIyIrRSfuuXCC8xLCibrVP0xlydRGAYFPRy0LiwvB8htn6f8CVq-A05ZjUmtoIEHaMFzq4-OeQK1K285FUZ5k2IQRJPeH1SQCMnx2VAhcS5rtStfzZMBmXoytB1hkFGXwnKeNebv3GnYZO3zP0DfHA1u0bO-2adZFfpbhotyJA-nRHtVkjvO5D8s7p3z9o400Ul0YEMtRmgO9B-2cQ8DNYzJ7yGcoqiVc9t%7ECuKqaruwHzE-BKor18l39IemenjFj2UTpSBuK4w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 42f61d177b4520935f8a6ccfe2601d25 PDF Text Text GT (oq- OUR FIRST CENTURY. irapa to </><3s i8eiv. Choephoroe, 961. PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, NO. 11, THE TERRACE, EARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E. Price Sixpence. ��PREFACE. USEBIUS, who flourished a.d. 315, is the earliest historian of the Christian Church. In the first chapter of his Ecclesiastical History he complains, even at that early date, of the scantiness of his mate­ rials. We know that when commencing to write the account of the mythical Grecian heroes and their forces who fought in the Trojan War, the author of our Iliad (ii. 284-6) invoked the aid of the Muses, “ for,” he says, “ ye are goddesses, and are present to help and know all things, while we hear only a rumour, and have not certain knowledge of any thing.” In like manner, and because he too, by his own account, had little, if any thing, but rumour for the groundwork of his story, Eusebius, in the preface .to his work, makes the following invocation :— “ I shall go back to the very origin and the earliest introduction of the dispensation of our Lord and Saviour, the Christ of God.—But here, acknowledging that it is beyond my power to present the work per­ fectly and unexceptionably, I freely confess it will crave indulgence, especially since, as the first of those that have entered upon the subject, we are attempt­ ing a kind of trackless and unbeaten path. Looking up with prayer to God as our guide, we trust, indeed, that we shall have the power of Christ as our aid, though we are utterly unable to find even the bare vestiges of those who may have travelled the way before us ; unless, perhaps, what is presented only in E �4 Preface. the slight intimations which some in different ways have transmitted to us in certain partial narratives of the times in which they lived ; who, raising their voices before us, like torches at a distance, and as looking down from some commanding height, call out and exhort us where we should walk, and whither direct our course with certainty and safety. What­ soever, therefore, we deem likely to be advantageous to the proposed subject, we shall endeavour to reduce to a compact body by historical narration. For this purpose we have collected the materials that have been scattered by our predecessors, and culled, as from some intellectual meadows, the appropriate extracts from ancient authors. In the execution of this work we shall be happy to rescue from oblivion the succes­ sions, if not of all, at least of the most noted apostles of our Lord, in those churches which even at this day are accounted the most eminent; a labour which has appeared to me necessary in the highest degree, as I have not yet been able to find that any of the ecclesi­ astical writers have directed their efforts to present any thing complete in this department of writing.” All these statements of Eusebius are fully corrobo­ rated by the scanty narratives of Mosheim at the commencement of his “ Institutes,” and of all other writers who have attempted to give a history of the Christian Church during the first century of its sup­ posed existence. They might as well have attempted to write a history of the famous War, supposed to have been waged on the plain between the rivers Simois and Scamander :— “ Where many shields and helmets fell in the dust, And the race of demigod men. ” Kilferest, .Feast of St Anastasius, 1873. �OUR FIRST CENTURY. ISRAEL IN ALEXANDRIA. O far back in the history of the Jews as b.c. 588, they had formed a settlement in /Egypt. This we know from Jeremiah (xliii. 7), who was hostile to its formation. The impossibility of these Jews having access to the temple at Jerusalem, and, owing to its destruction, their losing the benefit of the daily sacri­ fice which used to be offered there, were facts through which the literal observance of the Mosaic ritual came to a violent end. The Jews in JEgypt, therefore, were compelled either to relinquish the Mosaic law altogether or understand it in a new sense. They adopted the latter course. But that law had not any second mean­ ing. So, when a second meaning was sought for, it could not be found. In the meantime these Jews, at a later period, ; learned the Greek language, read books of the Grecian philosophers, entertained certain Grecian ideas, and so became Hellenists. This Hellenizing tendency found its most active de­ velopment at Alexandria, founded by Alexander the Great, b.c. 332. When Ptolemy, son of Lagus, cap­ tured Jerusalem, B.o. 320, he carried away a large number of Jewish and Samaritan captives to Alexan­ dria, where he gave them the full citizenship. Many others migrated thither of their own accord. Accord­ S �6 Our First Century, ing to Josephus, Alexander himself assigned to the Jews a place in his new city. But, be that as it may, it is certain that at an extremely early period in the history of Alexandria, the Jews became so numerous in that city that the north-east angle was known as “ the Jews’ quarter.” The religion and philosophy in that city produced an effect on the Jews there, more powerful than the influence of'politics or commerce. Alexander had founded a temple of Isis side by sidewith temples of the Grecian gods. Creeds from the east and from the west coexisted there; and in after times the mixed worship of Serapis was characteristic of the Greek kingdom in 2Egypt. For that god, origi­ nally a native of Pontus, and adored by the inhabi­ tants of Sinope, was introduced into /Egypt by the first Ptolemy. At first the priests opposed the intro­ duction of Serapis. But the liberality of the Ptolemies overcame the resistance of the priests ; they submitted to worship Serapis, to whom they gave the throne and the wife of Osiris. This catholicity of worship was further combined with the spread of learning. The same monarchs who favoured the worship of Serapis founded and embellished the Museum and Library r and part of the library was deposited in the Serapeum. The new faith and the new literature led to a coalition of opinions; and the /Egyptian Jews imbibed a por­ tion of the spirit which prevailed around them. Its first development appeared in the Greek version of the Old Testament, known as the Septuagint. The day on which the Greek text of the law was introduced into the synagogue at Alexandria, was thus marked in the Palestine calendar : “ The law in Greek ! Darkness ! Three days’ fast 1 ” So different already had the Alex­ andrine Jews become from the Jews in Palestine. But the difference increased. The necessity for re­ linquishing the literal meaning of the Mosaic law now led to a new movement, when the Jews at Alexandria could read that law in Greek and meditate on its im­ �Israel in Alexandria. 7 port. Aristobulus, a learned Jew who flourished there about B.c. 160, wrote an allegorical exposition of the Pentateuch. A fragment of this work has been pre­ served, and contains several Orphic quotations which had been already moulded into a Jewish form. The attempt thus made to connect the most ancient Hellenic traditions with the Law was often repeated afterwards; for we invariably find that when the allegorical prin­ ciple of interpretation has been adopted by human imagination, the whimsical applications of that prin­ ciple cease to be controlled by reason. Aristobulus also endeavoured to show that the Pentateuch was the real source of the Aristotelian philosophy. This pro­ position was thoroughly congenial to the Alexandrine character ; and henceforth it was the chief object of Jewish speculation in that city, to trace the subtle analogies which were supposed to exist between the writings attributed to Moses and the teaching of the Grecian schools. But the literary school of Alexandria was purely critical and not in the least creative. The schoolmen there laboured to collect, revise, and classify the records of the past. Poets trusted to their learning, like Virgil, rather than to their imagination. Language became a study. The legends of ancient mythology were trans­ formed into mysteries. And writers who. happened to agree accidentally concerning a few unimportant matters were accused of borrowing from each other— those supposed to be the less ancient from those sup­ posed to be more so. The Alexandrine Jews took an active part in these new studies. The caution against writing (see Dr William Smith’s “ New Testament His­ tory,” p. 120), which became a settled law in Palestine, did not find any favour in Algypt. Numerous authors adapted the history of the Patriarchs, of Moses, and of the kings to classical models. A poem, which bears the name of Phocylides, gives in verse various precepts of Leviticus; and several fragments of a tragedy, in �8 Our First Century. which one Ezekiel, who flourished about b.c. 110, dra­ matized the Exodus, have been preserved by Eusebius (see Dr William Smith’s “New Testament History,” pp. 117-120). According to Gibbon {Dec. and Fall, ch. xxi.), it was at this time that “ the Wisdom of Solomon” was written; a book which still holds its place in the Septuagint. Here we see that tendency of the human mind, to attribute modern writings to ancient authors ; a tendency developed conspicuously in both Jewish and Grecian literature. ANCIENT LITERARY MORALITY. Only a section can be devoted here to a subject that requires a volume for its full elucidation, namely, the propensity among the Greeks and Jews to attribute modern writings to ancient authors. Dr Wm. Smith {Greece, p. 137) informs us that Pythagoras did not leave behind him anything in writing, and the later doctrines and works of the Pythagoreans were attributed by their authors to the founders of the school. Strauss {New Life of Jesus, i., 148) informs us that “the Neopythagorean biographer of Pythagoras eulogises the authors for having re­ nounced the fame that was their own and attributed their works to the master of the school.” In the present day this voluntary humility would be considered a forgery, and be execrated by the voice of the public. “ There were in antiquity (Smith’s Greece, p. 127) two large collections of epic poetry. The one com­ prised poems relating to the great events and enter­ prises of the Heroic age, and characterised by a certain poetical unity; the other included works tamer in character and more desultory in their mode of treat­ ment, containing the genealogies of men and gods, narratives of the exploits of separate heroes, and descriptions of the ordinary pursuits of life. The poems of the former class passed under the name of �Ancient Literary Morality. 9 Homer, while those of the latter were in the same general way ascribed to Hesiod.” The fact seems to be that these names, Homer and Hesiod, had become popular in their respective departments, and modem writers assumed these names in order to render their writings popular. So lately as a.d. 1831, an anonymous writer pub­ lished “ The New History of the Trojan Wars, and Troy's Destruction.” It commences with an account of Hercules, and ends with an account of Brute’s doings in Britain. In his “ Commentary on the Old Testament,” Dr Kalisch has shown that the Pentateuch is a work written between the eighth and fourth centuries before our era, and yet how very freely the writers used the * name of Moses, who is supposed to have flourished about b.c. 1550. A glance at the table of contents in the Apocryphal New Testament, referring to “ The Epistles of Jesus and Abgarus,” the gospels of “ James,” of “ Thomas,” of “ Matthew,” of “ Nicodemus,” &c., will show how freely the names of the Founder of Christianity, and of those supposed to be connected with him, were used by the early Christian writers. Paul’s supposed epistle to the Galatians is written in Greek; yet it is remarkable (Dr Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, article Galatians} that “ we have the testi­ mony of Hieronymus, who visited Galatia in the fourth century of our era, in his preface to his commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, that the Galli still kept their own language, which was almost the same as the language of the Treviri, or the people of Treves, and Hieronymus, who was a good linguist, and had lived at Treves, was a competent judge of this.” * The writer of this tract has reason to believe that Dr Kalisch concedes to our Pentateuch an attribute of antiquity far more than it really deserves ; but even that conceded by Dr Kalisch is sufficient for the object of this tract. �io Our First Century. A Christian, in the second century of our era, wrote a legend about Paul and Thecla; he was convicted of the forgery on his own confession. But he added that he had done what he did through love of Paul, where­ upon the Church pardoned him, continued to use his work, and celebrated a festival to these saints. (See the story of Paul and Thecla in the Apocryphal New Testament, and the notes, &c., thereon; also see Strauss, Neio Life of Jesus, vol. i., p. 141-149.) Here we per­ ceive that the early Christians could consider forgery praiseworthy ! A heretical bishop, Faustus, who died about a.d. 384, made a Statement, which has been preserved in the works of St Augustine, and quoted by Dr Nathaniel Lardner (“ Credibility,” iii., 517) thus : “ I put in the margin another passage of Faustus, without translating it exactly, where he pretends there are many differences and contrarieties in the Gospels, and that the ancestors of the Catholics had inserted many things, mingling their own words with the oracles of the Lord, which did not agree with the doctrine taught by him; and that the Gospels were not written by Christ, nor his apostles, but a long time after them by some unknown men, half Jews, who were not well informed, but put down any uncertain traditions which they met with, and then affixed to their own erroneous accounts the names of Christ’s apostles, or their companions.”* Morality is a growth, like mathematics or any other science. The self-same principle which authorised the ascription of false authorship to writings justified the arbitrary alteration of texts. A glance at Griesbach’s * It must be repeated that it is beyond the scope of this tract to give an adequate account of ancient literary forgeries. Let it be sufficient to state that among both Jews and Greeks, writers attributed spurious works to Orpheus, Linus, Moses, Solomon, David, Joshua, Samuel, Phalaris, Homer, Hesiod, Herodotus, Plato, Demosthenes, Anacreon, Simonides, Theo­ critus, and to several other names that at one time were famous. �Ancient Literary Morality. 11 edition, of our New Testament will show how plentifully alterations of the text were introduced by copyists and others. It is probable, from the context and from ■ the whole scope of our fourth gospel, that the two first sentences stood originally thus : “ In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.” The paralogy that the Word was the same God with whom the Word was, and the repetition that “ the same was in the beginning with God,” seem to have been doctrinal additions of a later date than the original composition of the gospel. Yet modern as the passage is, it is older than the doctrine of the Trinity. The doctrine which makes the Holy Spirit a deity is not anywhere to be found in our New Testament. That doctrine rests on the authority of the Council of Constantinople, held a.d. 381. It should be borne in mind that the oldest extant manuscripts of our New Testament give the text only as it stood in the fourth century of our era. It would naturally be a text of gradual and probably slow forma­ tion. For some time many of the books in our New Testament would be mere private property. The owners were subject to the disturbing influence of living tradition. We know from Origen (“ Against Celsus,” book ii., p. 77) that Celsus complained that the Christians of his day, a.d. 160, were perpetually altering and correcting their gospels. Having regard to the literary morality of the time, it is probable that the owners would alter, increase, diminish, and revise their manuscripts. From ascribing modern writings to ancient Christian teachers, and altering the writings of other Christians, it was a very easy transition to alter the works of heathen writers, and, like the thief at the crucifixion, make them testify to the divine origin of Christianity. �12 Our First Century. PLINY, JOSEPHUS, SUETONIUS, AND TACITUS. # All Jewish, and heathen writers who flourished during the first seventy years of our first century are completely silent on the existence of the Christian Church, and they appear utterly ignorant of the miracles, doctrines, persons, and events related in the nar­ ratives both of the now rejected and the received gospels. Gibbon does not exaggerate in the least when he says (“ Decline and Fall,” ch. xv.), “ During the age of Christ, of his apostles and of their first disciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodigies. The lame walked, the blind saw, the sick were healed, the dead were raised, demons were expelled, and the laws of nature were frequently suspended for the benefit of the church. But the sages of Greece and Borne turned aside from the awful spectacle, and pursuing the ordinary occupations of life and study, appeared unconscious of any alterations in the moral or physical government of the world. Under the reign of Tiberius the whole earth, or at least a celebrated province of the Boman empire, was involved in a preternatural darkness of three hours. Even this miraculous event, which ought to have excited the wonder, the curiosity, and the devotion of mankind, passed without notice in an age of science and history. It happened during the lifetime of Seneca and the elder Pliny, who must have experienced the immediate effects, or received the earliest intelligence of the prodigy. Each of these philosophers, in a laborious work, has recorded all the great phenomena of nature, earth­ quakes, meteors, comets, and eclipses which his inde­ fatigable curiosity could collect. Both the one and the other have omitted to mention the greatest phenomenon to which the mortal eye has been witness since the oreation of the globe. A distinct chapter of Pliny is designed for eclipses of an extraordinary nature, and unusual duration; but he contents himself with describ- �Pliny, 'Josephus^ Suetonius, and Tacitus, ij ing the singular defect of light which followed the tnurder of Caesar, when, during the greatest part of a year, the orb of the sun appeared pale and without * splendour. This season of obscurity, which cannot surely be compared with the preternatural darkness of the Passion, had been already celebrated by most of the poets and historians of that memorable age.” The writer of our Odyssey (xx. 355-7) has described an eclipse of the sun, which occurred on the day that witnessed the destruction of the suitors. He says, “ The forecourt is full, and the hall also is full of ghosts on their way to Erebus to hide themselves in gloom; and the sun has vanished from the sky, and a dismal murkiness has suddenly come over us.” Here there are accounts of a superhuman event, alleged to have occurred on three momentous occasions, namely, the sun was for a time extinguished, and ghosts were seen. The last in the above order, but first in order of time is confessedly a myth. The next in order of time was once regarded as history. While the last in order of time is believed by all Christendom to be inspired history. The sole grounds for this last belief are certain supposed events of a supernatural character, of which the last-mentioned eclipse of the sun is one. But, if the earliest account of the three eclipses be a myth—and all Christendom will allow it to be a myth—how can the same story be true, merelv because it carries the names of writers'supposed to have been incapable of error ? The eclipse celebrated by the Batin poets may well have been copied from our Odyssey. And equally easy it would be, in the reign of Tiberius, to repeat a story told regarding the death of Julius Caesar. Justin Martyr, who flourished about a.d. 150, Theo­ philus, a.d. 168, Athenagoras, a.d. 171, and Tatian, a.d. 172, are the earliest “apologists,” or defenders of Christianity. They do not quote^ as evidence for the * Virgil, Georgies, i., 468, &c., Nicodemus viii. 1-4, and Matthew xxvii. 52, add ghosts. �14 Our First Century. existence of Christianity, from any Jewish or heathen writer, now extant, who was a contemporary of the period from a.d. 1 to a.d. 70, although they would have seized eagerly on any such evidence if any such then existed. Tertullian, who flourished about a.d. 195, is the first' apologist who quotes, a heathen writer as evidence for the historical existence of Christianity during our first century. Unfortunately, the writer he quotes could not have written the document quoted from until our first century had expired. Pliny the younger was proconsul of Bithynia, about a.d. 110. Tertullian appeals to a letter on the subject of the Christians, supposed to have been written from that province by Pliny to the emperor-Trajan. A German critic and divine, John S. Semler, considers this letter to have been a fabrication of Tertullian, and this opinion is borne out by the scope of the letter. In that letter Pliny expresses a wish to be favoured with the guidance and orders of Trajan. “ Having never been present at any trials concerning those per­ sons who are Christians, I am unacquainted not only with the nature of their crimes, or the measure of their punishment, but how far it is proper to enter into an examination concerning them.” After expressing some minor doubts, Pliny says (or is made to say), “ In the meanwhile the method I have observed towards those who have been brought before me as Christians is this : I interrogated them whether they were Christians : if they confessed I repeated -the question twice, adding threats at the same time; and if they still persevered I ordered them to be executed immediately.” Here we have a strange piece of conduct. A number of Chris­ tians were brought before Pliny, who, being “ unac­ quainted with the measure of their punishment,” put to death those who Would not relinquish the profession of Christianity; and he then writes to Trajan for guid­ ance and directions when the martyrs had been put to �Pliny, Josephus, Suetonius, and Tacitus. 15 death ! Such a piece of conduct as this is utterly at variance with all we know concerning Trajan and Pliny. The Homans did not put people to death on account of their religion. Every religion was tolerated at Rome. Tn short, the whole story is improbable, and unsupported by any other evidence. The rest of the epistle is little more than a Christian’s representation •of his own creed, as he would have it looked upon by others, coupled with a Christian’s representation of causeless persecution, even to death, instituted for sup­ pression of his faith, which faith, even at that early day, he pretends empties the heathen temples. A statement forming a strong contrast to the lamentations of Basil and Gregory of Nyssa, who, in the middle of the third century, complain that the extensive diocese of Neo Caesarea contained only seventeen Christians ! Eusebius, who flourished about a.d. 315, is the next Christian writer who quotes external evidence regarding the Christians. He quotes from a passage in Josephus’ Antiquities (book xviii., ch. 3, § 3), where Josephus is made to say, “ At this time there existed Jesus, a wise man, if it be allowed to call him a man, for he per­ formed wonderful works, and instructed those who received the truth with joy; he thus drew to himself many Jews and many Greeks; lie was Christ; Pilate having punished him with crucifixion on the accusation of our leading men, those who had loved him before still remained faithful to him; for on the third day he appeared unto them, living anew; just as the divine prophets had foretold these and ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him; and the tribe of Christians, so named from him, are not extinct even at the present day.” This is a translation of the whole passage. It has not the least connection with what precedes or follows. It was unknown to all the pre­ vious defenders of Christianity. Josephus was a Jew, and ever remained such. It is quite contrary to the Jewish creed to say that Christ has appeared on earth. �ib Our First Century. The destruction of Jerusalem, and the dispersion of their nation are to them standing proofs that Christ, their restorer and triumphant deliverer, never can have come. Consequently, it is impossible that Josephus wrote this passage. * There is a curious passage regarding the Christians in Suetonius, Nero, 16. The writer says that Nero devised a new style of building in the city, and that he designed to extend the city walls as far as Ostia; and then he says, “many severe regulations and new orders were made in his time. A sumptuary law [to check expense in banquets] 'was enacted. Public suppers were limited to the sportulae; and victualling-houses were restrained from selling any dressed victuals, except pulse and herbs, whereas before they sold all kinds of meat. He likewise inflicted punishments on the Chris­ tians, a sort of people who held a new and mischievous superstition. He forbade the revels of the charioteers, who had long assumed a license to stroll about, and established for themselves a kind of prescriptive right to cheat and thieve, making a jest of it. The partisans of the rival theatrical performers were banished, as well as. the actors themselves.” After relating the conflagration which consumed a considerable part of the city of Rome in the reign of Nero, and that a report had broken out among the populace thatNero had ordered the conflagration {Annals, xv. 44), Tacitus says, “ Hence to suppress the rumour, he falsely charged with guilt, and punished with the most exquisite tortures, the persons commonly called Christians, who were hated for their enormities. The founder of that name, one Christus, was put to death * The Rev. Charles Merivale, in his “Romans under the Empire,” vol. vi., 536, says that Josephus “makes no more allusion to the false Christs than to the true Christ. The subject of the Messiah was one he shrank from.” Can Mr Merivale prove that Josephus was acquainted with “ the sub­ ject of the Messiah ? ” �Pliny, Josephus, Suetonius, and Tacitus, 17 as a criminal by Pontius Pilate, procurator of Judea, in the reign of Tiberius; but the pernicious supersti­ tion, repressed for a time, broke out again, not only through Judea, where the mischief originated, but through the city of Rome also, whither all things horrible and disgraceful flow from all quarters, as to a common receptacle, and where they are encouraged.” It is scarcely necessary to point out the exceedingly abrupt notice of the Christians in thb passage attributed to Suetonius, where the profession of Christianity and expense in banquets and other public amusements are huddled together in one and the same paragraph. “ The passage in Tacitus, had it been genuine, would not have been overlooked by all the early Christian writers in their various disputations with objectors, and especially by Tertullian, who quoted largely from his works ; and the ecclesiastical historian, Eusebius, who was zealous in his defence of the faith and greedy of materials with which to support it.”* A similar obser­ vation applies to Suetonius. If his brief and sterile notice of the Christians had existed in the days of the early apologists, or even in the days of Tertullian and Eusebius, it is inconceivable that, when they had scarcely anything in the shape of external evidence to their purpose, they would have rejected or overlooked that passage. These four spurious passages, now found in Pliny the younger, Josephus, Suetonius, and Tacitus, but unknown to the primitive Christian apologists, are the only testimonies to the existence of Christianity dur­ ing even the latter part of our first century, borne by Jewish or heathen writers who flourished in or near to the first century of the Christian era. Our New Test­ ament does not supply this want of evidence. Neither do the writings of the so-called Apostolical Eathers, nor the extant apocryphal New Testament literature. No * See “The Bible: Is it the Word of God?” by Mr Strange, p. 352. B �18 Our First Century. doubt some writers have supposed that our New Testa­ ment was written during our first century. But of this there is not any proof. We have not any unmistak­ able quotations from our gospels until rather late in the second century. The earliest citation is from our first gospel by Justin Martyr, about a.d. 142 ; while our fourth gospel is not quoted from until the time of Irenaeus, about a.d. 178. Both Mosheim (Ecclesiasti­ cal History, century i. part ii. § 16) and Strauss (“Life of Jesus,” Introduction, 13) agree that there is not any reliable trace of our New Testament until about themiddle of the second century. The extant apocryphal New Testament literature is almost universally admitted to be a production of the second century. No writer has maintained that the so-called Apostolical Fathers existed during any part of our first century, except, perhaps, Clement the Boman. And since the publica­ tion, 1853, of Hilgenfeld’s “ Apostolical Fathers,” the best authorities consider that the authenticity of the writings attributed to them is more than doubtful. Mr Neale, in his tract on “ The Mythical Element in Christianity,” does not attempt to show that any con­ temporaries of the supposed Jesus of our New Testa­ ment, or of the supposed events mentioned in its narratives, extending over the period from a.d. 1 to a.d. 63, have taken notice of him or of those events. Mr Neale tries to prove that'the above three passages at present found in Pliny, Suetonius, and Tacitus are genuine. None of these writers were contemporary with the Jesus and the events mentioned in our New Testament narratives. Mr Neale admits that the passage in Pliny, as well as the whole tenth book of Pliny’s Epistles, was not published until after his death; a circumstance which gave an easy access to fraud; he does not show when the passage in Sueto­ nius was first quoted; and he admits that the passage in Tacitus was not even referred to until the fourth century, if even then referred to. While, on the other �The Septuagint. *9 hand, the above indicated internal marks of forgery have never yet been explained; yet Mr Neale.does not appear to have perceived them. If the foregoing statements be correct, it follows (i.) That we have not any contemporary evidence for the existence of Christianity during the first seventy years of our first century; and (ii.) That the silence of both the Jews and the heathens during the first seventy years of our first century cannot be accounted for except by the hypothesis that. Christianity did not exist during that period. THE SEPTUAGINT. Since the Jews of Alexandria knew little or nothing of the Hebrew language, they naturally desired to have a Greek version of the entire Old Testament. This want was the cause of the Septuagint version : so called from an improbable and now discredited story, that the version was made by seventy-two Jews, em­ ployed and paid liberally for that purpose by Ptolemy Philadelphus, who reigned over ASgypt B.c. 285-247. But the truth is, that the numbers and names of the translators who compiled the Septuagint, and the times at which different portions were translated are all un­ certain. It may, however, be stated confidently that the Septuagint version was made .at Alexandria. That it was begun in the time of the elder Ptolemies, about b.c. 280. And that only the Pentateuch, or Law, was translated at first. Prom the time when the Septuagint was completed there were two canons of the Old Testament, which may be denominated respectively the Hebrew canon and the .^Egyptian canon. The former ended with the prophecies of Malachi, and the latter with the second book of Maccabees. During a long period the Chris­ tian church used both canons. At the Council of Trent, a.d. 1546, the Church of Rome sanctioned the �20 Our First Century. ^Egyptian canon. The Protestant churches have never had the means of assembling an oecumenical council, although for their own purposes they agree in calling certain councils oecumenical, and defer to their autho­ rity. They have adopted silently the Hebrew canon. Two remarkable characteristics co-exist in the Septuagint, namely, (1.) It cannot have been made from the extant Hebrew text; and (2.) The canon recog­ nised by the translators was one which had not been closed until a much later period than the close of the present Hebrew canon. In the book of Job, contained in the Hebrew canon, there is a well known passage (xix. 25-27), supposed to refer to the Christian’s “ Redeemer but in the Sep­ tuagint the meaning of that passage is :—“ I know that he is eternal who is about to deliver me, and to raise up upon the earth my skin that endures these suffer­ ings : for these things have been accomplished to me of the Lord ; which I am conscious of in myself, which mine eye has seen, and not another, but all have been fulfilled to me in my bosom.” Again, a well known passage in Isaiah (xlii. 1), which the writer of our first gospel (xii. 18) refers to Jesus, stands in the Septuagint thus : “ Jacob is my servant, I will help him: Israel is my chosen one, my soul has accepted him.” Again, in the book of Deuteronomy contained in the Septuagint, there is a well known passage (xxxii. 43), “let all the angels of God worship him.” The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews (i. 6) refers this passage to Jesus. But the book of Deuteronomy, in the Hebrew canon, omits this passage altogether. These are merely specimens of the numerous differences be­ tween the books of. the extant Hebrew canon and the Septuagint version; differences which prove that the extant Hebrew canon was not that from which the Sep­ tuagint version was made. But, not only does the Septuagint text differ from the Hebrew, the canon of the Septuagint contains four- �The Wisdom of Solomon. 21 teen books, “ The Apocrypha ” so-called, which are not in the Hebrew canon. Of these three are very re­ markable, namely, “ The Wisdom of Solomon,” “ The first book of Maccabees,” and “The second book of Esdras.” THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON. I. “ One hundred years before the birth of Christ, a philosophical treatise, which manifestly betrays the style and sentiments of the school of Plato, was pro­ duced by the Alexandrine Jews, and unanimously received as a genuine and valuable relick of the inspired wisdom of Solomon.”—Decline and Fall, ch. xxi. This treatise contains the earliest extant instance where the Greek word logos, in the sense of “ the power of the mind manifested in speech,” is personified and associated with Jehovah. It is a mistake to suppose that Plato has used the word logos in this sense in connection with the Supreme Being. Dr William Smith, History of Greece, p. 136, speaking of Anaxagoras, says, “He abandoned the system of his predecessors, and instead of regarding some elementary form of matter as the origin of all things, he conceived a supreme mind or inteHigence, nous, distinct from the visible world, to have imparted form and order to the chaos of nature.” And regarding Plato, he says, p. 594, “ The fundamental principle of Plato’s philosophy is the belief in an eternal and selfexistent cause, the origin of all things. From this divine being emanate not only the souls of men, which are also immortal, but that of the universe itself, which is supposed to be animated by a divine spirit.” Plato (Philebus, p. 30, 31) says, “There is in the universe, a cause, not inconsiderable, which puts into order and arranges the years, and seasons, and months,—a cause which may most justly be called Wisdom and Mind (sophia and nous). Wisdom, however, and Mind could �10. Our First Century. not exist without soul (jgsuche). Therefore, in the nature of Zeus there is a kingly soul and a kingly mind, through its influence as the cause .... Mind (nous) is ever the ruler of the universe.” Plato (Gorgias, p. 523, A) says, “As Homer says, then, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades divided the govern­ ment among themselves, after they had received it from their father. This law, then, respecting men was in existence in the time of Kronos, and always was, and still is established among the gods, that a man who has passed through life justly and piously when he dies should go to the isles of the blessed, and dwell in all perfect happiness free from evil, but that he who has lived unjustly and impiously should go to a prison of punishment and justice, which they call Tartarus.” The passage above alluded to as being written by “ Homer ” occurs in Iliad, xv. 187-193, where Poseidon says, “ we are three brothers from Kronos, whom Rhea brought forth : Zeus and I, and Hades governing those beneath the Earth, the third ; all things were divided into three parts, and each was allotted his dignity. The lots being shaken, to me in the first place was allotted to dwell for ever in the hoary sea, and Hades next obtained the pitchy darkness; but Zeus in the third place had allotted to him the wide heaven in the air and in the clouds. Nevertheless the Earth is still the common property of all, and lofty Olympus.” In a note on this passage Mr Paley says, “ The triple division here alluded to is said to have been the or. Trinity of the Platonists and Neoplatonists.” Writing, as before mentioned, about b.c. 100, the writer of “ The Wisdom of Solomon,” according to the literary morality of his age, having attributed his work to the Jewish king who is supposed to have lived about nine centuries previously, and addressing the Deity concerning the destruction of the first-born among the ^Egyptians in the time of Moses, says, xviii. 14-16, “ While all things were in quiet silence, and that night �The Wisdom of Solomon. 23 was in the midst of her swift course, thine almighty Word£(Ao pardodunamos sou logos') leaped down from heaven out of thy royal throne, as a fierce man of war into the midst of a land of destruction, and brought thine unfeigned commandment as a sharp sword, and standing up, filled all things with death ; and it touched the heaven, hut it stood upon the Earth.” With these suggestive passages before him, Philo, who flourished B.c. 42, without the aid of inspiration, appears to have developed the theory of the logos or “ Word,” which ultimately expanded into the Christian Trinity, “that malignant riddle !” Philo-Judaeus says (“ On the Migration of Abraham,” § i.) : “ You must not wonder that Moses has called speech in man the abode of the mind; for he also says, that the mind of the universe, that is to say, the Deity, • has for his abode his own word (logos) . . . the Word which is more ancient than all the things which were the objects of creation, and by means of which it is that the Ruler of the universe, taking hold of it as a rudder, governs all things. And when he was fashioning the world, he used this as an instrument for the blameless arrangement of all the things which he was completing.” Philo regarded matter as the source of imperfection and evil. Hence he could not conceive the absolutely perfect Deity coming in direct contact with the material creation. Hence Philo made a distinction between the Creator and the mere fashioner of the material universe, and he carried out this distinction by representing the existence of an intermediate former of the universe, namely, the logos, or word of the Deity. This idea of the inherent imperfection of matter was afterwards a characteristic of Gnosticism, which, accord­ ing to Dr Wm. Smith, “ H. T. History,” 339, 551, was taught by Simon Magus and Hymenaeus. One of the chief objects of the Gnostic philosophy was to reconcile the existence of this evil with the perfections of the Deity. Philo achieved this object by means of one �24 Our First Century. intermediate principle. The Gnostics accomplished their object by attributing the formation of matter to a number of inferior principles emanating from the Supreme Being. They filled the interval between the highest heaven, the abode of the Deity, and Earth, the seat of matter, with JEons, Archons, Kosmocrators, and. Spirits of Evil. These, although derived from the Deity, wandered away from Him, and became imperfect in proportion to their distance from Him, until at length some became actually evil (see Mosheim’s'“ Institutes,”’ century ii., part ii., ch. v., § 11 ; also “The Jesus of History,” p. 388-90). This idea is embodied in the Epistle to the Ephesians, ii. 13, 17, where the writer tells the Ephesians, “Ye who were far off are made nigh,” and that Jesus “preached peace to you who were afar off” (makran). The writer of “ The Jesus of History ” has pointed out the influence which the schools of Philo and of the Gnostics exercised on the writers of some of the Pauline epistles, and of our fourth gospel. (See bk. iii., ch. 2.) According to what we find in Ephesians iii., vi., Philippians ii., Colossians i., ii., Jesus Christ, as the highest created power, was above the Gnostic JEons and Archons, &c. He is the medium of approach to the otherwise inaccessible deity. “ The church is to shew the manifold wisdom of God to principalities and powers in the heavens (Eph. iii., 10.) The saints (iii., 19) are to understand the length and depth, and breadth and height. All these are terms employed by the Gnostics, and as having each a definite meaning. They formerly (ii., 1, 2) walked according to the JEon of the world, the Archon of the power of the air. And even now (vi., 12) they wrestle, not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers, the cosmocrators of this dark age, against evil spirits in the heavens.” In our fourth gospel, Jesus is not any longer the word of the Deity, or the power of the Deity; he is the Logos, the word, simply. He is not any longer a �The Wisdom of Solomon. 25. slave. The Deity does not raise him from the dead ; his resumption of life is the result of his own power. But, nevertheless (i., 3), “All things were made by him; ” he was only “a god” “ with the Deity” (i., 1.) He was, in the words of Philo quoted above, “the Word, by means of which it is that the Ruler of the universe, taking hold of it as a rudder, governs all things.” The writer of “The Jesus of History” says (p. 424-6), —“ Much of the phraseology employed by Paul, and by the author of the fourth gospel, upon which modern orthodox deductions are based, was, as we have seen, borrowed from a peculiar philosophy. And the object of that philosophy was not to exalt the attributes, or manifestations, of persons to which this phraseology was applied, but to remove the God whom it recognised from all relation to matter, either as its origin or its ruler. The functions exercised by the Word or wisdom of God were functions which thinkers of that school of philosophy deemed it derogatory to ascribe to God himself. They implied relation and imperfection, and therefore could not belong to the one absolute and perfect Being. The creation of the world, for instance, which, to modern theologians, is a conclusive proof of the absolute divinity of Jesus, was originally attributed to the Word of God for precisely the opposite reason. That all things were made by Jesus, as the Logos was a mark, not of equality, but of inferiority. And the same was the case even when God was represented as making the worlds by him ; for this, though removing the idea of moral imperfection from one who was per­ forming only the work of the Father, preserved his relative character, and necessarily implied subordination and dependence. There is nothing, indeed, in any of these writings inconsistent with this view. It is true that Jesus, in the fourth gospel, is made to claim oneness with the Father. But the writer himself explains the nature of this union in a way to remove all misconception when he describes Jesus as praying �^6 > Our First Century. that his disciples may be one with him, in the same manner that he is one with the Father. And though the Jews are represented as having understood him to •claim to be God, yet this is only one of the many mis­ conceptions attributed to them,, owing to their taking literally what Jesus had spoken in a figure. And the mistake is immediately corrected by a quotation from their Scriptures, in which the word ‘gods’ is used figuratively; thus teaching them that it was only in the same sense that the word had been used by Jesus himself. And in all the writings of Paul, high as is the view that he entertains of the nature and office of Jesus, his inferiority to the Father is uniformly pre­ served. In proportion as the Church, by defining its own creed, separated itself from other societies, the opinions these latter held were first rejected and then forgotten. And the circumstance that the immense majority of Christians belonged to the poor and un­ educated classes necessarily gave a preponderance to those teachers whose knowledge and mode of thought were most nearly on a level with the minds of their hearers, and whose doctrines were thus best adapted to their apprehension. And hence there was a tendency to depreciate philosophy, and to proclaim the incom­ petency of human reason of itself to deal with questions touching the nature of God, or his relation to the world and man, or his purposes with regard to the unbelievers and the faithful. Corresponding with this depreciation of the unaided reason, there was an elevation of the Scripture as the sole and sufficient source of all religious truth, and of the Church as its one infallible interpreter. And, when this point was reached, it was inevitable, under the influence of the prevailing sentiment with regard to Jesus, that the very phrases which, as at first employed, indicated his inferiority, should, when their real meaning was lost, be quoted to prove his equality and even his identity with God.” �The First Book of Maccabees. o/j THE FIRST BOOK OF MACCABEES. II. Of all the historical books in the Septuagint, none is so thoroughly authentic as the first book of Maccabees. But this book is remarkable in other respects. It relates the war of extermination against the Jews, undertaken by Antiochus Epiphanes, and which called forth a glorious resistance, which ended in establishing the independence of Judea under the Maccabaean dr Asmonsean princes ; an independence which lasted from b.c. 165 to B.c. 63. It is admitted by the late Dean Alford and others that some of the events recorded in -first Maccabees are referred to by the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews, where (xi., 34-38) he alludes to those who' “ out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens,” and also to those who “ were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might ■obtain a better resurrection,” and those who “were slain with the sword,” and “ wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.” Other writers extend this reference. M. Ferdinand Hitzig, Professor of Exegesis in the University of Zurich, in his 11 Commentary on the Psalms,” 1836, holds that Psalms 1, 2, 74-150 were composed during the Maccabsean period of Jewish history. Dr Wm. Smith (“ New Testament History,” p. 38), says, “ It has been commonly supposed that the Psalter contains compositions of the Maccabaean date.” This supposition is strongly borne out by the internal ■evidence to it contained in the second, seventy-fourth, seventy-ninth, and one-hundred-and-tenth Psalms, which clearly refer to some person who was both a successful general and the anointed high priest and governor of the Jews, which no Jew ever was prior to the time of Judas Maccabaeus. And we are informed expressly (1 Maccabees iv. 24), that it was on the oc­ casion when Judas gained a victory over Antiochus’ general, Gorgias, that the psalm was sung which stands �28 Our First Century. numbered one hundred and thirty-six in our collection : “ 0 give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever.” Moreover, we are told, 1 Maccabees, i. 56, that, during the war of extermination, the soldiers of An­ tiochus, “ when they had rent in pieces the books of the law which they found, they burned them with fire?’ And, when Judas had repulsed the armies of Antiochus, and had turned the frustrated war of extermination into a successful war for independence, we are told, 2 Maccabees, ii. 14, that “ Judas gathered together all those things that were lost by reason of the war we had, and they remain with us.” From these statements it is very probable that Judas Maccabteus, either in person or by deputy, was the editor of the extant Hebrew canon ; and as he perished in battle, b.o. 161, that canon cannot be much older than that date. But here a question arises, namely, By what means did Judas “ gather together” the materials for his work of compilation ? Of this circumstance we have not any account. Can it be that Judas compiled the ex­ tant Hebrew canon from the septuagint version ? At all events, there has not yet been found any inscription, in the Hebrew square character, of earlier date than the time of Judas. THE SECOND BOOK OF ESDRAS. III. But by far the most remarkable of the so-called apocryphal books, once contained in the Septuagint, is the book known in our “ Authorised Version ” as The Second Book of Esdras. It is not now comprised in the extant Septuagint; but it must once have been; because it exists in the Latin version, or Vulgate, and because Clement of Alexandria, Stromata iii. 16, § 100, quotes the book as the work of “ the prophet Ezra.” Much disputation has taken place regarding the date of this book. Some place it in the time of Julius �The Second Book of Esdras. 29 Ciesar, who perished, b.c. 44, while others assign the book to the time of Domitian, who perished a.d. 96. So far as regards the argument contained in this tract, all the dates attributed to the second book of Esdras, between b.c. 44 and a.d. 96, are equally unim­ portant. But the doctrines set forth in it are very re­ markable. As in the received New Testament, so in Second Esdras, anticipations of happiness, viii. 52-55, &c., are clouded by forebodings, xiv. 10, of the world’s senility. Over and over again, vii. 70, viii. i, 3, &c., &c., we are told that blessedness is reserved for only ££ very few.” After predicting miseries, the writer tells us (vii. 26-35) that “ the bride shall appear,” and “ my son Jesus shall be revealed with those that be with him, and they that remain shall rejoice with him four hundred years. After these years shall my son, Christ, die, and all men that have life. And the world shall be turned into the old silence seven days. . . .' and after seven days the world .... shall be raised . . . and the earth shall restore those that are asleep . . . and the Most High shall appear upon the seat of judg­ ment, and misery shall pass away,” &c., &c. But these predictions are followed by the gloomy consideration that the passing away of misery shall be enjoyed only by a few, ix. 7, 8 : ££ Every one that shall be saved, and shall be able to escape by his works, and by faith, where­ by ye have believed, shall be preserved from the said perils, and shall see my salvation in my land, and with­ in my borders ; for I have sanctified them for me from the beginning.”* Adam is reproached, vii. 48, &c. : ££ 0 thou Adam, what hast thou done ? for though it was thou that sinned, thou art not fallen alone, but we all that come of thee ! ” In short, all the Pauline and other New Testament doctrines are set forth in the second book of Esdras, except the doctrine of atone* Observe that here we have the discordant doctrines of justification by works and justification by faith, afterwards developed by James, ii. 24, and Paul, Romans iii. 28. �30 Our First Century. ment by the human sacrifice of Jesus. That doctrine was taught by the author of Daniel, who wrote during the war of extermination, b.c. 168 to 164. He says, ix, 26, “ Messiah shall be cut off, but not for himself.” So that, in the middle of our second century, when the compilers of our New Testament took in hand the for­ mation of a New Testament canon, they had all the doctrines therein contained ready made for them in the edition of the Septuagint then extant. This fact, therefore, cuts away completely the ground under the feet of those who assert that the compilers of our New Testament wrote under the influence of divine inspira­ tion ; for there is not any necessity to require the inter­ vention of Divine Providence to account for a number of men having written doctrines which, as we have seen, had been already conceived and committed to writing. EARLY CHRISTIAN METHOD OF EXPLAINING THE OLD TESTAMENT, AND COMPILING THE NEW TESTAMENT. So early in the history of the Christian Church at the period of its maturity as the time of Clemens Alexandrinus, a.d. 200, it was found impossible, from our four gospels, to determine exactly the number of years during which Jesus exercised his ministry before his crucifixion. Recourse was therefore had to our Old Testament for a solution of the difficulty. Isaiah, in a well known passage (lxi. 2) states that Jehovah had anointed him, amongst other things, “ to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” Although Jesus never was anointed, yet the writer of our third gospel (iv. 18, 19) makes him quote that passage, and apply it to himself. So the word “ year ” in that passage was held by Clement, Strom., 1, and Origen, Prin., 4, 5, as an authoritative and satisfactory solution of the difficulty : that Jesus’ ministry lasted only one year. Such a method of ascertaining a historical fact in the narratives �Early Christian Methods. 31 of our New Testament is characteristic, not only of theearly fathers, but also of the writers who compiled our four gospels. While each of these four writers gives us an account of Jesus very different from the other three, yet, when relating an incident in the life of Jesus, they all try to show, by allegory or otherwise, that the incident in question was either predicted or lay enveloped in some prophecy, some story, or even some ceremonial law contained in our Old Testament. Thus, speaking of the Jewish nation, Isaiah (liii. 4) said, “surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.” The writer of our first gospel (viii. 16, 17) says, “when the even was come, they brought unto him many that were possessed with devils; and he cast out the spirits with his word, and healed all that were sick: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias, the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bore our sicknesses;” as if Jesus absorbed into his own person the physical maladies of those whom he cured ! Again, Isaiah xi. 1, says that “there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch (netser) shall grow out of its roots that is the Messiah shall be a netser of the house of Jesse. So, the writer of our first gospel (ii. 23) says that Joseph, accompanied by Jesus and his mother, “ came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.” Here the Hebrew word netser for the appellative noun branch was taken as the type of the town Nazareth ! * This combination is preposterous in the extreme; but the passage also contains incidentally a curious indica­ tion that the writer of our first Gospel was not an inhabi­ tant of Palestine. He says that Joseph “ dwelt in a city called Nazareth ; ” plainly indicating that neither the writer nor his readers knew Palestine except at second hand ; for an inhabitant of the country would not write in such a vague manner. Let the reader * See Kalisch on Leviticus, vol. i. 148. �32 Our First Century. imagine an-inhabitant of England stating that the sub­ ject of his memoir “ dwelt in a city called Chester.” Again, the writer of Exodus (xii. 46) when giving di­ rections regarding the sacrifice of the paschal lamb, says, “ neither shall ye break a bone thereof.” So, the writer of our fourth gospel says that when the soldiers came to Jesus, on the cross, and saw he was dead already, “ they brake not his legs,” and adds (xix. 36) that “ these things were done that the scripture should be fulfilled, A bone of him shall not be broken/ So that a ceremonial law, according to this writer, was a type of Jesus ! Such fantastical adaptations of passages in the Old Testament to incidents in the life of Jesus were sure to create obscurities and contradictions in the histories of him. Each of our evangelists describes Jesus from a particular point of view, and none of them endeavour to give us a complete account of his whole life. Yet we have New Testament writings of various kinds giving accounts, not only of his whole fife, but also of what he did when he descended into Hades : an event which is alluded to more than once in our New Testa­ ment. Still this want of an intelligible, connected, and complete history of Jesus is a source of incurable uncertainty to any one who attempts to write his life. There is not any extant model of him with which we can compare the improbable and jarring incidents re­ lated concerning him. Moreover, our four gospels, relating almost exclusively to the short period of his ministry,—“ the acceptable year of the Lord,”—give only a very imperfect account of him. It is remarkable that none of our evangelists, nor the so-called apocry­ phal evangelists attempt to describe Jesus. They do not appear ever to have seen him. To our evangelists Jesus was a “mystery,” “a hope,” “a wandering voice,”— “ Still longed for, never seen! ” In the present day, therefore, all that can be done is �A Complete Life offesus. 33 to “gather together,” like Judas Maccabeeus, the prin­ cipal incidents in the life of Jesus, according as they are related in the various extant New Testament writings. It will be seen that the incidents in all those writings are equally improbable. A COMPLETE LIFE OF JESUS. Jesus, a Jewish carpenter, (Mark vi. 3), was born (Luke iii. 23) about Olympiad 195, 1. His father, Joseph, (Protevangeleon viii. 8), was also a carpenter of Nazareth in Galilee. Being warned by an angel, Joseph fled with Jesus and his mother Mary to Egypt, where {Infancy, iv. 3, 6,13,22) on their entrance the idols of Egypt fell down. When returning to Judea the family fell among robbers, of whom the chief were Titus and Dimachus. The former wished to let the family pass unmolested ; but the latter objected, whereupon (viii. 6, 7,) Jesus pro­ phesied that at the end of thirty years he and the two thieves would be crucified, and that the thief, Titus, should go before him into Paradise. St Bartholomew, (xi.), when a child and sick, was cured miraculously by being laid on Jesus’ bed. Judas Iscariot, (xiv.j, when a boy, being possessed by Satan and brought into the presence of Jesus to be cured, tried to bite Jesus, and, because he failed, he struck Jesus on the * right side, and in the same moment Satan went out of Judas, and ran away like a mad dog. The same side of Jesus which had been struck the Jews pierced with a spear. By means of miracles (xvi.) Jesus aided his father, Joseph, at his carpenter’s work. Simon, the Canaanite, (xviii.), when a boy, and bitten by a serpent, was cured miraculously by Jesus. Joseph (xix.) having sent his son James to gather wood, the latter was bitten by a venomous viper, but was cured miraculously by Jesus. Also (xx.) Jesus being sent to school to one Zaccheus, so astonished the master that he told Joseph that Jesus was more learned than any master. * 1 c �34 Our First Century. So Joseph and Mary brought Jesus to another master ■who, when Jesus refused to name the letters proceeded to flog him ; but as soon as the master raised his hand it withered, and he died. When Jesus was twelve years old (xxi.) his parents brought him to Jerusalem to the passover, and when the feast was over they re­ turned ; but Jesus continued behind in the temple among the doctors, and elders, and learned men of Israel, to whom he proposed several questions, and also gave answers. He quoted our one hundred and tenth psalm to prove that the Messiah was the lord of David; * he explained to them the books of the law, * This Psalm, ex., has misled not only the writer of “The Infancy,” but also Matthew, xxii. 44, Mark xii. 36, Luke xx. 42, and the writers of Acts ii. 34, and Hebrews i. 13. Yet, when examined with care and skill, it can be shown to be a psalm singularly inapplicable to David: neither written by him, nor addressed to him. I. Por Melchisedec was not a Jew, and consequently neither David nor any other Jew could be a priest according to the order of Melchisedec, but only according to the order of Aaron. II. The oath of Jehovah (verse 4) shews that the priesthood in question had been denied, and must be asserted by force of arms against hostile kings. What did foreign kings care about the priesthood of David, or of his successors ? What those kings, alluded to in the text of Psalm ex., contended against was the Melchisedecian character of a priest: that is to say his royal dignity. But before the captivity the kings of the Jews were not strictly priests. The case of Uzziah (2 Chron- xxvi. 16-21,) is decisive on this point. Moreover, it is a well known fact that the Jewish priests never were kings. The union men­ tioned in verse 4 first took this form under the Maccabees, who were styled etlinarclis or princes, not kings (basileis), when Priest Jonathan (1 Mace. ix. 30, &c.,) exercised the highest civil power, while at the same time he was high priest. The Maccabees were first priests and afterwards princes ; and to the Maccabees (Philo De Legations, § 26,) the royal power appeared less important than the priestly. III. Originally the Maccabees were priests, not princes ; and, therefore, the oath in this psalm, making the priest a prince, and a priest according to the order of Melchisedec, exalts the subject by making him a priest-prince. �A Complete Life of fetus. 35 and the mysteries which, are contained in the boots of the prophets—things which the mind of no creature could reach; ” he explained all the motions of the heavenly bodies ; and he explained the sciences of physics and metaphysics. Jesus having made twelve sparrows of clay on the Sabbath-day {Thomas i.) gave them life, and the sparrows flew away. “Another time (ii. 7-9,) Jesus went forth into the street, and a boy, running by, rushed upon his shoulder; at which Jesusi being angry, said unto him, Thou shalt go no further, -and he immediately fell down dead.” When he was about thirty years old (Justin Martyr’s “ Dialogue with Trypho,” Luke iii. 21-23,) “Jesus came to the river Jordan, where John was baptizing, and when he went down to the water, a fire was kindled in the Jordan;” and “being baptized, and praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape like a dove upon him; and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou art my beloved son, in thee I am well pleased.” Shortly after his baptism Jesus entered on his public ministry, the events of which are recorded fully in our four gospels. The only new doctrine he preached was, that he, Jesus, was the Christ who was to save Israel; and he proved the truth of his doctrine by his miracu. lous exploits, which he is related {Matthew xi. 5,) to IV. In Psalm cviii. the conquest of Gilead and Moab is first mentioned. And the connexion of Psalm ex. with Psalms cviii. and cix. Hitzig considers to be not accidental. V. Lastly the writer of Psalm ex. has not a full command of the language, as is shown by his unnecessarily repeating the same terms ; and the post-Babylonian origin of the psalm is clearly indicated by the words “mishchar” and “yaldutheka,” the latter is first found in Ecclesiastes, and the former is a late formation. The two words (the former in a slightly modi­ fied form) are found in Ecclesiastes xi. 10, with which Hitzig considers Psalm ex. to be evidently connected. Once admitted to be posterior to the captivity, the psalm must necessarily belong to the Maccabean period, as it pre-supposes independent Jewish rulers ((who were also priests) at Jerusalem. �$6 Our First Century. have enumerated thus : “ The blind receive their sight,, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hearr the dead are raised, and the poor have the gospelpreached to them.” These exploits were supposed tohave been predicted by Isaiah (xxxv. 5,6; Ixi. 1.) But after some time, at the instigation of the Jews,, the Roman governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate, crucified Jesus and the two thieves, whom Nicodemus, in his gospel, calls Gestas and Dimas. * Upon that occasion, “about the sixth hour, darkness was upon the face of the whole earth until the ninth hour. And while the sun was eclipsed, behold the veil of the temple was rent from the top to the bottom; and the rocks also were rent, and the graves opened, and many bodies of" saints which slept arose.' And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama zabacthani, which being interpreted is, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? {Psalm xxii. 1), And after these things Jesus said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;! {Psalm xxxi. 5), and having said this he gave up the ghost.” See Nicode­ mus viii. 1-4; Matthew xxvii. 46-53; Luke xxiii. 46. Being dead and buried, Jesus {Nicodemus, xvi., xvii., and x-viii.) proceeded to the gates of Hades, whereupon a voice of thunder proclaimed, “ Lift up your gates, O ye princes; and be ye lifted up ye ever­ lasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in.” {Psalm, xxiv., 7, Septuagint.') Jesus then entered Hades, delivered Adam, David, and all the ancient patriarchs, saints, and righteous men, and “trampling * According to Christians these differences of the thieves’ names prove the gospels of the Infancy and Nicodemus to be spurious ; while the differences in the names of the twelve apostles {Matthew x. 3; Mark iii. 18; Luke vi. 15; Acts i. 13,) are not of any consequence ! ! + According to our unique fourth gospel (xix. 28,) the last words of Jesus were different from these. But Nicodemus, “ Matthew,” and Luke, constitute a majority of three to one against “ John ! ” �A Complete Life of "Jesus. 37 ■on Death, seized the prince of Hades (Beelzebub), and deprived him of all his power,” except that Jesus made Satan subject to Beelzebub, “ in the room of Adam and his righteous sons.” These events are alluded to in Ephesians iv., 8-10, where the writer says, “When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men. (Psalm Ixviii. 18.) Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth ? He that descended is the same also that ascended far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.” -See also 1 Peter iii. 19, 20, and 2 Timothy i. 10, where Jesus is said to have “abolished death.” After having done all that was necessary in “ the lower parts of earth,” Jesus rose from the grave on the 8th of April, a.d. 30. (See Dr William Smith’s “ New Testament History,” page 292.) He remained on earth, somewhere or other, for a period of forty days, during which time, according to Nicodemus (x. 23), he shewed himself to his disciples. This agrees with the account in our fourth gospel, while our first gospel (xxvi. 32, xxviii. 10) extends the interviews of Jesus to his brethren. While again (1 Cor. xv. 6) Paul extends those interviews to “ above five hundred brethren at once ! ” Of these five hundred there is not any mention made in our gospels, nor do the writers indicate any idea of such a number of brethren. When the forty days were ended (Luke xxiv. 33, 36, 42, 43) Jesus stood in the midst of the eleven apostles (Judas Iscariot being dead), and those that were with him at Jerusalem, and “ he did eat a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb,” and (50) “ he led them out as far as Bethany, and he lifted up his hands and blessed them. And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.” It should be observed here that the “ heaven” of both the ancient Jews and Greeks was a revolving brazen vault rising out of ocean at the horizon, with a trap-door in �38 Our First Century. it to let its inhabitants down and up again. Thus (Iliad, viii. 391-6), speaking of Here and Pallas, the author of our Iliad says, “ Here with the lash urged on the steeds speedily. The self-opening portals of heaven creaked, which the Hours held in charge, to whom are entrusted the great heaven and Olympus, either to open the dense cloud, or to close it. Then through these they guided their goaded steeds.” The reader can compare this passage with Genesis xxviii. 17, where Jacob, after dreaming, thought he had found “the gate of heaven.” Jesus, then, having ascended through the aforesaid gate or trap-door into “heaven,” the book of Acts opens with Peter occupying the chief place among the Apostles. • This agrees with our first gospel, xvi. 16-19. In that book, Peter is not supplanted by John, as in/mr fourt11 gospel. But before many years {Acts xiii-xxviii.), both Peter and John were far outshone by Paul (a.d. 45-63), who became the real author of Christianity as it is held by Unitarians. Paul was at first a persecutor of the Christians ; but while going to Damascus with a force to seize on some of those sectaries, about a.d.’ 31, he was surrounded with a supernatural light {Acts ix., xxii., and xxvi.), which swallowed the brightness of the noon-day sunj and struck to the earth Paul and his small retinue of armed men. But although the only person among them who was blinded by that light was Paul, yet he was the only person who, amidst that stunning light, beheld the glorified Jesus, and heard him say, “ Saul 1 Saul! why persecutest thou Me ? ” Paul, although he had never seen or heard Jesus previously, at once recognised him, and asked “ Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? ” To shorten a long story, related in an utterly conflieting manner in Acts, Galatians, and Romans, Paul now steps into the foreground of this miraculous and mythical history (a.d. 45), and becomes the real fashioner of Christianity into a self-consistent doctrinal �A Complete Life of fesus. 39 form,—a task not performed by Peter, John, or even Jesus himself. Moreover {Romans xv. 19), Paul spread Christianity from. Jerusalem, through Asia Minor, through part of Greece, Rome, and Illyricum. “ From Jerusalem, and round about unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the gospel.” These words are sup­ posed to have been written about a.d. 60. Doubtless, the writer meant that Paul had not only preached the gospel in those places, but that he had preached it suc­ cessfully ; that he had made vast numbers of converts, and had founded thriving churches throughout the wide circuit of his apostolical labours and journeys. And this is confirmed by a statement supposed to have been written by Tacitus (Annals, xv. 44), that when Nero persecuted the Christians, a.d. 64, “ the confessions of those who were seized discovered a great multitude of their accomplices.” Yet, according to Chrysostom (Opera, vii. 658), after Christianity had enjoyed the sunshine of imperial favour more than sixty years (a.d. 370), the Christians in Rome did not exceed a fifth part of its inhabitants ! While, ’according to Basil and Gregory of Nyssa (before mentioned, p. 15), about a.d. 250, the extensive diocese , of Neo Caesarea contained only seventeen believers ! Thirty-nine years elapsed between the supposed imprisonment of Paul at Rome and the termination of our first century. During that period we know literally nothing about the history of the Christian Church, or of the Apostles. It is a period of complete darkness, in the supposed history of the Christian Church. We have not any historical evidence concerning even the existence of the Christian Church until it emerges into light, amidst a whirlwind of controversy, about the time of Justin Martyr, who was put to death about a.d. 165. Mosheim (Church History, century 1, part ii., ch: ii., § 3), says, “Many have undertaken to write the history of the apostles,—a history full of fables, doubts, and difficulties.” �40 Our First Century OUR NEW TESTAMENT. It is quite evident that the writers of our New Tes­ tament were neither pure Jews nor heathens. They neither rejected our Old Testament nor received it literally as orthodox Jews would. Those writers were not wholly ignorant of Jewish laws and customs, nor were they well acquainted with them. In our fourth gospel (i. 29), Jesus is called “ the lamb of God that taketli away the sin of the world.” But under the dispensation contained in our Old Testa­ ment a lamb never was appointed for a sin offering. There was not any such offering except one, namely, the scapegoat, and (Lev. iv. and Num. xv.) that offer­ ing atoned only for sins of ignorance. Thus while the Grecian idea of the atoning victim (hiereion) was that it atoned for every offence, the so-called Mosaic idea was that, the victim—and only the scapegoat—atoned only for sins of ignorance (agnoemata). Some writers have endeavoured to refer this lamb of the fourth gospel to the “ lamb ” mentioned in Isaiah liii. 7. But in that passage Jehovah’s servant is com­ pared not only to a lamb but also to a sheep. There are other passages in that chapter which are very inconsistent with what our New Testament tells us concerning Jesus. He had not any children, and, therefore (verse 10), he could not see his seed. Jesus was put to death when he was about thirty years of age, and, therefore, he could not be said to “ prolong his days.” Jesus is said to be identical with the God of the Christians. Therefore if (verse 12) “he made intercession for transgressors,” the intercession must have been made to some God who is not the God of the Christians ; because Jesus could not make interces­ sion to himself. The fact is, that the whole of that passage does not relate to Jesus but to Israel; and through love of allegory and ignorance of the Pentateuch, the writer of �Our New Testament. 4i our fourth gospel confounded the paschal lamb with the scapegoat. These are mistakes which might be naturally expected to have been made by men, who, in the words of Faustus, were half Jews. It is remarkable, moreover, that the writers of our New Testament were unable to make Jesus improve on the precept (Lev. xix. 18), “Thou shalt love thy neigh­ bour as thyself.” On the contrary (Matt. xxii. 39, Bom. xiii. 9, Gal. v. 14, Jas. ii. 8), Jesus, Paul, and James avow that all the Mosaic law is fulfilled by the observance of that precept. This proves that the founders of Christianity were defective in point of originality, and that they copied almost every thing from the Septuagint. In fact, from what has been said, it is more than probable that our New Testa­ ment is a philosophical romance inculcating doctrines compounded of Neoplatonism, JEgypto-Jewish philo­ sophy, Bacchic doctrines derived from the Eleusinian mysteries, and Septuagint theology, thought out at Alex­ andria, after the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, a.d. 70. As has been already shown, the narratives contained in our New Testament are ignored utterly by all extant contemporary writers, and by evidence of every kind; and its theology is to be found in the Septuagint. All extant New Testament writings,— the apocry­ phal as well as the canonical,—are written some in Syriac, some in Coptic, and most of them in Alexan­ drine Greek. But none of them are written in Hebrew. This is a remarkable fact. It points to Egypt, not Palestine, as being the birth-place of Christianity. * * Gibbon (“Decline and Fall,” ch. xv.) says that Chris­ tianity “was at first embraced by great numbers of the Therapeutse, or Essenians of the lake Mareotis, a Jewish sect which had abated much of its reverence for the Mosaic cere­ monies. The austere life of the Essenians, their fasts and excommunications, the community of goods, the love of celi­ bacy, their zeal for martyrdom, and the warmth, though not the purity, of their faith already offered a very lively image of the primitive discipline. It was in the school of Alexandria �42 Our First Century. There was, indeed, a tradition in the Christian Chnrch that our first gospel was written in Hebrew; but there is not any evidence proving that any one ever saw that Hebrew gospel. That the Jews spoke a language different from Greek we know from Josephus (“Wars of the Jews,” v. 9, § 2), who tells us that Titus, when ready to attack the Jews in their last intrenchment, “ not only proceeded earnestly in the siege, but did not omit to have the Jew’s exhorted to repentance.” And “he entreated them to surrender the city, now in a manner already taken, and thereby to save themselves, and he sent Josephus to speak to them in their own language; for he imagined they might yield to the persuasion of a countryman of their own.” In the time of Titus, it was as fashionable among the Bomans to understand Greek as it W’as to speak good Latin. Consequently, if the Jew’s understood Greek, Titus had not any occasion to send Josephus to speak to them. But if the Jew’s understood only Syro-Chaldee, then we can easily under­ stand why Titus “sent Josephus to speak to them in their own language.” that the Christian theology appears to have assumed a regular and scientifical form ; and when Hadrian visited Egypt, he found a church composed of Jews and of Greeks, sufficiently important to attract the notice of that inquisitive prince. But the progress of Christianity was for a long time confined within the limits of a single city, which was itself a foreign colony; and, till the close of the second century, the predecessors of Demetrius were the only prelates of the Christian church. Three bishops were consecrated by the hands of Demetrius, and the number was increased to twenty by the hands of his successor Heraclas. The body of the natives, a people dis­ tinguished by a sullen inflexibility of temper, entertained the new doctrine with coldness and reluctance ; and even in the time of Origen, it was rare to meet with an Egyptian who had surmounted his early prejudices in favour of the sacred animals of his country. As soon, indeed, as Christianity ascended the throne, the zeal of those barbarians obeyed the prevailing impulsion; the cities of Egypt were filled with bishops, and the deserts of Thebais swarmed with hermits.” �Our New Testament. 43 It is admitted that the writers of our New Testament quote from the Septuagint frequently. It is estimated that there are about three hundred and fifty quotations from the Old Testament in the New, and that of these about three hundred are taken from the Septuagint. This proves that the writers could not have been Pales­ tine Jews; for they would no more quote from the Septuagint than a bigoted Roman Catholic would quote from the authorised English version of the Bible, or than a bigoted Protestant would quote from the Douay version. Not only do the writers of our New Testa­ ment quote from the Septuagint, but one of them, as before mentioned (Hebrews i. 6), actually quotes a verse from the Septuagint (Deuteronomy xxxii. 43),. which is not to be found in the extant Hebrew text. It has been said that they quoted from the Septua­ gint because they wrote for people who spoke Greek; but that could not account for their quoting from the Septuagint where it differs from the Hebrew. Much less could it account for their putting passages from the Septuagint into the speeches of Jesus. This is like making Achilles (see Iphigenia in Aulis) and Ajax (see Aias) deliver speeches in Attic Greek, which had not any existence at the time of the Trojan war. Of course there cannot be any objection to this in a literary point of view. But what should we say if Euripides and Sophocles had asserted that they heard Achilles and Ajax delivering those speeches ? Of course we should regard them as impostors, and their use of the Attic dialect would convict them. Most remarkable of all is the speech of Stephen (Acts vii. 2-53). If the citations in that long defence can be referred to any source, it must be to the Septua­ gint. But the quotations so frequently differ from both the Septuagint and the Hebrew that it is quite evident the writer of that speech was thinking mor'e of argument than of verifying his quotations. Jt is remarkable that the writer, in describing Stephen’s �44 Our First Century. speech, addressed to an assembly speaking SyroChaldee, makes him quote freely from the Septuagint: he might have been as appropriately described speaking Irish ! which, according to Dr Jeffrey Keating, was 11 the gartigarrqn, or original language spoken in the garden of Eden.”* After praising “ the wonderful depth of words ” in the speech, Dean Alford says: “ It is a hardly disputable inference from chapter vi. 9, that Stephen was a Hellenist: his citations and quasi­ citations for the most part agree with the Septuagint version. Hence it seems most probable that he spoke in Greek, which was almost universally understood in -Jerusalem. [Although, as we have seen, Josephus had to speak to the Jews in Syro-Chaldee !] If he spoke in Hebrew (Syro-Chaldaic), then either those passages where the Septuagint varies from the Hebrew text must owe their insertion in that shape to some Greek narrator, or to Luke himself,—or Stephen must have, in speaking, translated them, thus varying, into Hebrew.” What a mass of improbabilities is here presented to us by Dean Alford! Yet, observe, they all vanish if we regard our New Testament as containing fragments of an ethical romance, composed by the Jews of Alex­ andria, after the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus : fragments, because the history of Jesus Christ contained in our New Testament is palpably incomplete. It is impossible to harmonise, our gospel narratives. -On this subject Dean Alford (N. T., vol. i., p. 23) observes correctly : “ If the evangelists have delivered to us truly and faithfully the apostolic narratives, and if the apostles spoke as the Holy Spirit enabled them, -and brought events and sayings to their recollection, then we may be sure that if we knew the real process •of the transactions themselves, that knowledge would ■enable us to give an account of the diversities of narra* See Mr Wm. Pinkerton on “The Irish Harp.” & Q.,” Sept. 1867. “N. �Our New Testament. 45 tion and arrangement which, the gospels now present to ns. But without such knowledge, all attempts to accomplish this analysis in minute detail must he merely conjectural, and must tend to weaken the evan­ gelic testimony rather than to strengthen it.” What an admission from an orthodox commentator ! When we endeavour to identify the scene of the. events related in our New Testament with any of the localities in Palestine, we feel painfully the truth of the maxim which says that geography is one of the eyes of history. Such expressions as “ by the sea,” “ into a mountain,” “ in a desert place,” “into the wilderness,” and the like, too plainly indicate that the narratives contained in our New Testament have their incidents laid in Palestine by writers who never travelled through that country. Concerning the personal appearance of Jesus and his apostles we know nothing whatever. They are names and nothing more. The reader is supposed to know all about them. While the nar­ ratives are pervaded by a caution, a generality, a vague­ ness, an indistinctness, and an abruptness of transition which deprive them of those characteristics which invariably accompany reality, such narratives cannot have originated in Judea or Palestine. A very remarkable feature in our New Testament is the disregard shown by the writers for the observance of the seventh day of the week as a day of rest and holiness. See Mattheiv xii. 12, Mark ii. 23-28, Luke vi. 1-11, John sr. 9-18. Shortly after ,the ascension (Acts xx. 6-7, 1 Cor. xvi. 2, Rev. i. 10, Justin’s “ Apology,” 87, 89) the first day of the week was sub­ stituted for the seventh. Still more remarkable is the virtual abrogation of theMosaic Law by the early Christian Church. Although in our gospels (Matthew v. 17-19, etc.) Jesus is made tosay that he had not come to destroy that code of laws, yet (Acts xv.) shortly after the ascension, and at the first supposed oecumenical council almost the whole �46 Our First Century. Mosaic Law was abrogated, Peter styling it “a yoke which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear.” The only fragments of that “ yoke ” left remaining were abstinence from things strangled and from blood. Even the fornication permitted (Numbers xxxi. 35-41) by that law was abolished. Such proceedings as these prove that our New Testa­ ment was not written by men of an indolent, cere­ monious, and conservative mental temperament, but by men whose genius was active, innovating, and progres­ sive; by men who, recognising the exalted morality (Leviticus xix. 18 and 34) propounded in some of the Cid Testament writings, were yet impatient of formalism, adherence to old abuses and to useless ceremonies. In this respect the contrast between the two Testaments is as strong as that between the mental disposition of the Jews at Jerusalem and at Alexandria. In fact (as before stated at p. 41), it is not within the scope of probability to suppose that our New Testament could have been written by Palestine Jews. A writer in the “ British Quarterly Review ” for July 1871, when noticing Professor Jowett’s translation of the Dialogues of Plato, p. 155-187, shows that the Christian doctrine of hell is identical with that of Plato, who flourished b.c. 398. While, on the other hand’ “ Plato’s heaven is also, to a considerable extent, the heaven of the Revelation. Both are described in very materialistic terms. To this day, the popular notion of heaven is undoubtedy associated with saints in white garments, crowns and thrones of gold and gems, music, brightness, and eternal hallelujahs. One little coin­ cidence between the Platonic and the Apocalyptic account is too remarkable to be omitted. In Plato (p. 110, D.) we are told that, besides silver and gold, heaven is spangled with gems of which earthly gems are but fragments, 1 sardine stones, and also jaspers and emeralds.’ In the fourth chapter of Revelation (ver. 3) we read, ‘ and behold a throne was set in heaven, �Our New Testament. 47 and one sat on the throne. And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone ; and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald? ” If Plato were acquainted with the hell and heaven mentioned in our New Testament five centuries before that collection of writings had any known existence, how can the author of Christianity be styled (2 Tim. i. 10) him “who hath abolished death, and hath brought life and immortality to light through the gospel?” Plato must have acquired his knowledge of our hell and heaven from speculation, or from inspiration, or from some other speculator. There is not any reason for supposing Plato was acquainted with Jewish theology or traditions. The probability is “ that the belief in a penal state of existence after death (so clearly developed in the well-known passage of Virgil, JEn. vi. 735 seg'.), like that of a Last Judgment, had its origin rather in the speculation of mystics, and passed into the popular theology of Christian teachers.” “ Scarcely less remarkable is the coincidence of the four rivers that surround the abode of shades in the under world (Phcedo., p. 112, E.), and the four rivers (Genesis ii. 10-14) that encompassed the ‘Garden of Eden.’ ” When speaking of the martyrs to the Truth who had preceded him, the Jesus of our New Testament (Matt, xxiii. 35, Luke xi. 51) is made to mention the first martyr, Abel, and the last Jewish martyr, “ Zacharias, son of Barachias,” a man who (Josephus’ Wars of the Jews, iv. 5, § 4) was murdered just before the siege of Jerusalem by Titus. This Zacharias was accused falsely by the Zealots “ of a design to betray their polity to the Romans, and of having sent traitorously to Vespasian for that purpose.” But Zacharias “ in a few words confuted the crimes laid to his charge.” “The seventy judges brought in their verdict, that the person accused was not guilty.—choosing rather to die themselves with �48 Our First Century. him than to have his death laid at their doors; here­ upon there arose a great clamour of the Zealots upon his acquittal, and they all had indignation at the judges, for not understanding that the authority that was given to them was but in jest. So two of the boldest of them fell upon Zacharias in the middle of the temple, and slew him.” In our Iliad and Odyssey, and in the Cyclic Poems, we have four editions of Ajax and four of Achilles. In our New Testament we have four editions of Jesus, namely that (i.) in the Apocalypse, where he is a vin­ dictive being; (ii.) that in the Pauline epistles, where Jesus is a benign being; (iii.) that in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, where Jesus is a man who claims to be considered the Christ, although he never was anointed ; and (iv.) that in the Gospel of John, * where Jesus is represented as being the Logos or divine word spoken of by Philo Judaeus. Also in our New Testament we have four editions of the Apostle Peter, namely (i.) that in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, where Peter is represented as the foremost apostle ; (ii.) that in the Pauline epistles, where Paul is represented as Peter’s equal; (iii.) that in the book of 11 Acts,” where LPaul is represented as Peter’s superior; and (iv.) that in the unique fourth gospel, where John is represented as being Peter’s superior ! Can any rational man imagine these various and inconsistent statements to be valid and historical accounts of real human beings ? In conclusion, it should be borne in mind that if we suppose that the writers of our New Testament were Alexandrine Jews, ignorant of Hebrew and Chaldee, that they were ignorant of Palestine localities, that our * The omission of this essential qualification—a qualification, in the words of Burke, “ conspicuous by its absence,”—detects unmistakably “the cloven footat least to every such person as deserves to be called, in the words of Griesbach, emunctioris naris criticus. �Our New Testament. 49 New Testament was written after the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, and that its narrative is a romance, like Xenophon’s Cyropcedia, or the book of Daniel, not a genuine history, then we have a hypothesis which accounts— 1. For the existence in our New Testament of quota­ tions from the Septuagint, even where it differs from the extant Hebrew. 2. For the uniformity of the dialect in our New Testament amidst the variety of styles. 3. For the very imperfect knowledge which the writers exhibit of the laws, manners, and customs of the Palestine Jews. 4. For the mixing of Jewish monotheism and Grecian sacrifice. 5. For the vagueness of the gospel narratives. 6. For the different editions of doctrines and men contained in our New Testament. 7. For the inversion of the triumphant Christ of the Old Testament into the suffering Christ of the New. 8. For the conflicting histories of St Paul in A cts ix, xi. and xiii. and in Galatians i. and ii. and Romans xv. 19. 9. For representing Syro-Chaldee speaking Jews as understanding words such as “ legion, ” “ Peter,” the play on the words pdtra and petros, &c., &c. 10. For the unique identification in our fourth gospel of Philo’s logos with the J ewish christos. 11. For the reception by the Christian Church of our fourth gospel. 12. For the introduction of Plato’s heaven into our Apocalypse. 13. For the prevalence of allegory in our New Testament ; and its application there not only to events, but also to words and ceremonies. 14. For the absence of all notice regarding the inciD �50 Our First Century. dents related in our new Testament narratives by all writers who flourished in Greece, Rome, Egypt, and Palestine between a.d. 1 and a.d. 70. 15. For the constant endeavour to make incidents in our New Testament narratives verify Old Testa­ ment statements and prophecies. 16. For the fragmentary forms of our gospel narra­ tives, forming, as they do, the history of only three or four years of Jesus’ life, or probably only one year. 17. For the principal characters in those narratives being generally assumed as being well known to the reader. 18. For the impossibility of harmonizing the dis­ crepancies in our New Testament narratives. 19. And for the fact that our four gospels are so often and so familiarly quoted by Irenseus, who was Bishop of Lyons a.d. 177, and so rarely, if ever, by preceding writers. Here we have nineteen difficulties solved : difficulties deemed insuperable hitherto. Perhaps there never will be devised a hypothesis which will explain the exact cause, date, circumstances, and method whereby the compilation of our New Testament has been ac­ complished. Scarcely any thing can be more remark­ able than the way in which our New Testament writ­ ings appear silently, as it were, in Christian ecclesiastical literature. At first, they appear in mere glimpses in Justin Martyr, then a little more explicitly in Tatian, Theophilus, and Athenagoras, until they seem to burst into full recognition in the writings of Irenaeus. That writings of such ecclesiastical merit as those contained in our New Testament, if really so ancient as they are generally supposed to be, should have taken so long a time to work themselves into acceptance by the Christian Church, and to supersede the so-called Apocryphal New Testament writings, is as difficult to believe as it is that the mathematical demonstrations contained in the works �Persecutions. 51 of Sir Isaac Newton could have preceded the compara­ tively crude and inconclusive arguments contained in the writings of Nicholas Copernicus. But the truth is that there is not any evidence whatever that Christi­ anity existed in any shape during the first seventy years of our first century. Even the existence of synods or councils cannot be shewn to have taken place during our first century. Both Mosheim ^Institutes, century ii., part ii. chapter ii. § 3), and Mr Charles J. Hefele (“ History of the Christian Councils,” p. 17, translated and edited by Mr Wm.R. Clarke), admit that there is not any trace of synods or councils during our first century. Mosheim’s words are that “ conventions of delegates from the several churches assembled for deliberation, were called by the Greeks, synods, and by the Latins, councils ; and the laws agreed upon in them were called canons or rules. These councils, of which no vestige appears before the middle of this century, changed * nearly the whole form of the church.” And though Hefele thinks that the earliest synods—the first council was that of Nice, a.d. 325—were those held in Asia Minor, on the appearance of Montanism, about the middle of the second century, yet he cannot give these synods definite times and places, and he admits (p. 79) that “ the dates of these synods is nowhere exactly pointed out.” The earliest synod he appears to have succeeded in finding is that of Alexandria, held in the year a.d. 231. That Alexandria should have been the place where the first Christian synod assembled is re­ markable. PERSECUTIONS. But it would be an error to suppose that the exploits of Jesus and his immediate followers formed the subject of all the romances written by the primitive Christians. Vulgar vanity delights to dwell on the contemplation of its real or imaginary sufferings. In the hour of * i.«., the second century. �52 Our First Century. triumph it is delightful to trample on the descendants of those who oppressed our ancestors. Ten persecu­ tions of the primitive Christians by the Roman em­ perors are enumerated by the Christian fathers, namely, those under Nero, a.d. 64; under Domitian, a.d. 95; under Trajan, a.d. 106 ; under Marcus Aurelius, a.d. 166; under Maximin, a.d. 235 ; under Decius, a.d. 250; under Valerian, a.d. 258; under Aurelian, a.d. 275 ; and under Diocletian and Maximinian, a.d. 303. It is with only the first three of these persecutions that this tract has any concern. It has been shown already that Nero had not any Christians to persecute, because he perished a.d. 68, before the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, and, con­ sequently, before Christians had any real existence. Eusebius is the only authority for the persecution under Domitian. Between these two men there is a gulf of two centuries and a half. Eusebiu-s was notor­ iously defective in judgment, honesty, and accuracy, and his mere statement is not of any value. For the persecution under Trajan there is not any authority except the younger Pliny’s letter, which has been already disposed of. And what has been above brought forward to throw discredit on the Trajan per­ secution is fully corroborated by those legends of Holy Romance which relate that Trajan or Hadrian (no matter which) crucified on Mount Ararat ten thousand Christian soldiers in one day! See “ Decline and Fall,” chapter xvi., note 74. A Christian writer, Sulpicius Severus, who died about a.d. 422, was the first author of the computation which enumerated the celebrated number of ten perse­ cutions. At the same time he seemed desirous of reserving the tenth and greatest persecution for the coming of Antichrist. It is very probable that Sulpi­ cius made the groundwork of his computation tlie ten horns of the Apocalypse, and the ten plagues of TEgypt.' But whatever may be thought concerning the • �Persecutions. 53 authorities here criticised, there is still extant the authority of the intelligent, learned, and candid Origen, who flourished about a.d. 220, and who, by both his experience and reading, was intimately acquainted with tiie history of the Christians. He declares explicitly that the number of Christians put to death for their religion was inconsiderable. (See the tract “ Against Celsus,” book iii., p. 116.) His words rendered into English are, “ Those who have been put to death on account of Christian godliness are comparatively few, and very easily counted.” In short, it may be concluded safely that the Chris­ tian religion was invented by Alexandrine Jews to supply more wants than one, namely, the want of the daily sacrifice in the temple at Jerusalem, taken away by the destruction of that city by Titus—-the want of an explanation for Jehovah’s non-interference on behalf of his chosen people—the want of an explanation for the absence of the triumphant Christ at the expected time—and the want of grounds for hoping that the triumphant Christ will yet appear. The supply of these wants attracted naturally those Alexandrine Jews, who were neither pure Jews nor heathens. The manu­ facture of the Christian narratives, when “ nailed with Scripture” from the Septuagint, did not offer any critical difficulty to Alexandrine Jews seventeen cen­ turies ago. That which was desired earnestly was believed easily. The obscurity of the real primitive Christians preserved them from persecution. When, about the middle of our second century, they at length attracted attention, their ecclesiastical organisation pre­ served them from destruction. When (a.d. 313) the emperor Constantine took the Christians under his care, the swords of the Homan soldiers spread the Chris­ tian Church over the Roman empire. There is not anything supernatural in all these matters. Although the origin of Christianity has long been hidden in imaginary darkness, yet the eye of Reason can now �54 Our first Century. penetrate that gloom. Christianity is like all other religions ; -it is a tale of thaumaturgies which never did, and the like of which never will take place; because they are forbidden by the inexorable laws of Nature, which are now beginning to be really understood, and which enable the sincere adherents of Truth to say with safety, “we are able to see the light?’ TURNBULL AND SPBARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. 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Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CT104 Subject The topic of the resource Church history Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Our first century), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Church history Conway Tracts https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/12f25f7503eb19697d1cfb0ce77de886.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=Dp%7EGw2Cs6f%7EtkHSm5zOH%7EktpxjiTQrx54psp6hZ-jM5P7eCm9pd00IbqCefyFW0dkTvX%7E0QIBNlwcVlnwNbcnnWbd7NESF9PmdMM4bmqC1wozSM4kLdLm6GNvV8AZMC0acl89LtQeoPPmJnIp4xIu5yFmRFRtSjrDRJCqdwSQIFNxl-0XGO9S009WOHXeqObK6VFlN3%7ECxwNfQh8Kp76yhxLG2Z4aB2QBl1aAD20Qz7U0A2cP4uRPapd21KlMOq2mP9IGKLmu7J4Rtt3TdQ2RiEW3iDAy8PBRuU39%7EcsNQfd4cp2tiMaxKBhdNfcrhbo1T-zvpc3pzzdZXEY-O52VA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 77e0c3fa16d91e4c519faa489bb4eca8 PDF Text Text THE WESTMINSTER AND FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW. JANUARY 1, 1873. Art. I.—Sophokles. 1. Sophokles, erlddrt wnF. W. Schneid ewin. Sechste Avflage, besorgt von A..HKUGK., Berlin. 1871. 2. The Tragedies of Sophocles, with a Biographical Essay. By E. H. Plumptre, M.A. London. 1867. 3. Die Religosen und Sittlichen Vorstellungen des Aeschylos und Sopholdes. Von Gustav Dronke. Leipzig. 1861. 4. Sopholdes und seine Tragodien. Von 0. Ribbeck. Heft 83 in der Sammlung gemeinverstdndlicher wissenschaftlicher Vortrdge. Berlin. 1869. ENGLISH scholarship has not done much for the better J’j understanding of Sophokles. He is not a poet who has taken close hold of the English mind. His works are studied of course in the general university curriculum ; but he has not become a poet often read and oftener quoted as have some of the classic writers. Those who really find in him a source of intellectual delight read his works in a German edition. But of what classical writer may not this be said ? It is very seldom that an English editor has the patience to make a complete presentation of a classical author—to do for him what Professor Munro has done for Lucretius—with that loving study and exhaustive research which characterize the labours of the German editor. So far the case of Sophokles is not single. But perhaps there is no instance of an author of such renown as Sophokles, with so general a con­ sensus of people willing to admit his claims, who has made so little impression upon the majority of cultivated minds. The [Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.J—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I. B �2 Sophokles. reason is that the majority of cultivated people never bring them­ selves under his influence. The English scholar is for the most part satisfied with a textual or critical knowledge: the whole field of classical literature must be hurried through rather than any part explored. And the result of this is scholarship rather than knowledge. Now with many authors this may be sufficient; it cannot be so with all. Homer, for instance, will give up his. beauties in broad and easily taken bands of continuous narrative. . Apart from the necessities of philological studies, which are beside the present question, Homer, like Chaucer, is easy reading. Those that run may read the alto rilievo of the Iliad or Odyssey. But before a group of statuary you must stand. And the difficulty is that the intellectual life of the present day does not admit of long standing. The progress of science and the march of new ideas are continually urging on the student mind. And to almost all the doubt must occasionally present itself, Is it worth while to spend this time before these works of ancient art? . Now, whatever the answer to this question may be, it is certain that the. secret of Sophokles cannot be won without loving and leisurely study. For in his works exists the highest form of one species of art; and that an art which will yield its essence to no hurried student. It is a significant circumstance that few English translations of the works of Sophokles have been attempted. The version of Mr. Plumptre is the fourth of its kind. Those that have preceded it are of little importance. It is true that no author suffers more from translation than Sophokles : but that is the least element in the unpopularity of his dramas amongst English readers. The reader unacquainted with the Greek language may yet be fascinated by the “ tale of Troy divine in the musical and monotonous lines of Pope, or the inadequate interpretations of Cowper and Lord Derby : he may even, if.he be a Keats, find his vision dazzled by the misty prospect which he catches of the vast Homeric continent; but he is not at all likely to be charmed with Sophokles. To understand Sophokles one must place oneself in the intellectual position of ^n average Athenian of the time of Perikles. Mr. Galton says : “ The * average ability of the Athenian race is, on the lowest possible estimate, very nearly two grades higher than our own—that is, about as much as our race is above that of the African negro? The average English reader, therefore, whose knowledge of Sophokles is derived from Mr. Plumptre’s very creditable version, will probably lay down the book without any extraordinary interest in the subject. He will miss the plaintive clink and Hereditary Genius,” p. 3&2. �Sophokles. - 3 jingle of subjective sentimentality which he has been accustomed to associate with poetry, and he will probably wonder at the renown of the poet. But the earnest student of Sophokles will find in the original enough to reward him. His mind will be strengthened by the contemplation of perfect types of character, bold, severe, and beautiful. He will pass .into a gallery of statuary where he will see sights that can never leave his inner eye. Serene faces, familiar, yet unusual in their lofty humanity, will look down upon him •, voices, more divine than human, though rising from the depths of the human heart, will speak to him, and his ears will be filled with a holy and awful music. The best guides to the higher knowledge of Sophokles are the German works whose titles are given at the head of the present * paper. Schneidewin’s edition is known to students of Sophokles ; so ought also to be the essay by G. Dronke, snatched from his friends and from literature by an all too early death. Dr. Bib­ beck’s paper, though short, is a concise estimate of the extant dramas, and is written in a genial and scholarly style. The present essay is an attempt to connect the works of Sophokles with the periods of the poet’s life, and to point out the chief dramatic characteristics of the several plays. It was in the year 469 before our era, at the spring festival of the greater Dionysia, that Athens saw the first trilogy of Sophokles. The city was then full of new life ; it was the charmed period when future greatness lay in bud, and not yet in blossom. The terror of the Persian had been changed into an immortal memory, and Athens was winning for herself the hegemony of more than the Grecian race. This spring festival had drawn many strangers to the city. The islands had not yet learned to dread her power or doubt her justice, and sent their loyal visitors to join in her rejoicing. Two days of the festival had already passed, and a trilogy or rather tetralogy had been presented each day. One was the work of Aeschylus, for fourteen years the master of the Athenian stage. Upon the third day a trilogy by a new poet was presented. What thi^work really was is uncertain; it has, however, been inferred from a passage in Pliny, that one drama was the Triptolemus. It was a subject that had never before been chosen for the stage, but it was well adapted to win favour at Athens at the present time. Already the city had conceived the design of * No writer upon the life of Sophokles can forget the obligation which he is under to Gotthold Ephraim Lessing—Mr. Plumptre most unaccountably (p. xxii.) calls him Gottfried Lessing—whose splendid fragment of a ‘‘Life ot Sophokles ” remains to show later writers what the great German critic might have done in this direction. B 2 �4 Sophokles. uniting under a central power the scattered members of the Ionian race, and the confederacy of Delos was in part a realization of her desire. In the subject which he chose, Sophokles would have an opportunity of idealizing the national aspiration. Triptolemus was the youthful hero of Eleusis, the herald of agriculture and peace, the friend and host of Demeter. He was a traveller too, and where he lighted from his winged car, he left a blessing of corn and wheat behind him. Thus Sophokles was enabled to depict, as we know from Pliny he did depict, far lands and foreign places, gladdened by the gifts that came from Attica. Whether he fully indicated such a mission for the new Attica we cannot know; he was certainly too wise to miss the op­ portunity altogether. It may well be that this power of repre­ senting the national feeling, formed the distinctive characteristic of the first trilogy of Sophokles; it is at least easier to believe this, than that he surpassed the veteran JEschylus in technical ex­ cellence. There was, however, a large section of the audience, who preferred the JEschylean trilogy. Never, perhaps, in such a cause, had party-feeling run so high. JEschylus was himself from Eleusis; the new writer had won the suffrages of the elder poet’s own townsmen. But the victory was not to be adjudged by popular acclamation. The custom was that ten judges should be elected by lot, one from each tribe. Why the ordinary mode of decision was not retained, it is not easy to ascertain. At any rate the presiding archon Aphepsion did not venture, in the excited state of popular feeling, to follow the ordinary practice, and this accident inaugurated a change in the method of electing the tragic judges. Kimon and his nine colleagues representing the Attic tribes were at this moment the popular heroes. They had but newly returned from their victorious contest with the Persians atEurymedon, and they had brought back from Skyros the bones of Theseus to be laid in Attic soil. Moreover, they had been absent during the preparation of the competing choruses, and, if any, they were free from bias and prejudice Whatever their decision might be, it would be accepted by the Athenians. With happy tact, Aphepsion chose them as judges, and they were at once sworn into the office. Their verdict was for Sophokles. Erom the fact that henceforth only those who had seen service were allowed to adjudge the tragic prizes, we may infer that the decision was both memorable and satisfactory. Such at least seems to be the sentiment with which Plutarch speaks of it : “ eOevto c’ dp fj.v/]jur]v avrov Kai tt)v to>v rpaywcMv Kpiatv ovopacrrrjv ytvoplvriv.” Whether it was the subject, the poetical handling, or the grace and beauty of the principal actor, Sophokles himself, that turned �Sophokles. 5 the scale in favour of the Triptoleinus, we miss the play with regret. The result of the decision was that for many years Sophokles became the favourite actor of the Athenian stage. There is greater importance to be attached to this fact than at first sight appears. It means not only that the successful dramatist was able, to present his views cf art and ethics to the Athenian people ; but that he was able to mould and perfect the form of presentation. Nor must we forget the rival interests of the several tribes as an element of success. The Choragus who had assisted in the pro­ duction of a successful trilogy was rewarded even more than the author. The actors were chosen for the same places in the representations of the ensuing year, and we know that Sophokles not only established a society of the best actors, but also wrote his plays with special reference to their powers and capacities. One success, therefore, was earnest of farther renown, and a stepping-stone to it. The Choragus naturally granted to his successful author more liberty than would be conceded to an untried competitor, and it was this feeling of confidence in the poet, which enabled Sophokles, as it had already enabled .zEschylus, to achieve his ideal of dramatic art upon the stage. But before we pass on to relate the gradual growth of the drama in the hands of Sophokles, it will be well to speak of the young poet in his personal relations to the Athenian people, who had just crowned him with the ivy-chaplet. If tradition is to be believed, he was not unknown to them. He was not born of low or ignoble parents, for in this case the comic stage would have rung with jesting allusions to his parentage. His father, Sophillus, was undoubtedly a man of respectable rank, a knight it may be. Plutarch speaks of Sophokles as a person of good birth, and other writers attribute to him an excellent and complete education. Probably with truth, for it is undoubted that he possessed in a high degree those elegant personal accom­ plishments which were deemed necessary accessories to an Athenian gentleman. As the promising son of a well-known citizen, he would be a youth who claimed attention ; and the story of Athenaeus, which speaks of his surpassing beauty, is a' record of the influence of his boyish grace upon his contem­ poraries. It declares that he of all the Athenian youths, was chosen to lead the choir of boys who danced round the trophies in Salamis, after the defeat of the Persians. Aftertimes gladly recalled the happy coincidence which linked the three great names of Attic tragedy around the memorable victory of Salamis, for Aeschylus fought in the battle, Sophokles led the paean, and Euripides was born on the day of victory, within the fortunate isle. The years which immediately followed the victory formed a bright era in the history of the Athenians. They feared no more �Sophokles. 6 for the barbarian invader, nor, by the prudence of Themistokles, for the treachery of the selfish Spartans. At home there was room in every sphere for the development of genius, and genius was not absent. Under the hands of ./Eschylus the drama was growing towards perfection, and the people built the great stone theatre of Dionysus. A tradition says that ZEschylus was the teacher of Sophokles in the dramatic art: it is most likely he was his teacher only as he was the teacher of every Athenian who had the right to hear his dramas. In this sense, each one of his audience was his pupil, and not with regard to art alone. It was his province to bring the minds of men from the dim religious darkness of old theogonies into a fuller light, though a light by no means so full as it was hereafter to be. Great questions had been asked, and there was none to answer them ; men’s minds were troubled with the inconsequence of virtue and sorrow, and the polytheistic heaven of Homer was dark and silent above them. The leading ideas of the tragedies of Adschylus were the supremacy of Zeus, and the moral order of the Universe. By chains, not always of gold, the world is bound about the throne of Zeus. Vice leads to punishment in this generation, and the next, and the third. Yet no voluntarily pure man can come to ruin : 3’ avdyicaQ arep (Action tiv ovk avoXfioQ ekmv carat. H>vp. 550. The contest of Destiny and Free-will is a mystery which finds its solution only in this moral order. ’ wQpoavvir or moderation is S a conscious voluntary submission to the moral order. Any trans­ gression of the line between Bight and Wrong is vfiptQ, and leads to ruin. It is a disorder of the mind, a disease, a distemper, without expiation and without cure. ZEschylus does not repre­ sent the gods as leading man into the commission of guilt. In the choice between good and evil, man is free. A good deed must be, as an evil one is, dvdyaa^ drtp. No one is punished by the Divine hand without fault of his own. But sin once com­ mitted is followed by a judicial blindness which leads to other and greater guilt. This dangerous downfall is accelerated by means of a divine power known simply as “ Daimon,” or as “ Alastor,” or sometimes “ Ate/’ whose influence may extend to a whole race. This brings us to the subject of “family guilt,” which is frequently a motive in the Greek dramas. The idea that guilt was hereditary sprang from the notion that it was inexpiable. Hence a house fell from one crime to another, until the anger of the gods swept it away root and branch. It is an extension of the primitive “ lex talionis murder brings murder, rvppa TvppaTL rival, and guilt gives birth to guilt. And �Sophokles. 7 what Ate or Alastor is to the individual, that Erinnys is to the family, working it madness and blindness, and involving it deeper and deeper in the slough of crime. /3oct yap Xotyog ILpivvv 7rapa tGjv Trporspov (pQtpevwv drrjv tTEpcw iTrayovaav £7r' dry.—Cho. 402. Yet the individual is free. If he belongs to a doomed raise, then it is true there is in him an hereditary tendency which shall lead him to guilt and ruin, but the decision rests with him­ self. He is not given over to Ate until he has himself been guilty of sin (vj3ptc). In much of this ethical system 2Eschylus has taken and arranged prevailing popular beliefs. By his monotheism, which made Zeus supreme, he attained to the idea of order in the universe. His conception of sin is one which is not alien from some forms of modern thought, and his belief in free-will and individual responsibility, exercised considerable influence upon later philosophy. Sophokles did not remain unaffected by the teaching of his contemporary, though his nature was essentially different. His works are to the works of Aeschylus, as the clear light succeeding to a thunderstorm. He took the gain and added to it. We shall see in what way. Whatever had been the progress made by JEschylus, Sophokles at once perceived that the mechanical and technical appliances of the art, of which he now held supreme command, were by no means perfect. It would be strange if they had been, while the art itself was so young. The old monologue with the chorus as interlocutor, gave place to the drama, when the earlier poet introduced a second actor, and made dialogue possible. But this, it is clear, left room for farther changes. Sophokles availed himself of the opportunity. His first change was the separation of the functions of author and actor. It is said that he took this course for a personal reason, the weakness of his own voice, which could not fill the vast space occupied by his audience. But there was probably another reason also, the feeling namely, that each character would more readily attain to its ade­ quate excellence if separated from the other. He himself did not take any leading character after the appearance of the Triptolemus, but the care with which he trained his actors, testifies to the importance which he attached to this branch of the art. A more significant change was the introduction of a third actor upon the stage. That this improvement was made by Sophokles we have the testimony of Aristotle. It is possible that even earlier, AEschylus may have used three actors, and it is difficult to understand how some of the scenes of his earlier plays �8 Sophokles. could have been represented by two actors only, but the adoption of this number as a permanent feature of each play, is due to Sophokles. Besides these greater changes, no matter of detail escaped him; we learn from the same source that he carefully directed the arrangement of the scenery and the stage. The palace of 2Eschylus, with doors central, right and left, gave place to a more elaborate stage, and much art must have been required in fitting the theatre for the scenery of the (Edipus at Kolonus. Yet the greatest innovation was the mode which Sophokles adopted in treating a subject itself. 2Eschylus wrote his dramas, and treated the subject in the form of a trilogy. When Sophokles abandoned this form of composition, and chose to develop his subject in a single play, it is certain he risked much. But his artistic sense could not err. What the poetical material lost in breadth and depth, it gained in concentration and intensity. It followed, that in the plays of Sophokles first was seen the real spirit of Greek dramatic art, the perfect statuesque poise of form and expression which we have learnt to look upon as the chief characteristic of the Athenian drama. We return to the year of the first victory of Sophokles, from which these improvements have led us. It was a year marked by an event of more importance for mankind than the supremacy of Sophokles, the birth of Sokrates. Herodotus was then a boy of sixteen years, Thukydides an infant of three, and Euripides a child of twelve. Seven years later Perikles rose to the height of his power, and Athens of her glory. This is the date of the appearance of the Oresteian trilogy, a trilogy worthy of JEschylus and of Athens, and the only one we possess. But it unquestion­ ably exhibits marks of the influence of Sophokles. A third actor appears in every play. Three years later fiEschylus died in Sicily, and for the next fifteen years we know nothing of the personal history of Sophokles. History has not much to say even about the silent growth and development of the city under the govern­ ing hands of Perikles, nor is it necessary that much should be said when the memorials are imperishable. At the end of this period, by some caprice of popular taste Euripides was allowed to gain the first prize. The next year Sophokles exhibited his Antigone. It is almost as fatal to an author’s reputation to write too much as it is to write too little. We learn that Sophokles had written one-and-thirty dramas before he composed the Antigone; yet if any of these lost dramas approached at all in majesty or power the thirty-second, which remains to us, we may well lament the irreparable theft of time. Perhaps they, as well as the Antigone, aided in securing the election of Sophokles to a general’s rank. The time at which it was exhibited has not �Sophokles. 9 been fully illustrated by the luminous pen of Thukydides, but some rays of historical light allow us to see the internal political activity of the city. The establishment of a complete democracy by Perikles and Ephialtes was not accomplished without much resistance, and it was difficult to keep aloof from party strife. The conservative or stationary faction, under the leadership of Kimon, drew around them the wealthy Athenians, who saw their oligarchical power passing away with the old order of things. The centre of their union was the Council of the Areopagus, and any change in that institution appeared to them as sacrilege and profanity. But the victorious cause was with their opponents. The Areopagites were stripped of their timehallowed privileges, which were certainly not in Accordance with the spirit of a pure democracy. 2Eschylus had been a vigorous partisan of the conservative party, and took occasion in his Oresteian trilogy to inculcate popular respect for that court and the other decaying institutions whose power Perikles and Ephialtes sought to banish or curtail. And the artistic effect of the poem is lessened by the zeal of the partisan. Muller says with truth, that JEschylus seems almost to forget Orestes in the establishment of the Areopagus and the religion of the Erinnys. Sophokles never forgot that his first duty was to his art. And so far is the above the atmosphere of controversy and dispute which blurred the Eumenides of ^Eschylus, that it was actually claimed by both parties as a witness to their views, and was received by both with un mixed applause. We cannot wonder at it. No play of Sophokles seizes with such over­ mastering power the human heart, no play is so full of noble thought, and in no play is the lyric element so harmoniously blended with the maich of events, accompanying it as with the sound of serene and divine music. The plot is as follows :—Eteokles and Polyneikes have fallen at the gates of Thebes in contest: Eteokles fighting for the Thebans, Polyneikes, with seven great princes, against them. Both brothers perish, and Kreon is made king in the place of Eteokles. At- once he issues a decree that Eteokles shall be buried with due honours, and that the body of Polyneikes shall be left unburied and exposed. When the drama opens, Antigone has just heard of the proclamation of the decree. She therefore suggests to her sister, Ismene, that they should bury the body of their brother. Ismene shrinks from the attempt, and is met by the full scorn of Antigone, who goes forth, daring “ a holy crime.” Shortly the news is brought to Kreon that his authority has been defied, and that rites of sepulture have been performed upon the body. As yet the offender is unknown. But this is soon revealed, and Antigone appears, led in by the guard. A �10 Sophokles. great scene follows, when Antigone appeals to > the divine unwritten laws against human ordinances. Kreon pronounces her doom ; she is to be buried in a living sepulchre—a bloodless but horrible fate, not unknown of old. The action is, however, delayed by the entrance of Hremon, Kreon’s son and Antigone’s affianced husband, who pleads for her. Yet it is not to Kreon’s paternal affection that he appeals, but to the principle which the new king has set before himself—the safety and unanimity of the state. There are already murmurs, indistinct but deep, heard in the city against the severity of the king’s decree. Kreon’s passion and blindness grow more intense as he listens to his son, and before the king’s fiery words Hee mon is driven away, crying that his father shall see his face no more. From the depths of this-darkness the audience are lifted by the strains of the Chorus, who sing, “ Love, ever victor in war and as their music dies away, Antigone is led across the stage to her lingering doom. Again the Chorus waken to music, but it is music in the minor key, and can no longer lighten or delay the growing terror. Teiresias, the blind but infallible prophet, appears, and describes the imminence of the divine anger for Kreon’s crime. His prophetic utterances terrify the king, who hurries to undo the wrong he has committed. In vain. Upon reaching the tomb of Antigone, he finds her hanging dead by her girdle to the vaulted roof, and is in time only to receive the passionate curse of his son, and to witness his self-inflicted death. When Kreon reaches home, bearing the corpse of Haemon, he finds that Rumour, swifter than his laden steps, has already told all to the ears of his wife, and that she has slain herself in anguish and despair. So all the fountains of feeling, young love and parental affection, which can never be long pent up, have broken loose, and are all the more terrible for the unholy obstructions which they have swept away. The character of the chief person, Antigone, stands forth in just and magnificent proportions. All that is beautiful in womanly nature—nay, rather in human nature—shine forth from that supreme ideal, a mind that sees the right, and a soul that dares to do it in the face of death. Never had love and strength been so combined upon the Athenian stage, and the Athenian spectators must have experienced the same feeling in gazing upon that representation as pilgrims did when they were ushered into the presence of the Olympian Zeus of Phidias. We have lost the one? we can still be taught by the other. The heart of man has not ceased to be shaken by the contest which is waged between temporary expediency and selfish interests on the one side, and on the other the unchanging laws of higher duty, for these laws “ are not of to-day, nor of �Sophokles. 11 yesterday, but they live always, and their footsteps are not known.” The secondary characters throw the figure of Antigone into bolder relief. Ismene, who knows what is right, follows the way which leads to personal security. The grandeur of Antigone dwarfs even the natural nobility of her sister when she seeks to share the death she has not earned. Kreon errs through insolence. He is wanting in the vision which has made the path of Antigone clear ; he has forgotten the rights of the gods, and his own way leads to ruin. Only when this ruin is full in view does he perceive that he has gone astray, and discover that there is something higher than love to the state and to his country—loyalty to the great unwritten laws. Nor does the character of Hsemon, noble as it is, disturb the unity of the impression which we receive from Antigone. She stands the central commanding figure of the group. And as she thus stands alone, so in her the one promi­ nent feature is her heroic allegiance to duty. Other traits there are, but they serve to bring out this one characteristic. She is no unwomanly person, portrayed in rough masculine lines. Her language to Ismene, if it seems harsh, is forgotten when she says to Kreon : ou rot tnwEyOetv dXXd avp,^>iXAv tcpuv, for we know that these words come from the depth of her nature. Then, when the work which she has set herself has been accom­ plished, when the expression of her natural feelings can no longer mar or render equivocal her devotion to the dead, she breaks into lamentations like those of the Hebrew daughter, which show how tender and womanly alife is about to be sacrificed. Once only before has she shown any indication of the mental struggle through w’hich she has passed, and that is when strung by Kreon’s unconcern she breathes forth the sighing complaint, “ 0 dearest Hsemon, how thy sire dishonours thee !”* The delicacy with which Sophokles has treated the ove of Hsemon and Antigone secures still farther the predominant effect. It is hard to imagine such restraint in modern art. The Chorus, of whose surpassing melody mention has already been made, had certain peculiarities in this play. It did not, like most choruses, consist of persons of the same age and sex as the principal actor, but of Theban elders. Nor did it at once take part with Antigone. Even here she is left alone. But by its submission to Kreon it serves to deepen the impression of the * The MSS. gives this line (572) to Ismene. Schneidewin has rightly, and for unanswerable reasons, assigned it to Antigone. Dindorf and Ribbeck agree with him. �12 Sophokles. monarch’s irresistible power : and by not participating at once in the action, it is enabled to rise to a higher atmosphere of wisdom, which culminates in the choric song, 7roXXa ra Seiva k.t.X. So, too, in its last songs, the painful instances of suffering which are recalled added to the darkness of Antigone’s fate. The effect of this perfect drama upon the Athenians was great, and as has been said, universal. Although Sophokles had hitherto taken only that share in public life which was the duty of every Athenian citizen, they now elected him as one of the college of generals, at whose head was Perikles. It happened to be the time of the war with Samos, which had revolted from Athens, and the ten generals with sixty triremes sailed for that island. Sophokles took sixteen of these ships and proceeded to Chios and Lesbos, to procure a further contingent. At the former island we hear of him through Athenreus, who records the opinion of Ion, that he was not able nor energetic in political affairs, but behaved as any other virtuous Athenian might have done. (Ath. xiii. 81.) This assertion probably had its origin in the playful self-depreciation with which Sophokles spoke of his own strategic power ; and it is quite possible that Perikles treated his poet-colleague with a good-humoured irony, which he accepted in the same spirit. This view is borne out by the story which Atnenseus tells of Sophokles : that, having snatched a kiss from a fair face at Chios, he exclaimed amidst the laughter of the company, “ Perikles says that I know how to compose poetry, but have no strategic power; now, my friends, did not my stratagem succeed ?” It is certain, however, that, whatever his power as a general, he did not lose the confidence and affection of his fellow citizens ; for, five years later, he was treasurer of the common fund of the Greek Confederacy. Afterwards for nearly thirty years we do not hear of his taking any part in public life. But it was no time to him of intellectual inactivity. During this period he wrote eighty-one plays, which is almost at the rate of a trilogy a year. If we remember all that this includes—the com­ position and the instruction of actors for so many and so fre­ quently successfuldramas—we shall cease to wonder that Sophokles did not seek to meddle with statesmanship. And once more we shall regret that so little has come down to us of that abundant intellectual wealth. The commencement of the Peloponnesian war, and the death of Perikles, turned one page of Athenian history ; but Sophokles to the end of his long life continued to live in the spirit of the Periklean age. Ten year after the appearance of the Antigone he published the (Edipus Rex. The general outlines of the story are easily told. Laius, King of Thebes, and J okasta �Sophokles. 13 his wife, were told by the God at Delphi, that should they have a son, Laius would be slain by his hand, and Jokasta would become his wife. Therefore, when their son CEdipus was born, they determined to destroy him, and gave him to a herdsman that he might be cast out upon Mount Kithoeron. This herds­ man, however, smitten with pity, gave the child to a comrade shepherd, who carried him to Corinth, where the boy was adopted as son by the king of that city. Many years afterwards, CEdipus at Corinth heard the oracle which had been delivered concerning him ; but he was still in ignorance as to his parentage. Think­ ing, however, that he was the son of the king of Corinth, he left Corinth lest the oracle should come true, and travelled towards Thebes. Upon his way he met his real father, and a quarrel having arisen, a contest ensued in which his father fell and all those who accompanied him save one. (Edipus then arrived at the kingless city of Thebes, which was ravaged by the murderous Sphinx. He freed the city from the Sphinx and accepted the prof­ fered throne, and with it the hand of the widowed queen, little dreaming that she was his own mother. For years the city was prosperous, and four children were born to him. Then a plague fell upon the people. All this was before the action of the play begins. An oracle now declares that the pestilence is sent because Laius has been forgotten. His murderer must be ejected. (Edipus pronounces a curse upon the unknown assassin, and sends for Teiresias the blind seer, if peradventure he may be able to declare the man. Teiresias, enlightened by his art, scarce dares to tell what he knows, and is evilly treated by CEdipus. Then Jokasta complicates the confusion. She openly asserts her disbelief in oracles ; for her own son had been destined by these lying witnesses to marry her; whereas he was slain, and she was wedded to GEdipus. Yet out of this security “ Surgit amari aliquid,” Laius was slain at a “triple way terrible words that set sounding a sullen chord in the breast of (Edipus, for long ago he slew a man upon a triple way. One witness there was, and he is now summoned. Meanwhile a messenger arrives to say that the king of Thebes, the reputed father of (Edipus, is dead. This is a gleam of light upon the eyes of CEdipus, for the oracle has been proved false. The mes­ senger has still farther comfort. CEdipus need not dread the fulfilment of the oracle at all, since he is not the son of the king and queen of Corinth, a fact dimly hinted before, but now for the first time clearly told. Then whose son is he ? A new pas­ sion seizes the king, and he is determined to unravel the mystery of his birth. The messenger is able to aid him in this, for he received the king as a foundling at the hands of a servant of �14 Sophokles. Laius. All is now ready for the catastrophe, which Jokasta, more quickwitted than her son, at once foresees. The witness of his murder of Laius, who at this moment comes up, is no other than the herdsman who had given him as an infant to the Corinthians. The electric circle is completed, the spark shatters the divine edifice of royal prosperity and the hearts of the audience, and the oracles of the gods are evidently true. Jokasta has already ended her existence; and (Edipus. unable to endure the sight of his own misery and that of his family, puts out his eyes. There are several reasons why this drama should be assigned to this period, notwithstanding the absence of authoritative data. The vivid description of a pestilence was probably written by one who had witnessed the virulence of the Athenian scourge. Some commentators have believed the chorus tt poi k.t.X. to have reference to the mutilation of the Hermse. If this be true, the play must necessarily be of later date than that supposed above. It probably refers to the reckless spirit of licence w’hich exhibiteditself in Athens as a reaction against the popular superstitions of the earlier period, and which eventually led to the profanation. The drama is in fact a protest against the disregard of religion, and a magnificent exhibition of the vanity of human attempts to cross the decrees of fate. In this respect it stands alone amongst the plays of Sophokles. It depicts the contest of an honourable and noble character with a foregone destiny. To add to the interest of the picture, the man who is unable to solve the riddle of his own history, is the one who alone was able to unravel the enigma of human life proposed by the Sphinx, and it is only when the eyes of his corporal vision are darkened for ever that the organs of his spiritual sight are unclosed. At first his house is the only one spared in the pestilence, and all eyes are directed to him as the saviour of the state ; yet it is his house which is the cause of the plague. Then his own blind eagerness to discover the regicide, the curse which he unwittingly imprecates upon himself, 'the gradual lifting of the curtain fold by fold till he breaks into the exclamation, lov, toil, ra navr av <ra<p7j, are terrible instances of the irony which Sophokles is accustomed to ascribe to destiny, but nowhere so powerfully as in this play. Surely but slowly the end approaches. Now the progress of events is delayed by some joyous choric song like the imp tyii> ptavriQ dpi, k.t.X. ; now there falls upon the play some beam of hope which makes us believe that the gathering thunderstorm will be dispersed or break up into sunny tears and the dewy delight of averted calamity. But the vain hopes and the vanish­ ing glory serve only as preludes to the complete darkness of the catastrophe, which, at last, suddenly envelopes the w'hole heaven. �Sophokles. 15 It is not only modern admiration which the play has won. Aristotle has taken it as the model of a drama, and its effect upon contemporary minds must have been great. It is equally admirable as a whole and in single passages. The choruses are generally like the atmosphere of the play, of a lurid and broken colour, so that we know not whether light or darkness will prevail. The earlier choruses approach in thought and expression to the language of Milton, or of modern poetry. Thus the description of the rapid deaths in time of pestilence, so different as it is from the picture given by Homer (II. 1) has that touch about it which belonged later to Dante. aXXor av aXXp irpoffibote airep kv7TTEpOV bpvcv, Kpei&aoy apatpaKerov irupoQ Sp/ievoy Q.KTCLV WpQQ ECTTTEpOU .&EOIK “ And one soul after another might be discerned flitting like strong-winged bird with greater force than invincible fire, to the shore of the Western God.” It recalls, too, the half-mediseval, wholly beautiful lines of Mr. Rossetti in his poem of the “ Blessed Damozel.” i “ Heard hardly, some of her new friends Amid their loving games Spake evermore among themselves Their virginal chaste names ; And the souls mounting up to God, Went big her like thinflames” Another passage (lines 476 et seq.) is more Hebrew than Greek in its description of the Cain-like homicide. ipoird yap vir aypiciv vXav, ava r ayrpa Kai vrerpas are ravpos, peXeo^ peXeip ~6ct ygripeviav, ra. petropipaXa yaQ dirovoapiliiav pavreia' rd 8’ dec ZUvra irepcrrordrai. "For sullenly turning his sullen step, he wanders moodily under the wildwood, or amid caves and rocks, like a bull, and avoids the divine voices that rise from the central oracle of the land. But they live, and are whispered around him.” Yet this incomparable poem won only the second prize; the first was gained by the work of Philokles. Time, in preserving this alone, has reversed the decision of the judges. The reason of that decision may lie in the nature of the play itself. To the Athenians, who after the taking of Miletus could not endure �16 Sophokles. the scenic shadow of their loss, the unsoftened representation of their sufferings in the Theban plague, and the direct promulgation of the doctrine of irresistible destiny may have seemed unwelcome and ill-timed. And the conclusion of the play is less relieved than that of any other. It is not broken up into those short cries and natural lamentations, with which many tragedies close, but solemnly and sadly to the beat of throbbing trochaics the figures pass from the stage like the muffled pomp of a funeral procession, and the curtain rises upon a silent- and awe­ struck audience. It is far otherwise with the (Edipus at Kolonus. Like the Rhiloktetes, it has a plot which depends upon divine interven­ tion, and one in which the sequence of the episodes is not absolutely perfect in connexion, though each episode is perfect in its own characteristic beauty. After the events depicted in (Edipus Rex, the blind king with his daughters remained at Thebes, until he and Antigone were thrust forth by Kreon. For many long months they wandered through Greece, whilst Eteokles, the younger son of CEdipus, drove out from Thebes Polyneikes the elder, who betook himself to Argos and gathered an army to make him king again. At last CEdipus and Antigone came to the plain of Kolonus, near Athens. Here, beneath the shade of an olive-grove, the aged king sits down to rest, and here an inward confidence tells him that he is approaching the term of his suffer­ ings. This olive-grove is sacred to the Furies, and it is sacrilege for ordinary men to approach it. The news reaches Theseus that stranger has set foot within the lioly precincts, and he hastens to the place. Before his arrival Ismene comes in haste to tell her father of the fratricidal war upon which her brothers have entered, and that Kreon is hurrying to carry back CEdipus, since an oracle has declared that his presence will bring victory on either side. CEdipus pronounces a curse upon his son, and reveals his intention of blessing Athens by remaining within her territory. Theseus now arrives, and not ignorant of the responsibility he is incurring, assures CEdipus of a courteous and secure hospitality. CEdipus in return acquaints him with the benefits which his presence will confer upon Athens, and the calamity which will ensue to Thebes. Theseus accepts with confidence the divine privilege which CEdipus offers, and once more assures him of his protection. If ever a situation made a supreme demand upon an Athenian chorus, it is the present. We have come to the middle point between the beginning and the end of the action. The Acropolis of Athens, though as yet unblessed by the works of Phidias, rises within sight of the beholder. Kephissus draws her silvery threads through the foreground, and the hero-prince of Athens, in accepting the charge of CEdipus, unites the new and �Sophokles. 17 the old, and links historic to heroic times. The music which shall not mar the harmonious suspense of this situation must be subtie indeed. But the music of Sophokles is never of a nega­ tive kind. It increases and enhances the dramatic feeling. Accordingly it is here that we find the greatest choric ode of the Greek drama. The undying chords of the poem which follows raise the mind of the hearer to a level with the exaltation of CEdipus himself. Pahttttov, Rve, raffle ^(ijpag. “ Guest, thou art come to the noblest spot Of all this chivalrous land.” But this lofty tranquillity is broken by the entrance of Kreon, who endeavours to persuade CEdipus to return to Thebes. Upon his refusal, Kreon has recourse to violence, and carries off Anti­ gone, Ismene having been previously secured. Theseus however restores his daughters to the blind king. The next scene brings upon the stage Polyneikes, who seeks reconciliation with his father. This he does not succeed in obtaining, and he leaves the stage begging for the kind offices of Antigone in his burial. The play now draws to a close. The euthanasia of CEdipus is all that remains. The hour of destiny has come, and the Passing of CEdipus—no man knows where or whither—completes the purpose of the gods. A question so debated as the date of this play can scarcely be Answered satisfactorily here. Critics both ancient and modern have connected it with the latest period of the author’s life; but there are portions of the drama which seem to belong to an earlier date, and. to have reference to that period of reactionary licence which was marked by the mutilation of the Hermse. By its subject it is closely connected with the CEdipus Rex, and there is nothing im­ probable in the supposition that even if it were first produced after the author’s death, it was begun whilst the subject of CEdipus was fresh in his mind. And if any parallelism is to be drawn between Sophokles and the great German poet, this work may well be compared with the “Faust,” from which the summa manus was so long withheld. The allusions in the poem itself do not fix it to any definite date. ' All that can be said with certainty is that it is subsequent to the Antigone; for while both plays that have CEdipus for their subject contain references to the Antigone, that drama has not a single allusion to the action of the other two. Whether, however, we are to credit it with an earlier or later origin, we sh^ild be doing an injustice to the spirit of Sophoklean poetry if we were to Suppose that political allusions brought down the drama into a realistic atmo­ sphere.’ It is idle to attempt to connect the Theban and Athenian [Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.J—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I. C �18 Sophokles. struggle which the poet mentions, with any special date. * It is more profitable to win the freedom of that ideal land in which are brought together the blind old king and the hero of Athens. In some respects the (Edipus at Kolonus differs from the other dramas. There is in it a perplexing mixture of manner which suggests both a return to the style of Aeschylus and a concession to the growing influence of Euripides. The self­ completion and perfection of outline, which marked the Antigone and the (Edipus Rex are wanting here. The drama is the fragment of a trilogy of Aeschylean breadth ; it is rhetorical and lyric in the style of Euripides. The real Sophoklean charac­ teristics are not, however, absent, sweetness and power of expression, lofty and graceful sentiment, and a perfection of rhythm and vivid delineation. But it is a series of linked scenes rather than a drama proper. Of scenes that begin with the peaceful olive grove, and end in the euthanasia of the world-worn (Edipus. Nothing could be finer or more effective than that touch of the pen of Sophokles which paints, not indeed the death of (Edipus, but Theseus, who alone saw it, with his face shaded by his hand, as though to shut out some stupendous revelation. To this history of (Edipus Sophokles has given the only satisfactory and worthy conclusion which was possible. In his life he was a contradiction to the laws that regulate human affairs ; he remained a contradiction in his death. Others passed by the grove of the Eumenides with bated breath and averted faces—he found there rest and a conclusion of his toils. The grove trodden by Bacchus, nymphtraversed and nightingale-haunted, was to him, upon whom all tempestuous airs had broken, a haven “ windless of all storms.” And here the troubled life at length ceases, and peace is found at last. In the choruses of this play the poet’s love of Athens finds expression. Many poets had spoken with enthusiasm of the “ violet-crowned city,” but never with such beauty and exalted passion as does Sophokles in the ode, zviirirov, k.t.X. The legends connected with it are probably false, but they bear witness to the opinion of the ancients concerning'it. Sophokles, unlike his rivals in the dramatic art, remained true to his native city. No offer of foreign patronage could tempt him to leave Athens. Aeschylus died in Sicily, Euripides in Macedonia. There were many princes who would gladly have welcomed Sophokles to their courts—indeed, there were many who invited him thither; but he remained unmoved by their offers, and never left his city except to do her service and to further * Schneidewin suggests the i7F7ro/xa^ta rts Bpax/ia ev Qpvpois, mentioned Thukyd. ii. 22, as a possible occasion. �Sophokles. 19 aer interests. The anonymous biographer says that he was ^adrivaioTaTOQ, (t most enamoured, of Athens. And the city repaid his affection. The same biographer says, “In a word, such was the grace of his nature that he was beloved by all. It is unfortunate—it is more than unfortunate—that of the personal history of the poet we know so little. Few and far between are the dates that we can assign to the events of his life. The seventeenth year after the supposed date of the (Edipus Rex saw the calamitous termination of the Sicilian expedition. Amongst the names of the ten elderly men elected Probuli to meet the emergency of the crisis, we find that ot Sophokles. If this be indeed our poet, we have here another instance of the confidence and love which the city felt towards the tragedian, who was now eighty years old. The seventeen years to which reference has been made are important in the history of Greek literature. They include the birth of Plato, the exhibition by Aristophanes of the Knights, the Clouds, and the Peace, but they cannot definitely be connected with any play of Sophokles. Possibly the Elektra falls within this period. It is at any rate marked by the best characteristics of the poet. It .dispenses with the breadth of treatment which a trilogy allows, and concentrates the interest upon the action of a single play. In the trilogy upon the same subject which AEschylus exhibited, probably thirty years earlier, the death of Klytemnestra forms an episode of the middle drama, and the ethical problem of filial duty in antagonism to divinely-directed justice is sketched only in outlines which leave much to be filled in. Sophokles treated the subject as follows :—During the absence of Agamemnon in the Trojan campaign, his wife Klytemnestra formed an adulterous union with AEgisthus, and upon the return of Agamemnon, slew her husband and wedded with AEgisthus. Elektra, daughter of Agamemnon, fearing foul treatment for her brother Orestes, then a child, sent him out of the country, whilst she herself remained, together with her sister Chrysothenis, at Argos, waiting for the manhood and return of Orestes to claim his hereditary throne. When due time arrives, Orestes, under the direction of Apollo, comes back to Argos unheralded and unknown. He is accompanied by his faithful attendant the Peedagogus, who brings to Klytemnestra an account of the death of Orestes at the Pythean chariot contest. The play opens with the arrival of Orestes and his attendant at Argos. Elektra comes forth to bewail the death of her father and the delay of Orestes, and is comforted by such consolation Us the chorus can offer her. Next, Klytemnestra, who has been terrified by a dream, appears, and angry altercation takes place between her and Elektra. When this is concluded, the Psedagogus enters and announces the c 2 �20 Sophokles. death of Orestes. The grief of Elektra occupies the attention of the spectators until the entrance of the disguised Orestes and Pylades his friend, bearing an urn which contains the pretended ashes of Orestes. In the interview between Orestes and Elektra which, follows, a recognition takes place, and nothing remains to be done but to effect the revenge. Orestes therefore enters the house and slays his mother, and ffEgisthus, upon his arrival, shares the same fate. The work of Sophokles is finer and fuller of artistic power than the work of 2Eschylus. The character of Elektra is un­ borrowed, and forms a contrast to that of the Aeschylean Elektra. She, and not Orestes, is the centre of the action, and though not the actual avenger, is really the prompter and promoter of the deed. In the Choephorce we are perpetually reminded that the death of Klytemnestra was the work of the gods; Elektra falls into the background, a weak, suffering woman, whose strongest trait is love for her brother, and he, a mere tool in the hands of the deity, after numerous hesitations and delays in accomplishing the divine purpose, becomes a victim of madness and terror. The Sophoklean drama is more valuable than the Aeschylean trilogy. In the Elektra we have, as in the Antigone, a distinct and noble type of character set in full light and drawn in clear lines of power. Elektra is the personification of justice and fidelity, as Antigone is of love and strength. Like justice, she never wavers from her purpose. When all hope of the return of Orestes has ceased and his death seems certain, she herself undertakes the work which should have been his, for vengeance must be done, and the house of Agamemnon must be freed from the accursed and abiding crime. And when Orestes reveals himself as her brother, she does not leave the central position of the group. One short burst of natural joy, and she is ready to take any measures which may bring about the punishment of the murderess. Nay, she stands on guard while the deed is being done, and to the prayers of Klytemnestra her answers are stern and inexorable as destiny. With subtle words of double meaning she leads AEgisthus into the prepared snare, and then forbids parley or delay—dXX’ wq rax^ra ktzivs, she says—and the house of Athens is freed from its long and intolerable servitude. The character of Elektra, as we see it in its final manifestion, is as terrible as it is grand. Klytemnestra endeavours to justify her owm conduct, and to represent it as righteous; but Elektra strikes the key-note in her long nightingale lament, when she says, ooXoc r/i' 6 (ppaaac, tpoc o tcrtlvac. Chrysothenis, weak and vacillating, ready to condone the past �Sophokles. 21 and enjoy the present, serves as a foil to the stronger character of her sister. The same may be said of the Chorus,, which although sympathetic, does not rise to the same heights of sublimity or lyric sweetness as in the other plays of Sophokles. Dr. Ribbeck sees here a reason for believing the Elektra to be an early work. Yet it is not the lyric element which we should expect to see failing in a younger work, and the conception and delineation of character in the Elektra is of the highest kind. The balance of proportion between the brother and sister is admirably kept. Orestes is not the instrument of the gods, though under their protection, but of Elektra. By her side he must not waver, he must proceed at once to vengeance. That portion of the ethical question which yEschylus has indicated in the Eumenides does not come into the drama of Sophokles. The description of the chariot race has always been regarded with justice as a masterpiece of art, and there is scarcely any­ thing more touching in literature than the scene which describes the recognition of brother and sister, and the rapid change of mood, which, in broken iambics, passes from hopeless sorrow into Overpowering joy. In the Elektra, Sophokles presents before us a character, which, as it were, wrestles with destiny, and conquers ; in the Ajax we have a character ennobled by its very defeat. Ajax was the most distinguished of the Greek generals in the Trojan war, next to Achilles, and upon the death of Achilles a dispute arose for the arms of that hero. The claimants were Ajax and Ulysses, and the arms were adjudged to the latter. Full of anger at this decision, Ajax determined to slay both Ulysses and the Atridse, who had acted as arbitrators; but as he was going by night to accomplish his revenge, he was inspired with madness by Athene, whose aid he had previously rejected. In this madness he fell upon the flocks of cattle around the camp, and slew some and carried others to his tent, thinking he had captured in them his rival and his enemies. When day dawns his right mind returns, and he is overwhelmed with the ignominy of his position and resolves to put an end to his life. This he accomplishes by falling upon his sword. The Atridee command that his body should be left unburied, but Teucer resists them, and he is honourably buried. This drama is placed here, not because it certainly belongs to this period, but because its date is undetermined and undeterminable. Schneidewin and others assign it to an earlier period, make it indeed nearly contemporary with the Antigone, both on account of its resemblance in lyric measures to the 2Eschylean dramas, and on. account of the rarity with which a third actor is brought �22 Sophokles. forward. But the Antigone sufficiently shows that Sophokles had passed this stage. Others see in the speeches which follow the suicide of Ajax an approximation to the rhetorical style of Euripides. Those who adopt a middle course, will place it rather in the long undated period, when the literary activity of Sophokles was at its height. It is a poem in which the national feeling of Athens was likely to find especial gratification. Of all the heroes celebrated in the Iliad, Ajax was the only one that Athens could claim as connected with herself. Salamis had been in close union with Athens from immemorial time, and one Athenian tribe took its name from Ajax. Herodotus tells us (viii. 64), that before the battle of Salamis, the Athenians prayed to all the gods, and to Ajax and Telamon. This connexion gives rise to the beautiful ode <j) tcXeiva 'SiaXap.tQ k.t.X. The drama opens with a scene which breathes the frenzy of fierce hatred and lust for murder that mark Northern poetry rather than Greek. Yet it serves to set a stamp upon the character of Ajax, and to indicate his disposition, not without a warning note of admonition. The degradation into which Ajax has fallen is a punishment for the excess of that self-reliance which forms a heroic character, the first sin which he commits is insolence (w/3pic). When setting out to battle, he rejected the pious prayer of his father, that he might wish to be victorious by the help of the gods, and added the vaunt, “With a god’s help, even a man of nought may win the victory; but I, I trust, without God’s help shall be victorious.” And in the battle itself, when Athene proffered aid, he bade her go elsewhere, for he would none of it. Such is the disposition of the man who finds too late that he is powerless against the gods. But against disgrace his unyielding mind still contends. The real interest of the drama lies in the moral conflict between heroic independence and the necessity of submission to higher authority. The motives for submission are forcibly brought out, the agony of disgrace, and the strength of domestic affection. The turning point is reached when Ajax says—“ I, once as strong as steel, have now been softened by the words of this woman as steel is softened by the bath, and I shrink from leaving amongst my enemies, her a widow, and my son fatherless.” Yet from the shame there is now but one escape, and from that he does not shrink—death. But ere he goes to the baths of ocean and the sea-marge, where he may appease the wrath of the goddess by his death, he freely acknowledges his error. Honour and authorrty are worthy of submission. Snowfooted winter yields to blooming spring, and dark-tiaraed night gives place to bright-crowned day. Life is full of change, so he too bends to authority, fears God and honours �Sophokles. 23 the Atridse. Another scene reveals Ajax about to put an end to the life he can no longer honourably cherish. His last prayer is earnest and simple—That Teucer' may first raise his body, and give it rites of sepulture; that Hermes may grant him funeral escort; and that Helios may rein in his golden car, and tell the sad news to his aged father and mother. Then follows the farewell of the Greek to the bright sun, a long adieu to Salamis and illustrious Athens, and all the plains and crystal founts of Troy. It is perhaps worth pointing out that this drama has severa Shaksperian peculiarities. As in the works of our own drama­ tist, overflowing sorrow finds relief in a play upon words. aiai, r/c av ~or we0’ wi’ £7rwrvjuor TOVjJ.OV OVO/J-Cl TOIQ EpLOLQ KCLKOLQ j The speech already referred to (line 646), which describes in the form of a soliloquy a moral crisis, is in the manner of the English writer, and the final monologue of Ajax recalls the meditation of Hamlet. Minuter resemblances might be noted. The cry of the sailors in their search for their lost chief—ttovoq Trouw ttovov <pep&c—may almost be translated by the “ Double, double toil and trouble of the Witches in. Macbeth. But a more characteristic peculiarity of the drama is the sea air which blows through it, and the number of nautical allusions which must have been grateful to a seafaring people. Sophokles never forgets the mariners of Athens in his eulogies of the city. In the great choric song of the (Edipus at Kolonus, the crowning glory of the land is “ the well-used oar fitted to skilful hands, that leaps through the sea in the train of the hundred-footed Nereids,” and here from the first we are thrown into sailor company. It is to the “ shipmates of Ajax, from over the sea/’ that Tecmessa turns in her trouble, and it is they who search for their lost leader at the last, though Sophokles with poetic propriety reserves the discovery of his body for Tecmessa herself. And to the sea the thoughts of Ajax turn in his despair : “ 0 ye paths of the watery reach, O ye caves of the sea, O ye groves of the Ocean beach, Where my steps were wont to be.” By the death of the hero atonement for all his sins is made, and his body is honourably buried by' the sea he loved. It is a real satisfaction to arrive at a period when we can attach a date to a play of Sophokles. In B. C. 409 appeared the Philoktetes. Before this time Athens had passed through �24 Sophokles. the conspiracy of the Four Hundred, and had seen the recall of Alkibiades. In the measures of the oligarchical body we are told Sophokles concurred, not because they were good, but because they were expedient. “ ov yap vjv aXXa /BeXn'w/’ are the words attributed to him. The anecdote, however, may possibly refer to another Sophokles. It is possible also that Sophokles had little sympathy with the later democracy, which may have alienated amongst others the mind of the poet. But his poetry retained the astonishing energy and freshness of his younger days. The Philoktetes shows no sign of the, decay of in­ tellectual power. It is worthy of the first prize which it received. The subject was not a new one upon the Attic stage. kEschylus and Euripides had handled it before, and other tragedians had aided in making it familiar to an Athenian audience. Sophokles, while adopting the well' known mythical outlines as the groundwork, succeeded in lending the drama a new and powerful motive. These outlines are to be found in Homer. (II. 2. 716). Philoktetes, carrying the arrows of Her­ cules, joined the expedition against Troy, but being wounded in the foot by a serpent, he was left in the island of Lemnos. In the tenth year of the war it was predicted by a Trojan prophet that Troy could only be taken by the arrows of Hercules, then in the possession of Philoktetes. Accordingly Ulysses and Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, were sent to Lemnos to bring Philoktetes with his arrows to Troy. The play opens with the landing of these messengers upon the island of Lemnos. Ulysses tutors Neoptolemus in deceit, and urges him to gain possession of the arrows by falsehood. Neoptolemus obeys, and having persuaded the suffering Philoktetes that he is about to take him home is entrusted with the arrows. When Philoktetes discovers the treachery that has been practised upon him, he endeavours to commit suicide, but is prevented. Feelings of pity and compassion now come upon Neoptolemus, and he restores the arrows in spite of the angry remonstrances of Ulysses. The mission has thus nearly failed of its object, when Hercules de­ scends from heaven, and bids Philoktetes proceed to Troy, where he shall win renown and be healed of his sore disease. The interest of the play does not centre in the person whose name it bears, but in the person of Neoptolemus. It is his character that Sophokles has brought out from the massive block of tradition in proportions of exceeding beauty. Between Philok­ tetes hardened by suffering, and Ulysses wily and wise, the openhearted son of Achilles stands forth a contrast to both. This contrast of character, together with the dramatic development of natural nobility in the person of Neoptolemus, is the work of Sophokles alone, and bears his stamp. The minor characters �Sophokles. 25 are powerfully drawn. Philoktetes is immovable in his love to his friends and in his hatred to his enemies. The extreme agonies of physical suffering which wring from him cries and groans, leave him still tears for the misfortunes of his friends and imprecations for his foes. He is, in the words of Lessing, a rock of a man,”* a hero still, though life has lost all that is worth living for, except constancy and submission to the gods. The Ulysses of this drama is differently portrayed from the Ulysses of the Ajax, and the Ulysses of Homer. He is brought forward in an ungracious part, and one more in accordance with the role he takes in the plays of Euripides. He counsels deceit and is willing to attain his end by means honourable or dishonourable. We must not however forget that this end is the well-being of the Greeks, and that the means are poetically justified by his knowledge that neither persuasion nor violence will avail to shake the firmness of Philoktetes. The psycholo­ gical interest lies then in the struggle through which the mind of Neoptolemus has to pass. On the one hand, with the bow of Philoktetes he may win undying renown by the taking of Troy, but he must desert and deceive his father’s friend, leaving him doubly desolate and deprived of the means of supporting his piteous existence. On the other hand he must bear the bitter reproaches of Ulysses, the loss of the promised glory, and the failure of the Achaean arms, but he will have respected the rights of a suppliant and his plighted word. How will the struggle end ? The sincerity of a noble nature prevails. Already the treachery inspired by Ulysses has been successful; the bow of Philoktetes is in his hand, but he can no longer endure the part he has been compelled to play: he leaves the path of deceit into which he has been misled, and assumes the character which he has already shown to be his. The intervention of the “ deus ex xnachina ” serves only to j ustify what has happened, it neither diminishes the interest nor interferes with the action of the play. The psychological question has been already answered. The Trachinice is to be considered a later work than the Philoktetes. Otherwise it is probable that Sophokles would have used the connexion that lies in their subjects. For the bow of Philoktetes was none other than that bequeathed him by Hercules at his death. The Trachinice tells the story how the death of Hercules was unwittingly brought about by his wife Deianeira. Many years before the opening of the play, Hercules had slain the Centaur Nessus by means of his unerring and poisoned arrows. As he was dying, the Centaur bade Deianeira take of the blood of his wound and the poison of the arrow, and * “Laokoon,” ch. iv. p. 34. �26 Sophokles. preserve it, for it would prove an unfailing philtre to recover her husband’s affection if he ever forsook her for another woman. When the play opens, Hercules has been long absent, but is now returning with captives, the reward of his victorious arms. Amongst these captives, who arrive at Trachis before Hercules, is the beautiful Iole, and Deianeira is not long in learning that she it is who now possesses the affections of her husband. There­ fore she imbues a garment with the philtre she had received from Nessus, and sends it to Hercules, bidding him wear it whilst transacting the sacred rites of Zeus. The venom of the mixture does not fail in its efficacy. It seizes at once upon the body of Hercules, who is consumed with intolerable burnings. In the agony of death he orders himself to be borne home, but the news flies before, and Deianeira ends her life with her own hand. Upon his arrival, Hercules bids his son Hyllus erect a funeral pile for him on Mount Oeta, and after his father’s death marry Iole. The drama concludes with the promise of Hyllus to obey his father. The opinions as to the value of the drama have been various. A. W. Schlegel deemed it of far inferior merit to that of the other plays, and many modern readers have agreed with him. Schneidewin, a critic of weightier authority, places it ex­ ceedingly high amongst the works of ancient art. In looking at it, however, we must regard it as a diptych rather than a single picture. From this circumstance it suffers perhaps when compared with the other works by the same author. Nevertheless each part has its own merit. In the first part the figure of Deianeira forms the centre; in the second, the half-divine half-savage cha­ racter of Hercules exercises a strange imperious fascination upon the spectator. Nothing can be more delicately and finely represented than the amiable character of Deianeira, the faithful and forgiving wife. It is in the true colour of Sophoklean irony that the sympathy of a tender nature which leads her to express pity for the captive woman, draws her most closely to Iole, who is the cause of her misfortune. And it is the very strength of her love for Hercules which brings about his ruin and her own. The first part of the Trachinice may indeed be ranked with the best dramatic exhibitions of character. Nor is it deficient in those cross lights and special excellences in which the best abound. The self-devotion and feminine dignity of Deianeira reaches its climax when she implores Lichas to tell her the whole truth :— ph 'ttvQegQu.i tovto p aXyovsiEV av‘ c’ EtSevat tI Seivov ; ov^l ^ciTEpas teXelcetciq dv^p eiq HpaKXrjg EyypE c)/;; kovttii) tlq avT(Sv ek y Epov Xoyov KOKOV TJVEyKa.T' ovZ' ovelZoq. to to �27 Sophokles. This is in the very spirit of mediaeval devotion, and almost in the words of the “ Nut-browne Mayde “ Though in the wode I understode Ye had a paramour, All this may nought remove my thought But that I will be your. And she shall find me soft and kynde, And courteys every hour.” * For vigorous word-painting, the passage which describes the virulent corruption of the poisoned wool rotting away into nothing­ ness, is unsurpassed. (Lines 695 et seq.) The second portion of the diptych is less agreeable to modern feeling, since the character of Hercules seems little fitted for the tragic stage. By his semi-divinity he is above humanity, by his semi-brutality he is below it. Hercules suffering is most likely to gain our sympathy ; for the picture of excessive suffering is redeemed from the peril of awaking horror or disgust by the consistency and firmness of Hercules. He meets death with his spiritual strength still unbroken, and his self-possession when he recognises his real position changes the grief of the spectator into admiration of his undaunted fortitude. The marriage which he is represented as proposing between Hyllus and Iole, however repugnant to modern, feeling, was too firmly an article of popular belief rooted in popular tradition to be neglected in the drama. Nor does Herodotus (vi. 52) deem the tradition unworthy of notice, since it was from Hyllus that he traced the descent of the Dorian invaders of the Peloponnese. The link which binds together the two portions of the drama and preserves the unity of the action is the magic poison of the Centaur. In the first part we have the motives which lead up to its use; in the second we see its effects. The same protagonist took the parts both of Deianeira and of Hercules. The long and illustrious life of Sophokles was now drawing to a close—a life more enviable, perhaps, than that of any man who has lived so long. He had seen the growth of the Athenian state ; he was spared the sight of her last declining days. He was the contemporary of all the great men who had made Athens glorious ; and he was the personal friend of many of them. Ten years older than Euripides, he yet survived him, and lived to see his own son Iophon wearing the ivy crown. One pleasing anec­ dote is told of the last year of the poet’s life. When the news of the death of Euripides in Macedonia reached Athens, Sophokles was preparing a tragedy for exhibition. As a last tribute of respect to the memory of his rival, he himself appeared in mourning at the head of his chorus, and the choral company �28 Sophokles. were without the wreaths which they were accustomed to wear. The wife of Sophokles was a native of Athens and was named Nikostrate. By her he had one son, Iophon, already mentioned. By Theoria of Sikyon he was the father of Ariston, whose son, Sophokles, reproduced the (Edipus ad Kolonus two years after the death of his grandfather. A story related by Cicero, and often repeated, asserts that Iophon brought his father before the Phratores on the ground of mental incapacity to manage his own affairs. There is much improbability in the story and we may well discredit any tradition of dissension in the family of Sophokles. Hardly, if the story be true, could the comic writer Phrynikus have written, as he did, a few months after the poet’s death, a lament with the concluding words— KaXwg eteXeudjct’ inrop-EivaQ micov. The immediate occasion of his death is unknown, and various accounts are extant. One tradition asserts that it was joyous excitement at again winning the tragic prize. Beit so. kuXwq S’ EreXEurr/crEv. In the year B.C. 406, the year of the battle of Arginusse, Athens lost her two great tragic writers, Sophokles and Euripides. Our consideration of the plays will be more than imperfect unless we examine briefly the religious views with which they are interpenetrated and coloured. What was the religious position of the mind that conceived and brought them forth? Art and religion have often been combined, but never more intimately than in the dramas of Sophokles. rsyovs Ss koI Oeo([>lXt)G o wc ovk. aXXoq, says the anonymous biographer: “ Sophokles was beloved of the gods as no other.” And the attitude of the poet’s mind was one of reverent, almost superstitious, adoration of the gods. ZEschylus, no less than Sophokles, believed in the nothingness of human nature and the omnipotence of Zeus. For man he marked out a narrow path beyond which he could not go without offending those unsleeping powers which punish the insolence of men to the third and fourth generation of them that transgress. This narrow path he named crw^poo-vvz/; Sophokles called it tvKpjtta, reverence. In the Elektra the chorus says to Elektra (1093) “ Thus have I found thee not in prosperous case Advancing, but of all the highest laws Wearing the crown by reverence (suth/SEta) of Zeus.” And in the same play, commending her language, the chorus says (464) “ The maiden speaks with reverence.” �Sopholdes. 29 In the chorus of the (Edipus Rex (863) the doctrine of tvatflua is laid down at length. And in the praise which CEdipus gives to Athens ((Ed. Koi. 1125) the highest is that she is the city where Reverence dwells:— E7TEI TO y EVffefjEC povotQ irap vpiv -qvpov avOpuiruv Eya>. How comes it then, if this be a chief article in the religion of Sophokles, that so many of his characters are found speaking against the gods ? The number of characters who so speak is not very great. Tecmessa accuses Pallas of working the bane of Ajax (Ag. 652). Philoktetes doubts the justice of the gods (Phil. 447), and again (1035). Hyllus (Trach. 1266) speaks Still more harshly of their unkindness, and reproaches (1272) Zeus himself. But it is to be remembered that Sophokles him­ self does not always speak by the mouth of his characters. Their verisimilitude lends a force and warmth to the personification which is absent from the poems of ZEschylus. It is quite in keep­ ing with the Sophoklean stage that his dramatispersonce should not be without a tinge of popular superstition. Instances may be selected. Thus, Teucer is persuaded that the sword of Hector was fabricated by the Erinnys ; Hercules calls the fatal robe which takes away his life a web of the Erinnys ; Deianeira is the victim of a popular superstition when she sets her hopes upon a love-charm ; and the guardians of the corpse of Polyneikes are instances of a similar delusion, when they believe that the unseen burial was supernatural. But Sophokles, as he bad received from the hands of ZEschylus the drama already formed, so, too, he accepted from him a body of religious doctrines already in advance of popular belief. Nor was the progress which he inaugurated in this line of thought less striking than his development of the dramatic art—as far as the liberation of human thought is concerned it was more important. ZEschylus, as we have seen, attributed the misfortunes of mortals to a judicial blindness, the consequence of previous guilt whereby a man falls into greater sin and supreme destruc­ tion. His teaching is the teaching of Eliphaz the Temanite ; * Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished being innocent ? or when were the righteous cut off?” (Job iv. 7.) Sophokles dis­ tinguished between the guilty blindness and involuntary crime. With regard to the former he held the same position as did ZEschylus. When a mortal willingly, and with full intent, com­ mits a crime, the Deity punishes him with moral madness ; he is delivered over to Alastor. Yet for all the actions committed in this madness, he, and none other, is responsible. It is so with Ajax. He deliberately rejects the aid of Athene, and falls into a madness from which there is no escape. It is so with Kreon. �Sophokles. 30 He designedly neglects the honour due to the gods below, and pursues a course which is the result of madness. The chorus recognise the chastisement of a divine hand when -ne.y speak Kreon as— ayfjp ettiirppov c/,a ytipoc <■ idspiQ enrEiv, ovic aXXoTplav li-ry aXX avrOQ anaorcov. and he himse acknowledges it (1272), paQibv cdXacoc. ev 3’ ejjm Kapa Oeoq tot apa tote piya fodpoc p £7raicrEr. But from this frenzy, involuntary guilt is separated by a wide interval. As Ajax is a striking instance of the one condition, so CEdipus is of the other. The contrast between the two is sharp and complete. CEdipus is presented to us as a righteous prince, wise above the common standard of humanity, for he alone could solve the riddle of the Sphinx—as god-fearing, for he never doubts the oracles of the gods. When he hears of the death of his sup­ posed father, Polybus, there is mingled with his first cry of wonder a note of distress for the credit of the oracle. (pEu' (p£i>, ri cfjT ay w yvvat., <tkotto~it6 tiq Trjv HvdopayTtv EGTiav ((Ed. R. 966.) The sins which he committed were all involuntary, and he repeatedly asserts it. TTEirovdor egti ra y spya pov paXXoy 7/ CECpaKOTa. Yet upon him descend the heaviest misfortunes. What is the conception which Sophokles designs to express by this ? There is n'o answer in the CEdipus Rex ; it is found in the CEdipus at Kolonus. It is this answer withheld that so closely unites the former and the latter dramas. In the latter, CEdipus comes before us under the guidance and protection of the gods. They have used him for their purpose, a divine one, an unknown and mysterious one, but a just one ; and now, having drunk the cup of sorrow to the dregs, he is their sacred and especial care. He himself says (287) 77/cw yap tpoc ev'teI'ji'iq te Kai (bepivv OV'fjO’lV aOTOlQ TO~l(TC)E. And therefore his passage from life is gentle and kindly. He is not, for God takes him. As his life has been beyond all others wretched though morally guiltless, so his death has beyond all others a fuller promise of happiness. If we gather up the teaching of Sophokles upon this point, we find —That the gods have a great progressive plan of the �Sophokles. 31 Universe, which they carry out in spite of, or sometimes by means of individual suffering. That every man who seeks to do right is, notwithstanding his misfortunes, under their protection, and will finally be rewarded according to his merit. That volun­ tary guilt tends to worse, and lastly to ruin. This advance from the religious position of JUschylus is great, but it leads to results no less important. It leads, firstly, to the possibility of making a consciousness of right and justice an acting moral power. Thus CEdipus sets before his daughters (Gild. K. 1613) as a recompense for their laboursand sufferings on his behalf, the consciousness that they had done their duty and won his love. Elektra and Antigone are penetrated with this feeling. Elektra says (352) “ Be it my only reward that 1 am conscious of doing my hard duty?’ The sentiment of Antigone is the same (460) : “ That I shall die I know without thy words, And if before my time ’tis gain to me.” This teaching of Sophokles is a herald of the truth declared by Plato, that the moral consciousness of right in a man’s own heart is the measure of his happiness. Secondly, and here we must touch upon the mystic side of the religion of Sophokles, it imbues his dramas with a lofty spiritual­ ism. It stands in opposition to the religion of rite and profession. It calls for the spirit and not the letter. CEdipus (CEd. K. 498) declares that the sacrifice of one pure soul rightly offered, avails more than ten thousand which are not so given. It adds a sig­ nificance to the sincere unspoken prayer, for the god hears it before it is said. Klytemnestra will not utter her prayer (El. 637) for the god knows her desire, though she may not put it into words. And the voice of the god speaks within the breast of man to guide and direct him. This inward voice brought CEdipus to the grove of the Eumenides, as he himself says (CEd. K. 96) and led him—adtKrov riyprripo^—to his last restingplace. ° And thirdly, it finds a place in the religion of Sophokles for the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. This doctrine was only dimly present to the popular mind ; it was no active moral power. The motive to justice and righteous­ ness lay in the fear of punishment in this life—of punishment at the hands of the civil magistrate or the offended deity. True, in Hades the unholy were unholy still, and suffered a shadowy retribution for their crimes, but the real punishment was in this life. Sophokles recognised a purer motive for human action, the love of right for its own sake, and for the sake of the divine approval. Antigone can look forward to a long and joyous Existence with the dead (Ant. 73-76), for with them she will * �32 Sophokles. dwell for ever. And so the highest duty is the duty of living in accordance with the will of the gods, careless of praise or blame, reward or punishment, from any but Their hands, and with eyes directed to that other life, where wrongs are righted and where j ustice is done. ETTEl TtXeI(i)V XPOVOQ, ov c?t p apEffKELV toIq Kara tojv oEvdai>E, ekei yap asi KEi.trop.ai. The monologue of Ajax sets this point of view rstill farther in contrast with that of fiEschylus. 2Eschylus has exemplified the terrors of conscience with appalling power in the persons of Klytemnestra and Orestes, but the passion which he represents is rather that of remorse than that of penitence. The fear of punishment is the moving cause of terror. In the ethics of Sophokles, conscience leads to a penitent recognition of personal guilt and a desire of amendment— ypsle ce irait; ov yvcvaopsaOa triotppovsiv; is the cry of Ajax when he seeks to atone for his crimes by a voluntary death. And the same moral revolution is exhibited in the case of Kreon. (Ant. 1319.) Thus in the hands of Sophokles, religion passed from a nega­ tive to a positive phase. It was no longer sufficient as in the time of AEschylus to live a quiet life with no overweening self­ exaltation or insolent rivalry of the gods, but heart and hand must be alike pure, and both devoted to the service of the gods. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, in his essay upon the “ Education of Humanity,” has traced the process by which a single nation rose stage by stage to fuller knowledge. The nation which he selected was the Hebrew nation, but it is not the only one which submitted to the divine education. In the works of Sophokles we see the Greek mind passing to a higher stage. It is not a final stage ; that can never be reached as long as humanity endures, but it is one that could give strength and confidence to minds that loved the truth. That it did so to the mind of Sophokles himself we may learn from his works. The per­ fection of restraint and repose which reigns like a summer atmosphere in his compositions, is the result not only of a mastery of diction and a supreme command of art. The knowledge of the sorrows of humanity and a co-existing capacity of beholding above alia ruling order, which recompenses and atones for all, are the characteristics which give an immortal interest to the dramas of Sophokles. They reveal to us a man who was indeed OeoQiXpq “ beloved of God.” And however dimly his contemporaries may have understood the humane theology which pervaded his works, they understood �Sophokles. 33 time of his death the Lacedaemonians were threatening Athens from Deceleia. The family burial-place of Sophokles lay eleven stades from Athens, upon the road to Deceleia. When Lysander the Spartan heard that Sophokles was dead, he granted a free pass to the funeral procession, and the body of the great tragedian was laid to rest under the protection of the Lacedae­ monians. Nor were there wanting due tokens of respect at the hands of his fellow-citizens. As a hero they honoured him with a' yearly sacrifice. A siren was sculptured upon his tomb, to indicate the entrancing sweetness of his strains, and Simmias the pupil of Sokrates wrote his epitaph. Forty years after his death, his bust was placed in the Athenian theatre, and the state took in charge the text of his works. And yet against the life of Sophokles there are those who bring the charge of impurity and immorality. Such a charge we can but dismiss with indignation. A few anecdotes retailed * by that prurient collector of slander, Atheneeus, form the body of the charge. They are not worth the time that would be spent in contradicting them. There is nothing in Plato, there is nothing in Plutarch that can sully the pure lustre of the name of Sophokles. Plutarch indeed relates (Perikles, viii.) that upon one occasion Perikles bade Sophokles remember that a man must not only keep his hands pure, but his eyes from beholding evil. If there is in this anything more than a commonplace application of a moral maxim, it is a testimony that at least the hands of the poet were pure. Of his thoughts as mirrored in his writings we can ourselves judge. Aristophanes amidst all his baseless attacks upon his contemporaries, never brought this charge against Sophokles; modern writers with less knowledge, have had greater audacity. This, however, matters but little to him or to us. In looking back upon the life of Sophokles as a whole, perfect and radiant, it is difficult to find in the range of literature another like it. From his boyhood to his death, there seems to be nothing to mar the beauty of his career. Germans find an analogous instance in the life of Gothe, but the analogy does not go far. Both Sophokles and Gothe lived long, and won that favour from their countrymen which is generally given to the illustrious dead alone. Each of them possessed the highest culture of his time, and aided the diffusion of that culture. The comparison cannot in reality go much farther. The life of Gothe is open to us in its minutest details : we are compelled to be satisfied with the merest outline of the life of Sophokles. Gothe has dissected for us (not without vanity) his own sentiments, emotions, and passions. Only behind the works of Sophokles can we discern the calm and majestic figure of the [Vol. XCIX. No. CXCV.]—New Series, Vol. XLIII. No. I. D �34 Sophokles. Greek poet. Yet the dimmer personality is not the less impressive. To something of the calm which belongs to the works of Sophokles, Gotbe could, and did attain ; but it is the same with a difference. Gothe by a sublime selfishness, and his progress marked with the sorrows which he caused, rose into a clear intellectual ether. Sophokles brought down the wisdom of another sphere to brighten the ways of men. The one was a child of earth who made a path for himself to the serene heights ; the other was a son of Olympus, about whom the inextinguish­ able glory of his birthplace shone for the delight and instruction of the world. P.S.—Two editions of Sophokles, at present only published in part, will go some way towards familiarizing English students with the spirit of Sophokles. The one is by Mr. Jebb, Public Orator of Cambridge, the other is by Professor Campbell of St. Andrews. As a portion only of each edition is before the public, it has been deemed better to exclude them from comment in the body of this paper, but this much may be said, that we can hope every­ thing from the complete edition by Professor Campbell. His essay on “ the Language of Sophokles ” is admirable and exhaustive, and the notes and introductions to the plays already published are full of refined and suggestive enthusiasm. Mr. Jebb has set forth his views upon the genius of Sophokles in a lecture recently delivered at Dublin, and since published in Macmillan’s Magazine (Nov. 1872). This lecture is clear, scholarly, and critical, but both the points selected and the views expressed seem scarcely adequate to the subject. The four manifestations of the genius of Sophokles 'which he chooses are : First, the blending of a divine with a human characteristic in the heroes of Sophokles. Secondly, the effort to reconcile progress with tradition. Thirdly, dramatic irony ; and lastly, the por­ trayal of character. The first of these manifestations is illustrated by the cases of Ajax, of GEdipus, and of Herakles. Ajax, we are told, is human by his natural anguish on his return to sanity; he is divine by his remorse and the sense that dishonour must be effaced by death. But surely his remorse and repentance are human too. His mere cries of distress, apart from the higher feelings, are ludicrous, and insufficient to link Ajax to human nature. Nor does his nearness to Athene, as one who had spoken with her face to face, suffice to give him a divine character. The heroes of Euripides also speak with the gods face to face. The lecturer has not here brought out a real manifestation of the genius of Sophokles; he has united accidents and imagined them to be the essence. The intense suffering of (Edipus the King, and the marvellous death of GEdipus at Colonus are two conditions �Sophokles. 35 through which the character of CEdipus passes, and are not more especially characteristic than are the sufferings of Medea, who is finally carried away by the dragon-chariot of the sun. The genius of Sophokles is certainly not revealed in the union of the superhuman and the commonplace; it is manifested by its power of idealizing humanity. The superhuman element which Sophokles introduces, forms no part of the essence of any character, it belongs to the cycle of popular beliefs, which as we have seen, he used for the purpose of verisimilitude. Secondly.—The idea that Sophokles preserved the balance between superstition and free thought, that he endeavoured to graft progress upon tradition is misleading. In religious matters we have seen that the advance which he made was both definite and important; in politics he was the disciple, as he was the colleague, of Perikles. If he shrank from the extreme measures of a later democracy, it was because he clung to a system which had raised Athens to her highest political efficiency, and because he distrusted a variation which exaggerated and distorted the true democratic principles. Moreover, he was justified by the results. Thirdly.—The lecturer’s canon upon dramatic irony is only partially true. “ The practical irony of drama depends on the principle that the dramatic poet stands aloof from the world which he has created.” In fact the question of dramatic irony cannot be so summarily dealt with. The manner of Professor Campbell in treating of this characteristic (pp. 112-118) is far more diffident and satisfactory. Irony, as he says, is always accompanied with the consciousness of superiority. But the exhibition of this consciousness must be destructive of artistic effect. It is better to refer the irony to fate than to ascribe it to the author; it may, perhaps, be best not to use the word at all, but to refer the effect which every one feels, to an artistic and legitimate application of dramatic elements such as contrast and pathos, which reach their highest power only when used by the most skilful hands. .Mr. Jebb thinks that Sophokles delineates broadly, and with a “ deliberate avoidance of fine shading,” the characters of his primary persons, and seeks for the more delicate touches of portraiture in the subordinate persons. The persons, however, to whom he refers as illustrations must be spoken of as secondary with caution. Thus Deianeira is of equal importance with Hercules in the Trachinice; the same protagonist took both characters. The real interest of the Philoldetes centres in Neoptolemus. But perhaps the chief inadequacy of Mr. Jebb’s view of Sophokles, a view which, as has been said before, is set forth with the charm of a scholarly and balanced style, results from his notion of the religion of Sophokles. In his opinion, Sophokles is the highest type of a votary of Greek polytheism, and no more. D2 �36 Parliamentary Eloquence. He does not see in his hand that torch which was to be passed on to Plato, and through him to other times. His religion had, he says, shed upon it the greatest strength of intellectual light which it could bear without fading. His art was indeed the highest of its kind, and remained his own ; but the impulse which he gave to a freer and more enlightened reverence may be traced in the best of Greek literature, the works of Plato. It is probable, therefore, that the edition by Professor Campbell will be a truer guide to the appreciation of Sophokles, for the editor has already acknowledged his obligation to Professor Jowett. Art. II.—Parliamentary Eloquence. 1. A Book of Parliamentary Anecdote. Compiled from Authentic Sources. By G. H. Jennings and W. S. John­ stone. Cassell, Petter, and Galpin : London, Paris, and New York. 1872. 2. The Orator : a Treasury of English Eloquence, containing Selections from the most Celebrated Speeches of the Past and Present. Edited, with Short Explanatory Notes and References, by a Barrister. London : S. 0. Beeton. 3. Select British Eloquence, embracing the best Speeches entire of the most Eminent Orators of Great Britain for the last Two Centuries : with Sketches of their Lives, an estimate of their Genius, and Notes Critical and Explanatory. By Chauncey A. Goodrich, D.D., Professor in Yale Col­ lege, New Haven, Conn., U.S. London : Sampson Low and Co. 4. Parliamentary Logic : to which are subjoined Two Speeches delivered in the House of Commons of Ireland, and other pieces. By the Right Hon. William Gerard Hamilton. London. 1798. 5. Hansard. New Series. ANY have been the writers on the theory of Government, and the framers of model governments and paper constitu­ tions. None of these, however, devised Parliamentary Govern­ ment as it actually exists amongst us, or foresaw its rise. Yet to all appearances it is the form of government which will universally prevail. The English tongue bids fair to become the speech of the greater part of the globe, and wherever an English-speaking race is to be found, English parliamentary M � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Sophokles Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Lester, Joseph Dunn [1841/2-1875] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 36 p. ; 22 cm. Notes: From The Westminster and Foreign Quarterly Review, January 1, 1873. Includes bibliography (p.1). From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Author attribution: The Wellesley Index to Victorian Periodicals 1824-1900. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [s.n.] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CT56 Subject The topic of the resource Philosophy Classics Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Sophokles), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Ancient Ancient Greek philosophy Conway Tracts Greek Philosophers Philosophy Sophocles https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/7c3ed19a64e029e49f2468f40c001f6a.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=RaVy9G1W3qLu11bhUSVeKw6u7qzBcNxfGvWQudrb5zoUIEmKgVfyw8WQiP1fCB5QQBmvHEQjIR7Lvk7BKT8lASMo33mTCqveQBZqRlyUhl%7EVEkIJtN0b5xvfqzr7y0YiBVR1Amk0zChmGvNU9uIgtN-aNTbOeShPmT60R6UfcQGiC5F657JQQgY7OORz5XDB-NX9U4hh1JT97hKanYj4YciIsUoLA%7Eo4hhkyaPkcnw7QE-39UEWZmSv6BDS3P2V1gUSdLsvPgWUgKOYPP%7EpMZrP8cW%7EhSb9t9eYqDtV2fnEWuk2BBBy6AgEUwwvpc8OoFtFYXJmXhCmEuQ6ekx6zeQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 9e82e59e0960d53ae4d197a9ebd68f81 PDF Text Text LIFE AND MIND: THEIR UNITY AND MATERIALITY. • BY EOBERT LEWINS, M.D. ' x “ If it be possible to perfect mankind, the means of doing so will be found in the Medical Sciences.” Descartes. “ For that which befalls men befalls beasts ; as the one dies so does the other; they have all one breath; all go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.” Ecclesiastes, 3rd Chap., Verses 18, 19. GEO. P. BACON, STEAM PRINTING OFFICES. 1873. ��LIFE AND MIND: THEIR UNITY AND MATERIALITY. By Robert Lewins, M.D. The design of this short contribution to the philosophy of Modern Science is one, the execution of which I have felt for many years past, ever since the collapse of the European equilibrium signalized by the outbreak of the Erench revolu­ tion of 1848, to be a great desideratum in the current distracted state of public opinion, especially in Great Britain, as to the claims upon our belief of Divine Revelation at the existing standpoint of science. * My present purpose is to attempt, in quite popular and intelligible language, divested of all technicality which is not familiar to all fairly educated persons, to ascertain the verdict of modern physiology and pathology on the real nature of life. Upon this physical basis, disre­ garding all metaphysical systems, from Plato to Comte, as so many ignesfatui, which have only served during thousands of years of misdirected activity, to perplex and mislead the human mind, I propose to formulate, in a few sentences, a consistent and rational theory of human existence, in which everything super-natural and exceptional to familiar, every­ day observation and experience, is removed from the domain of sense and fact into that of fancy and fable.f I have chiefly at heart to bring to bear, in a purely scientific and judicial spirit, on the so-called inspiration and infallibility of our own Bible, one single, well-established physiological canon, the non-existence of a vital or spiritual principle as an entity apart from the inherent energy of the material organism. * Volumes could not better illustrate the irreconcilable antagonism between Revelation and Science, than the statement of so thoughtful a scholar as the Archbishop of Canterbury, in his sermon on the text “Jesus wept,” at Tam, beth Church on Hospital Sunday, 15th June, 1873, respecting Death. His Grace seriously advocated.the untenable hypothesis now so thoroughly refuted by Paleontology and Biology, that “ Death was a frightful thing, the memento of Sin, for Sin gave it birth,” evidently under the conviction that the myth in the Hebrew Scriptures of the Creation and Fall of Adam is a matter of fact. t No dcubt both the poetical and metaphysical faculties are most essential and important elements in human nature, but the legitimate end of imagination and philosophical speculation is to lead us to the possession of positive facts practically useful in vulgar life. All records of intellectual processes that stop short of this result, are—except during the brief period of our education—impediments of right conduct, and only serve to cheat and beonile us of our time. Action, not contemplation, is the true vocation of Man, �4 This one fact alone, I am fully satisfied in my own mind, proves conclusively that all super-naturalism, alike “ sacred and profane,” is explicable by quite familiar phenomena of deranged cerebration and innervation, and that, as a corollary, the pretended “ fundamental truths of Christianity ” are pal­ pable fallacies, ill-analysed and mis-interpreted signs of disordered functions of the brain and cranial nerve-centres, of no more authority or claim to especial sanctity than analogous pretensions in the case of the Koran, or other extinct or extant idolatry. Mahomet, indeed, from being subject to epilepsy, must be considered by modern pathology as labouring, during his whole public career, which was much more extended than that of the Prophet of Nazareth, under actual organic brain disease, and the wide-spread religion of Islam may therefore be dismissed at once, as a purely medical question, from the serious notice of all who are not Pathologists. The Grecian Oracles, also reverenced by the most civilized nation of antiquity as superhuman utterances of Divine Wisdom, were merely the ravings of women temporarily insane from the inhalation of gases which disturbed, by poisoning the blood, their cerebral functions. Insanity and Idiocy, to this day, are still venerated in the native lands of Jesus and Mahomet as the manifestation of divine inspiration. * Christianity will thus be found, when examinedby the light of the 19th, to be simply what the impar­ tial Greeks and Romans described it in the 1st century—a Syrian superstition. Syria, the “ Holy Land” of the Bible and Koran (as if in sound philosophy any one place or thing can be holier than another) seems in all ages—doubtless from geological and meteorological peculiarities!—to have been notorious for the mysticism of its inhabitants ; by which term I mean such excess of the idealising over the reflective faculties that sober reason and observation, the seeing things as they are in the open day-light of fact and nature, become quite disguised and obscured by the phantasmagoria of illusion. This radical defect, which necessitates the intellect to revolve perpetually in a vieious circle, fatal to all real progress, is characteristic of the human mind throughout all the East, * Epilepsy, doubtless from its striking and imposing physiological symp­ toms, was in ancient times regarded as the “Holy Disease,” par excellence. Hippocrates no doubt incurred the odium attached to “Impiety,” when he taught that no disease was more or less holy than another—all being alike the result of impaired bodily organs. f The scenery round Jerusalem and through the wilderness of Judea to­ wards the Jordan, is exceedingly weird and hideous, well fitted to be the nursery of an ascetic creed, “ whose Kingdom is not of this World.” �5 as every impartial traveller perceives on a very cursory ac­ quaintance. An Oriental must mystify and “ fable/’ not necessarily by intention, but because, from the structural arrangement of his intellectual organs, exaggeration, hyperbole, and the prefer­ ence of fiction to fact, is his natural element. To him Lord Bacon’s aphorism is peculiarly applicable, “ A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure.” In the whole texture of his mind he displays the impulsive, visionary imaginativeness and incapacity for patient and sustained impersonal research of women and children, swayed by every fluctuating breath of sentiment and passion. To minds of this class plain truth ap­ pears insipid, displeasing, and unsatisfactory,in direct contrast with that disciplined virile European intellect, which, in com­ paratively recent times, by strict adherence to the investiga­ tion of what really exists, has so immeasurably extended, for the benefit of mankind, the range of mental vision. In the signal triumphs of civilization during the last two centuries the Orient, and the traditional methods of the Orient, have no part whatever. To return from this digression to my more immediate pur­ pose. The single and simple cardinal principle of modern science, above italicised, to which I would direct atten­ tion, and to which I shall confine myself on the present occasion—as subversive of all spiritualism and mysticism whatever—is a plant of English growth, and cannot pro­ perly be considered older, in its definite shape, than the publication of Newton’s “ Principles of Natural Philosophy,” the year before the revolution of 1688, though in a vague, in­ definite form its spirit was awake in Europe from the time of the Reformation. Our Royal Society was established, as stated in its charter, at the Restoration of Charles II., as a protest against “ supernatural ” methods, the Puritan Revolt being the last sincere and earnest abortive attempt to govern mankind on Christian principles, or to take au serieux in political life, the truth of the Jewish Dispensation. Modern Physical and Mental Science, dating from the English Revo­ lution—the era of Newton and Locke—may thus justly be considered the real Anti-Christ. This radical principle of true knowledge, which the human mind has only reached after persevering for thousands of years in false methods, is the confidence, based on fixed scientific data, and not merely on conjec­ ture, in the all-sufficiency of Matter to carry on its own operations, and the consequent absurdity, uselessness, non­ �6 necessity of any hypothesis which assumes, that from outside the sphere of sensible, material phenomena, there intrudes an immaterial, spiritual, or supernatural factor, to perform functions, which Matter, by virtue of its own in-dwelling energy, really performs for and by itself. I confidently sub­ mit to the judgment of my readers the assertion that the whole hypothesis of Immaterialism, of an over-ruling of matter by “ Spirit” (in the transcendental, not etymological sense of the word), the former the passive instrument, the latter the active agent, received its death-blow on the fall of the Car­ tesian, and establishment of the Newtonian, Philosophy. Our great English astronomer, by his discovery of universal gravitation, was the real founder, in Christian times, of scien­ tific, common sense materialism, though, from prejudices of his own education in the scholastic methods of his age, he himself failed to carry out his own data, to their legitimate conclu­ sions, in the domain of Biology. The tremendous revolution in European thought, at the close of the 17th century, can even yet be well appreciated by comparing the mystical idealism of Milton’s “ Paradise Lost” with the common sense realism of Pope’s “Essay on Man.” Erom the awe-struck manner in which the intellectual representative of Puritanism hails Light as too sacred even to be named, we recognise the fatal tendency of that primeval mysticism which renders free thought, free investigation, and real progress, an impossibility. There is no room for doubt, from his cosmological and psychological stand­ point, that had Milton been aware of the prismatic exjferiments and cosmical demonstrations of Newton, he would have turned from them with abhorrence and proud contempt. * To * Socrates, who has been considered by not a few orthodox • authorities to have had a quasi Divine Mission, as a forerunner of Christ, protested against the impudence and profanity of Anaxagoras, when he degraded the divine Helios and Selene into a Sun and Moon of calculable motions and magni­ tudes. Astronomy was pronounced by him to be among the “ Divine Mys­ teries,” which it was impossible to understand and madness to investigate, as the above-named physicist had presumptuously pretended to do. He held, indeed, that the Gods did not intend that man should pry into cosmical arrangements, that they managed such things so as to be beyond bis ken, and therefore logically discarded General Physics, or the study of Nature al­ together as impious madness. “ Moral Philosophy ” he considered alone fit for Humanity. Natural Science he taught to be Celestial Arcana, that would for ever remain inscrutable secrets to mankind. And, as far as we can see, that remained the mediaeval standpoint only fully displaced, spite of the ad­ mirable but incomplete labours of Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Kepler, and Galileo, by the discovery of Universal Gravitation. Both Bacon and Milton, scholars at the high water mark of the knowledge of their respective epochs, disbelieved the true system of the universe.—See Grote’s “ History of Greece,” chap. Ixviii. �us, at all events, a century and a half later, it seems perfectly patent, whatever may have been the doubts and quibbles of Newton, Locke, and their learned and unlearned contemporaries, that as soon as it became a demonstrated fact thatMatter was active, not passive, and that its every particle was in motion itself, and the cause of motion in every other particle —the belief in an energising principle as a separate entity, apart and distinct from Matter itself, became an untenable fallacy. The whole fabric of Immaterialism, the idea of the necessity of supernatural influence in inorganic matter, was annihilated at once. And the generalization cannot be restricted to “brute” matter, but is equally applicable to the organic kingdom of nature, to plants, animals, and man. Sensibility and voluntary motion (animal life), just as in the case of the selfacting cosmos, is not the outcome of a vital or senso-motor principle, spiritual or immaterial—animating, vivifying or vitalising the material organization, but just as in the simpler, though not less wonderful (for in an infinite scale there are no absolute degrees) case of inanimate matter—animal vitality or conscious existence, with all its marvellous and complicated processes of body and mind, is merely the active expression of the material machinery of the microcosm. In this microcosm special anatomical structures or tissues manifest special func­ tions, one of them being consciousness—egoistic and altruistic — of which mentation or cerebration is only a mode. Thought and Moral Feeling is thus only localised sensation, the special life of the hemispheres of the brain, organs familiarly known to be exceptionally developed in the human, as compared with all other animals. Modern physiology, just as in the case of modern physics, has been compelled entirely to discard the Oriental, classical, mediaeval, metaphysical, ante-Newtonian speculation that organic function has for its factor a spiritual or immaterial entity or soul. The question of the anima mundi and anima humana (using the term in the sense of soul) is at bottom one and the same. The speculation, ex­ plicable and excusable even so late as the prevalence of the Cartesian system, while the erroneous idea of the inertness of matter vitiated Philosophy, had no longer a locus standi after its refutation by Newton. If matter acts by means of its own vis insita, and depends on no extraneous “influx” or im­ pulse, the whole problem of Immaterialism and Materialism is solved in favour of the latter. No modern physiologist has any difficulty in realising what seemed so insuperable a stumbling block to the Ancients and Locke—that sensation �8 and thought is due to matter (nerve substance). The whole difficulty seems to us purely imaginary, depending on precon­ ceived fancies as to the twofold existence of spirit and matter in the universe, and the inferiority of the latter to the former — ideas of no greater value than the old prejudice of mathematicians as to the “ perfection” of the circle, so mischievous in astronomical discovery—or the fanci­ ful notion of peculiar sanctity attached to the numbers 3 and 7. We know nerves feel or sensate. We know equally well, both from physiology and pathology, that a special portion of the nervous system (the hemispheres of the brain) thinks. From * the medical or natural stand-point, the metaphysical notion that man is a dual being, compounded of soul and body, is in reality only the last lingering relic of the vicious, obsolete School-Physiology—the parent of occult therapeutical prac­ tice in the middle ages, and familiar in medical literature as the system of Van Helmont, a Flemish physician, who died about the time of Sir Isaac Newton’s birth. This system was based on the fallacy of the essential passivity of matter, and pre-supposed that in every organ of the body there is an Archeus, a ruling spirit, an Eu-demon in health, a kako-demon in disease—the active agent in function, whose sole raison d'etre is the presumed incapacity of matter, “ living or dead,” to exhibit, proprio motu, energy of any kind. This theory, * “ That the hemispheres of the Brain are the seats of the intellectual faculties—viz., Emotion, Passion, Volition, and at the same time essential to Consciousness—may be considered proved by these established facts:— (1.) In the Animal Kingdom a correspondence is observed between the quantity of grey matter, the depth of the convolutions, and the sagacity of the animal. (2.) At birth the grey matter in those parts is very defective, the convolu­ tions being only superficial fissures confined to the surface of the Brain; and as the grey matter increases intelligence develops. (3.) Vivisection shows that on slicing away the Brain the animal becomes more dull and stupid in proportion to the quantity of grey matter removed. (4.) Clinical experience points out that in cases where disease has been found to commence at the circumference of the Brain (that is at the hemi­ spherical convolutions) and proceeds towards the centre, the mental faculties are affected first; whereas in those diseases which commence at the central parts and proceed towards the circumference, the mental faculties are affected last.”—See Dr. Aitkin’s “Science and Practice of Medicine.” To my mind the whole question at issue between Spiritualism and Materialism, is solved in favour of Hylozoism, by the fact stated in No. 3 of the a bove quotation from Dr. Aitkin’s invaluable Text Book of Medicine. Slicing the hemispherical ganglia of the Encephalon induces insensibility and stupidity, which is equivalent to stating it impairs the mind and moral feelings. No physical pain, no paralysis is the result, a fact dwelt on by early vivisectors with astonishment; only a purely mental one, which surely de­ monstrates that the organ injured is the primary seat of the mind—the “ Dome of Thought, the Palace of the Soul.” We should certainly conclude that such was the case from similar experimental results in any other organ.—R. L. �9 identical with that of Divine and Demoniac possession in the Bible, which is quite incompatible with rational, theoretical and practical Physic, has long since fallen even into popular contempt as regards every other organ or series of organs in the body, except the Sensorium. * The radical antithesis between the old dual doctrine of Body animated by Spirit and modern Physiology, may be well illustrated by reference to the different views as to the rationale of “ suspended animation” in the two systems. In the one, where matter is held to be essentially inert—a vital principle—an animating spirit—must be assumed, which in syncope, asphyxia, &c., deserts its material tenement to emigrate as an indestructible, veritable entity elsewhere. In * the other modern scientific one we have with complete reason, and on sufficient grounds, abandoned this separation of soul and body, this emigration, during periods of insensibility and immobility, of the former to other spheres of activity. We now know, as certainly as we know any other demonstrated fact of science, to mention no other grounds for our certainty than the mechanical means of treatment successfully employed for the restoration of the apparently dead, that life resides in tissue as an immanent energy, with its corollary, that suspen­ sion of life is the consequence of the derangement, the arrest of those material conditions (the ultimate link in the chain of which is the contact of the oxygen of the atmosphere through the arterial circulation with the tissues), exactly as takes place in the case of a watch which ceases to “ go” from derangement of its works.f The bearing of this unity, and not duality of nature in man on what are called the “ fundamental truths of Divine Revela­ tion,” must be apparent at a glance. What has been mistaken for supernatural interference resolves itself into Hypereesthesia or Anaesthesia, dependent on increased or diminished nervous and cerebral action. It is quite unnecessary, from this physiological vantage ground, to allude seriously to the portents, miracles, prophecies, &c., claimed by mystagogues, successful or unsuccessful, which sanction their pretensions, as exceptionally privileged beings, to dictate authoritatively to their fellow creatures the behests of Heaven, from Moses to * Error dies hard. In a modified form this old fallacy again reared its head, during the chloroform controversy in 1848.—See Dfemoir of Sir James Y. Simpson, by Professor Puns, P.D. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1873. f The discredit into which Exorcism has fallen shows, that even in the un­ scientific mind, material force has been substituted for “ vagrant spirit,” now “in” now “ out of the body,” as the active agent in vitality. �10 Pius IX., and the author of the Book of Mormon. All such must be uncompromisingly negatived by science in the 19th century as impostures—conscious or unconscious—the pro­ mulgator of an untruth not being, of course, less an im­ postor from being his own first dupe, even though he be the victim of circumstances beyond his own direct control. It were an impertinence in the present state of physiology and physics, to argue in refutation of the incredible assertion that human beings can arrest the motions of sun and moon, change water into wine, lay the winds and waves by a word, cure old standing or congenital organic disease or deformity instantaneously by a touch, by the invocation of any name under Heaven, or in any other way alter or suspend the re­ gular order of the universe by means corresponding with the idea of a miracle in theology. When we eliminate from matter the vital principle we nullify entirely the venerable hypothesis of Divine or diabolic inspiration and possession, and give scientific sanction to the Sadducean doctrine that all reported visions of angels and spirits, good or evil, are spectral appear­ ances—-symptoms of disturbed bodily function of organs with­ in the skull, “ coinages of the brain, bodiless creations,” like the apparition in Hamlet and apparitions everywhere else. Such assumed supernatural visitations as the “ descent of the Holy Ghost” at Pentecost, and the conversion of Paul, to whom, and not directly to Jesus Christ or any of his immediate companions and disciples, Protestantism is chiefly indebted for its Evangelical doctrines, on his journey to Damascus—phenomena lying at the very root of the alleged Divine origin of Christianity—belong to the very alphabet of medical science, and may be confidently diagnosed as not pre­ ternatural occurrences at all, but merely symptoms of over­ excitement—the result either of Anaemia or Hyperaemia—of the nervous centres in the head. “ The sound from Heaven as of a rushing, mighty wind, the cloven tongues of fire,” are symp­ toms familiar to every clinical tyro of morbid action in the en­ cephalic sensory ganglia connected with the auditory and optic nerves, and are, indeed, only exaggerations of that “ singing in the ears” and “ floating of motes” before the eyes, which every one who reads this must have himself ex­ perienced from the most trifling derangement, centric or eccentric, of the circulation of the blood within the brain, or from over-tension of the brain, eye, or ear nerve-tissue itself. The exaltation of the faculty of speech—a parallel case to which is well known as the Irvingite epidemic of “ Unknown tongues”—is also the external sign of excited function at the �origin in the brain of another cranial nerve, the lingual or motor nerve of the tongue. The mental tumult, panic, and metamorphosis of ideas, feelings, and character, are also quite ordinary symptoms consequent on the participation of the cerebral hemispheres—seat of the moral feelings, ideas, and character—in the excited condition of the adjacent sensory ganglia. Identical symptoms, affecting both the organs of sense and the mental and moral faculties, are now quite familiar to us as exhibited by fanatics in “ camp meetings,” a,nd religious revivals, not uncommon since Whitfield and Wesley’s time, in Great Britain, North America, and Protes­ tant Ireland. All such occurrences, whether they happened 1800 years ago in Palestine, or yesterday at our own doors, have no connection whatever with supra-mundane agency, but are simply the usual, constantly recurring, every-day indications of abnormal states of the sensorium. The conversion of Paul falls under the same category, and resolves itself into an apoplectiform attack of the nature of sun-stroke with temporary amaurosis—a very common sequel to protracted cerebral tension and excitement, the probable proximate cause of the paroxysm, the active symptoms of which only lasted three days, though, as often happens in illness of this character, it revolutionized the whole future life of the sufferer, being exposure to the noon-day blaze of an Eastern sun. Such instances of mistaken diagnosis merit as little notice, other than professional, from contemporary medicine, as do the tales of witchcraft in former ages, or the shameful spiritualistic delusion of to-day. All such supposed evidences of supernatural power are merely indications of natural bodily infirmity. * * The conversion of Colonel Gardiner, a well known cavalry officer, killed at the battle of Preston Pans, described by Dr. Doddridge, is another instance of the same kind, identical in its leading features with that of Paul. It was attended by similar ocular and acoustic hallucinations, and instantaneous life-long change of character and conduct, clearly traceable to recent con­ cussion of the brain from an accident—a fall from his horse. It may also be mentioned that two famous mystagogues who have recently aspired to found new religions, Swedenborg and Comte, were in like manner the subjects of Brain affection. The case of the former has been most exhaustively treated by Dr. Maudsley in the “ Journal of Mental Science,” in a series of articles, which I have vainly attempted to induce him to make more accessible to the general public than they can be in the pages of a professional journal. The medical history of Swedenborg is, wiutatis mutandis, that of all successful “ Madmen who have made men mad By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings, Pounders of Sects and Systems.” Comte’s natural history is still a desideratum. Ordinary biographies of the founder of the “ Religion of Humanity,” with all its extravagances and anach­ ronisms, lacking physiological and pathological elucidation, are worthless and misleading. �12 As a necessary part of my argument, however, lam anxious to bring to bear upon the doctrine of a personal immortality— a doctrine which still seems to flourish amid the present wreck (at least on the Continents of Europe and America, and to a greater extent even in Great Britain than easy­ going people and their supporters, either from sentiment or interest), of time-honoured creeds are willing to allow—the above fact of the unity, and not duality of nature in man. This belief, from the premises that there is in the human being, just as in inorganic and the lower animal creation, no such thing as a soul at all, must be dismissed to the limbo of other exploded superstitions. No doubt every mind capable of abstract thought has within itself, as the reflex, minister and interpreter of nature, which is in itself endless and eternal, the sense or feeling of immortality, of endlessness in time and space. Without that feeling we should be, indeed, strangers and aliens on this planet, itself only an atom in the infinite abyss of Immensity. Time and space are, in­ deed, not natural verities at all, but merely artificial, braincreated segments and analyses of eternity and immensity. Nature herself ignores all such limitations. Her only realities and syntheses are eternity as regards time, and immensity as regards space. All that has been said or sung, in prescientific ages, of God or Gods, may be predicated in this our age of the material universe, beyond which it is impossible for the human mind to range. Higher than himself no man can think. And this idea, this sensation of endless duration in time and extension in space—a sensation never absent for weal or woe in minds capable of high abstract power —but in the average mind only paroxysmally present—forced, too often horribly, on the attention in moments of exalted feeling, pain, terror, suspense, actual or anticipated tor­ ture, sleeplessness, dreams, nightmare, or under the action of certain narcotics, as opium, haschiz, and al­ cohol, has been confounded by precipitate theorists with the literal idea of resurrection from the dead, and a future eternal life of happiness or misery, apart from our present bodies, or with those bodies in a “ glorified” form. ' * * I need surely waste no words, at the present day, in pointing out the fatal fallacies and inconsistencies contained in the apology for this theory, in the 15th chap. 1st Corinthians, and elsewhere in the New Testament. No doubt it is a beautiful dream, looked at from the elect point of view, as there represented; but the truth is more beautiful still. Fruition is better than expectation, performance than promise, actual experience than faith or hope. �13 The apparently different ideas of ante-natal existence which. I forms part of most Oriental creeds, and is known to Occi­ dental scholars a.s the Pythagorean doctrine of the Me­ tempsychosis, and the modern Christian one of a post-mortem individual immortality, are really one and the same chimerical notion. Both are relegated, by sober, scientific analysis, from the domain of the actual into th it of the ideal. Both are alike the ill-analysed, empirical conception, the cerebral function, untrained by scientific discipline, frames to itself of the infinite, the eternal—in the one case as applied to the past, in the other to the future. An actual, veritable im­ mortality is perfectly superfluous, seeing we have already, in our present state of being, an ideal one in the sense of it. “ Heirs of immortality’’ we certainly are, but not in the theological sense of the phrase. Only in so far as during every pulse beat between the cradle and the grave our minds have an instinctive sense, more or less definite, of endless duration and extension. Man, then, as a sentient being, is launched into eternity, not when he dies, for at death he returns to the same condition of nothingness, as far as consciousness is concerned, as was the case prior to his embryonic existence, but when the first stirrings of life, including the life of the brain or ideation, begin. Healthy sensation, or perfect life in every organ, including the cerebral hemispheres, is thus our only heaven, morbid sensation, vary­ ing as it does from ennui or general malaise to mental and corporeal agony and anguish, our only hell. Earth is paradise, if the healthy operation of every anatomical structure could be preserved ; perpetual sunshine of body and mind is the blessed result— a beatitude implied in the physiological aphorism, “ the normal exercise of every organic function is pleasurable.” Wherever, therefore, malaise of body or mind is present, its cause must be sought for in deranged bodily function, and in no “ higher ” or more recondite region. All that is fabled by poets, saints, martyrs, founders of sects and systems', under the term Saturnian or Golden Age, Kingdom of Heaven, Paradise, &c., is comprehended in that supreme bien aise which results from the equilibrium of the bodily functions. That state, and that alone, in which, as in healthy infancy, no portion of the nervous system, indicating loss of general balance of the organism, obtrudes itself on our attention, is the true palingenesia, whether of mythology, philosophy, or Christianity. To attain and preserve that state of normal and material well being— �14 discarding all more transcendental aspirations as a mis­ chievous and vainglorious Utopia and fool’.s paradise, • ought all our efforts to be exclusively directed. It will be found, on experience, to have nothing in common with the “ Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ” principle of the degenerate Epicurean, but to require for its attainment and preservation Herculean labours, taxing to their utmost legitimate limits, the vaunted intellectual and moral capacity of our race. The following twelve theses—partly taken from the German —summarise the chief points contended for in this paper:— 1st. The genuine disciple of Nature and Life, which are one and in­ divisible, takes nothing on trust, but only believes what is known with positive certainty—that is, on data which can be universally verified. 2nd. Doubt is not, as Fiction pretends, the herald of dismay and despair, but the necessary preliminary of all order and progress ; as without it there cannot be any inquiry, clear insight, or settled convictions whatever. 3rd. Natural Science is bound in conscience to divulge all her results, however much they may conflict with contemporary prejudices, in order to satisfy the human mind and leave it free for the further pursuit and enjoyment of truth. Mental Reservation and Prevarica ­ tion, as habitually practised by contemporary English thinkers and savans, is disloyalty to humanity | and reason; dangerous alike to their * country, and to the cause of civilization throughout the world. 4th. Natural Philosophy in recent times has rendered trite the axiom, that everything in the universe proceeds by unalterable law. 5th. The sum total of Natural Law constitutes the system of the world (axiomatic truths of logic and mathematics). 6th. The world is from eternity to eternity. Nothing is ever created, nothing lost. Beginning or ending there is alike none. Only the form and condition of things is perishable. Everything that exists dates from eternity. 7th. The Universeis boundless in space and time. The divisibility * England, as represented by her influential and cultured classes, from her pre-eminent adherence to the obsolete cause of traditional Supernaturalism, and consequent inaccessibility to the new order of ideas resulting from the light thrown on Nature and Human Nature by Science—presents in the 19th century a striking analogy to the brandy of Spain during the struggles of the Reformation. Lord Shaftesbury’s inhuman dictum at Exeter Hall, on the 30th June, as chairman of the meeting, convened by the Church Association, to protest against the confessional in the English Church: “ Perish all things so that Christ be magnified,” is identical in spirit with that of the Grand InquisitiZffe'in “Don Carlos:” “The voice of Nature avails not over Faith.” Truly, as Milton says: “ Presbyter is only Priest writ large.” Absit omen. �15 of matter is infinite. The Universe can have no limits, eternity in time and immensity in space being correlative. Sth. As the logical inference from the above, millions and millions of millennia are before ns, in which new worlds and systems of worlds shall flourish and decay ; at their lapse the Universe can be no nearer its dissolution than at the present or any former period. 9th. Cosmical space is not a vacuum. Our atmosphere has no limits. The first living being had its germ in eternity, which is equi­ valent to negativing Creation altogether. The present human being is only a link in an endless series—the goal of a past—the startingpoint of a future developmental form in the Animal Kingdom, 10th. The so-called “ Personal God ” is merely an idol of the human brain—a pseudo-organism of pre-scientific man endowed with man’s attributes and passions, a remnant of Fetichism. Jehovah, Jove, or the “ Lord and Father” of the New Testament, are alike anthropomorphic inventions. Absolute Atheism is, however, no pos­ tulate of Science, which does not venture to impugn the evidence of Cosmical Design, or the existence of an unknown, inconceivable, in­ telligent First Cause, of whose Eternal Mind, the Eternal Universe may be a hypostasis. Some such belief is indeed a necessity during the earlier stages of our life, while, even in the soundest intellect, imagmation is dominant over judgment. 11th. The further development of our race in intellect and moral feeling depends chiefly on education—the disuse of a priori, in­ tuitive methods, and the systematic practice of rational habits of thought based on actual experience. At bottom this is equivalent to saying, superior enlightenment depends on proper exercise, in every possible direction, of the cerebral hemispheres. 12th. No satisfactory progress in virtue or happiness can he hoped for till the present supernatural theory of existence is overthrown, and the docile study of the great Book of Nature and Life, with its invariable sequences of cause and effect, supersedes the arbitrary, anarchic authority of falsely called “ Divine Revelation.” �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. 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Bacon, printers Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5360 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Life and mind: their unity and materiality), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Materialism Philosophy Conway Tracts Materialism Philosophy and Science https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/4fedf4bfc557118c1cd49de85a1152a4.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=enHgYXyDCr1lBu-hxv5hefP09iUqFeRbfw3CWtGC05C-aeaoQS8Uketoh6AqiQSELT5bOnY3H6lpQ9tg2kKKXYWEtOpX18GytLOr6KQMFJ1QmJYCsFgxJGf3h9phaU8NdG2V4IfatBY8CIc8iarYh6lQs80SKhq6Nhpwit-QBUqe4puUYSHoyGgMGgxZrUkwM%7E4u0QuS5NkJWX3SKYzDBzzew%7EZp1cYmc9pNPy-1SpoRTbn0zUuR1dpXuOb87IFNv9i1lHnqJIHrK6XsXcfbzLQprU99ZNWjjHeG9jNBO5D%7ELXZZXL6B7qQBuPsBLXGdY5qgsnJcG0rJw5CisycWmQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 76a7c1f6b0aa954e044dd71f6613ef1d PDF Text Text RELIGION: ITS PLACE IN HUMAN CULTURE. A LECTURE, Delivered in the Freemasons’ Hall, Edinburgh, On Sunday, May 18, 1873. BY JOHN MACLEOD. PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, NO. 11 THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E. 1873. Price. Sixpence. ��RELIGION : ITS PLACE A IN HUMAN CULTURE. LECTURE, BY JOHN MACLEOD. ��RELIGION: ITS PLACE IN HUMAN CULTURE.. T is now well-nigh two years since first I stood on this platform, and although I did not feel then so hopeful of the immediate success of our undertaking, yet I felt convinced that our movement contained in itself all the elements on which true and permanent success depends. I knew it was not an arbitrary movement propped up by artificial aids, and appealing for support to low and vulgar motives, but a free and spontaneous outcome of the intellectual vigour of our time—the masculine birth, as it were, of the nine­ teenth century. It says very much for the intelligence and manliness of Edinburgh citizens, that some years ago there could be found among them several men and not a few women who broke away from the enervating influence of orthodox Christianity; scorned that soft sentiment which languishes and sickens at its ancient altars, and in spite of the obloquy which invariably awaits the revelation of great truths, asserted the divine right of their manhood and womanhood—the freedom of the human soul. Although only a few years have elapsed since you left that worse than Egyptian bondage, yet the influence which your con­ duct, and that of your noble-minded leader, Mr Cranbrook, has had on society is incalculable. Ten years ago, few men would believe that society could so rapidly advance in intelligence as it has' done; that the tone of our daily press could rise from faint and scarcely audible mutterings against spiritual tyranny to a tone of rolling thunder, loud, heavy, and crushing, against everything that is hypocritical and false; and fewer still could believe that nearly every clergyman who has any pretension to a highly-cultivated intellect and refined taste in every Christian sect or denomina­ I �4 Religion : tion would, in eighteen hundred and seventy-three, be following in the lead of Bishop Colenso. I cannot say that I admire the conduct of a man who signs a document such as the Confession of Faith, or the Thirty-nine Articles, and pledges himself by a solemn oath to maintain every proposition therein contained against all criticism, if, on finding that some of those propositions do not harmonise with his better judg­ ment and more enlightened reason, he seeks to force his own meaning into them, and then to inter­ pret them, not according to the obvious meaning of the text, but in accordance with the subjectivity of his own mind, and the false poetic gloss with which he can invest them. I say I cannot admire the conduct of these men; it lacks in manhood and fearless honesty. Christian dogmas have been dead these many years, and they cannot now be gal­ vanised into life; it is against the analogy of nature, of science, of history. Christian dogmas are interesting to us only as the fossilized remains of ancient life; of life which may or may not have been bright and useful, but which was certainly inferior to our own in comprehensiveness and breadth of human sympathy. I know several men in the churches who believe no more than I do in the literal interpretation of their own creeds, or indeed in the Biblical authority which is supposed to establish these creeds; and yet these men are contented to remain within their respec­ tive churches as the paid representatives of orthodox Christianity, satisfying their conscience with the old but miserable subterfuge, which was once the glory of the Jewish philosophers of Alexandria, and of the early Christian fathers — namely this, that every passage and even word in Holy Writ contained two meanings, a primary and a secondary one; in other words, a literal and a mystical meaning. It has been said that a coach and six can be driven through any Act of Parliament; but ecclesiastical acts are still more elastic, in the opinion of not a few, for they can �Its Place in Human Culture. 5 be expanded into dimensions which look anything but orthodox; and immediately on the pressure being withdrawn, they contract within limits which, from their narrowness and convenience of manipulation, might satisfy the most expert advocate for “particular redemption,” or “ eternal reprobation.” We say, then, that when a man ceases to believe, not only in the distinctive dogmas of his Church, but even in the so-called “ external evidences ” of Chris­ tianity itself—prophecies, miracles, &c., that man does violence to his own nature, to his entire moral and intel­ lectual powers, if he still remains a professed believer in orthodox Christianity, and a paid advocate of it. Let such a man scorn to sell his birthright for a little comfort and ease; let him scorn to sacrifice those gifts with which God endowed him at the gloomy shrines of a vulgar superstition; let him stand forth as the champion of truth, of the light of reason and the law of conscience; and howsoever the hysterical screams of weak women and sentimental clergymen may annoy him, he will find higher sympathy and a more serene intellectual repose in that unclouded atmosphere which is breathed by the loftiest spirits of our age. Nay more, posterity will bless him, and call him noblehearted and brave; and he will shine as a benignant star on the path of many a weary pilgrim to the shrine of truth. I have no doubt that many remain in the Churches from higher motives than those of mere ease and comfort. They hope, perhaps, or fancy they can “reform” the Church from within, and render it, if not attractive, at least as little offensive as possible to the scientific intellect of the day. Such motives might be ably defended by those who are honestly influenced by them ; but, in my opinion, that man places himself in a false position—and all false positions are weak and untenable—who professes friendship to the Church and secretly undermines its foundations. The world cannot much admire a traitor, even if he should betray a false cause; men cannot make him a hero who is a spy in �6 Religion : his own camp, who reveals to the enemy all the best modes of attack on a citadel which he pledged himself to defend. He may do useful work for the world, but the world will not give him credit for it; his work lacks all the elements which go to constitute heroism. Place the grand figure of Luther or of John Knox beside that of Origen or Pelagius, and say which would you most admire, that of the dreamy spiritual Reformer, or that of the terrible Iconoclast and matter-of-fact denunciator? Surely the latter, for it stands alone, picturesque, bold, and transfigured by the divine radiancy of truth, seeking no protection from a Church which he abhors, uttering no “ uncertain sounds ” for battle, but a peal which was responded to by thousands of bewildered and benighted souls, who yearned after a brighter, freer, and happier life. We want such men now. There never was a time in which society would more gladly welcome a true hero than at the present; never a time in which such a hero would be more worshipped or adored. We feel so much oppressed by the conventionalities and un­ realities of modern life—by its gross materialism on the one hand, and its downright spiritual charlatanism on the other, that we should hail with unbounded enthusiasm any great Thunderer whose flashes of genius would clarify our social atmosphere, and purge it of that fulsome incense which daily rises from the altars of our little gods. In commercial and poli­ tical development we are no doubt daily advancing, and far be it from us to indulge in the cant phraseology of the pulpit against material wealth and prosperity; on the contrary, we regard all these as among the noblest triumphs and achievements of modern science in its application to the industrial arts. But the miserable state of our religious institutions, the effemi­ nacy and debilitating effect of the instruction there obtained on the one hand, and the absurd, antiquated nature of their dogmas on the other, have well-nigh killed all spirituality out of us. �Its Place in Human Culture. 7 To a calm outsider—that is, to a man who is not accustomed to feel intensely on any of the great prob­ lems which concern human happiness—it may appear very strange that we should make any attacks on the Church, or charge it with any of the social vices of our age. But a little reflection can hardly fail to satisfy even the most unimpassioned intellect that we have good reasons for the attitude which we bear towards that venerable institution. The religious emotion or sentiment which arises from reverence, love, and fear are at once the weakest and the strongest, as well as the noblest, elements of our nature. When a man’s religion is made for him—not made to order, as we say, but ready-made before he was bom—it arrests the growth of all his mental powers. If he is an ordinary man he remains a stinted and timorous soul all his life; it is only when he has that vitality in him, the develop­ ment of which into the highest spirituality cannot be forecast by theology, it is only when he has snapped the cords which bound down his growing energies, that he can realize the intense joy of being free to develop himself religiously. If, then, pure theological training is so fatal to the growth and development of the indi­ vidual mind, it is clear that it must be so to society at large. Every branch of human knowledge has certainly advanced more rapidly in proportion as it disengaged itself from the influence of theology. All the physical sciences are now free, and no man of any note mixes them up with crude theological arguments: and mark the result. More advance has been made' in these sciences during the last fifteen years than during all the centuries which preceded them. Political economy is also free, although in the practical application of it in our legislative assemblies it is still encumbered by religious notions, and trammelled by theological pre­ possessions. Nevertheless, we may say that political science is virtually free; and the result is that we have advanced rapidly in liberal reform during the last teji or fifteen years, �8 Religion: Now, observe the vast difference between the pre­ sent state of these departments of human knowledge which I have just mentioned, and those which are still claimed by the Church, and conceded to it as its legiti­ mate sphere of operation. I mean the general education of the country, at least in its more elementary aspect, with which I may couple all those social questions which bear on the comfort and happiness of the poorest part of our population, of those miserable outcasts which crowd together in the east ends of our large cities, de­ prived not only of the light of reason and conscience, but even of the light of the sun. What has become of the boasted influence of that Christianity which has been so often eulogised as the great civilizer of mankind, when thus we behold its territories lying waste, stricken with plague and famine, with all kinds of physical and moral disease? O mockery! tell me not that we are to stand idly by, and see, without a murmur, our fellowmen perish for want of truth and light, while white-robed hypocrisy builds its temples and synagogues, fares sumptuously, languishes for want of work, and preaches to the poor the Sermon on the Mount, or threatens them with phials of the Apoca­ lypse. Is this not enough to stir you up to mutiny and rage, not against our social laws, but against those who have, or who profess to have, the direction of them? But it may be asked, if the progress of intellect is so great in our age, and the advancement of civiliza­ tion so rapid as you represent them to be—in other words, if men of science are the benefactors of mankind, and the Church a mere stumbling-block in their way, why do not scientific men ameliorate the worst aspects of our social life ? I answer, so they have; and so they are still doing for all those who have the wisdom to listen to them. They have purified and ennobled everything they have yet touched, and when that light they have shed on man’s nature, and on his relation to the external universe, shall stream down into the lowest �Its Place in Human Culture. 9 stratum of society, then we shall see a state of things for which few men venture to hope. We shall see wretchedness and crime banished out of the world, and even war itself slain by the mightiness of its own weapons; for if men of science have not yet been able to extinguish the unruly passions of mankind, they have at least been able to bring the implements of war to such a degree of perfection that they can only hence­ forth be used in defence of the most sacred cause, and can only be taken up when every other means will have failed for the maintenance of our freedom, and the pre­ servation of truth and justice. We shall see also that great enemy of human progress and liberty, the Church, branded with shame, and vanishing like a spectral shadow into eternal silence; we shall see, in short, all the civilized nations of our earth living in peace and human brotherhood. We often hear it asserted, and nowhere more fre­ quently than in the pulpit, that pure intellect is not a safe guide, that we must not confide too implicitly in its cool judgments. “Intellect,” it has been said, “can destroy, but cannot restore life.” Now these state­ ments, and many such as these, are absolutely without meaning. They are simply the wise aphorisms—should we not rather say sophistries ?—of men who have been trained in scholastic theology, and who have received their knowledge of the human mind through the logic of the schoolmen. Yet these neat epigrammatic assertions take hold of the popular mind, and pass as current coin, stamped with the authority of some “great” man, who could not in the least explain his own meaning, till half uneducated people begin to think that there is something wicked in “pure” intellect. So strongly has this feeling taken hold of the popular mind that many timorous hearts, even in this en­ lightened age, tremble with alarm at the least mani­ festation of intellect, either in their own heads or in those of their neighbours. Hence also the suspicion with which semi-theological writers, and indeed all �IO Religion. writers who have not attained to a scientific habit of thought, regard what they call the “destructive school,” by which they mean those men who expose the fallacies which permeate all the great religions of the world. What, “destroy life?” Pure intellect cannot destroy, it rather creates. As well might you say that Kepler and Newton destroyed the mechanism of the heavens when they flung back the astrological and superstitious veil which hid their grandeur for ages from the intel­ lectual vision of mankind; as well might you say that these master minds destroyed the life of the soul when they only purified its vision, and revealed to its awakened consciousness the majesty of those laws which embrace in one grand universal sweep the whole of infinite space, as say that the results of modern science (which are certainly the achievements of pure intellect), when brought to bear on the creeds of former ages, will be more detrimental than beneficial, more degrading than ennobling, to the free spirit of -man. No. Intellect does not destroy, but constructs; and in proportion as the intellect is pure and unprejudiced, its work is more enduring, because more free from error. “Dry light,” says Bacon, “is always the best.” Dry light, or light unclouded by the passions and emo­ tions of the man, or by the prejudices of early train­ ing; that is, pure light, fed by the warmth of a large human heart. I do not say that the intellectual powers ought to receive exclusive attention from us, and be cultivated at the expense of other elements of our being, such as the moral and religious sentiments; but I do say that unless the intellectual or rational part of our nature is supreme, unless it is free to exercise itself without prejudice on all human problems, we never can be safe guides to others, for we are ever liable to be carried away, either by the impulse of excited emotion or by the whims of an undisciplined imagina­ tion. Need I remind you that it was not pure intellect, but intellect perverted by the undue cultivation of the religious sentiment, which caused all those frightful �Its Place in Human Culture, n ecclesiastical persecutions and massacres which deluged Europe with human blood during the Middle Ages ? Need I remind you of the fact that religion, when not subordinated to the light of reason, destroys every vestige of natural love and affection in the heart of man; that, to use the language of Christianity, it “sets a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law,” and that it makes a man’s enemies those of his own household1? This one sentiment, morbidly cultivated, has caused more blood to be shed in Europe since the establishment of Christianity than all other passions put together. It nursed the madness and fury of the Crusaders, it kindled those dismal funeral piles which consumed the wretched bodies of thousands of poor women who went by the name of “witches,” it was at the root of the French Revolution, and bore its full purple blossom in the massacre of Saint Bartholomew. It is clear, therefore, from the experience of the past, that we need not trust to the power of religion for the improvement of the individual or the elevation of the human race. Everything that has hitherto been done in that direction has been effected, not by means of religion, but in spite of it—not by the aid of the Church, but by repudiating her pretensions and ignor­ ing her authority. Do we then say that all religions should be abolished1? By no means. The religious sentiment is a radical part of our nature, and it is as natural for a good man to be religious and pious as it is for a flower to blossom. If great crimes and most lamentable human sufferings have too frequently fol­ lowed in the wake of religious organizations, we must also admit that there is a kind of inspiring power in re­ ligion which gives moral force and character not only to individuals, but to nations. In the absence of that mental and moral culture which the higher education confers, the religious sentiment is the strongest motive that can influence a man to deeds of self-sacrifice and �12 Religion: noble heroism. Uneducated men cannot appreciate philosophical arguments, they cannot follow out a train of thought which involves a logical and analytical power of reasoning; but they can easily understand figures and metaphors, and all those personifications of natural phenomena which assume a bodied form in the imagination. A child can understand the meaning of a Sinai in flames, and of a God delivering his laws to a rebellious world amid thunder and lightning; he can understand and realise with intense vividness the Undying torment of those lost souls which are supposed to bum for ever in fires unquenchable; for the im­ agination, which is nothing more or less than the image of the external world reflected in the mind, is vivid and in full play long before the reasoning faculty is called into active exercise. Every uneducated man, every man who not only has not mastered the elements of physical science, but who has not the mental capacity and culture necessary for the appreciation of the results of philosophical and historical criticism, I say every such man is, all his life, precisely in the position of a child. Early impressions, whether he has received them direct from external nature or from early training, are to him a part, indeed the whole, of his being. They are incorporated in his very organization, and sooner than surrender them he would surrender his life. If you reflect for a moment how much pain and suffering are endured by the best minds before they can emanci­ pate themselves from the errors of imagination, and from the bondage of superstition; if you consider how frequently it happens that the superstitions of early childhood return in old age when the mind shows symptoms of decay, you can then appreciate the enormous difficulties which men of science had to en­ counter; you can understand the strength of the motive­ power which opposed them; and you will wonder rather that they should succeed at all, than that their success should be so slow. We know that when the errors of imagination are regarded, not as mere “airy nothings” �Its Place in Human Culture. 13 which, have no foundation in fact, but as the veritable revelations of Divine truth; when there is no longer doubt in the religious mind, but faith and profound conviction, then these errors, or delusions—as we call them—become so powerful, that their authority over the reasoning faculty is absolute, and from which there is no appeal. Now, observe, that it is on faith and absolute conviction of their Divine authority all reli­ gions are founded. Every religion under the sun claims a “ Divine Authority.” “ God spake these words and said ” is the fundamental doctrine of them all; and “ their motive-power over humanity has been in proportion to the absoluteness of the belief they commanded,” or in proportion to the conviction and certainty they inspired. But though we know that this high claim which is common to them all is itself a mere delusion, yet such a claim is always necessary to ensure their success—to unite men together in one Faith, and to inspire them with enthusiasm for one great work; for in the unity of one Faith all minor differences merge and are lost sight of. But, you may ask, if all religions have hitherto been founded on false premises, to which of them would you give the preference—to which of them would you adhere ?■ I answer in the words of Schiller —“ To none that thou mightest name. And wherefore to none 1 For Religion’s sake.” Religion in itself, as it is commonly understood, is useless, and worse than useless, unless it is founded on a sound moral basis. If the ethical part of religion is false, and, as it is in many cases, revolting to our moral sentiment, then we ought to abhor it with our whole heart, and to listen to no fine disquisitions concerning its “ External and Internal Evidences.” But is not Christianity founded on a sound moral basis ? By no means. Paul makes Faith the standard of human virtue, a position which directly leads to the monstrous principle, that “ What­ ever is of Faith is no sin.” How many noble hearts that single dogma has crushed ! How many has it in­ �14 Religion: spired with ignorant zeal to perforin deeds of violence and pitiless inhumanity; and how many, on the other hand, has it reduced either to absolute despair or to blasphemous rebellion against everything which hu­ manity holds sacred ! I am well aware that, in the mind of Paul, Faith meant something purer and in­ finitely more exalted than it does in the mind of either an ignorant man who has received but little moral training, or of a superstitious man who has but mean and vulgar ideas of God. Faith was to Paul religiously what pure intellectual contemplation was to Aristotle philosophically—it was to him the unity and harmony of all thought, where the mind rests in undisturbed repose, and enjoys the purest mental pleasure attain­ able by man. It was to him, in short, the gravitating force which unites in everlasting harmony the entire spirituality of the universe, without distinction of age or sex, of Greek or Roman, of Jew or Gentile. But what is Faith in the mouth of the ordinary theo­ logian? It is—“.Believe this formula, believe that dogma; believe our interpretation of all the religions and philosophies under the sun ; or, without doubt, thou shalt perish everlastingly !” I need not say, that to make Faith, in this peculiar acceptation, the standard of moral virtue, is simply to banish all virtue and intellect out of the world. We know that Faith inspired the sublimest virtues, such as in the case of Paul himself; but alas, we also know how often it has inspired the most terrible crimes. Indeed if we make Faith the standard of human virtue (observe that I use the term in its strict theological sense), if we make it the fundamental doctrine of religion, we shall find the purest specimens of religious men among the inmates of a lunatic asylum. We shall find there men who believe absolutely and without doubt in all the dogmas of that religion in which they were originally trained —men who see visions and hear voices confirmatory of their belief, and who would willingly go to the stake as martyrs to their faith. It is indeed a most remark­ �Its Place in Human Culture. 15- able fact that either religious enthusiasm, or religious despondency is characteristic of almost all forms of insanity. I cannot afford space to enter upon the rationale of this singular phenomenon, but I may state generally that if parents and teachers were more careful in not filling up the minds of children with “vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imagina­ tions, as one would say, and the likeif they could avoid the teaching of fable, and took more pains to store the youthful mind with a knowledge of facts, and to inspire it with a love for Nature and for Art, I firmly believe that the number of our asylum patients would soon diminish. What was the cause of so much insanity in Europe during the earlier part of the Middle Ages, when nearly all the religious world was dancing mad with paralysis, epilepsy, St Vitus’ dance, and other nervous diseases which are generally character­ istic of the insane ? Was it not owing to the unnatural mode of living peculiar to those times ; to the morbid and vicious habit of dwelling exclusively on the emotional part of human nature, and to the utter ignoring of facts, and the profound contempt for physical nature which such a habit cherishes ? Indeed all nature was then regarded as a thing accursed, and the first men who ventured to study her secrets, and to explain her laws, were either imprisoned for heresy or burnt for witchcraft. This battle between school divinity and physical science has not yet ceased; it is still carried on with a good deal of the old spirit in some corners of the world. The iniquitous barrier, however, which the imaginations of men had set up between God and Nature, between the natural and the supernatural, has been broken down; the outworks 'of Christianity itself—its so-called external evidences— have been levelled to the ground, and although a few obscure individuals may be seen here and there endea­ vouring to rebuild their Zion out of the debris of the old ruins, yet their labour is in vain. Men of science look on with infinite pity for such a waste of intellect, �i6 Religion: and of misguided ingenuity; literary men smile at them for the small amount of culture and taste which their works display; and even our intelligent working men stand idly by, amused as they would be by the labours of little children when they build their sand castles in the face of a returning tide, while every wave from the great deep, in its own majestic, irresistable manner, overwhelms and sweeps them away for ever. Nature is once more restored to her proper place; if we build anything likely to endure, it must have its foundation in her—if we wish to be enlightened intellectually and morally we must live and act according to her eternal laws. But “ a mixture of a lie,” says Bacon, “ doth ever add pleasure ;” and it is quite true that men must live, and cannot help living, on the mere shadows of thought till they have' learned to begin with first principles. “ A mixture of a lie doth evei' add plea­ sure.” Now, eliminate the lie from our theologies, apply the scientific method to our orthodox religion, and the whole thing will shrivel up and vanish like vapour before the sun. Religions are ■ built on what Bacon calls a “lie.” Certain things are assumed as axiomatic truths which not only cannot be proved, but which are most repugnant to our enlightened reason, a,nd on these barbarous assumptions our expert meta­ physical theologians rear a superstructure of syllogisms which makes one feel sad to look at. We will not waste our time in exploding these superstructures, whether they be Catholicism, Protestantism, Calvinism, Mahometanism, or Christian Unitarianism. We will not even turn aside to discuss such childish problems as these—“Whether the Bible is the Word of God?” “ Are miracles possible?” “ Can prayer alter the course of nature?” We need not answer these—Science has answered them long ago. When men are bewildered by the conflicting voices of so many churches, when they see the old mythologies dying out, and every religion one after another strangled in the grasp of science, they do not ask, “what are miracles?” or �Its Place in Human Culture. 17 “ what pi’ophecies are yet to be fulfilled ?” but they fall back on first principles, and in a kind of half-despairing, half-defiant spirit, they ask if there is a God at all, and if Religion is not altogether a great imposture. They see the intellectual force of the age overwhelming everything that goes by the name of “God” and “Re­ ligion,” and they wonder why any men should be so foolish as ever to have believed in such a God or in such a religion. All other questions, except the great fundamental ones, “ What is God—what is Religion,” are idle and impertinent. It is my duty, as your teacher here, to work out these two problems from week to week to the best of my power. It is my duty, and it will be my infinite pleasure, to reconcile so far as I am able the conflicting aspects of human thought, to explain to you the significance and end of human life, to throw some light on its dark enigmas, and to make you feel the happiness and exquisite joy which are the certain heritage of every man who lives righteously— true to himself and true to his fellowmen. I have thus far spoken of religion as a formulated creed, or as a “ Body of Divinity,” which can be learned out of books. Religion in this sense is what we com­ monly understand by Systematic Theology; it is the logical arrangement of metaphysical notions which men have formed of God and of the universe. I say the logical arrangement, for if we grant the soundness of the premises which are assumed by theologians, we have, logically, no fault to find with their “ sys­ tems.” But a more liberal education, and a more intimate acquaintance with the physical laws of nature—in other words, both culture and science have long since convinced us of the futility of all conclusions which are based on mere metaphysical speculations. Now it is clear to every man who is in the least acquainted with the inductive mode of reasoning, that all religions hitherto given to the world are based on false premises. Let us take Christianity as that form of religion with which most �i8 Religion: of us are best acquainted. First of all, the existence of a personal God is assumed as an unquestionable fact, and although we make no objection to this position, we have no reason whatever to accept as final and ultimate the psychological analysis which theologians have given us of His nature and character. In other words, we have no reason to believe in their Science of God, for it is really not science but meta­ physics. It is again assumed that God has once and for all given to mankind a Revelation of Himself, which contains, in the words of the Catechism, all “that man is to believe concerning God, and what duty God requires of man.” But we find that this “ Revelation,” contained in the Bible, contains many things which no intelligent man can believe con­ cerning God, and that it inculcates duties which are either impracticable in modern society, or simply barbarous. To make the matter worse, and render it still more bewildering, this so-called Revelation contradicts itself on so many important points that theologians have always found it necessary to write large folios on the best method of “ reconciling” and “ harmonising” the more glaringly contradictory pas­ sages. And finally, we are gravely asked to believe all this on the strength of prophecies which were never meant by their writers to be prophecies at all, and on the strength of miracles which, if they had taken place, could only prove that the government of the world is a mere blunder. Now all this is theology, that is, the Science of God, which ecclesiastics have evolved out of their own imaginations; and we shall have frequent occa­ sions to see that it is to theology, and not to religion properly so-called, physical science is opposed. Nor is science opposed to the Bible as a religious, any more than it is opposed to Homer as a poetical, book. Our position, which I may state in one sentence, is this:—True culture has outgrown the barbarous character which theologians ascribe to God. But �Its Place in Human Culture. 19 theologians say that this character of Him. is revealed in the Bible; therefore true culture has outgrown the belief in Revelation. Science has also revealed to us the majesty and immutability of natural laws. But theologians say that in some dark periods of human history, in certain rude ages when men had no con­ ception of the grandeur of the universe, or of the method of its creation and evolution, these laws were capriciously interfered with by some supernatural power; therefore scientific men refuse to believe in a God who would “palter with them in a double sense,” and reveal himself by what are called “ miracles.” The question, then, is not between science and religion, but between science and theology; not between science and the Bible, but between science and so-called Revelation. What, then, is religion ? Religion has been defined as a “self-surrender of the soul to God.” This is quite a theological defini­ tion, and a very feeble and sentimental one it is. It proceeds, of course, on a knowledge of the Science of God which theologians have developed in a cloud of metaphysics. Matthew Arnold defines religion as simply “ morality enkindled, or lit up by emotion.” If this is not the whole truth, it is the nearest to the truth that has ever been given, and it coincides exactly with all that I have ever thought on the sub­ ject. Morality is the groundwork of refigion, the very life and soul of religion, and without morality all religion is a false glare. It is for this reason that I admire Aristotle more than Plato, because he is more definite and clear in his rules of conduct. Religion is to morality as poetry is to prose; and it is curious that as Aristotle defined poetry to be imitation, so Thomas a Kempis calls his religious meditations, Imitations. Poetry has, like all the ideal arts, intellec­ tual beauty for its object; religion has moral beauty or holiness for its object. And both are imitations, that is, imitations of ideal excellence. If, therefore, �20 Religion: religion—I mean true personal religion—be moralitylit up or enkindled by emotion, it is very clear that the purity of religion must necessarily depend on the moral enlightenment of society, or, in other words, that religious development depends on moral develop­ ment. This explains again how men are often a great deal better than their theology; for as theology is simply the religious experiences of past generations fossilized in dogma, it is quite inadequate to the expression of the religious experiences of succeeding generations, which have far surpassed them in moral and physical science. Hence it is that the life and conduct of modern Christians are so very different from what one would expect to result from their theology. But the truth is, they have outgrown Christianity, and they are not aware of it. Again, we might say that religion, or the religious sentiment, is one aspect of mental development, or one phase of the collective thought of mankind. This aspect is presented to us in bolder relief during a short period in Jewish history, just as the ideal and fine-art aspect is presented to us during a short period in Greek history, and as the positive, and legal or poli­ tical, aspect is presented to us in Roman history. The Semitic race gave to humanity the religious impulse and aspiration; the Greek and Latin races gave to it respectively the sense of ideal beauty and the method of government. Since the revival of learning, all these elements have been tumultuously struggling to blend and coalesce in the mind of the great Indo-European races, and although the effer­ vescence caused by the contact of these elements is gradually settling down, although, in other words, these various aspects are beginning to look more approvingly on each other, the gloomy aspect of Judaism through Christianity still frowns on science, and its attitude would seem to indicate that many hard blows will be exchanged between them before science and so-called religion can understand each �Its Place in Human Culture. 21 others temperament, and embrace as friends. It will be part of our duty to reconcile, not science and theology, for they are irreconcilable, but the scientific and the religious aspects of thought. It will be our duty also to show how the religious mind can be scien­ tific, and the scientific mind religious; and how the perfection and completeness of our nature depend, not on religion alone nor on science alone, nor on morality alone, but on the completeness by which we are able to absorb into our very being the spirit of all the three. It is then only we can be said to live nobly, and in the front rank of our age, when we open our souls freely for the reception of all light and truth, whencesoever they come; it is then only we can be said to think and act religiously, when we can radiate that light and truth around us to bless and to cheer our fellowmen, and to make them feel that life, when lived truly, is indeed a joyous thing. Already we see the collective wisdom of mankind rounding itself into a perfect orb, and we can infer from the light which it already sheds what shall be the bril­ liancy of its full shining. What the destiny of our race shall be—to what unknown shores the tide of history rolls—are questions which we reserve for the last lecture of our course on history. It is enough for us at present to know that it does roll on, gathering strength in its course; that it has come down to us laden with all the wealth of human thought to which all the nations have been tributaries; that it has overwhelmed, and buried for ever, everything that has resisted its progress, and that even now it roars at the walls of our temples and at the gates of our palaces; and that we see it pass by us bearing on its bosom all that we have of real knowledge, of truth and holiness, to scatter them as seeds for future harvests in some happier climes, and under purer heavens. Smith & Brown, Printers, Edinburgh, �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. 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Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Religion: its place in human culture. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Macleod, John Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 21 p. ; 18 cm. Notes: A lecture delivered in Freemasons' Hall, Edinburgh, on Sunday, May 18, 1873. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by Smith and Brown, Edinburgh. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CT113 Subject The topic of the resource Religion Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Religion: its place in human culture.), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Culture Religion Religion and culture https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/e2ee23d507e91501805c0358ac94f5c5.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=U-RvF-WB0UAV38kErq5l-M-ITTpuuCEkVuSOaoNqCSzBsk4vxVrX9EBLg6OWyHs5nIfZEQK9cm4zAR5a-EaYeUnb3-Q2Yc6UrmopvXLYmaTd%7E3PJdeeqgNsqGh9vEu7Ziw%7E6sUKLn18MBY%7ESK082uOLsG0mD6AU16NMyOoLAVSuOTXRezV0Io1NNkyPKCqqJHwyJnzdfaFiZx2v1TWyb2mkbFZDD3Tdt0PYg5jBiHoV6MprZu3RM2kd1JfHrF9WuX8ZK-yZoi7Mfq9yk-%7EhnOtxS0RCJ2lt7XseG0Vtd-59iE1UpRevbFLsNENNf6HnSY5yHxgyfx5FtVGItAtIOvw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 24c7a08eebbba7c8543904b1f2e2e842 PDF Text Text FORTY-THIRD YEARLY EDITION. ZADKIEL’S ALMANAC FOR 1873$ CONTAINING PREDICTIONS OF THE WEATHER; VOICE OF THE STARS NUMEROUS USEFUL TABLES; WITH A HIEROGLYPHIC; THE YEAR BY ZADKIEL PROSPERITY. TAO SZE, &c. EIGHTY-FIFTH THOUSAND. LONDON: PRINTED BY B. D. COUSINS, HELMET COURT, STRAND, AND PUBLISHED, FOR THE AUTHOR, BY J. G. BERGER, NEWCASTLE STREET, STRAND, AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT THE PRICE SIXPENCE. �SILVEB ELECTRO-PLATE Is a Strong Coating of Pure Silver over Nickel, Equal for wear to sterling Silver. Manufactured, solely by RICHARD and JOHN SLACK. Side Dishes and Covers, £ 6 6s (the set of four). Cruet Frames, 18s. 6d. to 100s. Tea & Coffee Sets, £3 10s. to £15. Everv artic’e the Table as in Silver SUITABLE FOR WZEZDZDIlSrGr _ OR OTHER PR>ESEKTS. EleetroStrong platedFiddle platedFiddle Pattern. Pattern. 12 12 12 12 12 Thread Pattern. King's and Fancy Patterns. £ s. £ s. d. £ s. d. £ s. d. 2 10 1 10 0 1 IS 0 2 4 0 Table Forks ............ 1 15 1 10 0 10 0 1 15 0 Dessert- Spoons ............... 2 10 1 IS 0 1 10 0 2 4 0 Table Spoons ................... 1 15 1 10 0 1 12 0 Dessert Spoons ................ 10 0 15 0 12 0 0 IS 0 12 0 Tea Spoons ....... ............ ÄST Catalogues, with Drawings and Prices, Gratis, or Post-free. Orders above £2 sent per Rail, Carriage-free. d. 0 0 0 0 0 BICHABDOPPOSITE SOMERSET HOUSE, SLACK, AND JOHN LONDON. 336, STRAND, PIESSE & LUBIN’S ALPACA POMATUM. This is the pure grease of the famed Alpaca, whose silky hair is alike ad­ mired for its pliancy and strength. Specimens of the Alpaca Pomatums were exhibited at the Albert Industrial Palace, by the Commissioners of New South Wales. The jurors gave a medal, and pronounced it the best dressing for the hair hitherto discovered. It is perfumed with the Australian Wattle.—Family Jars, price Is. INK SOLVENT. This preparation instantly removes Ink, Iron-mould and Fruit Stains, from * all kinds of Linen, Paper, or the Skin, by merely wetting the Stains with the Solvent. For removing Blots it is exceedingly convenient, as it obviates the use of an erasing knife.—Is. per Bottle. COLOGNE DENTIFRICE. Prepared from the flowers from which Eau de Cologne is distilled. Inesti­ mable for the teeth and gums. Sold in boxes, price 2s. It can be sent by post, or obtained of any chymist or perfumer. RIBBON OF BRUGES for Fumigation. Draw out a piece of the • Ribbon, light it, blow out the flame, and as it smoulders a fragrant vapour will rise into the air.—Is. per Yard, in Box. EGG \ JULEP, or Nursery Hair Wash. From the simplicity of its composition this Julep may be used with con­ confidence, as an excellent cleanser of the Head, and promoter to the growth of tidence, excellenl beautiful and silky ”air.—Half-pints, Is. 64. Hab 2, NEW BOND STREET, LONDON. �PREFACE Again the returning Sun reminds me that it is time to begin the “copy” for this Almanac. At th§ same time I have to thanl my numerous friends for their extensive support of my efforts to maintain Truth and to crush the folly of mankind. The great sale of over 92,000 copies evinces the vast interest felt in Astrology, and puts down for ever the absurd attempts to conceal those doctrinewhich were maintained by the great and good King David , who ex claimed, in the 103rdT’salm, “Bless ye the Lard (Jehovah), all y< his hosts, ye ministers of his that do his pleasure.” Not a day goes by without furnishing freely evidence of the powe: of the stars. Only now do I read of the assassination of th; Governor General of India, who was stabbed twice in the back o: the Sth of February this year, 1872. I turn to the Ephemeris fo 1822, on the 21st February, at which time he was born; and, lo! find the Moon at noon that day in r« 28° 19', and the evil Mars i: close opposition to her, from <7b 29° 14, in which sign, as all astrologer, know, he rules the back. Hence was he stabbed in that part of tin * body. But there was no kind of fatality in the matter. Had In been educated aright, had he understood the fundamentals of astro logy, he might, and. no doubt would, have escaped the fatal blow; fo he would never have ventured into India, when a large solar eclips was pending, on the 22nd December, 1870 ; with the Sun, Moon Saturn and Venus all joined on the place of the malefic Uranus, i his nativity and in the ruling sign of India ! ZADKIEL, TAO SZE. * So was II.R.H. Prince Alfred—born with the evil Mais in Leo squarin the Moon (6th August, 1844), and he also was shot in the hack. TO CORRESPONDENTS. The second Edition of the New Principia, price 3 shillings.—The Great First Cause, price Is.—Handbook of Astrology, vol. i, 3s. 6d.; vol. ii, 4s. may all be had, post-free, on sending stamps to Zadkieg, care of the Printer. Letters to the Publisher will not be answered. The Ephemeris for 1872, 1873 and 1874 will be published on the 1st November, 1872. Price One Shilling. ING DAVID TRIUMPHANT: a LETTER to the ASTRONOMERS of BENA RES, by R. ,T. MORRISON, R.N., M.A.I., Author of the “NEW PRINCIPIA o! the TRUE SYSTEM of ASTRONOMY.” The Work contains a Diagram of a Lunar Eclipse, and Rules to calculate one by plain Arithmetic.—Price One Shilling. LONDON: J. G. BERGER, NEWCASTLE STREET, STRAND. K B 2 �JANUARY, XXXI Days. 4 MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. b souths If souths [zadkiel’s souths ? souths h. m. h. m. h. m. h. m. 27 aft. 23 aft. 1st 0 51 a. 3 31m 6 33m. 7th 0 30 3 6 6 20 30 aft. 2 40 6 7 27 aft. 13th 0 10 19th 11 49 m 2 15 5 54 Apogee, 16d. 2h. m.'—Perigee, 29d. 2h. m. 25th 11 29 1 49 5 40 First Quar. 5th, Full Moon, 13th, Last Quar. 21st, New Moon, 28th, D. D. M. w. 9 4 8 5 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. ®’s Lo ng- tuo h. m. 2 55 a. 2 59 3 2 3 4 3 5 J) rises H. W. and sets Lon. B. h. m. h. m. 1 W. Circumcision, ^r.5 51a. ©inp. HVfl3 2 6 a.41 311.40 2 Th. $ 135c$. D d $ 414 m. D.b.6 2 12 14 3 8 10 4 29 3 F. b sets 4 49 aft. Cl fast 4m 55s 13 16 4 9 38 5 20 4 S. if- rises 8 7 aft. Twi. ends 6 8 14 17 5 11 2 5m45 5 s. 2 Sun. after ©Ijrtstmas. 15 18 6 me rn. 6 35 6 M. lEpfpfjunp. ® 135° 2[. $ p. d. 1? 16 19 7 0 21 7 27 7 Tu. S' O b • 2 36° b • Day 7 59 long 17 20 8 1 40 8 28 8 W. Lucian. ® p. d. § . ? g 18 21 9 2 56 9 33 9 Th. $ p. d. If. $ rises 0 51 morn. 19 22 10 4 13 10 41 10 F. 2 sets 8 5 aft. Clock fast 7m 56s 20 24 11 5 26 11 50 21 25 12 6 34 0 1.47 n S. Hil. T. beg. J 150° iy. $ 144° 12 s. 1 Sun. af. ®pfpl). £ A 24 22 26 13 7 33 1 36 13 M. Cam. T. beg. Pl. Mon. ® g & p. d. b 23 27 14 ris es. 2 17 14 Tu. Oxf. T. beg. Q 144° If. ]) d $ 24 28 15 4 a. 54 2 56 15 W. $150°^. J 45° 1? . [146 a. 25 29 16 6 2 3 32 .16 Th. 6 144° b . 2P-d-<?- J d 24543a. 26 30 17 7 12 4 17 F. © □ S'. 2 144° y. $ in 23 27 31 18 8 22 4 38 18 S. Prisca. Clock fast 10m 48s 28 32 19 9 31 5 10 19 S. 2».af. IE. ® 150° 24. £ 72° 3s 29 33 20 10 40 5 44 20 M. Fabian. $ 135° S 0X0734 21 11 51 6m 2 21 Tu Agnes, ©p.d. tf. S-^rU- Dd 1 35 22 mo rn. 6 40 vv. tlaceni. Day 8 35 long. [ J14 la. 2 36 23 1 3 7 21 23 Th. © g $. £ rises 7 2 morn. 3 37 24 2 21 8 13 24 F. 2 135° Clock fast 12m 26s 4 38 25 3 41 9 21 25 8. Conn. S. P. Night 15 16 long 5 39 26 5 3 10 35 2t 5. 3 Sun. aft. ^ptp^anp. 6 40 27 6 20 11 53 27 yi. D d 5 1 35 a. J) d b 7 58 a. 7 41 28 7 25 0 a.56 21 Ou. $ souths 7 51 a, § souths 11 7 m. 8 42 N. se ts. 1 51 29 w. © 45u J. Clock fast 13m 27s 9 43 1 5a.37 2 42 30 Th. F.Ch.lbe. $db,-X-2. 2 10 44 2 7 b * 8 3 32 31 F. Hil. T. e. $ □ $. D d 2 10 22 a. 11 45 3 8 38 4 18 �JANUARY, 1873. ALMANAC.] 5 January 5th, Dividends due—paid on 8th, on which dal British Museum, 10 till 4. Fire Insurance due at Christ­ mas must be paid. Quarter Sessions, 1st week. Lunar Influences. The 4th, 8th, 18th, 23rd, 31st, Saturn Is in 6th, 11th, 16th, 21st, 25th, Jupiter good 1st, 10th, 16th, 25th, 30th, Mars . aspect 3rd, 7th, 18th, 23rd, the Sun with the 1st, 6th, 11th, 22nd, 27th, 31st, Venus Moon. 1st, 6th, 16th, 22nd, 27th, 31st, Mercury Seep. 35. The sign A quarius rules Arabia, Tartary, Russia, Prussia, Lithuania, part of Muscovy, Lower Sweden, Westphalia, Hamburg, Bremen, Piedmont, ancient Sogdiana, on the 1 — of Persia. B. Sim Sun Moon M. rises. sets. South. h. 18 28 38 48 E8 68 78 88 98 10 8 11 8 E8 13 8 14 8 15 8 18 8 17 8 18 7 £7 20 7 21 7 ■22 7 23 7 24 7 25 7 E7 27 7 23 7 29 7 30 7 31 7 WEATHER PREDICTIONS—January, 1873. h. m. h. m. The year begins cold and cloudy. On the 2nd, 9 3 59 2a 26 rainy, dull air; on the 5th, high wind, cold air ; 7th, 8 4 0 3 24 a stormy period, gales and ; rain prevail; Sth, mild air, yet small rain frequent 9th, some rain ; 11th to 8 4 2 4 18 the 13th, violent storms and. squalls; 14th and 15th, 8 4 3 5 8 snow showers prevail, or cold rains; 16th and 17th, 8 4 4 5 55 milder and fairer on the whole; 18th, colder; 19th 7 4 5 6 41 and 20th, fair at intervals ; 21st, rain, yet mild air 7 4 6 7 27 generally; 23rd, cold, unsettled; 21th. snow showers § snow; unsettled, snow 7 4 8 8 15 25th, some 29th to 27th, very very tempestuousshowers and gales; the end, a period, 6 4 9 9 4 with much rain and heavy falls of snow.—A season­ 5 4 11 9 54 able month, yet low barometer and rough weather 5 4 12 10 46 about the 13tA, 14tA, and last three days. On the Y&th 4 4 13 11 38 Saturn changes his sign, bringing a change. 3 4 15 mo rn. VOICE OF THE STARS—January, 1873. 3 4 16 0 28 “Knowest thou the ordinances of the heavens; 2 4 18 1 17 canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth I ” 1 4 20 2 3 —Job 38, v. 33. None but the well-read astrologer 0 4 21 2 47 may hope to do these things; and even then but 59 4 23 3 28 with much imperfection. The benefic Jupiter has 58 4 24 4 9 left the ruling sign of France, for a time, and that is cruel ; whence 57 4 26 4 50 land be left to thesundrymischief of Uranusand many may expected deeds of violence 56 4 28 5 31 miseries therein. On the 16th Jupiter will again re­ 55 4 30 6 15 trograde into Leo, and remain there until July next, 53 4 3L 7 3 which will give France peace, except in April, when 52 4 33 7 55 the opposition of Saturn and Uranus will stir up 51 4 35 8 52 much strife and some bloodshed in that land. Saturn still rules strong 49 4 36 9 55 on India, Mexicoin Capricorn, and brings many-griefs­ and Greece, &c. These willbe re 48 4 38 11 0 markable on and near the 30th day; when Mercury 47 4 40 Oa 5 joins Saturn. The 7th is an evil day for all born on 45 4 42 1 7 the 13th and 14th of January, or on the 15th and 41 4 44 2 4 16th of July, in any year. The whole month prospers 42 4 45 2 58 to all born from the 21st to the 24th of August. m. �6 FEBRUARY, XXVIII Days, [zadkiel’s MOON'S CHANGES, &c. D.M. Ip souths n. in. h. m. First Quar. 4th, 10 6 m. 1st 11 4 m Full Moon, 12th, 11 33 m. 7th 10 44 Last Quar. 20th, 11 23 m. New Moon, 27th, 3 22 m. 13 th 10 23 Apogee, 12d. 3h. m.—Perigee, 19 th 10 2 26d. 2h. a. 25th 9 41 D. D. of of W. W. Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. 24 souths £ souths J souths h. 1 0 0 11 11 m. 18 m 52 25 54 a. 28 0’s Long. h. 5 5 4 4 4 m. 24 m 9 54 37 20 h, 3 3 3 3 3 m. 6 a. 6 5 4 2 D rises H. W. and sets Lon. B. I h. m. J 150° 24,144° <?. Day hr. 5 43 12/5746 4 10 a. 4 4 S. a. CTpipl;. Purif. Can. Day 13 47 511 24 Blasius. Clock fast 14m 8s 14 48 morn. ? 8 $• £ p. d. Ip . Twi. ends 6 48 15 49 0 44 Agatha. 8 □ sets 7 15 m. 16 49 2 3 ? A$, 144° 2/. Ip rises 6 38 m. 17 50 3 18 g p. d. . 24 rises 5 34. aft. 18 51 10 4 28 8 S. $ rises 0 5 m. Day incr. 1 46 19" 52 11 5 29 9 S. Srptuagcs. Stinbap. 2 150 $ * 20 52 12 6 20 10 M. D d J$ 6 0 aft. Cl. fast 14m 30s 21 53 13 7 0 11 Tu. 24 150° Ip. Day 9 42 long 2 72 Ip. 22 54 14 7 20 12 W. Q p.d. If. D d 24 5 22 aft. 23 54 15 rises. 13 Th. ^72°24. 2 135° 2[. N. 14 15 1. 24 55 16 6 a.13 14 F. $ f ets 9 36 aft. 25 55 17 7 21 15|S. ® 8 If, p. d. J . Day 9 57 long 26 56 18 ~8 30 16IS. Srxagcs ma Suntmp. 27 56 19 9 40 L7|M. $ 8'24. Cl.f.l4m 13s. 2gr.H.L.S. 28 57 20 10 53 l8Tu. ? p. d. 24. ]) d 6 48 aft. 29 57 21 morn. 19 AV. $ sets 5 3 aft. Night 13 48 long 0X58 22 0 / 10 ¡Th 5 P- d. . £ rises 11 37 aft. 1 58 23 1 25 21 [F. Q 150° ff, dj- g 150° D 2 59 24 2 44 22 S. Cam. Term div. m. n. © p. d. 2 ~3 59|25 ~4 0 23 2>. Sljrobc' Sun. ® 36° Ip . $ p. d. 2 , 4 59|26 5 9 St. Matt. D d * n 48 m. [45° 2 6 ? 2 0'27 6 J sets 10 4 a. Day 10 35 long 7 0128 6 43 0'29 7 11 iSsfj ®L © p. d. ? A J1 8 ©144°^. J A 24. Hi 0 4a. 9 ON sets. y souths 9 44 a. Nt. 13 13 long. 10 1| 0i h. m 5 a. 3 5 47 6m 8 6 51 7 38 8 39 9 53 11 15 Oa.31 1 24 2 8 2 42 3 17 3 48 16. 4 46' 5 16^ 5 48 6m 5 6 43 7 27' 31 58 J upiter a morning star till February 15th ; an evening star till Scp'embcr 4th; a morning star to end. Venus an evening star till May 5th ; then a morning star to ci d �FEBRUARY, 1873. almanac.] 7 February 2nd, Candlemas—Scotch Quarter Day. 14th, Valentine. Why should not the young send love-letters ? Lunar Influences. ' Is in The 4th, 15th, 19th, 28th, Saturn good 2nd, 7th, 12th, 17th, 21st, Jupiter aspect 8th, 13th, 23rd, 27th, Mars with the 1st, 6th, 17th, 22nd, the San M-oon. 5th, 10th, 21st, 25th, Venus J Seep. 35. 5th, 17th, 22nd, 27th, Mercury Th'e sign Pisces rules Portugal, Calabria, Normandy, Galicia in Spain, Cilicia, Alexandria, Ratisbon, Worms, Seville, Compostella and Tiverton. D. I Sun | Sun I Moon M. I rises. I sets. | South. 1 h. m. h. m. h. m. WEATHER. PREDICTIONS—February, 1873. Temperate during days; 4th and 1 7 414 47 3a48 5th, stormy and cold, the first three and 7th, snow­ frosty air ; 6th E 7 39 4 49 4 36 showers, cloudy and dull; 9th and 10th, damp air, 3 7 38 4 51 5 24 rather unsettled; 11th and 12th, milder, but south­ 4 7 36 4 53 6 12 west gales prevail; 15th and 16th, very mild, but 5 7 34 4 54 7 1 high winds prevail, some rain; 17th, brilliant aurora, 6 7 33,4 56 7 51 high wind; 18th, still windy, with some rain; 20th | period; 22nd and 23rd, 7 7 314 58 8 42 and 21st, a violent storm 25th, fairer; 26th, sudden much rain falls. 24th and 8 7 29 5 0 9 34 squalls and showers, maybe snow ; 27th, temperate E 7 27 5 2 10 25 air, fair at intervals.—A fair month generally, with 10 7 265 4 11 14 high barometer. I look for aurora on the 17 th, and 11 7 24'5 6 morn. very high 'winds. Last year, Jupiter in opposition to 12 7 22'5 7 0 0 Mercury brought an aurora over all Europe and Asia. 13 7 20!5 9 0 45 VOICE OF THE STARS—February, 1873. 14 7 18,5 11 1 27 Mars strong in Scorpio, therein rules 15 7 165 13 2 8 Barbaryflamessundry other places and p. 23), where' and (see E 7 145 15 2 48 he brings discord and quarrels, as well as many 17 7 12 5 17 3 29 other evils, arising from violence ; which is his chief 18 7 105 18 4 12 delight. These things will be notable on and about 19 7 85 20 4 57 the 6th day. Jupiter retrogrades in Leo ; and therein 20 7 65 22 5 46 he mitigates the troubles of France, arising from the the 21 7 45 24 6 39 mischievous propensities ofword French people; with whom almost every hasty engenders revenge ; 22 7 25 26 7 37 which renders them the least truly Christian people E 7 05 27 8 39 of all Europe. On the 10th day may be looked for ; 24 6 585 29 9 43 a great struggle in the House of Commons ; probably 25 6 56 5 31 10 45 about a School Bill, or other matter in connection 26 6 545 33 11 45 with Education. Indeed, the 4th brings riots and uproars in France, and troubles in Rome. Jupiter 27 6 525 34 0a41 brings gain and health to all born from the 17th to 28 6 49 5 36 1 34; the 21st of August, any year. Bat let all born from the 16th to the 19th of January beware of cold, in-‘ juries to the knees, and troubles by old people, landMarch 3Oth& JunelOth, : lords and farmers, &c. Venus’greatest brilliancy �[zadkiel’s MARCH XXXI Days. MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. h. m. First Quar. 6th, 1 Full Moon, 14th, 5 Last Quar. 21st, 10 New Moon, 28th, 0 25 m. 1st 44 m. 7th 19 aft. 13 th 54 aft. Apogee, lid. 8h. m.—Perigee, 19th 25th 26 d. llh. a. D. D. cf of M. w. 1? souths 7/ souths S souths 2 souths h. 9 9 8 8 8 m. 27m 6 44 23 1 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. h. 11 10 10 9 9 m. 10 a .44 18 52 26 h. 4 3 3 3 2 m. 8m 49 28 6 43 nJ. 0a 57 53 47 39 h. 3 2 2 2 2 0’s 4? D rises H.W. and sets Lon. B. Long. h. m. 1 s. St. D. fÿ sets 5 38 m. Least twi. 11 XI 8 a. 59 2 s. 1 Sun. tn ïïrnt. Chad. ) d S 11 12 1 3 M. ©A^. jal?,p. d. £. [49 m." 13 1 4 Tu. 0 45° 1?. $ 150u2[, 36° 2 14 1 morn. 5 W. Emb. W. 2 p. d. 2£. Cl. f. 11m 38s 15 1 1 4 16 1 2 18 6 Th. 2 □ y. Twilight ends 7 40 1 3 24 7 F. Perp. 0135°#. ÿ >|< 1? , 144° , 17 ] 9 4 19 8 S. [Day inc. 3 33. g in £. [135° J1 18 9ÎS. 2 Sun. tn lEent. $ A Jd$ 19 2 1 10 5 10 M. i 1? r. 4 42 m. Cl. f. 10m 24s. [9 55 a. 20 1 11 5 35 21 1 12! 5 59 11 Tu. © p. d. £. D d 4 4 58 aft. 1 13 6 19 12 W. Ereg. 1? p. d. £ 135° 2[, 144° 22 L3Th.'0 150° 2J., 45° ?. [<? 23 C 14 6 34 14 F. 'll sels 5 41 m. Day 11 43 long 24 0 15 ris es. ("16 7 a. 31 25 15 8. $ 72° . S rises 10 30 aft. 116 S. 3 Suniiap in "Lent. ¡25 59)17 8 43 '17 M. St. Pat. ÿ 150° $. Nt. 12 5 long 26 59 18 9 57 18 TvL.Ed.K. TE& Jd<? 9 56 m. Cl.f.|27 5919 11 12 19 W. © 144° if.. £ gr. elong.E. [8m8s'28 58 20 morn. 20 Th. © ent.rO 52 a. 0 135° o . ? p.d ¡29 58 21 0 31 w + . 21 F. Benedict. 0 >|< Tj. ¿'sta. [iff & | Ot57 22' 1L 49 1 57 23 2 58 22 S. © A $. 2 sets 10 43 aft. 2 56 24 3 57 23 S. 4 S. tn ILtnt. 2 8 E3 56 25' 4 40 24 M. D d 1? 0 27 m. Cl. fast 6m 18s 4 55 26 5 11 25 Tu. Lady Day. £ sets 8 1 aft. 26 W. C souths 8 0 aft. Day 12 30 long 5 54 27 5 36 6 54 28 5 54 27 Th. 0 135° 2£. £ stationary 28 F. i $ souths 0 48 a. N. 11 22 long 7 53 N.! sets. 3 29 S. 0144°^. ]) d ? 9 54 morning i 8 52 1 7a. 51 30 S. 5 S. tn "Lent. ? at gr. brilliancy | 9 52 2 9 17 31 M. J 72° $. D d ? 11 32 morning'10 51 3 10 41 h. m. 3 a. 59 4 40 5 18 5 57 6ml6 7 0 7 53 9 9 10 39 0 a. 4 1 4 1 46 2 22 2 52 3 21 3 48 4 17 4 47 5 18 5 52 6m.l2 0 7 5 8 9 44 11 21 0 a.34 1 28 2 11 2 52 3 32 4 11 �ALMANAC.] MARCH, 1873. 9 March 1st, Municipal Assessors appointed. Overseers on the 25th. Lady Day—rents and insurance fall due. Never trench on the money provided for rent. Lunar Influences. The 4th, 14th, 19th, 27th, Saturn V Is in „ 1st, 6th, 11th, 16th, 20th, 29th, Jupiter good ,, Sth, 13th, 22nd, 26th, Mars I aspect „ 3rd, 8th, 19th, 23rd, the Sun ( with the ,, 2nd, 7th, 12th, 26th, 31st, Venus I Moon. ,, 4th, 9th, 20th, 25th, 2jth, Mercury J Seep. 35. The sign Aries rules England, Denmark, Germany, Lesser Poland, Syria, Palestine, Naples, Florence, Verona, Padua, Marseilles, Burgundy, Saragossa, Cracow, Biimingbam and Leicester. D. Sun Sun Moon M. rises. sets. South. WEATHER PREDICTIONS—March, 1873. h. m. h. m. h. m. Unsettled at first; 3rd and 4th, a 1 6 47 5 38 2a24 period, much rain, gales and had showers ;very stormy 5th, fairer; E 6 45 5 40 3 14 6th and 7th, stormy again, lightning or auro a; 9th, 3 6 43 5 42 4 4 windy; 11th to 13th, unsettled, but mild air, aurora 4 6 41 5 43 4 54 seen; 15th and 16th, rather fair; 17th and 18th, 5 6 38 5 45 5 45 showery; 20th and 21st, cloudy, some thunder ; 22nd 6 6 36 5 47 6 37 to 24th, heavy rains, very unsettled ; 25th to 27th, fairer; 29th, warmer; 31st, rain again.—A rather 7 6 34 5 48 7 29 fair month after the 4th day ; the lilh and 21si to 8 6 32 5 50 8 21 24th, however, will be very unsettled. E 6 30 5 52 9 10 10 6 27 5 54 9 58 VOICE OF THE STARS—March, 1873. 11 6 2-5 5 55 10 43 Jupiter still retrogrades in the last face of Leo; 12 6 23 5 57 11 26 and therein brings a more settled state of things 13 6 20 5 59 mo rn. among the fickle-minded men of France. Saturn 14 6 18 6 1 0 7 steals on, and euters the sign Aquarius on the 13th. 15 6 16 6 2 0 48 He therein speedily meets the opposition of Uranus, E 6 14 6 4 1 29 and Arabia, Russia, Prussia, Hamburg, &c., will suffer from storms and political excitement. France 17 6 11 6 6 2 11 also will witness plots and sudden outbreaks of popu­ 18 6 9 6 7 2 55 lar indignation against the ruler. The passage of 19 6 7 6 9 3 42 Saturn over the M. C. of a lady of high distinction 20 6 5 6 11 4 33 will bring her trouble ; i ct as she has the Moon rapt 21 6 2 6 12 5 29 par. Jupiter 53° 51' now operating, no very serious 22 6 0 6 14 6 28 matter may be feared. Mars is stationary iu 15° 17' 22nd day ; which indicates earth­ E 5 58 6 16 7 29 of Scorpio on themischiefs abounding; the more so as quakes and other 24 5 55 6 17 8 30 the Sun, that day, aspects the evil Uranus; hence 25 5 53 6 19 9 29 sudden, unexpected and cruel will be the conse­ 26 5 51 6 21 10 25 quences. Let all born on the 8th or 9th of November, 27 5 49 6 23 11 18 any year, be on their guard, to avoid ill health, rup­ and other 28 5 46 6 24 0 a. 9 tures, of August injuries. All born from the 14tli to 17th will now flourish, and enjoy good 29 5 44 6 26 1 0 health. Those born on or near the 21st of January E 5 42 6 27 1 50 will suffer from colds and weakness in the legs. 31 5 39 6 29 2 42 �10 VIOON'S CHANGES, &c. h. m. First Quar. 4th, 6 Full Moon, 12th, 9 Last Quar. 20 b, 5 New Moon,26th,10 Apogee, D of M. [zadkiel’s APRIL XXX Days. D.M. 36 aft. 1st 51 aft. 7th 47 m. 13th 42 aft. 7cl. lib. a.—Perigee, 19th 25th 23<1. Sb. a. I? souths 7/ souths (J souths $ souths h. 7 7 6 6 6 m. F6m 14 51 29 6 h. 8 8 8 7 7 m. 57 a. 33 9 45 22 h. 2 1 1 0 0 m. 13 m 45 16 45 13 h. 2 2 1 1 0 m. 26 a. 10 50 24 53 u Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. hr J) rises ' H.W. ®’s Long. x and sets J Lon. B. h. m. h. m.| Tu sets 3 49 m. Clock fast 3m 52s 11Y 50 4 morn. 4 a. 471 0 5 25 2 W. rises 3 17 in. Day 12 57 long 12 49 5 0 3 Th. li. Bish. Chick. 0 72° 1?, 150° J 13 48 6 1 12 5 m45 4 F. St. Ambr. Cain. T. ends. $ □ If 14 47 7 2 13 6 29 2 7 19 15 46 8 3 5 S. Orford Term ends. 0 36° J 6 S. paling. 0d ? 36;$. idV 16 45 9 3 38, 8 33 410 6 7|M. D d If 8 4 a. Nt. 10 43 1. [4 5 m. 17 44 101 4 8 Tu.iQ p. (1. ÿ , I; g lÿ. Clock f. Im 49s 18 43 11 4 25 11 32 9 W. $—......................... 19 42 12 4 41 0 a. 33 72° b • C stationary 20 41 13 4 56 1 11' .0 Th. $ 150° f . If. sets 3 50 morn. 9 1 .1 F. (fioob dfriban. 0 A If. D. br. 3 8 21 39 14 5 .2 S. J lis. 8 25 aft. Day 13 36 long 22 38 15 lises. 2 16 faster Sunbap. 0 30° ? 23 37 16 7 a. 45 2 47 2 3 17 J stationary. ]) d <? 9 32 morn. 24 36 17 9 l5|Tu. B'as. Term beq. Clock slow Oni 3s 25 34 18 10 21 3 471 26 3319 11 39 4 19| 16 W. Oxf. Term beq. Twi. ends 9 7 27 31 20 morn. 4 54 17 Th. 11 stationary. Day incr. 6 11 28 30 21 0 53 5 34 18 F. Cam. T. leg. $ sets 9 55 aft. 29 29Ì22 1 54 5 m56 19 S. Alphege. £ stationary 20 %. Ifoto Sunban. Jrf b 9 21 morn. 0 b 27 23 2 39 6 51 4 21 M. 0 □ $ , 5 150° . Cl. si. Im 25s 1 26 24 3 18 8 2 24 25 3 39 9 38 22 Tu. © □ b • Night 9 46 long 8 0 11 3 22,26 4 23 AV. St. George. £ rises 4 18 morn. 24 Th. 2 □ If. Day 14 22 long 4 21 27 4 16 0a.l2 1 25 F. St.Mark, ©p.d.j'. D d £ 3 8 m 5 19 28 4 30 1 [ $ in aph. 6 18,N. sets. 1 45 26 8. $ souths 5 58 aft. 27 5. 2 S. aft. ®. ®cf(?.>)d?9 28a 7 16 1 8 a.L- 2 26 5 28 M. If sets 2 40 m. Clock si. 2m 40s , 8 14 2 9 35 3 9 12 3 10 53 3 44 ¿9 Tu 8 36° 2 . Day 14 40 long 10W. J sets 8 33 aft. £ souths 10 22 m. 10 11 4 morn 4 22 I 1 ] r �ALMANAC.] APRIL, 1873. 11 April 5th, Dividends due—payable on the 8th, by whic time Insurance must be paid. Quarter Sessions 1st week. Lunar Influences. The 1st, 10th, 15th, 24th, 28th, Saturn Is in „ 2nd, 7th, 12th, -7th, 25th, 29th, Jupiter good ,, 4th, 9th, 18th, 22nd, Mars >. aspect ,, 2nd, 7th, 17th, 22nd, the Sun ' with the ,, 5th, 10th, 19th, 23rd, 27th, Venus Moon. „ 2nd, 6th, 16th, 20th, 24th, 29th, Mercury A Seep. 35. The sign Taurus rules Ireland, Persia, Great Poland, Asia Minor, the Archipelago, the Islands of Cyprus, part of Russia, Dublin, Palermo, Mantua, Leipsic, Parma, Franconia, Louvain, &c. D. Sun Sun M. rises. sets. Moon South. h. m. h. m. h. 15 2S 35 45 55 E5 75 85 ; 95 10 5 11 a 12 5 E5 14 5 15 5 16 5 17 6 18 5 19 4 E4 ai 4 22 4 23 4 24 4 25 4 26 4 E4 28 4 29 4 30 4 37 6 35 6 33 6 30 6 28 6 26 6 24 6 22 6 19 6 17 6 15 6 13 6 10 6 86 66 46 26 06 58 7 56 7 53 7 51 7 49 7 47 7 45 7 43 7 41 7 39 7 37 7 36 7 m. 31 3a 3 4 32 4 28 34 5 21 36 6 14 38 7 5 39 7 53 41 8 39 42 9 23 44 10 5 46 10 46 47 11 27 49 morn. 51 0 9 52 0 52 54 1 39 56 2 30 57 3 24 59 4 22 1 5 22 2 6 22 4 7 20 6 8 15 7 9 8 9 9 58 11 10 48 12 11 37 14 0a28 16 1 20 17 2 14 19 3 9 WEATHER PREDICTIONS—April, 1873. The month begins quietly. 3rd, showers; 4th, fair blue sky, and white clouds; 6th, wind and moisture prevail; 8th and 9th, turbulent, stormy weather; 10th and 11th, warm air, fair and summerlike ; 13th and 14th, wet prevails, growing weather; 16th and 17th, mild and fair generally; 19th to 21st, unsettled; 22nd, cold, wet and windy; 24th and 25th, fair and warm; 27th, heat, lightning, rain at night, fine growing weather, generally, to the end. —A fair month; very pleasant on Good Friday. Warm air prevails, except on the 21,st and ‘ ind. F The thermometer above the average. VOICE OF THE STARS—April, 1873. The opposition of Saturn and Uranus this month is one of the chief astrological features of the year. It happens but very rarely. There was an opposition,how­ ever, in January, 1829, very near the place of this phe­ nomenon. The chief effects will fall on France. It will be well if the rulers of France do not quar­ rel with those of Russia. The opposition of these malefics falling on the birthday of the King of Den­ mark brings to pass a serious trouble to that monarch ; nor will his neighbour in Belgium be much better off in this respect. The retrograde march of Jupiter in Leo will defend France from much bloodshed ; and this position will greatly benefit all born on or near the 14th August, in any year. But those born on the 22nd January and the 24th July will feel the power of these opposing malefics, and lose relations, and suffer much trouble by old persons, landlords, farmers, and other saturnine persons about the 8th of this month more especially. Venus in Taurus keeps things tolerably peaceable in Ireland; especially near the middle of this month. �12 MAY XXXI Days. [zadkiel’s MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. I? souths 'll souths h. m. First Quar. 4 th, 0 33 aft. Full Moon, 12th, 1118 m. 1st Last Quar., 19th, 11 0 in. 7 th New Moon, 26th, 9 20 m. 13th Apogee, 5d. 6h. m.—Perigee, 19th 25th 20d. Oh. m. D D. of h. m. 5 5 4 4 4 43 m 20 56 32 8 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. h. m. 6 6 6 5 5 59 a. 37 15 53 32 souths $ souths h. m. h. m. 11 35 a. 0 17 a. 11 3W 11 40m 10 31 11 5 10 1 10 33 9 33 10 7 * ¡30 D ri ses H. W. G) s Lon g- O'? and sets Lon. B. .* m. h. m. h. 1 Th. St.Ph.dc St. J. 0 p.d. 2(., 72° I? 11 S 9 5 Om 1 5 a . 1 2 F. $ sets 1 34 m. Day break 1 59 12 7 6 0 56 5 42 3 S. Invention of the Cross. ]) d 13 5 7 1 38 6m 5 4 s. 3 5. after faster [Oh 31m a. 14 3 8 2 9 6 55 5 M. 3d?. ]) d If. Oh 32m a. 15 1 9 2 30 7 59 6 Tu. John Evan. g72° !{.. Clock slow 15 59 10 2 48 9 21 7 W. ? p. d. b • Twi e. 10 13 [3m. 34s. 16 57 11 3 3 10 37 8 Th. 5 A Night 8 49 long 17 55 12 3 16 11 41 9 F. East. Term ends. Ip rises 0 54 m. 18 53 13 3 28 Oa .27 10 S. 0 72° 3 □ 1?. J) d 3 11 40 a. 19 51 14 3 41 1 2 11 s. 4 Sunbap after lEaster. 0 p. d. ? 20 49 15 3 55 1 39 12 M. D ecl. inv. at Gr. J? sta. | 3 □ $ 21 47 16 4 11 2 12 13 Tu. Old May Day. 0 □ 1/ 22 45 17 1 is es. 2 49 14 W. If sets 10 56 a. Cl. slow 3 m. 54s. 23 42 18 10a.42 3 23 15 Th. £ g 3 . Day 15 32 long 24 40 19 11 49 4 0 16 F. 5 □ ? gr, Hel. Lat. S. 25 38 20 mo rn. 4 41 17 S. D d 1? 3 25 aft. Night 8 22 long 26 36 21 0 42 5 27 18 s. Rogation Sunlrap. 27 34 22 1 18 5m51 19 M. C. T. div. m. n. 0 p. d. Ip . $ p. d. 3 , 28 31 23 1 45 6 53 20 Tu. Day 15 47 long [d ? 29 29 24 2 6 8 6 ¿1 W. ®p.d.$. Jp.d.2f. Cl.s.3m.40s 0n27 25 2 23 9 27 22 Th. Asa. Day. Holy Thurs. b 8 $ 1 24 26 2 38 10 39 23 F. Tr.T.b. 0^^, Ab- $ p.d. ? 2 22 27 2 53 11 40 24 S. B. of Q. Viet. $ p. d. 1/. J) d ? 7 3 20 28 3 9 0 a .30 25 S. ittn. af, "Ss. D d £ 0 59m. [56 m. 4 17 29 3 26 1 19 26 M. <1 ug. 0 ecl. vis. at Gr. $ stat. 5 15 N. se bs. 2 3 27 Tu. Ven. Bede. 3 sets 2 34 morn. 6 12 1 9 a .42 2 46 28 W. £ □ 1/. Clock slow 3m Os 7 10 2 10 45 3 27 29 Th. Bing Charles II res. Jr. 2 41 m. 8 7 3 11 33 4 4 30 F. Oxf. T. ends. D d $ 10 38 aft. 5 4 mo rn. 4 43 9 31 S. Oxf. T. begins. Night 7 48 long 10 2 5 0 8 5 24 M. w. �MAY, 1873. ALMANAC.] 13 May 1st, British Museum closes for a week; on the 8th opens from 10 till 7—reading room 9 till 7. 24th, Queen’s birthday—drink her Majesty’s health and long life. Lunar Influences. 'i Is in The 8th, 12th, 21st, 25th, 30th, Saturn good „ 4th, 10th, 14th, 23rd, 27th, Jupiter x aspect ,, 1st, 5th, 15th, 19th, 27th, Mars with the ,, 1st, 6th, 16th, 21st, 31st, the Sun Moon. „ 2nd, 6th, 15th, 19th, 24th, 28th, Venus Seep. 35. „ 4th, 15th, 19th, 24th, 30th, Mercury The sign Gemini rules Lower Egypt, America, Lombardy, Sardinia, Brabant, Belgium, the West of England, London, Versailles, Mentz, Bruges, Louvain, Cordova and Nuremburg. D. Sun Sun Moon. M. rises. sets. South. WEATHER PREDICTIONS—Mat, 1873. Windy, but fair in general at first. A tendency h. m. h. m. h. m. the the 5th 1 4 34 7 20 4a 3 to rain asjoins Sun approaches Venus. On the 7th the Sun Venus, and from thence to 2 4 32 7 22 4 56 much rain may be expected ; Sth, windy and fairer ; 3 4 30 7 24 5 47 10th to 13th, a stormy, unsettled atmosphere, the E 4 28 7 25 6 34 latter day fairer, with white clouds abounding; 15th 5 4 26 7 27 7 18 and 16th, storms of wind and lightning; 17th, cloudy 6 4 24 7 28 8 1 and cooler; 19th, cold air, rain prevails; 21st to stormy and cool, rain and turbulent 7 4 23 7 30 8 42 23rd, 24th, showers; 26th, prevails,and some rain ; air; cloudy, 8 4 21 7 32 9 23 28th, fa’rer, lightning or aurora at night. The 0 4 19 7 33 10 4 month ends fair, yet cloudy.—-The temperature below 10 4 18 7 35 10 47 the average; and on the 5th, 10th, and 22nd, rain E 4 16 7 36 11 33 and storms prevail. IS 4 13 4 14 4 15 4 16 4 17 4 E4 19 4 ft) 4 21 4 22 4 S3 3 24 3 E3 26 3 27 3 28 3 29 3 30 3 31 3 15 13 11 10 8 7 6 4 3 2 1 59 58 57 56 55 54 53 52 51 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 38 morn. 39 0 23 41 1 17 42 2 15 44 3 16 45 4 17 47 5 15 48 6 11 50 7 3 51 7 53 52 8 41 54 9 29 55 10 18 56 11 9 58 0a 2 59 0 56 0 1 51 1 2 46 2 3 38 3 4 27 VOICE OF THE STARS—May, 1873. On the 10th and 11th, Mars will form an evil aspect with Saturn and Uranus ; this denotes violent explosions in mines, and numerous deaths thereby. In France there will be, when Saturn eomes to opposition of Uranus, on the 22nd, military riots and outbreaks, with their usual attendants, deeds of blood and violence. Jupiter, being in the ruling sign of France, will mitigate these evils, as we may hope. On the 3rd the King of Sweden has the Moon joined with Uranus, and opposed by Saturn, on his birthday. For him we can only expect a year of troubles, which will arise from acts of violence in his country. On the 24th we are glad to see the Moon joined with Venus; which imports a year of health, peace and pleasure to all born that day; and this denotes gain and wealth to Old England. Let all born at the time the Sun’s place is afflicted by the malefics, viz,, 23rd January and 26th July, in any year, be on their guard against sudden per­ sonal troubles and accidents. They will be exceed­ ingly liable thereto about the 10th and 22nd days. �14 [zadkiel’s JUNE XXX Days. MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. 1? souths 24 souths (J souths $ souths h. m. First Quar. 3rd, 6 Full Moon, lOtb, 10 Last Quar. 17th, 3 New Moon 24th, 9 19 m. 1 aft. 1st 31 aft. 7th 12aft. 13 th Apogee, 2d. Oh. a.—Perigee, 19th Ud. 2h. a.—Apogee, 30d. 6h.m. 25th D. D. I of M. W. h. 3 3 2 2 2 m. 40m 16 51 26 1 h. 5 4 4 4 3 m. 7 a. 47 26 6 46 h. 9 8 8 7 7 m. 2 a. 37 15 54 34 h. 9 9 9 9 8 m. 43m 27 15 6 59 <D I Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., <kc. s << 1 J) rises H. W. Long. *.aQ 1 and sets Lon. B. h. m 1 S. TO)ttS. $A,&p.d.Jp. W2f511n 0 6 0m34 2 M. am. $ -0,144° [26 a. 11 57 7 0 54 3 Tu. Wt®. ® 72° 1/, 135° 12 55 8 1 10 4 W. Ember IF. Clock slow Im 58s. ÿ 13 52 9 1 23 5 Th. Boniface. 0 36° £ . [in & 14 50 10 1 36 6 F. 0p.d. ÿ. ÿ 72° If, 135° D ci J 15 47 11 1 47 7 S. © 135° ip. (? sta. Nt. 7 36 loDg 16 44 12 2 0 8 S. Œrinitp Sunbap. 5 135° Ip, 36° J 17 42 13 2 17 9 M. 0 45° <3 . Iÿ sets 11 4aft. 18 39 14 2 35 10 Tu. b p. d. tÿ. 5 at gieatest bril. 19 36 15 3 3 11 W. St. Barnabas. Clock slow 0m 40s 20 34 16 rises. 12 Th. Corpus Christi. $ 144° Ip,If 21 31 17 10 a. 36 13 F. S 36° I£, A ^,45° J. î d 1? 8 22 28 18 11 19 14 S. Ip r. 10 28 a. If sets 11 43 a. [32a. 23 2619 11 49 15 5. 1 Sun. af. ®rin. 5 16u° Ip 2 4 23'20 morn. 16 M. f sets 1 9 morn. Day 16 33 long 25 20 21 0 12 17 Tu. St. Alban.. © 144° Ip , >|< If 26 17 22 0 30 18.W. 2 rises 154 m. Cl. fast 0m 48s 27 14 23 0 45 19 Th. ? p. d. 2f. ÿ gr. Hel. Lat. N. 0 28 12 24 1 20 F. Ac. Q. Viet. Cam. T. e. © A ¿f 29 9 25 1 15 21 S. P. Q. V. © ent. $ 9 25 m. J) <3 J 025 6 £6 ! 1 33 22^ 2 S. af. ®r. 0 150° ip 1 3 27 1 53 23 M. ÿ sets 9 34 a. Clock fast lm 53s 2 1 28 2 21 24|Tu. St. J. Bapt. Mids. Day. £ J 2 58 N. sets. 25 ,W. £ 36° If. If sets 10 58 aft. 3 55 1 9 a. 26 26: Th 0 p. d. J. D d g 11 19 morn 4 52 2 10 7 27iF. ]) ô $ 9 14 morn. Nt. 7 28 long 5 50 3 10 36 28 S. J 72° y. $ souths 1 30 aft. 6 47 4 10 58 29 S. 3 5. af. ®r. St. Peter, ¿f □ Ip. J> 7 44 5 11 14 30 M. $ souths 1 53 a. [ d 2f 9 27 m. 8 41 6 11 29 h. ID. 5m46 6 32 7 22 8 2 9 32 10 36 11 27 0 a. 16 1 0 1 41 2 24 6 3 3 50 4 36 5 26 5m53 6 49 7 53 1 9 10 4 i> 11 0 a. 5 0 58 1 48 2 32 3 13 3 53 4 30 h? 5 / 5 44 �ALMANAC.] JUNE, 1873. J unb 20th, Overseers fix notices of persons who vote for counties. Parties registered need make no new claim unless they have changed residence. Quarter Sessions, last week. Lunar Influences. The 4th, 9th, l§th, 22nd, Saturn \ Is in ,, 1st, 6ch, 10th, 19th, 24th, 29th, Jupiter ) good ,, 1st, 11th, 15th, 24th, 29th, Mars t aspect ,, 5th, 15th, 19th, 30th, the Sun ( with the „ 2nd, 12th, 16tli, 20th, 26th, Venus 1 ’Moon. ,, 5th, 15th, 20th, 26th, Mercury ' Seep. 35. The sign Cancer rules Scotland, Holland. Zealand, Georgia, all Africa, Constantinople, Algiers, Tunis, Am­ sterdam, Cadiz, Venice, Genoa, York, St. Andrews, New York, Bern, Lubeck, Milan and Manchester. Sun , Siin Moon | M. rises. sets. Sou th. WEATHER PREDICTIONS—June, 1873. I 'h. m. 1 h. m h. m., The month begins with clouds and winds, a’so 3rd, warm and 4th and ’ E 3 50 8 5 5a 13 some thunder. 7th, heat prevails,fair; lightning 5th, ditto; 6th and and and 3 50 8 6 5 56 hail; 9th and 10th, sudden changes, barometer un- ■ 3' 3 49 8 7' 6 37 settied, hail showers. 12th and 13th, windy, rain,' 4 3 48 8 8 7 18 aurora seen; 15th to 17th, the hca. increases, fair 5 3 47 8 9i 7 58 generally; 19th, fair and warm; 20th, heat and thunder prevail 22nd, cooler, cloudy ; 6| 3 47 8 10, 8 40 some thunder; ;26th, slight changes, fair24th, rainy,: generally 7 3 46 8 11’ 9 25 29th and 30th, serious thunderstorms, dangerous E 3 46 8 12. 10 13 lightning —After the 17th heat inereai s. The last 9' 3 46 8 12 11 6 tivo or three days stormy ; then cooler. 2i io 3 45 8 It 3 45 8 12 3 45 8 13 3 44 8 14 3 44 8 E 3 44 8 16 3 44 8 17 3 44 8 ri8 3 44 8 19 3 44 8 20 3 44 8 21 3 45 8 E 3 45 8 S3 3 45 8 24 3 45 8 25 3 46 8 26 3 46 8 27 3 47 18 28 3 47 •8 E 3 48 8 30 3 48 ¡8 13 morn. VOICE OF THE STARS—June, 1873. 14 0 3 14 1 5 Mars retrogrades in Libra till the 8th, and he then 15 2 7 proceeds on in that s'gn till the 25th. He will many troubles to 16 3 8 therein bring in China, Japan,England, and produce disturbances Austria, and other 16 4 6 countlies, for which see p. 21. At the end of the 17 5 0 month, having again entered Scorpio, he will once 17 5 51 more form a square with Saturn, and stir up scenes 17 6 39 of violence in countries under the rule of Aquarius Jupiter, moves peace 18 7 27 and Scorpio. and meetsthis month, aspectsonwhence­ ably in Leo, only good ; 18 8 14 we may hope that our neighbours in France will be 18 9 3 quiet and enjoy a good time at length, notwith­ 19 9 541 standing the presence of Uranus in Leo, and Saturn 19 10 47 in Aquarius. The stars shine favourably also on 19 11 42 Rome ; where now we trust there is no presence of child evil mischief called Let 19 0a36 thatpersonsofborn andor near the 23rdthe Pope. and all on January, 19 1 29 on or near the 26th July, be guarded against specu­ 19 2 20 lations, and beware of hurts to their legs and ankles ; 19 3 7 and let them also be prepared, towards the end oi 18 3 51 this month, for sudden deaths among the members and accidents by water in various 18 4 33 of their family, forms. ways and sundry �16 souths If souths £ souths 2 souths MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D. M. h. m. First Quar. 2nd, 11 Full Moon, 10th, 6 Last Quar. 16th, 8 New Moon, 24th, 10 10 aft. 1st 33 m. 58 aft. 7th 34 m. 13th Perigee, 12d. 51i. m.—Apogee, 19 th 27d. 9h. a. 25 th 0. D. of of W. M. [zadkiel’s JULY XXXI Days. h. 1 1 0 0 11 m. 36 m 11 45 20 50 a. Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. h. m. 3 27 a. 3 7 2 48 2 28 2 9 O’s Long. h. m 7 7 6 6 6 16 a. 0 44 30 17 h. 8 8 8 8 8 m. 55 m 52 51 51 53 . J rises H.W. _ and sets Lon. B. h. m 11. Ill. 926 38 7 11a .42 6m 4 1 Tu. $ J51?, □ <?. Day deer. 0 5 2 W. Vis.B. V.M. © 45° 2 ■ Cl.fa.3m 44 10 36 8 11 53 6 46 * 3 Th [Dog days begin. £ d P- d. I? 11 33 9 mo rn. 7 33 6 8 26 4 F. ¡Trans. St. Martin. D d 5 15 a. 12 30 10 0 5|S. O.T. ends. £ p. d. Ijl. Day 16 25 1 13 27 11 0 19 9 29 6 [ S. [ 4 S. af. ®r. Old Mids. D. © 45° If 14 21 12 0 37 10 27 0 11 27 15 22 13 1 7|M. Thomas d Becket. 2 □ If16 19 14 1 31 0a.24 8 Tu. 2 A . $ set 9 15 aft. 9 W. I? 150° If. Clock fast 4m 54s 17 16 15 2 16 1 16 5 10 Th. $ p. d. 2 • 1? rises 8 42 aft. 18 13 16 ris es. 2 11 F. ({ d 1? 2 23 morn. If sets 10 1 a. 19 10 17 9 a. 50 2 54 8 18 10 16 3 42 12 S. $ □ y. 5 72° 2 . Day 16 13 1. 20 5 19 10 37 4 31 13 S. 5 Sun, after ®r. 2 -X * 150° & 21 22 2 20 10 53 5 20 14 M. $ p. d. cf . g sets 11 27 aft. 15 Tu. St.Swithin. 2 gr. elong. W. ¡22 59 21 11 7 5 m44 16 W. 2 rises 19 m. Clock fast 5m 44s ; 23 56 22 11 22 6 35 17 Th. 5 sets 9 6 aft. Day 16 2 long ¡24 54 23 11 39 7 27 18 F. © 36° If. $ sets 8 37 aft. ¡25 51 24 11 58 8 25 19 S. b> rises 8 4 a. Night 8 2 long ¡26 48 25 morn. 9 26 20 S. 6 Sun. af. ®r. © p.d. J?. J d 2 -27 46 26 0 23 10 32 21 M. gp. d. If. 4 s. 9 25 a. [11 40 m. 28 43 27 0 54 11 43 22 Tu. \Magd. © g >? . ? p. d. #, 135° t? 29 40 28 1 37 Oa.46 23 W. 'Clock fast 6m 10s. Day br. 0 42 0SL38 29i 2 32 1 39 1 35 n.: sets. 2 22 24 Th. $ 144° ¿f. D d $ 7 20 aft. 2 32 1 9 a. 3 3 3 25 F. St. James. © p d. J . " 26 S. . A tn "ft 0 0 P-d. H? "*1 3 30 2 9 20 3 38 27'S. 7 S. af. j) d If 2 56 m. ’[54 a. 4 27 3| 9 35 4 10 28:M. 2 rises 10 m. Cl. fast 6 m 12s 5 24 4i 9 48 4 43 29 Tu. © d W,45° 2,2 45°$. Nt. 8 30 1. 6 22 5 10 0| 5 17 30 W. ? 144° 1?, 72° 7/. $ stationary 7 19 6 10 111 5 51 QI TV. L. 144° If X e.An+V.0 18 « 1 -7 >71 1 A OA itm C 31 Th. I? 144° If. $ souths 11 18 aft. �ammanaci] JULY, 1873. 17 July. Dividends due 6th, paid the 8th. Insurance must be paid this day. 20th, Kates, &c., due 6th April, must be paid, or votes will be lost. Lunar Influences. Is in The 2nd, 6th, 14th, 19th, 28th, Saturn good 4th, 8th, 17th, 21st, 26th, Jupiter aspect 9th, 13th, 22nd, 27th, Mars with the 5th, 14th, 18th, 29th, the Sun Moon. 1st, 11th, 15th, 20th, 25th, 30th, Venus 1st, 7th, 16th, 21st, 26th, 31st, Mercury See. p. 35. The sign Leo rules France, Italy, Bohemia, Sicily, Rome, Bath, Bristol, Taunton, Portsmouth, Cremona, Prague, the Alps, Apulia, Ravenna, Philadelphia, Chaldea to Bassorah. D. i Sun Sun Moon M. rises. sets. South. 10 3 11 3 IS 3 E4 14 4 15 4 16 4 17 4 18 4 19 4 E4 21 4 22 4 23 4 24 4 25 4 26 4 E4 28 4 29 4 30 4 31 4 57 8 58 8 59 8 08 1 8 28 38 58 68 78 88 10 8 11 8 12 8 14 7 15 7 17 7 18 7 20 7 21 7 22 7 24 ¡7 WEATHER PREDICTIONS—July, 1873. Thunder storms and mischievous lightning will commence the month: dashing rains prevail. 3rd to the 5th, smart showers and some squalls; 6th and 7th, warm and fair, large white clouds prevail, and some thunder; 8th to 11th, unsettled, clouds and showers frequent; 12th to 14th, fair, warm air, St. Swithin showery; 16th to 18th, fair generally, 20th to 22nd, cloudy, some dashing rains and thunder; 24th to 26th, rainy, cool air; 27tb, fairer; 29th to the end, unsettled, sudden heavy rains frequent.— A fair summer month; good harvest weather; not very hot, however. 13 mo rn. VOICE OF THE STARS—July, 1873. 13 0 54 The benefic Jupiter enters Virgo on the 7th day; 12 1 55 hence Turkey, Paris, Lyons, &c., will have peace. 11 2 53 But, although Saturn quits Aquarius on the 13th, we 10 3 46 still find Uranus ruling over France; and, no doubt, punishes that to­ 9 4 36 he thereinhelpless men of nation for its cruelties are Africa. 8 5 24 wards the crystal, the greatest sinCruelty is, we told in the against Heaven. 7 6 12 And undoubtedly it seems so, as being the most 6 7 1 directly opposed to the religion of love. Mars flames 5 7 51 potently from Scorpio, his house, all this month; 4 8 42 and on the 12th day he will be in square to Uranus. as also in 2 9 36 Mischief may tl en be looked for in France, accidents Barbary, and other places (see p. 23) ; and 1 10 30 abound then in Liverpool. Near this petiod there 0 11 23 | are some ill transits for the Geiman Emperor; who 59 0al4 ' may expect this summer to suffer thiough females. 57 1 2 ! The above aspect of Mars will bring troubles and 56 1 48 I family losses to all born on the 28th July and near it. born to the August will 54 2 30 iI Those health from the 22ndsuccess; 28thwill all who have and general as 53 3 11 ! were born with the end of Leo, or first degrees of 51 3 50ij Virgo rising, or with the Moon in those parts of the 50 4 30l| Zodiac. Let them, therefore, push their fortunes, ’ 48 5 11 and ensure prosperity. �18 MOON’S CHANGES, &c. First Quar. 1st, Full Moon, 8th, Last Quar. 15th, ¡New Moon, 23rd, ¡First Quar. 31st, h. m. D.M. 2 29 aft. 152 aft. 1st 4 41m. 1 30 m. 7th 3 48 m. 13th Perigee, 9<1. llh. m.—Apogee, 19th 25th 2 Id. 5h. m. D. D. of of M. w. [zadkiel’s AUGUST XXXI Days. Ipsouths ^.souths ¿souths J souths 11. 11 10 10 10 9 m. 21a. 55 30 5 40 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. h. tn. 1 47 a. 1 28 1 9 0 51 0 32 h. m. 6 5 5 5 5 3 a. 51 41 31 22 h. m. 8 56 m 8 59 9 4 9 9 9 13 0’s f D rises H. W. J rises H. W. Long. and sets Lon. B. m, h o / I 1 h. nl> h.- m9ft 14 8 10 a.4')i 6m45 1 F. hammas Day. \ d $ 11 46 a 0 «« 10 11| 9110 59 7 26 2 s. Dpd. ¿. Day break 1 36 9 10 11 25 8 21 11 3 5. 8 S. af. ®r. 5 -X- Î 0 9 31 6 11 12 4 M. ? p. d. Ip. y rises 3 66 morn. 12 9 cl. 4 12 morn. ¡10 44 5 Tn. 9 150° Ip. Twilight ends 10 24 13 1 13 0 58 11 67 72° Ip. Cl. f. 5m 36s 14 6 W. Transf. 9 1 a. 1 7 Th. Narneof Jeszts. $ 36° iff. h ô b 14 69 14 2 56 15 3 37 1 55 [9 30 m. F. Ip sets 3 5 m. 8 54 16 rises. 2 45 9 S. ? 135° ¿. If. sets 8 17 aft. 61 17 8 a. 56 3 33 9 Sun. aft. ®r. p. d. iff 72° Iff 10 49 18 9 12 4 16 11 M. J sets 10 3 a. Dog days end 47 19 9 28 4 69 12 Tu. ©□<?. ? p. d. If, 45° P 44 20 9 44 5 44 13 VV. 0 Ö ? • Î -X-^. 3 □ <? 2 6m 7 42 21 10 14 Th. $ rises 1 3 mom. Day 14 38 1. 15 F. Assump. B. F. M. Nt. 9 26 long 22 40 22 10 251 6 61 16 S. $ rises 4 35 m. Iff son. 11 0 m 23 37 23:10 55 7 40 24 35 24 11 34 8 44 17 !S. 10 Sunhap after ®rin. $ 36° $ 5 lb M. tg. rises 3 6 m. Clock fast 3m 35s 25 33 25 morn. 10 19 Tu. 0 p. d. ÿ . J p. d. Ip • J d Î 5 26 31261 0 24 11 27 20 W. 0 150° • h sets 2 13 m. [28 m. 27 29 27 1 26 Oa.37 21 Th. î p. cl. & . D 6 Iff 4 42 morn. ¡28 26 28 2 34 1 27 1Î 12 F. I If. sets 7 3 ) aft. Nt. 9 51 long 29_ 2429 3 45 23 S. 1 (J p. cl. I?. £ stat, j) <3 If. 8 52 0Hß22N. sets, i 2 46i " ' 24 S. 11 Sunttag after ®rinttp. St B. [a. 1 20 1 7 a. 56 3 18' 2 18 2 8 8J 3 47 -X-1?. Clock fast lm £ 2s 25 M. 3 16 3 8 20( 4 16 26 Tn. 0144° Ip. Day 13 51 long * 27 W. J sets 9 23 a. Night 10 10 long 4 14 4 8 31 4 4‘ St. Augustine. J rises 1 21 morn. 5 12 5 8 45 5 14 28 Th.____________________ 6 10 6 9 29 F. Si. John Baptist beh. J 45° If. 7 3O1S.? 8 >?■ " ' - " 42 aft. -----m 1 31 5. 12 Sun. after ®r. $ sou. 10 51 m.8 �AUGUST, 1873. ’•] August.—First two Sundays’ lists of electors on church doors. 20th, last day for claim to vote, or leaving notice of objections. Rates, &c., due 1st March to be paid. Lunar Influences. The 2nd, 11th, loth, 25th, 29th, Saturn T Is in „ 1st, Sth, 13th, 18th, 23rd, 28th, Jupiter good ,, 6th, 10th, 19th, 24th, Mars I aspect ,, 3rd, 12th, 17th, 28th, the Sun [ with the „ 9th, 13th, 18th, 24th, 29th Venus I Moon. ,, 4th, 12th, 16th, 21st, 26th, 31st,Mercury > See p. 35. The sign l-'irpo rules Turkey, Mesopotamia, from the Tigris to the Euphrates, Jerusalem, Candia, Silesia, Croatia, Bagdad, Babylonia, Thessaly, Corinth, the Morea, Paris, Lyons, Toulouse, Basil, Switzerland, Reading, West Indies. D. 8 an s un Mo on M. riijes. Sets. South. m. 47 5a 54 45 6 41 44 7 32 42 8 29 40 9 30 38 10 34 37 11 37 35 mo rn. 33 0 37 31 1 34 29 2 27 27 3 18 25 4 7 23 4 57 21 5 47 19 6 39 17 7 32 15 8 26 13 9 19 11 10 11 9 10 59 7 11 45 5 0a29 3 1 10 1 1 49 59 2 29 57 3 9 54 3 51 52 4 35 50 5 21 48 6 16 h. m. h. m. 1 4 24 E4 44 54 64 7 4 84 94 E4 11 4 12 4 13 4 14 4 15 4 16 4 E4 18 4 19 4 20 4 21 4 22 4 23 5 E5 25 5 26 5 27 "o 28 5 29 5 30 5 E l5 25 7 27 7 28 7 30 7 31 7 33 7 35 7 36 7 38 7 39 7 41 7 42 7 44 7 46 7 47 7 49 7 50 7 52 7 53 7 55 7 57 I7 58 7 07 1 7 37 5 ¡6 66 86 96 11 6 13 6 h. WEATHER PREDICTIONS—Avgust, 1873. The 1st and 2nd days heat prevails; 3rd to 5th, cloudy, some rain; 7th, showers; 9th and 10th, fair and warm ; 12th and 13th, heat and thunder gene­ rally, dangerous lightning; 14th to 18th, settled and fair, good harvest weather in general, ] Sth and 20th, rainy, unsettled; 21st and 22nd, fairer; 23rd, some thunder about; 25th and 26th, cloudy, cool air; 27th to 29th, fair; 30th, heavy, dashing rain, and haii also; 31st, warm air.—A flair month generally, except about the 12t7i and 13i4 days. VOICE OF THE STARS—Avgust, 1873. The Emperor of Austria has an unfortunate biith- ! day, since we find Mars in square to his Sun; which ! gives him quarrels with his neighbours, and some sudden changes in his affairs. The King of Bavaria | has the Sun joined with Jupiter on the anniversary 1 of tbe day when he was born. This will bring him hea th, and is good influence for his affairs genera lv. It will render him rather more peaceful than usual. Mars flames fiercely in Scorpio, and we may look for news of outbreaks in Barbary, Norway, Syria, &c. But Turkey flourishes, and Paris is peaceful. The retrograding of Saturn in Capricorn seems to destroy the equanimity of Greece. On the 30th day Mars will leave Scorpio, and, entering Sagitta ius, will soon begin to trouble Spain with violence and bloodshed. All born from the 28th August to the 4th September will now flourish and enjoy health I Those born on the 12th August must beware of fire, ! and take care to avoid fevers, and hurts or accidents | to the delicate parts of the person. This transit of Mars through Scorpio will bring mischief to the docks, j and collisions, &e., in and near Liverpool, where there will be many bankruptcies, and an abundance I of fraud and knavery practised. I �20 SEPTEMBER XXX Days, MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. h. m. Pull Mood, 6th, 9 9 aft. Last Quar. 13th, 3 40 aft. 1st New Moon, 21st, 5 51 aft. 7th First Quar. 29 th, 2 56 aft. 13th Perigee, 6d. 8h. a.—Apogee, 19th 25th 20d. 8h. m. D. D. of of M. w. [zadkiel’s »2 souths If SOUths cf souths J souths . m. Ila. 46 22 58 34 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. h. 0 11 11 11 10 m. 10 a. 51m 32 14 55 h. 5 5 4 4 4 m. 13 a. 5 58 52 46 h. 9 9 9 9 9 m. 20m 25 30 35 40 D rises H.W. Long. si and sets Lon. B I__ _ B. h. m. h. m. © / 1 M. Giles. 0 p. d. 1/. ris. 2 16 m. 9W 4 9 10 a. 40 7m32 2 10( 11 43 8 47 2 Tu. I? sets 1 18 m. Clock si. 0m 31s 10 11 1 11 morn. 10 16 3 W. J <5 Ip 5 21 aft. Day br. 3 12 2 11 43 4 Th. O 3 If, 135° T?. Night 10 40 1. 11 59 12 1 12 57 13 2 33 Oa.48 5 F. Old Bartholomew. $ 150° Ip 6 S. J p. d. $, A . Twi. ends 8 38 13 55 14 rises. 1 44 75. 13 Sun. af. ®rin. Enur. 0 36° Jg 14 53 15 7 a.16 2 29 2 36° 15 52 16 7 31 3 12 8 M. AcWw. B. V. M. 5 144° Ip . 9 Tu. If rises 5 3 m. Cl. si. 2 m 51s [2f 16 50 17 7 47 3 54 17 48 18 8 4 4 35 10 W. 2 3$. Day deer. 3 37 11 Th. £ sets 8 51 a. Night 11 7 long 18 47 19 8 27 6 13 19 45 20 8 54 5 54 12 F. g □ 3'. 2 rises 1 52 morn 20 44 21 9 30 6m 15 13 S. ¿J' A $. Day 12 45 long 3 14 s. 14 55. a. ®iin. Holy Cross. 2 in S3 21 42 22 10 18 7 8 D-X-24 0 42 aft. 22 41 23 11 17 8 15 M. $ 3 4, 36° <J45°I?. gp.d. 2f 23 39 24 mo rn. 9 39 16 Tu. 0 45° 24 38 25 0 25 11 10 17 W. Ember Week. J 3 Ig 1 27 aft. 25 37 26 1 36 Oa .22 IS Th. 7f 36°$. 3 52 83 morn. 26 35 27 2 46 1 12 19 F. 0 A Ip . Clock slow 6m 21s 27 34 28 3 57 1 49 D 3 3 2 a. 20 S. $ 36° J 11 5m. 28 33 N. se ts. 2 19 21 s. 15 Sun. after ®r. 5 22 M. 0 ent. === 11 35 a. $ rises 5 30 m 29 32 1 6 a .28 2 47 0A30 2 6 39 3 16 23 Tu. 0 36° 2 • Day 12 6 long 1 29 3 6 51 3 44 24 W. 0 p. d. $ . 2 150° Ip • <? □ 4 2 28 4 7 7 4 12 25 Th. 0 3 g . 2 rises 2 27 morn. 3 27 5 7 27 4 41 26 F. St. Cyprian. Clock slow 8m 46s 4 26 6 7 53 5 13 27 S. £ 72° $. Night 12 10 long 28 s. 16 S. a. ®r. 0 p. d. $ . J 3 <? 5 25 7 8 32 5 50 29 ,M. Michaelmas D. 2 144° Ip [7 10 m 6 24 8 9 25 6m 11 30 Tu. St. Jerome. Ip station. ¿f 36° Ip 1 7 23 9 I10 36 7 5 �SEPTEMBER, 1873. LALMANAC.J 21 September 1st. Last day for Overseers to send lists to Clerk of Peace. British Museum closes. 8th, Opens from 10 till 4. Insurance due 30th instant and India bonds. Lunar Influences. The 7th, 11th, 21st, 26th, Saturn 1 Is in 2nd, 10th, 15th, 20th, 25th, 30th, Jupiter good 4th, Sth, 17th, 22nd, Mars k aspect 2nd, 10th, 15th, 27th, the Sun with the 8th, 12th, 17th, 23rd, 28th, Venus Moon. __ ... 35. 10th, 15th, 21st, 27th, Mercury See p. The sign Libra rules China, Japan, parts of India near „ China, Austria, Bactriana, Usbeck, Upper Egypt, Livonia, the Caspian Sea, Vienna, Lisbon, Antwerp, Frankfort, Spires and Charleston. tD. Sun Sun Moon M rises. sets. South. WEATHER PREDICTIONS.—September, 1873. i h. tn. h. m. h. m. Fair and warm at first. 3rd and 4th, thunder 1 5 14 6 46 7a 14 storms prevalent; 6th, rainy; 7th to 9th, fair in 2 5 16 6 43 8 15 general; 10th, showers; 12th and 13th, windy, ra­ 3 5 17 6 41 9 17 ther unsettled; 15th and 16th, a stormy period, <4 5 19 6 39 19 18 lightning and meteors. 17th and 18th, fairer; 19th, fair; and 23rd, 5 5 21 6 37 11 16 cloudy, cool air; 20th and 21st, storms22nd dangerous warm ; 24th and 25th, thunder and 6 5 22 6 34 morn. lightning; 27th and 28th, fair; 29th and 30th, E 5 24 6 32 0 12 clouds and heavy rains prevail. — The first week fair 8 5 25 6 30 1 5 and u-arni; the month, in general (except about the 9 5 27 6 28 1 56 15th and 16th), favourable for harvest work. 10 5 11 5 12 5 13 5 iE 5 15 5 16 5 17 5 l18 5 5 20 5 E5 22 5 '23 5 24 5 25 5 826 5 127 5 |E 5 ¡29 5 B0 6 29 6 30 6 32 6 33 6 35 6 37 6 38 6 40 6 41 6 43 6 44 6 46 6 48 5 49 5 51 5 53 5 54 5 56 5 57 5 59 5 15 25 23 21 18 16 14 12 9 7 5 2 0 57 55 53 51 48 46 44 42 39 2 47 3 39 4 32 5 26 6 21 7 15 8 7 8 57 9 44 10 27 11 9 11 49 0a29 1 8 1 50 2 33 3 20 4 10 5 5 6 3 7 5 VOICE OF THE STARS—September, 1873. The malefic Saturn hangs about the 26th degree of the sign Capricorn, in which the Moon was found when the Emperor of Germany was born. This will bring him troubles and some sickness of a lingering nature. But as Jupiter was on his ascendant on his last birthday, it may be hoped it will be nothing very serious. In fact, the terminus seems to extend to the Sun’s conjunction with Saturn, about the 79th year. The King of Sweden has Jupiter coming to his ascendant; which will mitigate his normal condi­ tion of grief and vexations. On the 15th day Mars will pass the ascendant of the King of Italy. Let him avoid dangers to his person at that time; hurts in hunting, more especially. He has, however, M.C. trine Sun = 52° 48', lately gone by; and this will bring honoursand advantages to Italy. He will be very much given to fight and quarrel. Jupiter in Virgo gives peace to Paris. But Mars in Sagittarius brings Spain quarrels and bloodshed. Saturn in Capricorn troubles Greece, Oxford, Brussels, &c., &c., and all born on the 4th to 10th September flourish. Those born in mid-January suffer. �22 OCTOBER XXXI Days. MOON’S CHANGES, &c. h. m. D.M. [zadkiel’s ¡2 souths H. souths $ souths ? souths h. 5 31 m. 1st 6 25 m. 7th 7 10 55 m. 13th 6 6 0 10 m. Perigee, 5d. 7h. m.—Apogee, 19th 6 25th 5 17 d 4h. a. m. Full Moon, Last Quar. NewMoon, First Quar. 6 th, 13th, 21st, 29 th, D. D. of of M. w. Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c,, &c. 10 a. 47 24 1 38 h. 10 10 9 9 9 m. h. m. 0’s &o D rises H.W. 36 m 17 58 39 19 4 4 4 4 4 40 a. 35 30 26 22 h. 9 9 9 9 9 m. 44 m 48 52 55 59 <o 1 » and sets Lon. B A h. Hl, h. irt 8=^=22 10 morn. 8m 2? 1 w. Remigius. Cam. Term begins 0 10 3 5p.d.l[. Cl. si. 10m 9 21 11 0 2 Th. rises 0 13 m. D. br. 4 13 [43s 10 20 12 1 31 11 32 3 F. 2 Oa.34 11 19 13 3 4 S. 0 72°^. \ sets 11 5 aft. 12 19 14 4 34 1 32 5 s. 17 Sunbap aftrr 0huutp 2 13 18 15 rises. 2 Op. d.2|. <?135°$ 6 M. 7 Tu. 2 135° T? . 5 p. d. 2 • Day dec. 5 23 14 17 16 6 a. 7 2 43 15 16 17 6 26 3 25 8 W. « 36° 21. Cl. si. 12m 29s. 8 in 5 9 Th St. Denys. £ □ 1? . Day 113 long 16 16 18 6 52 4 10 F. Oxford Term begins. 0 p. d. ? 17 15 19 7 24 4 43 9 5 25 11 S. Old Mich. Day. $ 36° $. 21 rises 18 14 20 8 5 5m48 12 s. 18 S.af. ®ri. Least twi. [3 36 m. 19 14 21 9 13 M. Trans. K. Edw. $ sets 8 9 aft. 20 13 22 10 11 6 36 10 8a. 21 13 23 11 22 7 40 14 Tu. 2 ris. 3 21 m. } 15 W. ®72°W. 2d,&P-d. 21. Mt.l3|22 12 24 morn. 9 12 16 Th. $ 45° 2 • Clock s. 14m 26s. [20 1. 23 12 25 0 34 10 43 24 12 26 1 45 11 54 17 F. Etheldreda. $ sets 5 22 aft. 18 S. St. Luke. $□$. ])d2197m. 25 11 27 2 56 0 &. 3S 4 1 I« 0 □ b- 2 Ab45°$ 26 11 28 4 19 S. 19 S. a. 20 M. 2 rises 3 39 m. Night 13 40 1. 27 11 29 5 13 1 46 28 11 N. sets. 2 12 21 Tu. g 72° b • Day 10 17 long 29 10 1 5 a. 14 2 43 22 W. 5 p. d. J£. D d $ 11 44 aft. 23 Th. tjt rises 10 59 a. Cl. si. 15m 36s oiriio 2 5 31 3 14 1 10 3 5 56 3 44 24 F. b sets 9 48 a. 21 rises 3 0 m. 2 10 4 6 31 4 IS 25 S. Crispin. Night 13 58 long 3 10 5 7 19 4 56 26 «. 20 Stinifap afttr ®x(nitp 4 10 6 8 23 5 32J 27 M. »¿21. J d ^2 16 morn. 28 Tu. 150° $. £ p. d. b • D d b 8 34 5 10 7 9 41 5m55 7 6 5a 29 W. $ sets 8 2 aft. Cl. si. 16m 10s [m. 6 10! 8 11 7 10 9 morn. 8 14 30 Th B -X-i? • 2 rises 4 9 morn8 10 10 0 34 9 48 * souths 6 14 morn. 31 Fr. ? -X $ • Long. �OCTOBER, 1873. ALMANAC. 23 October 1st to 15th, Burgess lists to be revised. Insu­ rance to be paid by 13th. Dividends payable on 14th, 15th; Quarter Sessions. Lunar Influences. The 5th, 8th, 18th, 23rd, Saturn \ Is in „ 8th, 12th, 18th, 23rd, 27th, Jupiter i good ,, 2nd, 6th, 16th, 21st, 31st, Mars ( aspect ,, 1st, 10th, 15th, 26th, goth, the Sun ( with the „ 7th, 12th, 18th, 23rd, 28th, Venus } Moon. ,, 1st, 11th, 16th, 22nd, 28th, Mercury J Seep. 35. The sign Scorpio rules Barbary, Morocco, Norway, ancient Palestine, a part of Syria, Valentia, Catalonia, Messina, Frankfort, Cappadocia and Liverpool. D. 1 Sun Sun Moon M. rises. sets. South. h. 16 26 36 46 E6 66 76 86 96 10 6 11 6 E6 13 6 14 6 15 6 16 6 17 6 18 6 E6 20 6 21 6 22 6 23 6 24 6 25 6 E6 27 6 28 6 29 6 30 6 31 6 m h. 25 45 65 75 95 11 5 12 5 14 5 16 5 17 5 19 5 21 5 23 5 24 5 26 5 28 5 29 5 31 4 33 4 35 4 36 4 38 4 40 4 42 4 43 4 45 4 47 4 49 4 50 4 52 4 54 4 m. h. m. 37 8a 21 35 9 0 32 9 55 30 10 48 28 11 40 26 morn. 23 0 32 21 1 25 19 2 19 17 3 14 15 4 11 12 5 7 10 6 1 8 6 53 6 7 41 4 8 25 1 9 8 59 9 48 57 10 28 55 11 7 53 11 48 51 0a31 49 1 17 47 2 7 45 3 1 43 3 57 41 4 56 39 5 54 37 6 50 35 7 44 34 8 36 WEATHER PREDICTIONS—October, 1873. Changes at first and meteors at night; 4th warm ; 6th fair and warm; 7th cloudy7, some showers; 9th and 10th cloudy, showery and windy; 11th to 13th fair generally; 15th fair, white clouds prevail; 16th misty and damp air; 18th and 19th cool air, rainy and windy; 21st to 23rd fairer, seasonable; 24th to 26th tolerably fair; 27th windy, meteors at night; 28th cloudy, cool and rather unsettled ; 30th and 31st cool, cloudy, windy.—A seasonable month ; no extreme of weather, except on and about the YDth. VOICE OF THE STARS—October, 1873. .Again is the evil star Saturn stationary in Capricorn. Therein he brings all kinds of sore troubles for the lands ruled by that sign : these are chiefly India, Mexico, parts of Persia, about Circan, &c., Greece, Oxford and Bulgaria. Now we know that Mexico has been completely revolutionized since he has been in the sign; and in India many troubles, of most serious character, have arisen, such as the Pooka rising ; where full twenty villages have been utterly destroyed and 65 poor wretches have been blown away fiom guns, to convince the people of the paternal nature of English government. Also the murder of the Governor General of Indiahas occurred. In Persia a grievous famine has raged ; Bulgaria has been the scene of very numerous grievances. Oxford has been unlucky in many ways, and Greece only has Either to escaped. On the 15th a conjunction of Jupiter and Venus, in the 21st degree of Virgo, will benefit Paris, Turkey and the West Indies, &c. Let all born on or near the 16th January, any year, beware of colds and troubles through old persons, buildings, landlords, &c. Those born the 13th August will gain in health and wealth. Those born near the middle of June will be liable to losses and hurts the first week of this month. �24 NOVEMBER XX]C Days. MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D.M. b souths h. m. h. m. Full Moon 4th, 3 48 aft. 1st 5 12 a. Last Quar. 12 th, 0 48 m. New Moon, 20th, 3 37 m. 7th 4 50 First Quar. 27th, 8 13 m. 13th 4 28 6 Perigee,2d. lh. a.—Apogee.lid. 19th 4 9h.in —Perigee, SOd 3h. in. 25th 3 45 [zadkiel’s If souths J souths ? souths * h. 8 8 8 7 7 h. Hl. h. m. 4 17à. 1 0 3m 4 12 1 0 7 4 8 1 0 11 4 4 1 0 16 3 59 1 0 21 a> D. D. bo Remarkable Days, ®’s <1 J rises H.W. Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. Long. JDQ and sets Lon. B. M w. « h. m. h. mJ 1 s. All Saints. 0 45° 9 P. d. 21 91Î110 11 2m. 4 llmlO 2 s. 21 Sun. at ®r. Mich. T.b. 0 □ H 10 10 12 3 32 Oa. 10 3 M. H r. 10 16 aft. Cl. slow 16m 18s 11 10 13 4 59 0 56 4 Tu. D ecl. partly vis. at Gr. D. hr. 5 5 12 10 14 rises. 1 38 5 W. Night 14 38 long 13 11 15 4 a. 49 2 20 6 Th. Leonard. § 72° If, p. d. $ 1 14 11 16 5 19 3 7 F. © 72° b • b pets 8 57 aft. 15 11 17 5 57 3 41 8 8. Cam. T. div. noon. C'J. si. 16m 6s 16 11 18 6 50 4 22 9 5. 22 Sunhap after ®rf. B. of P. of IE 17 12 19 7 54 5 4 10 M. 24 45°W. ?72°W. 8 A W 18 12 20 9 5 5 51 11 Tu. St. Martin. J ÿ 6 43 morn 19 12 21 10 18 6m 14 12 W. 5 45° b • 71 rises 2 3 morn 20 13 22 11 30 7 9 13 Th. Britius. 0 p.d. W' f sets 8 3 a. 21 13 23 morn. 8 28 14 F. Î □ b • Clock slow 15m 22s 22 14 24 0 41 9 49 15 S. Machutus. D 21 2 35 morn 23 14 25 1 51,10 56 16 3. 23 Sun. af. ®r. 8 45° 2 . H sta. 24 15 26 3 0 11 51 17 M. Hugh. $ rises 5 5 morn 25 15 27 4 10 Oa.32 18 Tu. D ô 2 2 57 m, Twi. ends 6 5 m. 26 16 28 5 23 1 8 19 W. 27 17 29 6 38 1 43 20 Th. 0 ecl. inv. at Gr. 0-X-b • <? 8 h 28 17 N. sets. 2 15 21 F. D <5 8 2 48 aft. Cl. si. 13m 53s 29 18 1 4 a. 30 2 49 22 S. St. Cecilia. $ seta 4 42 aft. 0119 2 5 15 3 23 23^. 24 Sunbap after Œrfnftp. St. Clem. 1 19 3 6 15 4 0 24 M. ? □¥, 5 45° <7. D ô Z 10 0 a. 2 20 4 7 29 4 40 j 26. Tu. Mich. T. ends. 0 p. d. b 3 21 5 8 54 5 26 26 W. 0 p. d, J1. 8 45° b- 2 45° 21 4 22 6 10 20 5 m52 ! 27( Th. p. d. b. sou. 4 28 m. 8 in 5 22 7 11 46 6 52i 28 ! F. ? souths 0 11 a. Cl..si. 11m 45s 6 23 8 morn. 8 2 29| S. ©p.d.$ . 8 AH, 72° 21 . 2 72°b 7 24. 9I 1 12, 9 20 10 S. 1 3. in •a». 0 rf J • 5 P- d T? 8 25 10 2 36 10 33 m. 57m 37 17 57 37 �NOVEMBER, 1873. VLMANAO.] November 1st, Borough Councillors elected. 9th, Mayor ad Aidermen elected Birthday of the Prince of Wales. Lunar Influences. Is in The 2nd, 5th, 15th, 19th, 28th, Saturn good ,, 5th, 9th, 14th, 20th, 24th, Jupiter aspect „ 4th, 14th. 19th, 29th, Mars with the ,, 9th, 14th, 25th, 29th, the Sun Moon. ,, 7th, 12th, 17th, 23rd, 27th, Venus ,, 1st, 11th. 16th, 21st, 25th, 29th, Mercury See p. 35. The sign SagittariMs rules Arabia Felix, Spain, Hungary, parts near Cape Finisterre, Istria, Dalmatia, Tuscany, Moravia, Sclavonia, Cologne, Avignon, Buda and Nar­ bonne. ~8 D. un 1S un Moon M. ri ses. S(its. South. ¡WEATHER PREDICTIONS—November, 1873. h. m. h. 16 E6 36 47 57 67 77 87 E7 10 7 11 7 12 7 13 7 14 7 15 7 E7 17 7 18 7 19 7 20 7 21 7 22 7 E7 24 7 25 7 26 7 27 7 28 7 29 7 E7 56 4 5« 4 59 4 14 34 54 64 84 10 4 12 4 14 4 15 4 17 4 19 4 21 4 22 4 24 4 26 4 27 4 29 4 31 4 32 4 34 3 36 3 37 3 39 3 40 3 42 3 43 3 45 3 m. 32 30 28 26 25 23 21 20 18 16 15 13 12 11 9 8 6 5 4 3 2 0 59 58 57 56 55 55 54 63 m. The month begin? fair and. mild ; 2nd cool and rainy; 7th air; 9a27, changeable; 4th and 5thwindy; lltlicloudy, cool cold, 12th 10 17 9th and 10th unsettled, ; 14th co’d, and and snow ; some snow in the month fog 11 91 16th rain, unsettled, many changes; 18th and 19th morn.■ fair for the season, mild air; 2dth stormy, colder, 0 2I some snow showers : very high winds ; 22nd and 23rd 0 57'.more temperate; 24th and 25th stormy, snow fa'ls ; 26th and 27th at intervals; 29th 1 55J and 30th stormv still windy, fair air —A fair month, and cold, frosty 2 53'\rather dr</; bitt very stormy and unsettled about the 3 50 Eclipse of the San. 4 44 5 34 j VOICE OF THE STARS—November, 1873. 6 21 The furious Mars is now raging in Capricorn; and 7 4 I bringing bloodshed in all those places under the rule see p 27. On last month he 7 45 I'Of that sign;first house, with athe 7th popular Prince, entered the certain 8 25 | whom I counsel to be very guarded about his health 9 5 at present; as the moon on the 9th will be in opposi­ 9 45 tion of Mars, and this evil aspect falls opposite to the 10 27 place of Mars at birth. He is moreover “ liable to 11 13 inflammatory comp'aints,” as stated page 7 of the ; “Handbook of Astrolozy,” vol. However, as 0a 2 Jupiter draws up to the place of II. Moon, I trust * the 1 0 55 he will escape anything serious at this period. On 1 1 52 I the 20th there will be a conjunction of Saturn and 2 50 Mars in the 29ch degree of Capricorn. Fortunately 3 49 we find Jupiter in trine aspect thereto, which miti-, mischief. Yet will they rain down storms, 4 46 gates their earthquakes and warlike doings on the tempests, 5 40 i people ruled bv Capricorn, and partly those under the 6 31 rule of Aquarius. On the 16tn Uranus stationary in 7 21 the ruling sign of France opens up a new list of 8 9 troubles, accidents and deeds of violence therein. 8 58 Births on the 1st to 3rd August will suffer by | deaths of relations. h. C �DECEMBER XXXI Days. [zadkiel’s MOON’S CHANGES, &c. D. M. \ souths H. souths (J souths 2 souths h. m. h. m. h. m. h. m. 1. m. Full Moon, 4th, 4 20 m. LastQnar. 11th, 9 54 aft. 1st New Moon, 19th, 6 49 aft. 7th First Quar. 26th, 4 5 aft. 18th Apogee, 12d. 6h m.—Perigee, 19 th 24d. 9h. a. 25th D. of w. 3 3 2 2 1 23 a. 2 41 20 59 Remarkable Days, Planetary Aspects, &c., &c. 7 6 6 6 5 16m 55 34 12 51 3 3 3 3 8 <D hr 55 a. 50 45 39 34 10 10 10 10 10 27m 34 41 49 58 I I ®’s J rises H.W. Long. 00 and sets Lon. B. * <= h. m. h. m 1 M. $ p. d. <?. f r. 8 26 a. ? in p. 9 t 2R 11 4m 1 llm35 2 Tu. © A 72r 4. Daybr. 10 26 12 5 29 Oa.28 3 W. b sets 7 25 a. Twi. e. 5 56 [5 43 11 27 13 6 55 1 16 4 Th. If rises 0 55 m. Clock si. 9m 29s 12 98 14 rises 2 2 5 F. <? sets 8 12 a. Day deer. 8 35 13 29 15 4 a »6 2 46 6 S. Nicholas. ® 45° 1?, $ g I£I 14 30 16 5 35 3 28 7 5. 2 Sunbap tn ^biunt. J p. d. 15 31 17 6 45 4 11 8 M Con. B. V. M. £ p. d «S'. D d $ 16 32 18 7 59 4 51 9 Tu. P- d.$. ? >|< I?, * 2£. %J72 17 33 19 9 13 5 33 0 W. ? 6 ? • 5 stat. Night 16 9 long 18 34 20 10 25 5m55 11 Th. ? 72° . Cl. slow 6m 24s 19 35 2! 11 34 6 42 12 F. 3,135°2{. 5p. d.<J. J <5 If 6 6 a. 20 36 22 morn. 7 31 13 S. Lucy. $ rises 6 27 morn 21 37 23 0 43 8 35 11 s. 3 Sun. in "abb. $ p. d. 22 38 24 1 52 9 41 15 M. 5 rises 6 1 morn. Day 7 47 long 23 39 25 3 4 10 41 16 Tu. Cam. T. ends. ® 135°#, 36c 1?. $ 24 40 26 4 18 11 38 17 W. Ember IF. Oxf. Term, e. [p. d. H 25 41 27 5 34 Oa.25 lb Th. ? A #. Dd ? 0 33 m.; d ? 26 42 28 6 53 1 7 19 F. Clock slow 2m 32s [11 33 m 27 44 N. sets. 1 50 20 S. Night 16 15 long 28 45 1 4a. 3 2 3c 21 S 4 Sttnbap in 'glbimnt. ® ent. py 5 29 46 2 5 14 3 11 22 M. ©□4- t ci 4 9m. [32 a. oyj 47 3 6 39 3 55 23 Tu. 5 A ? 45° 1?. J) <5 J 5 54 a 1 48 4 8 6 4 38 24 w. If ris 11 43 a. $ sets 8 23 a. 2 49 5 9 33 5 27 25 Th. Christmas ©ap. ® 144°$. J 144° 3 51 6 10 59 5m 51 2f F. St.Ste. Cl. f. Om 58s. [4. 5 72°4 4 52 7 morn. 6 42 27 8. St. John Evan. J ris. 7 5 morn, 5 53 8 0 23 7 38 2> 5. 1 Sun. af. ©fj. Innocents. 5 45° l? 6 54 9 1 45 8 45 2M M ? ¡35°^. 5 ris. 6 36 n orn 7 55 10 3 10 9 52 30 Tu. ® p. d. ? . J 36° . Nt. 16 11 1. 8 56 11 4 35 11 1 31 W. Silvester. souths 2 11m. 9 57 12 5 58 Oa. 5 �ALMANAC.] DECEMBER, 1873. 27 Dkckmbhk 25th, Insurance due. Make merry, yet “serve the Lord with gladnessand “give alms:* you 1' will not repent this on your deathbed. Lunar Influences. The 2nd, 12th, 17th, 26th, 30th. Saturn V Is in 3rd, 7th, 12th, 17th, 21st, 30th, Jupiter good 3rd. 13th, 18th, 28th. Mars k aspect with the 9th, 14th, 24th, 28th, the Sun Moon. 7th, 12th, 18th. 23rd. 27th, Venus 7th, 12th, 17th, 22nd, 27th, Mercury - Seep. 35. The sign Capricorn rules India, Greece, parts of Persia about Circan and Maracan. Chorassan, Lithuania, Saxony, Mexico, Mecklenburg, the Orkney Islands, Albania, Oxford, Hesse, Bulgaria, Styria and Brussels. Sun Moon sets. South. I WEATHER PREDICTIONS—December, 1873. h. m. h. m. h. m. | Fair, but cold and windy at first; 2nd meteors or 4th and gloomv ; 6th 1 7 46 3 53 9a49 lightning ; stormy , 5th dull, cloudy and snow and fog, snow falls, 8th to 10th stormy, 2 7 4b 3 52 10 42 but fair at intervals; 12th and 13th fair, but many 3 7 49 3 51 11 38 changes; 14th some snow; 16th changes, damp air; 4 7 50 3 51 morn. 18th rainy; 20th fair; 22nd fair, but high winds pre­ 5 7 52 3 50 0 36 vail ; 23rd rain and fog; 25th fair, meteors seen, a 6 7 53 3 50 1 34 green Christmas; 27th and 28th colder, frosty air ; 30th and E 7 54 3 50 2 31 Ii to the end fog and rain prevail.-—On the 12thwhich 13z7i both Saturn and Jupiter change their sign ; 8 7 55 3 49 3 24 brings sure changes in the atmosphere. After the 9 7 56 3 49 4 13 first week, a tolerably temperate month. D. Sun M. rises 10 7 11 7 12 7 13 8 E8 15 8 16 8 17 8 18 8 19 8 20 8 E8 22 8 23 8 21 8 25 8 26 8 27 8 E8 29 8 30 8 gl 8 57 3 58 3 59 3 03 1 3 23 33 43 43 53 63 63 7 3 73 83 83 83 83 93 93 93 93 49 49 49 49 49 49 49 49 49 50 50 51 51 52 52 53 54 55 55 56 57 58 4 58 5 41 6 21 7 0 7 40 8 21 9 5 9 52 10 44 11 41 0a40 1 41 2 40 3 36 4 29 5 18 6 7 6 54 7 43 8 34 9 27 10 23 VOICE OF THE STARS—December, 1873. On the 6th Mars opposes Uranus and on the 11th Saturn enters Aquarius; hence we shall hear of troubles in France; where the “ Voice of God ” has not yet penetrated, nor the people been convinced that Providence will punish for the national sin of cruelty to the poor, half-naked inhabitants of Northern Africa. The 12th is a good birthday for John, King of Saxony, and for all born that day. The 24th is evil rather for George I, king of Greece. His revenue will fail and he will be disturbed in his royal seat. On the 13th Jupiter enters Libra and brings peace and prosperity to China, Japan, &c.; see p. 21. Mais in Aquarius disturbs Arabia, Russia and Prussia, &c.; the more so, as the mischief-worker Saturn has entered that sign also, and will soon begin to shower down troubles on the peoples under its sway. . These will take the form of earthquakes and political disturbances. All born from the 21st to the 24th September will now be gaining and flourishing, and will enjoy good health in general. Bat those born from the 19th to the 22nd January must guard against losses and family sorrows. “God save the Queen and Royal Family.” �PLANETS—LAW AND UNIVERSITY TERMS. 28 [zADKIEL’s PLANETS, &c. The Dominion of the Moon in Names and Characters oe the Planets, &c. i Mao’s Body, as she passes through ® The Sun. i the Twelve Zodiacal Signs. h Saturn. H Jupiter. <J Mars. i • __ ° 2 Venus. £ Mercury. J The ' T Aries, Head and Face.......... 0 J Moon. ft Dragon’s Head. i y Taurus, Neck and Throat.... 30 13 Dragon’s Tail. $ Uranus. H Gemini, Arms and Shoulders 60 ? Ceres $ Pallas. $ Juno. i sd Cancer, Breast .and Stomach 90 [$] Vesta, (p Neptune. Astrea. ! ft Leo, Heart and Back.......... 120 Flora. &c., &c. ■ tlj) Virgo, Bowels and Belly ....150 N.B.—Those printed in italics are not in the zodiac, and have ; =2= Libra, Reins and Loins...... 180 fluence. There are nowno important in­ above 100 disco­ - th Scorpio. Secret Members ....210 vered between Mars and Jupiter. J Sagittarius, Hips & Thighs. 240 ASPECTS. | k? Capricorn, Knees and Hams 270 5 Conjunction. * Sextile. ; Aquarius, Legs and Ankles. 300 A Trine. □ Quartile. § Opposition. )( Pisces, Feet and Toes.......... 330 S □ Semisquare. SSnSesquisquare. LAW TERMS, 1873. As settled by Statutes 11 Geo. IV < cap. 70. s. 6. & 1 Will. IV 1 cap. 3, s. 2. Hilary Term ................. Begins 3an. 11 Easter ........................... „ Apr. 15 Trinity........................ „May 23 Michaelmas...................... „ Nov. 2 For Returns see Statute 1 Will. IV, cap. 3, s. 2. (Passed July 23,1830. (Passed Dec. 23,1830.) ....Ends Jan. 31 .... „ May 9 .... „ Junel3 ... „ Nov. 25 (Passed Dec. 23, 1830.) UNIVERSITY TERMS, 1873. Tbrms. I Lent.......... I Easter ........ i Trinity....... . Michaelmas.... OXFORD. Begins. Ends. Jan. 11 April 5 April 1G May 30 May 31 July 6 Oct. 10 Dec. 17 The A ct, July 1. CAMBRIDGE. Begins. Divides. Ends. Jan. 13 Feb. 22, Midnight April 4 April 9 May IS, Midnight June 21 Oct. 1 Nov. 8, Noon Dec! 16 The Commencement, June 17. REGULATIONS RESPECTING ELECTIONS. Notice to receive claims for Votes must be given by Overseers on June 20. Lists of Electors made by July 31. Persons objecting to claims for Votes give notice by August r5 Barristers hold Revision Courts between September 20 and Oct. 25. Lists copied into books, and the books to be delivered by October 31; such books considered the Registry of the Electors. ARTICLES OF THE CALENDAR AND COMMON NOTES FOR 1872. Golden Number .......................... 12 Ash Wednesday............................... Feb.26 Epact............... 1 Easter Day .............................. Apr. 13 Dominical Letter ............ E Rogation Sunday....... ................ Maj’ 18 Solar Cycle .................................... 6 Ascension Day........................... ...Maj'22 Roman Indiction......................... 1 WiiitSunday....................... . June 1 Julian Period ............. .........6586 Trinity Sunday ........................ June 8 Sundays after Epiphany.............. 3 Sundays after Trinity ............... 24 Septuagésima- Sunday .. ..... Feb. 9 Advent Sunday.......................... Nov. 30 The Year 5634 of the Jewish Era begins September 22, 1873. The Mahommeaan Year, 1290, begins March 1, 1873. Ramadan (Turkish Fast) commences on the 23rd October, 1873. This Year 1873 is the year 2626 of the Foundation of Rome ; 2619 of the Era of Nabonassar, fixed Wednesday, 26th Feb., 747 B.C. �ALMANAC.] REGAL TABLES. 29 BIRTHDAYS OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. Queen Victoria .................. May 24, 1819 Pr. Leo. Geo Duncan Albert. Apr. 7, 1853 The Princess of Prussia ..Nov. 21, 1840 Albert Edward, Pr. of WalesNov 9,1841 Princess Alice of Hesse ..Apr. 25, 1843 Prince Alfred Ernest Albert Aug. 6,1844 Princess of Wales ........... Deo. 1, 1844 Prs.HelenaAugustaVictoria May 25, 1846 Prs. LouisaCarolinaAlbertaMar. 18, 1848 Pr. Arthur Patrick William Albert............................. May 1,1850 Prs. Beatrice Mary Victoria Apr 14, 1857 Late King of Hanover......... May 27, 1819 Duchess of Cambridge ....July 25, 1797 Duke of Cambridge.......... Mar. 26, 1819 Augusta Caroline, Duchess of Mecklenburgh Strelitz July 19, 1822 MaryAdelaideof CambridgeNov. 27, 1833 Prs. Viet. Alberta of Hesse April 5, 1863 Princess Eliz. Alex. Louise, Nov. 1,1864 SOVEREIGNS OF EUROPE. Countries, &c. To whom subject. When born. Began to reign. England, &c.............. Victoria ....................May 24........... 1819 June 20......... 1837 France.......................Thiers, President • Russia, &c..................Alexander II............... April 29......... 1818 March 2 1855 Spain........................ Amadeus.................... May 30..........1845 1871 Portugal................... Luis II........................October 31..1838 November 12,1861 Prussia....................... Frederick William V, Emperor of Germany March 22 ...1797 January 2 ..1861 Netherlands..............William III . ............. February 19.1817 March 17 ....1849 Belgium.................... Leopold II .............. ..April 9 ........ 1835 December 1865 Denmark...................Christian IX.............. April 8......... 1818 November 16,1863 Sweden & Norway ... Charles XV............. . May 3............ 1826 July 8. ......1859 Austria, &c................ Francis ..... ............ August 18.... 1830 December 2 1848 Popedom................... Pius IX........................May 13 .......... 1792 June 16 ......... 1846 | Italy .................... .Victor Emanuel... ...March 14 ... .1820 March 23 ....1849 i Ottoman Empire...... Abdul Aziz................. February 9*. .1830 June 25.......... 1861 Greece....................... George I .................... December24.1845 JuneS .......... 1863 I Bavaria..................... Louis II ............... ..August ¿5.... 1845 March 10 ....1864 Saxony.............. ........ John........................... December 12 1801 August 10... .1854 Wurtemberg ........Charles ....................... March 6 ....1823 June 27.......... 1864 * 15 Chabän, 1245. KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND, FROM THE CONQUEST. (Corrected by Sir Harris Nicolas’s “ Chronology of History.” Names. Began to reign. Charles I, Jan. 30,1649, Names. Began to reign to the restoration of William I ...1066, Dec. 25 Henry VI ...1422, Sept. 1 Charles II. William II. 1087, Sept. 26 Edward IV 1461, Mar. 4 Names. Began to reign. Henry I ... .1100, Aug. 5 Edward V ...14S3, April 9 Stephen ... .1135, Dec. 26 Richard III 1483, J une 2g Ch. II (rest, f) 1660, May 29 Henry II.... 1154, Dec. 19 Henry VII ..1485, Aug. 2g James II . 1685, Feb. 6 Richard I.... 1189, Sept. 3 Henry VIII. 1509, April 22 W.III&My.II,1689, Feb.13 John............. 1199, May 27 Edward VI ..1547, Jan. 28 William III alone, 1694 Henry III ..1216, Oct. 28 Mary I ... .1553, July 6 Anne............ 1702, Mar. 8 Edward I... .1272, Nov. 20 Elizabeth....1558, Nov. 17 George I .... 1714, Aug. 1 Edward II ..1307, July 8 James I .....1603, Mar. 24 George II .. 1727, June 11 Edward III 1327, Jan. 25 Charles I ...1625, Mar 27 George III ..1760, Oct. 25 * (Oliver George IV ..1820, Jan. 29 Richard II ..1377, June 22 Commonwealth Cromwell and his Son) William IV..1830, June 26 Henry IV ...1399, Sept. 30 from the execution Qf Victoria ... .1837, June 20 Henry V ... .1418, Mar. 21 * Edward III, King of France, from January, 1340, to May, 1360. Heredita ry right admitted November, 1272. f In some historical and in all legal documents, the reign of Charles II is re ck oned from his father’s death. �30 [zADKIEL’s STAMP DUTIES. STAMP DUTIES. £ 8. d. AGREEMENTS, value £5, duty 6d.; above 1080 words, extra 0 0 6 ‘ MEMORANDUM or AGREEMENT between masters and mariners of anj’ ships, for wages or service on any voyage 020 I APPRAISEMENT ol Goods, 2s. 6d.—5s.—10s.—15s.—20a. APPRENTICESHIP INDENTURES. If the Premium be under ^30 £10 0 2 0 0 £400 and under £500 - £25 0 0 £30, and under £50 500, „ 600 - 30 0 0 100 3 0 0 50, „ 600, „ 800 - 40 0 0 6 0 0 100, 200 800, „ 1000 - 50 0 0 - 12 0 0 200, 300 60 0 0 300, ,, - 20 0 0 1000, or upwards 400 vnd where no premium, if the Indenture shall not contain more than 1080 words -----------0 2 6 ff more than 1080 words ----------1 15 0 By 7 and 8 Geo. IV, c. 17.—When bills of exchange or notes which become due rhe day preceding Good Friday or Christmas Day are dishonoured, notice thereof may be given on the day next after; and whenever Christmas Day falls on a Monday, then on the Tuesday next after. Bills of Exchange and Notes becoming duo on Fast or Thanksgiving Days shall e payable on the preceding day; and Good Friday and Christmas Day, and very day of Fast or Thanksgiving, shall for all other purposes as regards bills md notes be considered as Sunday. DEBENTURE or Certificate on any Drawback of any Duty or Part of any Duty of Customs or' Excise, or any Bounty. s. d. Where the Drawback or Bounty to be received shall not exceed Ten Pounds 1 0 Where the same shall exceed Ten Pounds and not exceed Fifty Pounds 2 6 And where the same shall exceed Fifty Pounds................................................ 50 RECEIPTS, &c. LICENSE. ttECEil’T upon the Payment of Money On all Dogs amounting to £2, or upwards, Id. Au. Letters of Credit tankers’ Drafts and Cheques (to any Letters acknowledging the safe amount), Id. arrival of Bills of Exchange certified Copy of Register of Marriage, or other Securities, &c. Birth or Death, Id. Scrip Certificates transfer in Cost Book Mines, 6d. To carry a Firearm Proxy in Joint Stock Company, Id. CONVEYANCE OF ANY KIND. s. d. 5 0 0 1 0 1 0 1 10 0 8. d. Annual sum not exceeding 20s. -.--.-.-26 Exceeding 20s and not £12, tor every 20s......................................... 2 6 Exceeding £12 and not £24, for every 4is. -..-50 Above £24, for every £4-. . . . • lu 0 �ALMANAC.] 31 STAMP DUTIES, &C. Inland Bum or Exchange, Draft, or Promissory Note for payment in any other manner than to bearer on deOrder for the Payment to the Bearer, mand, or to Order, at any time otherwise DUTY than on demand , of any sum. DUTY. 8. d. 0 1 Exceeding £5 0 2 n 0 3 10 25 0 6 n 0 9 50 75 » wo 1 0 100 „ 200 2 0 200 „ 300 3 0 99 300 „ 400 4 0 99 400 „ 500 5 0 99 500 „ 750 7 6 99 750 „ 1,000 10 0 99 1,000 ,, 1,500 15 0 99 Foreign Bill of Exchange drawn in, but payable out of, United Kingdom : drawn singly, same duty as on an Inland Bill; drawn in sets, for every bill of each set, Not exceeding £5 „ 10 „ 25 „ 50 „ 75 8. d Not exceeding £5 0 1 Exceeding ^5 „ 10 0 2 „ 10 „ 25 0 3 „ 25 „ 60 0 6 50 „ 75 0 9 „ 75 „ 100 1 0 Promissory Note for payment to bearer on demand, or in any other manner. DUTY. 8. d. Not exceeding £25 0 1 50 0 2 Exceeding £25 50 >> 75 0 3 » 75 » 100 0 4 99 100 „ 200 0 8 99 200 „ 300 1 0 99 300 » 4OU 1 4 99 400 „ 500 1 8 99 600 ,, 750 2 6 99 750 „ i,oou 3 4 99 1,000 „ 1,500 5 0 99 Foreign Bill of Exchange drawn out of the United Kingdom, and payable within same duty as Inland Bill. Foreign Bill op Exchange drawn and payable out of the United Kingdom, but indorsed or negotiated within the same, duty as on a Foreign Bill drawn within and payable out of the U. K. 8. d. Exceeding £100, and not exceeding ... £200 2 0 „ 200 „ 300 3 0 „ 300 „ 400 4 0 „ 400 „ 500 5 0 „ 600 „ 750 7 6 ,, 750 „ 1,000 10 0 (Succession Duty.) Where the successor snail be the lineal issue or ancestor of the predecessor, a duty at the rate ot one pound per cent.. according to the value. Where the successor shall be a brothel or sister, or a descendant of a brothel or sister, of the predecessor, a duty of three pounds per cent. Where the successor shall be a brothei or sister of the father or mother, or a descendant of a brother or sister of the father or mother of the predece ssoi, a duty of five pounds yer cent. Where the successor shall be a brotnei or sister of the grandfather or grandmother, or a descendant of the orothei or sister of the grandfather or grand mother of the predecessor, a duty of six pounds per cent. Where the successor shall be in am other degree of collateral consanguinity to the predecessor, or shall be a stranger in blood to him, a duty of £10 per cent LEA8E8. Lease of any lands, tenements, here­ ditaments, or heritable subjects at a yearly rent, without any sum of money oy way of fine, premium, or grassum paid lor the same : — lhe yearly rent not above £5 - 0 6 Above £5 and not above £10 ' ' 1- 0 10 15 1 6 », 99 15 20 2 0 99 » 20 25 2 6 » » 25 50 5 0 99 » 60 75 » 7 6 „ 75 100 - 10 0 . >> Above £100, 5s. for every £50, and I, ... fractional part thereof. Warrant oj Attorney.—The same duty as on a Bond for like purpose. BON l)tS, MOKTGaGKS, &c. Boud in England or Ireland, and Per sonai Bond m Scotland, given as a secu­ rity for the payment of any certain sum of money. N ot exceeding £50 - 1 ;3 Above £50 and not above £100 - 2 6 I 100 99 150 - 3 9 I » 150 200 - 5 0 I 99 » 200 250 - 6 ö , 99 » 250 300-7 6 ' Above £300, 2s.’’(id. for every £1O, f:_ and fractional part thereof. DUTÏ . LET'l'EKb Ul ATTUKJNEY. �32 [zadkiel’i USEFUL TABLES. BANK STOCK TRANSFER AND DIVIDEND DAYS. * * Ö» M 8 of Transfer Tu Th F Day Y Due. — Tu w Tb F 3 per cent. Reduced.. 99 99 > April6 and October 10. — Tu w Tb F 34 per Cent Reduced 99 99 —- Tu — Th F 4 per cent. 1826 ....... 99 99 — Tu w Tb F ■ I Jan. 5 and July 5. 3 per cent Consols .. 99 99 — Tu — Th _ Ditto, 1726 ....... 99 99 — Tu w Th F New 3J per cent........ 99 99 Imperial 3percent..« M — w — F _ 11 May 1 and Nov. 1 99 99 — Tu — Th — S Imperial Annuities .. 99 99 — Tu — Th — si I May 25 and Sept. 25. Iris h 5 per cent.......... „ »9 99 Irish Annuities, 1794, 1795 — — — Th — s Hours luí buying, selling, and transferring, from 11 to 1; for accepting, from HKMi» for uuymg, seeing, 9 to 3; for payment of Dividends, from 9 to 11, and from 1 to 3; and for 3 per cent. Consols from 9 to 3 every day. SOUTH SEA STOCK, MW F; 3 per cent. New Annuities, Tu Th S ; 3 per cent. 1751, Tu Th S; Jan. 5 and July 5. 3 per cent. Old Annuities, M W F; April and Oct.—Hours of Transfer, from 12 to 1; for receiving Dividends, 9 to 2. INDIA STOCK, Tu Th, January 5 and July 5; India Bonds, March 31 and Sept. 30.—Private Transfers made at other times 2s. 6d. extra at the Bank and India House, and 3s 6d. extra at the South Sea House. HOLIDAYS AT THE BANK.—Christmas Day, Good Friday, May 1, Nov. 1. TABLE TO CAST UP EXPENSES. By Day. By Weck. By Mon. By Year. £ s. d. 0 0 1 0 0 2 0 0 3 0 0 4 0 0 5 0 0 6 0 0 7 0 0 8 0 0 9 0 0 10 0 0 11 0 10 0 2 0 0 3 0 0 4 0 0 5 0 0 6 0 0 7 0 0 8 0 0 9 0 0 10 0 0 11 0 0 12 0 0 13 0 0 14 0 0 15 0 0 16 0 0 17 0 0 18 0 0 19 0 10 0 sé s. d. 0 0 7 0 12 0 19 0 2 4 0 2 11 0 3 6 0 4 1 0 4 8 0 5 3 0 5 10 0 6 5 0 7 0 0 14 0 1 1 0 18 0 1 15 0 2 2 0 2 9 0 2 16 0 3 3 0 3 10 0 3 17 0 4 4 0 4 11 0 4 18 0 5 5 0 5 12 0 5 19 0 6 6 0 6 13 0 7 0 0 £ s. d. 2 4 4 8 7 0 9 4 11 8 14 0 16 4 18 8 110 13 4 15 8 18 0 2 16 0 4 4 0 5 12 0 7 0 0 8 8 0 9 16. 0 11 4 0 12 12 0 14 0 0 15 8 0 16 16 0 18 4 0 19 12 0 21 0 0 22 8 0 23 16 0 25 4 0 26 12 0 28 0 0 I 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 £ 8- d 1 10 5 3 0 10 4 11 3 6 18 7 12 1 9 2 6 10 12 11 12 3 4 13 13 9 15 4 2 16 14 7 18 5 0 36 10 0 54 15 0 73 0 0 91 5 0 109 10 0 127 15 0 146 0 0 164 5 0 182 10 a 20.0 15 a 219 0 0 •437 5 0 255 10 0 273 15 0 222 0 0 310 5 0 328 10 0 346 15 0 365 0 0 TABLE OF INTEREST AT EJVE PER CENT. Days. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 £1. d.f. — _ — 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 14 0 1 15 0 2 16 0 2 17 0 2 18 0 2 19 20 0 2 21 0 2 22 0 2 23 ■ 0 3 24 0 3 0 3 15 26 0 3 0 3 27 0 3 28 29 0 3 0 3 30 31 1 0 £2.' | £3. 1 d.f. "Z7 — — _ — 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 2 0 1 0 2 0 2 0 3 0 2 0 3 0 2 0 3 0 2 1 0 0 3 1 0 0 3 1 1 0 3 1 1 0 3 1 1 1 0 1 2 I 0 1 2 1 0 1 3 1 0 1 3 1 1 1 3 1 1 2 0 1 1 2 0 1 2 2 1 1 2 2 1 1 2 2 1 1 2 2 2 1 3 2 2 1 3 2 3 1 3 2 3 1 3 ! 2 3 2 0 3 0 4. £5. d.f. 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 1 1 2 2 3 3 0 0 1 1 2 2 3 3 0 0 1 1 2 3 3 0 0 1 1 2 2 33 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 4 4 5 1 1 2 3 3 0 1 1 2 3 3 0 1 1 2 3 3 0 1 1 2 3 3 0 1 1 2 3 3 9 �ALMANAC.] USEFUL TABLES. 33 TABLE OF SEVERAL IMPORTANT EPOCHS, ERAS. &O. EPOCHS ANO ERAS. PERIOD OF COMMENCEMENT. Grecian Year of the World..»............. Julian Period ... ........................ J ewish Mundane Era ............... Destruction of Troy .......................... . Building of Solomon’s Temple ........ Era of the Olympiads .......................... Roman Era ......................... .......... Era of habonassar ................... Daniel’s 70 Weeks............ . Mctonic Cycle ....................................... Julian Year ............... . ............... . Augustan Era ................ Indiction of Constantinople ................ Christen Era .................................... Destruction of Jerusalem.................... Era of Dioclesian ................................ Eta of the Hegira................................. Persian Era ............ ............................. Conquest of England ................... .. Union with Ireland ............................ TABLE TO CALCULATE WAGES Pe Year. Per Mth. Per Week. Per Day September 1, B.C. 5598. January 1, B.C. 4713. Ver. Equinox, B.C. 3761. June, B.C. 1184. May, B.C. 1015. New Moon, Summer Solstice B.C 770. April 24, B.C. 753. February 26, B.C. 747. Ver. Equinox, B.C. 458. July 15, B.C 432. January 1, B.C. 45. February 14, B.C. 27. September 1, B.C. 3. January 1, A.D. 1. A.M. 4004. September 1, A.D. 69. September 17, A.D. 284. July 16, A.D. 622. June 16, A.D. 632. October 14, A.D. 1060. January 1, 1801. INTEREST TABLE AT FIVE PER CENT. 1 Month. 2 Months. 3 Months. £ s. d. £ s. d. £ 8. d. 1 0 18 0 0 4| 0 0 01 £ £ 8. d. £ s. d. £ 8. 0 0 3 4 0 0 94 ? 0 0 IJ 1 0 0 1 0 0 2 0 0 3 3 0 5 0 0 1 1| 0 2 2 0 0 2 0 0 4 0 0 6 4 0 6 8 0 1 6} 0 21 3 0 0 9 0 0 3 0 0 6 5 0 8 4 0 1 11 0 31 4 0 0 4 0 10 0 0 8 6 0 10 0 0 2 3} 0 0 4 5 0 0 5 0 13 0 0 10 0 11 8 7 0 2 8} 0 0 4} 6 0 0 6 0 10 0 16 0 13 4 8 0 3 0} 0 0 5} 7 0 12 0 19 0 0 7 9 0 15 0 0 3 5} 0 6 8 0 14 0 0 8 0 2 0 10 0 16 8 0 3 10 0 6} 9 0 0 9 0 2 3 0 16 11 0 18 4 0 4 2f 0 7} 10 0 0 10 0 18 0 2 6 12 10 0 0 4 71 0 0 8 20 0 1 8 0 3 4 0 5 0 13 118 0 4 111 0 0 81 30 0 2 6 0 5 0 0 7 6 14 13 4 0 5 4} 0 0 91 40 0 3 4 0 10 0 0 6 8 15 0 5 9 15 0 0 0 91 50 0 4 2 0 8 4 0 12 6 16 16 8 0 6 11 0 0 10} 60 0 5 0 0 15 0 0 10 0 18 4 0 6 6} 17 0 0 111 70 0 5 10 0 17 6 0 11 8 18 1 10 0 0 6 10J 0 0 11} 80 0 6 8 0 13 4 10 0 19 0 7 3| 1 11 8 0 10} 90 0 7 6 0 15 0 1 2 o 20 1 13 4 0 7 8 0 1 11 100 0 8 4 0 16 8 1 5 0 30 2 10 0 0 11 6 0 1 71 200 0 16 8 1 13 4 2 10 0 40 0 15 4 3 6 8 0 2 21 300 15 0 2 10 0 3 15 0 50 4 3 4 0 19 2 0 2 9 400 1 13 4 3 6 8 5 0 60 5 0 0 1 3 01 0 3 3} 500 2 18 4 3 4 -6 5 0 70 5 16 8 1 6 lOi 0 3 10 600 2 10 0 5 0 0 7 10 U 80 6 13 4 1 10 8} 0 4 4} 700 2 18 4 5 16 8 8 15 0 90 7 10 0 1 14 6J I 0 4 11} 800 3 6 8 6 13 4 10 0 ■ 190 1 8 6 8 1 1 18 4} 1 0 5 5J 900 1 3 15 0 7 10 0 11 5 The column of Months is calculated at For Interest by any other per-centayc lie ratio of Twelve months in the Year. multiply the amount at 5 per cent. ~bi 1 f the yearly wages be Guineas instead of and divide Pounds, for each Guinea add one Penny\ ¡the per-centage required,per cent, forInv5. ex.—What is £8 at t c to each Month, or one Farthing to each [months ï 16d. x 3} 3} 56d.. and tbs' JVeek. | 1 divided by 5 is 11 l-5th.= £ �34 HIGH WATER TABLE, 1873. [ZADKIEL^Q TABLE TO BIND THE TIME OF HIGH WATER AT ALL THE PORTS ROUND GREAT BRITAIN THE COASTS OF FRANCE AND HOLLAND, &C. H.M. H. M. H.M. Aberdeen Bar.........0 56 Donaghadee Pier ...7 8 Humber River En­ Aberdovy............... 5 19 Donegal Bar ........... 2 58 trance ....................3 23 Aberystwith................5 19 Douglas Harbour....... 9 3 Ilfracombe ............... 3 40 Achill Head ........... 3 53 Dover Pier ............... 9 3 Ipswich ... ,.2 7 Isle de Bas (France) 2 43 Agnes, St., Scilly 2 23 Downing’s Bay, Jersey, St. Aubin’s...4 3 Air Point................... 9 0 Sheephaven........... 3 Aidborough................8 30 Downs (Stream). ...0 Kenmare River (Ire­ land) ................... 1 2? Alderney Pier........... 4 38 Dublin Bar ............... 9 King’s Road (Bristol)! 38 Amlwch Port ........... 8 23 Dunbar (Scotland) ...0 Kingstown Harbour Antwerp ................... 2 18 Duncansby Head....... 6 (Ireland) ...... 2 28 Arran Isle .............. 9 8 Dundalk Bar ........... 8 Kirkcudbright. ... .9 8 Arundel Bar .......... 9 8 Dundee .................... 0 La Hogue Harbour Ballyshannon Bar ...3 23 Dungarvon ................ 2 (France) ......... 6 38 Batta.......... „................7 38 Dungeness ............ ..8 ! Land’s End................ 2 28 Baltimore .............. 1 38 Dunkerque ................1 8 Leith Pier ............... 0 15 Banff ...oom.......1 26 Eddystone ............... 3 Bantry Bay ... ........ 1 39 Exmouth Bar ............ 4 18 Lerwick Harbour (Scotland) ........... 8 23 Bardsey Island ......5 53 Eyemouth ................ 0 8 Barmouth................... 5 47 i Falmouth....................3 8 Lewis Islands (Scot­ land) ....... ...3 53 Barnstaple Bar .......3 23 i Fécamp (France) ...8 38 Calais ........................9 41 Flamboro’ Head....... 2 23 Liverpool Dock ........9 15 Caldy Island ........... 3 53 iFlatholm....... .......... 4 30 London Bridge....... Calf of Man ........... 8 58 Flushing ...............0 47 Margate, Pier .......... 2 2 Caveale Bay ........... 4 2 iFowey . ...................... 3 23 Milford Haven En­ 3 38 Cantire (Mull)........... 6 53 1 Galloway (Mull)....... 9 8 trance ......... Cardiff ....................... 4 30 Galway Bay............... 2 23 Minehead Pier......... 4 23 Cardigan Bar ........... 4 53 Glenan Islands .... 1 18 Montrose.......... ....... 0 22 Carlingford Bar ....... 8 33 Goeree ( West Gat) 0 22 Morlaix (N. Coast 4 2 France)................... 3 8 Carnarvon Bar...........7 13 Granville.. ..9 46 Needles Point.... ....7 38 Chatham ....................0 13 Gravelines Chausey Islands....... 4 6 Gravesend _____ ..0 37 Newcastle ............... 1 53 Cherbourg ................ 5 51 Greenock (Scotland).9 38 Newhaven ............... 9 43 Chichester Harbour 9 23 Guernsey Pier.......... 4 23 Newport (Wales) .. 4 38 Christchurch Harbour6 43 Gunfleet (R. Thames)2 7 Fore Light (Stream) 0 58 Clear Cape (Ireland) 1 53 'Hartlepool .............. 1 38 Orfordness ................ 8 33 Coquet Island .........0 38 Harwich .................... 9 23 Ostend ..................1 12 8 29 Pembroke Dock Yd. 3 57 Cordonan....................1 49 Hastings ....... Cork Harbour....... In oq Havre de Grace....... 7 45 Pentland Frith ........8 23 Heligoland ................. 8 53 Penzance.................... 2 27 Cornwell Cape....... J Cowes, I. of Wight...8 38 Bellevoetsluis (Hol.) 0 7 Peterhead ........... 0 22 Cromartie ................9 38 Hollesley Bay........... 9 23 Plymouth DockYard 3 26 Cuckold's Point ......0 6i Holyhead Bay........... 7 53 Portland Race Cuxhaven.................... 1 7 Holy Island. liar. „. 0 23 (Stream) ................ 7 Portland Road ........4 Dartmouth Harbour..3 58i Honfleur Harbour ........7 23; Port Patrick ....... 8 Deal ......................... 9 8i (France) Portsmouth Dock Yd.9 ]>ee River) Scotland] 22 9 7 PortBiDouth to I. Dis'otte Hsrbou * ...4 8 9 1 »n.KV&t«- H»rboU' Dieppe ....... 8 8 I Ratogat ent Phr..J * Dinwis Bsy ; .1 23 �35 PHENOMENA. ALMANAC.] ' H. M. H. M. H. Ratlilin Island............. 6 53 Southampton ........... 9 33 Tynemouth Bar ....... 0 43 Rye Harbour .............8 33 Spithead (Stream)...7 23 Waterford Harbour...3 43 Salcombe..................... 3 43 Spurn Point................3 13 Wexford Harbour ...5 23 fiialtees ......................3 33 St.Helen’s Harbour...8 53 Weymouth ......... .....4 23 Scalloway ................ 7 38 St. Ives (Cornwall)...2 23 Whitoy...................... 1 38 Scarborough ........... 2 18 St. Malo (France) 3 58 Whitehaven ........... 8 20 Scilly Islands ........... 2 25 Stromness (Orkneys)6 53 Wick (Scotland).......9 0 Seaford ............... 7 86 Sunderland .............. 0 53 Wicklow (Ireland) 6 53 Selsea Harbour ....... 9 8 Swansea Bay ............3 49 Wisbeach................... 5 23 Shannon Mouth ....... 1 43 Ty Bar..... ............0 2 Wranger Oog (E. Sheerness Dock Yard}. 28 Tees River Bar ....... 1 23 Friesland) .......... 2 7 Shields .....................0 53 Teignmouth Bar.........3 53 Wight (W. end)....... 6 20 Wintertonness........... 5 35 Shoreham Harbour...9 8 Terschelling West Skerries ................... 2 38 (Holland) .............. 6 33 Woolwich ............0 25 Yarmouth Roads....... 6 33 ? Sligo Bay, Ballisadare3 52 Texel, Helder Road Solebay ................... 8 23 (E. Stream)............. 6 53 Yarmouth, Isle of Small’s Light ............ 3 20 Torbay ........................3 58 Wight .................. 6 50 JSidinouth .................. 3 50 Tralee Bay ................1 38 Youghall (Ireland) 2 53 Explanation.—To find the time of High Water at any of the above places for any day throughout the year:—Take out the time of High Water from the Itatendar for the given day, and add the hours and minutes opposite the name of the place thereto (but subtract the hours and minutes therefrom when the name is printed in italics). If the result give an amount beyond 12 hours, take away that quantity. If the night tide be required at any place, add together the time of the day tide and that for the next day ; then divide the sum by 2, and the quotient will be the exact time of the night tide. EXPLANATION OF THE “LUNAR INFLUENCES.” 1. The Moon joined by good aspect, with Saturn shews a good day to deal with old folk or farmers, to make wills, purchase land or houses, to plant or sow or to lay the foundation stone of new buildings. 2. The Moon so joined with Jupiter is good for trade, or to open shops or places of business, to deal with merchants, bankers or clergymen, and generally to begin new undertakings, or to travel for health. 3. The Moon so joined with Mars is good to deal with surgeons or cutlers, or martial men. 4. The Moon joined so with the Sun is good to ask favours, or seek employment, or travel for health. 5. The Moon so joined with Venus is good for all kinds of dealings with females, and to woo, marry, visit or invite friends or engage female servants. 6. The Moon so joined with Mercury is good for writing letters or books, to deal W;th printers or booksellers, or lawyers, and to send children to school or to bind apprentices' also to travel. �36 [zADKIEL'f BIRTHDAYS, &c, OF THE HEIR APPARENT AND HIS FAMILY. H.R.H. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, K.G., b. November 9th, 1841 ; ct. 10th March, 1863, Alexandra, d. of Christian IX, King of Denmark; b. December 1st, 1844. Their issue—H.R.A. Albert Victor Christian Edward, b. January 8th, 1864 ; George Frederic Ernest Albeit, b. June 3rd, 1865 ; Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar, b. February 20 th, 1867 ; Victoria Alexandra Olga Mary, b. July 6th, 1868 ; Maud Charlotte Mary Victoria, b. November 26th, 1869 ; and an infant Prince, John Charles Albert, b. April 6th, 1871, and who died on the 7 th April, 1871. PHENOMENA IN 1873. Stationary Position of the Planets. 21st March, 4h. 21m., Mars. 26th March, lOh. 50m., Mercury. 8 th April, 13h. 3m., Ciranzis. 13th April, 19h. 13m., Venus. 17th April, 4h. 46m., Jupiter. 17th April. 22h. 30m., Mercury. 12th May, 2h. 3m., Saturn. 24th May, 20h. 47m., Fe-zzs. 7th June, 5h. 9m., Mars. 29th July, lh. 20m., Mercury. 22nd August. Oh. 3m., Mercury. 29th September, 19h. 26m., Saturn. 15th November, 14h 0m., Uranus. 20th November, 7h. Im., Mercury. 9th December, 22h. 29m., Mercury. Other Phenomena. 1st January, 7h. 46m., 0 in perigee. 5th, 13h. 58m., Mercury's greatest elongation, 23° 8' W. 13th, 2h. 12m., Ip □ 0, 4h. 13m., J? d O- 17th, 9h. 48m., $ □ 0. 23rd, 5h. 56m., $ g 0. 27th, £ in aphelion. 14t.h February, 13h. 52m., g ©. 21st, 3h. 27m., g sup. d 0. 22nd, 8h. 40m., ? greatest elongation, 46° 30', E. 7th March, 4h. 0m., 2 in perihelion. 12th, lOh. 2m., $ in peri­ helion. 18th, 16h. 21m., § greatest elongation, 18° 26', E. 30th, $ at greatest brilliancy. 5th April, 13h. 6m., $ inferior <3 O. 15th, lOh. 29m., Ml ci 0. 21st, llh. 2m. U □ 0. 22nd, Oh. 3m., T? □ 0. 25th, 9h. 27m., g in aphel on. 27th, 2h. 40m, g g 0. 3rd May, lOh. 31m., ? greatest elongation, 26° 28'. Sth, 5h. 51m., $ inferior 0. 12th, 16h. 54m., If. □ 0. 8th June, 9h. 17m., $ in perihelion; 21h. 24m., g in superior (5 ©. 10th, 2 at greatest brilliancy. 27th, 13h. 2m., ? in aphelion. 30th, 18h. 33m., 0 in apogee. * 14th July, 12h. 17m., ? great elongation, 45° 38', W. 15th, 20h. 34m, 5 greatest elongation, 26° 45', E. 20th, 19h. 36m., □ 0. 21st, 16h. 57m., g Q. 22nd, 8h. 42m., 8 in aphelion, 28th, 20h. 44m., hl ft. $ . r �ALMANAC.] ECLIPSES. 37 11th August, 21h.-12m., $ □ 0. 12th, 19h. 18m., $ inferior d 30th, 2h. 27m., $ greatest elongation, 18° 8' W. 4th September, 2h. 27m, 3 O; 8h. 30m., $ in perihelion. 24th, 14h. 40m., § superior o Q. 17th October, 22h. 0m., J in perihelion. 18th, 7h. 56m., £ in perihelion. 19th, 5h. 4m., T? □ 0 ; 23h. 11m., T g 0. 2nd November, 8h. 37m., □ 0. 10th, 4h. 9m., $ greatest elon­ gation 22° 41', E. 16th, 7h. 49m., $ in perihelion. 30th, 6h. 24m., $ inferior d O1st December, 7h. 45m., g in perihelion. 19th, 2h. 41m., $ greatest elongation, 21° 40', W. 0. ECLIPSES IN 1873. There will four eclipses in 1873 ; two of the Sun and two of the Moon. . I. A total eclipse of the Moon, invisible at Greenwich. First contact with the shadow at 9h 30’4m, a.m., on the 12th May. Beginning of total phase at 10h 35-2m, a.m. Full Moon at llh 17’6m, a.m. End of total phase at 0h 5m, p.m. ; and last contact with the shadow at lh 9’8ra, p.m. Magnitude of the eclipse (Moon’s diameter = 1) 1’428. The first contact occurs at 124° from the Moon’s north limb, towards the east. The last contact 82° towards the west. It falls in the 22 nd degree of Taurus. It will chiefly affect the Society Islands and others near them. II. A partial eclipse of the Sun, visible at Greenwich. Begins at 7h 36'2m, a.m. Greatest eclipse at 8h 28Tm. New Moon at 9h 20Tm ; and the eclipse ends at 9h 23’4“. Magnitude of the eclipse (Sun’s diameter = 1) 0’352. It falls on the 6th degree of Gemini. It there causeth dissension among priests, hatred and seditions ; and an inveterate hatred of the law of both God and man. It endures lh 47m, and will, therefore, be operating on the earth for a year and three quarters. No doubt, that being visible in the ruling sign of London, it will produce much of its evil effects on the great city. These will be partly physical; and we may look for sad suffering by deaths from pestilence ; and were it not that Jupiter is rising, I should expect the cholera to visit us. However, as Saturn is found in Aquarius, and in the 6th house, we may be assured that affections of the head will be very prevalent; Jupiter being lord of the 8th house (that of death), many deaths by disease of the heart will be recorded, especially in France ; while in Ireland defects of the throat will abound. III. A total eclipse of the Moon partly visible at Greenwich. First contact with the shadow at 2h 6’2m, p.m., November the 4th. Beginning of total phase at 3h 8m, p.m. Full Moon at 3h 48’2m. p.m. Middle at 3h 50’8m. End of total phase at 4h 33’6“. And last conn �38 general prédictions. [zaDKIMl’S tact with the ¡shadow at 5h 35-4“ p.m. The magnitude (Moon’s diameter = 1) 1-419. And it falls in the 13th degree of Taurus. It is said to be followed by the death of the queen of some region under Taurus; and to produce a scarcity of seed and barrenness of the earth. The Moon will rise totally eclipsed. GENERAL PREDICTIONS. The Sun enters Capricorn at llh 53m, a.m., 20i7i December, 1872. The R.A. on the M.C. will be 17h 50m 30s, and we find rising in the east X 24° 10'. Jupiter, lord of the figure, is in Virgo, and m trine to the Sun. Hence we say that men will be sociable and love one another; that the “Discord,” of 1872, will in a great degree disappear, and that they will delight in husbandry and manuring the earth ; that, fruits shall be plentiful, but soon corrupt; yet seeds will come to o-ood. There will be many strong southerly winds and these will do mischief. The worst feature in this figure is Mars in the 7tli. This indicates, according to Ramesey, “ great dissensions and enmi­ ties ; and that men shall be perplexed with theft, much bloodshed, contentions and wars.” As Mars is in the sign Libra, it is most probable that we shall have some Chinese squabbles and quarrels. But as Libra governs Austria also, and as the Emperor of that country has the Suris opposition of Mars 42° 46', in January, 1873, we may fear some evil of a martial nature in that direction. The Moon and Jupiter both being in Virgo, and in the house of sick­ ness we may anticipate much disease of the liver and consumption in this country. Let all liable to such complaints live quietly duiing the ensuing spring. The Dragon’s Head in Gemini shews sickness and divers infir­ mities to the grandees of the earth; who will suffer from earth­ quakes and unwholesome mists; and that there will be wars and dissensions between great and rich men and men of a middle degree. There will also be much damage to trees by caterpillars and other The Dragon’s Tail in Sagittarius imports the dejection of noble and great men and their misfortunes ; and the rise of ignoble, base fellows; and the sad condition of judges, counsellors, learned and wise men, during the influence of this figure of the heavens. . On the 7th January, 1873, we find Mars in square to Saturn, being mutually in each other’s exaltation. This denotes troubles in India and China, as also much mischief by storms, in Greece, Mexico, and other countries. Some warlike acts may then be expected against the power of this country. Mars is exalted above the Moon ; whence we foresee earthquakes, and those very violent. Lastly, we find the Sun strong, being near the Mid-heaven, and �1 almanac.] 'I GENERAL I'REbiCrioNS. S') in trine to J upiter and the Moon. This shews us that there will be I accomplished some high and remarkable public action, or great | scientific discovery, during the first three months of the year. ! The ingress occurs at Washington at 2h 15m 42s, am., when £ 21° (will be rising, and 11|° on the M.C., with the evil Mars just inside the cusp and in square to Saturn; yet also is he in sextile a to Mercury just rising. ! No doubt this position of Mars will render the rulers in America j very unpopular, for they will lay on taxes without consideration, and the revenue in that country will be very defective. The people if in the States shall be given to delight in astrology and all curious arts and sciences. It may be hoped that some man of talent there will set up an Almanac, to show forth the truths of the oldest science in the world j and, if so, he will have good success, for f there are but few newspapers there, the editors of which combine Li ignorance and rancour, as they do in this old country. b| The Sun is in the ascendant and in good aspect with Jupiter, j This foreshows that the season of this figure (three months) will be 'good and prosperous for the people generally through the States, d Prag°n’s Head is in the 6th house, which is a token that the i| air will be healthful and pleasant, and that small cattle will flourish h| and be gainful to their proprietors. I Some serious quarrels among great men maybe expected, how| ever, since Mars is exalted above Jupiter, and these may lead to M duels and other acts of bloodshed. The Dragon’s Tail exalted above •a| Mercury no doubt shows evil to learned and wise men. ! i In other countries we find but few notable positions. But it may be well to draw attention to the places where old Saturn will be on J the M.C. at this ingress. This will be in 25 degrees of east longitude ; whence he will be then passing over Candia and Andros, “i Paros, and other islands of the Archipelago. In and about those’ ' ,'i P^rts, therefore, may we look for earthquakes, chiefly on and near ^ * 4 the 7th of January, 1873. The Sun enters Aries at 0h 52m, on the 20lh March Il11873, . at London.we find the RA. on the Mid-heaven will be 0h 44m At this time ..20s, giving <y> 12°, and on the asc. will arise 4° 38'. The active Mercury is found in T 18° 21', just within the tenth house and (4 featurn in SOT 0° 33' on the cusp of the 7th, while $ rise? in 1° 58'R. ■ Batum m /» -r W Leo ; the Moon being in f 123 39', and on the cusp of the oe>l second house in 22° 40'. i I The Sun is lord of the year, being well aspected and not afflicted In any way. This shows, says Ramesey, “ that it shall be well with -im ihe common people ; the year shall be fruitful and successful unto &A ¡them, as also to great, noble, and rich men, kings and grandees of ■ D 2 EfJ’j WXC1VU.LJ �40 GENERAL PREDICTIONS. [zadktel’s ’ the earth ; and that they shall be fortunate in honour, and shall ’ overcome their enemies, be gracious and loving to the people, and shall do them justice,” &c. AU this applies generally to England, and especially to Birmingham, Leicester, and other places; for which see page 9. We find Jupiter on the cusp of the second house, and this shows much prosperity to the people, the revenue, and nation in general. The Sun in the 9th house indicates that the inclinations of the people are generally to good ; that they shall be fortunate regarding long journeys and voyages ; and that they shall love and delight in the law of God and man. Mars on the cusp of the 5th house denotes that there will be much discord in theatres, fires therein, and dissensions among their directors, &c. But, as Venus is in the 10th and strong, we may, nevertheless, look for prosperity in exhi­ bitions, and success to persons who make music their profession. Mercury in the 10th tells us that merchants, scholars, and ingenious men will flourish and do well, and meet many honours from the Queen and governors. The Moon in the 5th house implies (not­ withstanding the evil of Mars) that there will be plenty and merry­ making through the land ; yet the Dragon’s Tail in the 5th also ( threatens many troubles through children, and that the education f bubble will bring grief to the country. Saturn being occidental on 'r the cusp of the 7th foreshows combustions and underground troubles, blowing up of mines, and deaths thereby, especially on or about the à 10th of May. These evils will never cease until, by astrology, we &• learn the time that they are imminent, and thence guard against them. The Dragon’s Tail in Scorpio imports many fevers and infirmities of the breast, catarrhs, and deductions in the throat. Mercury, exalted above the Moon, speaks of many wondrous feats performed, and I judge that the art of aerostation will prosper, and that men will at length prepare to begin to navigate the air ! Also Venus exalted above the Dragon’s Head imports prosperity, pleasure, and happiness to great men and nobles, &c. The position of Mars at the ingress denotes much rain to prevail IJS1 in general throughout the year. And Saturn in Aquarius and, )£jj occidental imports that violent tempests will prevail also. The coincident Full Moon will be at 5h 44m, a.m., on the 14th [f4 March. This figure is generally good also. The chief points therein are Venus in the 2nd, which brings happiness and fertility of thapt fruits of the earth. Jupiter is lord of the figure and found in Leo >30 This imports high winds and those mischievous ; even to the blow- vq ing up trees by the roots ; yet there shall be clear air and whole- Jlgj some at the end of winter; but in the spring abundance of rain nhs while in autumn there shall be certainly a plentiful and good harvest, �ALMANAC.] GENERAL PREDICTIONS. 41 but people will be troubled with unusual coughs, &c. Lastly, Mars in the 8th shews that there will be many fearful and terrible sud­ den deaths, chiefly by water and poison. The figure for the Sun in Aries at Washington will be at 7h 43m49 , a.m., on the 20th March, 1873. On the M.C. will be 19h 36m 98 of R.A., and, rising, will be 8 8° 30'. In the ascendant we find Venus in Q 13° 28', opposed by Mars, in the 7th, in Scorpio 15° 16'. Now Venus would do very much good in the United States, if free from this sad aspect of Mars ; the which denotes public quarrels, discord and wars ; also deceit in merchandizing, with trouble and sadness. Jupiter is found in the 5th, whence it may be foreseen that the population will increase rapidly. And Saturn in the tenth, being strong and well aspected, gives honours and benefits to the people through their men in power, &c. Reverting again to the figure for London, and making due allowance for the difference of longitude at Paris, we find Mercury just on the M.C.; which implies that the governors in France will again be changed ; yet the people will do well generally, and the national funds will improve. True, we find Uranus in Leo and retrograde ; and that Saturn will come to his opposition on the 8th of April. This, no doubt, will bring on emeutes and some serious troubles in France ; though while Jupiter is in Leo, her ruling sign, we may hope she will escape any great or lasting mischief. On the 10th May, however, there is a square of Mars to these two planets (Uranus and Saturn) which will excite their evil qualities, and bring acts of blood in France. An Eclipse of the Sun, visible at Greenwich ; New Moon at 9h 20m 6s, a.m., on the 26th May, 1873. At this time we have lh 36in 12s of R.A. on the Mid-heaven, and of 14° 0' of Leo rising. We find the eclipse in U 5° 8', and we perceive that Jupiter is rising in 23° 41'. On the cusp of the 4th is Mars ; Saturn and Uranus are in elose opposition, from St an(^ placed in the 6th and 12th houses. This figure is more good than evil; vet not free from malice ; which will show itself in a great measure in France, and will not allow London to escape scot free ; nor, indeed, Lombardy, Belgium, &c. The sun eclipsed, in the first face of Gemini, causeth dissension among priests ; and inveterate hatred and seditions. It also brings a tendency to outrageous diseases; but these latter evils, the benefic Jupiter, rising, will overcome. Yet Mercury in aspect to Jupiter, and ruling the eclipse, will give much thunder and lightning, as also some pernicious winds, with opening of the earth and earthquakes. A total Eclipse of the Moon, at 3h 48m 23, 4</i November, 1873. This eclipse takes place with 18h 44m 2s of R.A., on the Mid-heaven, and T 25° 30' rising. The Moon is found in the ascendant in 8 �42 FACTS AND FALLACIES [zSlEL’s 12 20'; and she rises totally eclipsed; yet the eclipse is only partial, in reality, tons in London, in one sense. An eclipse of the Moon in the second face of Taurus denotes the death of the Queen of some region under Taurus, and a scarcity of seeds and barrenness of the earth. This eclipse is ruled by Venus, she being in Libra. She denotes, as does Jupiter, success and happiness in most things ; and particularly she causes venereal sports, honour, fame, joy, &c., happy marriages, abundance of children and felicity in all things belonging to matrimony. We find Venus, ruler of this eclipse, in Libra and in close square to Mars ; this shews that countries (for which see p. 21) will be suffering from violence and martial acts. Herein we find Mars in Capricorn near the Mid-heaven and in aspect to the eclipse. This is said to threaten the ruler of Rome with being stabbed ; but there would require many other testimonies before I should venture to predict positively such an event. However, Mars will spend his malice on our rulers ; and they will be evilly affected towards the people, and act with much tyranny for some weeks to come. Lie is said to cause wars, tribu­ lation and slaughter to young men, when found in such a situation. The Dragon’s Head in Taurus shews the slaughter of nobles and great men in the northern parts (say, Ireland), and, in the western, controversies and dissension between noblemen and the plebeians. The Dragon’s Tail in Scorpio denotes many fevers and chest diseases among men, chiefly in Ireland. Here we find Mars exalted above the Moon ; and this I have fre­ quently found to denote earthquakes, and those very violent; also above the Sun, kings and rulers will go near to be slain treacherously. The most probable period for these fearful phenomena will be the 19th November and the 9th December. The Moon exalted above the Dragon’s Head shews damage to rivers and fountains, springs, &c. THE FACTS AND THE FALLACIES OF “ SCIENCE.” We know of no man who merits to be accepted as the mouth­ piece of science, so much as Sir John Lubbock, Bart, M.P., &c., &c. He is intelligent and very industrious; and we hope religious. He has recently given to the world a very clever book, called “ The Origin of Civilization.” It is cram-full of what he calls “ facts,” in refer­ ence to this subject; but what are, many of them, at least, merely opinions. And he winds up his work by some remarks, that ve shall give our readers, for purposes that they will presently perceive. At page 253 he speaks thus of the Mandingoes, whom of course, he classes among savages: “They regard the Deity as so remote, and of so exalted a nature, that it is idle to imagine the feeble supplications of wretched mortals can reverse the decrees and �z ALMANAC.] OF SCIENCE. 43 charge the purposes of Unerring Wisdom.” They seem, however, to Have little confidence in their own views, and generally assured * Park, in answer to his enquiries about religion and the immortality of the soul, that no man knows anything about it. Now in this matter it seems to us that the Mandingoes were perfectly right; for on such subjects, certainly no man does know anything about it, until he be enlightened by Revelation. At page 255 Sir John goes on to favour us with some of his own ideas ; that is, of his scientific notions. He says, “We know that a belief in witchcraft was all but universal until recently, even in OUT own country. This dark superstition has, indeed, flourished for centuries in Christian countries, and has only been expelled at length by the light of science. It still survives wherever science has act penetrated.” Therefore we see that it is not Christianity, according to Sir John Lubbock, that helps us to destroy a belief in witchcraft; but only science, of which one of the latest escapades has been to persuade us that the “ origin of life ” on this earth is not due to the power of Him who said, “ Let light be, and light was but it came here by means of an aerolite, that chance threw upon us, wrapped in grass and containing a Bug !t Now we have but little respect for these men of science. We find that they are quite indifferent to facts, though they pretend to found their science altogether upon facts observed and well known. Will any of them, from Sir John Lubbock at the head of them, to the merest scribbler in the Daily News, who writes at a penny a line, at the tail, venture to tell us, without a blush for the falsehood, that they know by their own experience, that there really is not, and never was, such a thing as witchcraft ? Will they, in defiance of the Mosaical law against its practice, and in contradiction to the assertions of the New Testament; will they, we demand to know, dare to come forward and assert in the face of society, that there is no such thing really existing as witchcraft, and that there never was any such thing really practised ? We go entirely with them, as to the evil, the tremendous evil, of its practice ; but we will not go one inch on the road to deny the * Park’s Travels, vol. i, page 67. + Pity it is that Sir John never defines what he means exactly by “ Science.” Bat Mr. G. H. Lewes, another great authority in the scientific world, does favour us with a definition. He says that “ Science is the systematic co-ordinatioa of the facts of co-existence and succession.”—Page 76 of Aristotle, by G. Lewes. Well, let us substitute this definition for Sir John’s “Science;” aad then we read that witchcraft has been “ expelled, at length, by the light of the qjfstematic co-ordination of the facts of co-existence and succession.” We hop® that this will become as clear to our scientific readers as mud in a wine­ glass. �44 FACTS AND FALLACIES [ZADKIEL’S truth of its existence, largely in former days, and certainly still to a considerable extent, even “ in our own country.” Does Sir John Lubbock imagine that those people who profess to practise the abominable rites of witchcraft, will come to him to explain them, or will ask his opinion about them ? Let him know that they court not publicity, they seek not to be known, they invite not the power of the law to punish them for their deeds. No; such men as they are, who fear not the evil spirits they dare to associate with, may still fear the trouble they would fall into if their practices were made public. Let Sir John Lubbock begin to write an Astrological Almanac, and he will soon find, if he shew that he knows much about the matter, that men, and women too, will pester him, as they do us, for information that may be and has been of use in their diabolical rites and ceremonies. He will soon find also that it is not the false glare of science that has checked this unchristian practice ; but that the mild light of religion alone has enabled some of those men who have fallen into the temptation to practise such evils, to abandon them for ever. Let Sir John Lubbock use his interest in the national schools to have the truth taught. Let the growing generation learn that there is no greater sin, before God, than is this dealing with Evil Spirits ; which constitutes the very essence of that Witchcraft of which Sir John Lubbock ignorantly denies the existence, but of which there is far too much evidence existing—when rightly sought for—and too much evil arising therefrom, to be put down and destroyed by a mere man of science, forsooth, making a pretence to deny. Sir John goes on to say, “The immense service which ‘science’ has thus rendered to the cause of religion and of humanity, has not hitherto received the recognition it deserves.” And he observes farther, that “ If we consider the various aspects of Christianity, as understood by different nations, we can hardly fail to perceive that the dignity, and, therefore, the truth, of their religious beliefs, is in direct relation to the knowledge of science and of the great physical laws by which our universe is governed.”* Our ideas of the foundation of true Christianity have hitherto been, and still are, notwithstanding this flourish of the man of science, that it is really the pure gift of God; in other words, the grace of God, that creates the true Christian, and that when th® Saviour chose the poor ignorant fisherman, St. Peter, and others of his disciples, to spread abroad his religion, they were certainly * Of these physical laws of our universe, we heg leave to hint to Sir John Lubbock that he and most other scientific men are deplorably ignorant. The great fact is now becoming known, that all the ideas of Newton as to the vast size of the sun, its distance, the motion of the earth around it, and all the consequences of these mistaken ideas, are merely dreams, and are totally desti­ tute of one iota of truth and reality. �ALMANAC!.] OF SCIENCE. 45 not chosen for any scientific knowledge or acquirements. Away then, for ever, with these fallacies, and down with this false and foolish teaching! It is precisely the same thing when these pretended scientific men have to do with the question of the truth and reality of the old astrology. They are, one and all, utterly ignorant of even its first elements. Yet they set themselves up as judges, and do not hesitate to condemn it, notwithstanding the proverb, Ne damnent quae non intelligunt. Ask one of them if he ever tried it, and he answers, “No, indeed, but—I—am—quite persuaded—that—it—is —false.”. And this in the face of thousands upon thousands who have tried it and found it to be true. He expects that a scoff, or a jeer, will be taken as evidence, where he might find real and decided evidence of its fallacy, if such were existing Ask him to erect a figure, or map, of the heavens, and he stands aghast. Yet can he have the impudence to laugh at what others, better men than he is, have bowed their head to, in acknowledgment of its absolute truth. And these are the men who try their best to put down astrology by infamous laws; that treat its practitioners as fraudulent men ; yet are those practitioners cognisant of the truth of what they profess. And this in the 19th century, when we are told that mankind are ruled by “ science ” and by reason; which is a plain falsehood, and will be such, while those laws exist. Why is all this ? Just because of the infidelity of these scientific men, who see clearly that while astrology exists, the belief in spi­ ritual existence, and the intercourse with angelic beings, must and will exist also ; and this drives these men mad; for in vain do they hope that the end of a man is as the end of a brute. This feeling it is that leads these very clea/r-headed “ scientific” men to scoff at astrology, or the doctrine that the stars, or hosts of heaven, have anything to do with the characters, or the destinies, of man, or that they are, in fact, “the ministers of Jehovah, that do his pleasure.” See Psalm ciii, v. 21. “Bless ye the Lord (Jehovah), all ye his hosts, y® ministers of his, that do his pleasure.” These sceptics are the leading men of science in our day; but let us ask, “In what they are one whit superior to the great men of olden times, whose names have come down to us, as believers in, and practitioners of astrology?” We will here set forth some of these truly great and good m®n; none of whom were of the narrow-minded class of men, who /pretend to judge and condemn what they have never yet examined. ■ Among the Indians we find Buddha and Viera Maditya. Among the Persians, Zoroaster. Among the Phenicians, Berosus. Among the Jews, Josephus, Aben Esra, Maimonides, and very many others, besides the Sacred Writers. Among the Greeks we find a perfect galaxy of great names : these are—Thales, Anaximander, Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Aristotle, SoD 3 �46 FACTS AND FALLACIES. [ZADKIEL'S crates, Plato, Eudoxus, Aratus, Hippocrates, Porphyry, Proclus, Homer, and Hesiod, &c., &c. Among the Egyptians, Mercurius, Trismegistus and Claudius Ptolemy. Among the Arabians, Messahala, Albategnius, Alfraganus, Half, Alphard, Haly Ben Rodoan, Haly Alrachid, Alkindus, Alpheagius , Albumazar, &c. Among the Romans, Cicero, Nigidius Figulus, Virgil, Horace, Manilius, Juvenal, and very many others. Among the Moderns, Roger Bacon, Melancthon, Cardan, Lord Bacon, Nostradamus, Baron Napier, Tycho Brahe, Kepler, Hobbes, Cornelius Agrippa, Arch­ bishop Usher, Dr. John Butler, Bishop Hall, Sir Edward Kelly, John Dryden the poet, Sir Matthew Hale the learned judge, Sir George Wharton, Placidus de Titus the learned monk of Spain, Sir Christopher Haydon, Mr. George Mitchell, Astronomer Royal at Portsmouth, Mr. Flamstead,first Astronomer Royal at Greenwich, Le Due de Valney, George Digby, Earl of Bristol, Sir Elias Ashmole, Dr. Culpepper, Dr. Dee, John Milton the poet, Drs. Starkey, Paitridge, Moore, &c., Sir Richard Steele, and very many others. But, as has been said, it can serve no good purpose to set forth more names, since no other science than astrology can offer among its upholders such a list of never-dying men. If these names do not affect and shame the men of our day, then are they wilfully deaf to reason and argument, and obstinately shut out the light of heaven, lest it should irradiate their understanding and convince them that they are but men of low and humble conceptions, in no shape qualified to determine the pathless ways of God, or to mea­ sure the extent of His omnipotence. Burns has justly written of them :— “ What’s a’ the jargon of your schools, Your Latin names for horns and stools ? If honest Nature made yon fools, What sairs your grammars ? Ye’d better ta’en up spades and shools, Or knappin hammers.” “ A set o’ dull conceited hashes, Confuse their brains in college classes! They gang in sticks and come out asses Plain truth to speak.” FOREKNOWLEDGE. “ God foreshews what it is to come upon men, not to grieve them, but that, when they know it beforehand, they may by prudence make the actual experience of what is foretold the more tolerable.”—Whiston’s Josephus, chap. 5, page 66. �ALMANAC. J 47 PROVIDENCE, OB CHANCE. How cursed the land, how sad the nation, where First sprang the thoughts of those, who, worse than demons, dare To teach that Chance may rule, or Accident may reign. And kind, unfailing Providence not deign To shew its mighty sway! No reason—no design, But all one blank, that none could yet define. What! Earth’s wild-rolling seas, and rocks, and trees, And all the vast variety one sees, Came helter-skelter hither—none know how! And shall the sane man to this doctrine bow ? Shall this be taught, and none have any sense To scout the base idea, and hold for Providence ? ’Tis ours to teach another law, and hold That all, ay all, from where the Lion bold, In Afric’s hot domain, stalks dominant, Or the huge Elephant, down even to the Ant, J Or to the trifling Sparrow, numerous, Obey one only law, as congruous, They do their Maker’s will—to live or die. His hand, seen everywhere, can all supply: ’Tis he alone gives all they have to all his foes, And rescues those He loves from all their woes. He is the deep, Inscrutable ! the MIGHTY GOD ! Untold in numbers, Demons fear his rod, And tremble when He frowns ! Suns are no more, No longer heard the dread Volcano’s roar; Earth fades to nothing ; all Creation fails ; If He but speak the word, e’en Heaven quails ! And all reverts to Darkness, dead, original; As ere the Light came forth when He did call: So great, unspeakable is Cabud Al* ’’ He is the Great To Pan—the First, the Last; The Vast Unknown ; who governed all the Past, And all the Future knows. Himself unseen, In one vast hidden space, has ever been; Unknown to all, e’en angels, who bow down, And cast before His feet their brightest crown. From thence He spake, and forthwith sprang the Light; Th® Sun assumed his form—the Moon came into sight. Thence He commands, and Earthquakes shake the Land; Thence calls the Hurricane—Lightnings from His hand * Cabud Al—the glory, might, or majesty of God! And mn' Cabto Jehovah, the Glory of Jehovah! �48 PROVIDENCE, OR CHANCE. [ZADKIEL Fly swiftly o’er the sea ; and dire disease Sweeps man from off the earth. So, when he please, The sea may be no more, and barren be the land, As when wild tempests strike the rock-bound strand. He gives invention to the mind, and love of kind ; Courage to the brave, and patience to the hind ; Beauty to the maid, and wisdom to the head ; And teaches each man how to gain his bread. Yes ; all things, or none, arise from Providence ; To idle Chance, then, let us all cry, “ Hence 1” If all things, then the works of nature still obey, And do His will—the moon by night, the sun by day. And all the powers of all the stars exclaim, And speak the wonders of His glorious Name ! From the cold point, ycleped “ the Cynosure,” To where Orion’s lambent light and pure, Embraces Procyon’s brilliant flame ; And many a star, of unestablished name, Pales its bright fire, when Sirius bursts to sight; Down where the Southern Cross illumes the night. See the fair victim of old Neptune’s ire, Andromeda—see Menkar, and see Algol’s fire, With red Aldebaran, light Capella on her way ; Where Castor and where Pollux hold their sway. Next glitters o’er the main, bright Rigel far, In southern sky ; and in the north Auriga’s star. Then see the Lion all his treasures hold ; See Prsecepe and Regulus the bold, Put forth their powers. See beauteous Spica shew In Virgo ; and Arcturus, all in Libra’s row. Next comes the bold Centaur, in Scorpio seen, Where Antar’s rubious light completes the scene. These, and a thousand others, influence man ; Who thinks, in vain, their character to scan. As blind, he peers where wondrous comets fly, When wars burst forth and tens of thousands die So when Eclipses mar the light of day, And mark o’er man, impotent, all their sway; Strike down the weak, and terrify the strong; Such unknown powers to the stars belong. Yet doth the sceptic see these move and shine, But not perceive their Maker’s power divine ! Shall ignorant man still dare to question how They spring and how they shine, and yet not bow, As taught by nature—wisdom—common sense, Before the majesty of mighty Providence ? R, J. M. �ALMANAC.] 49 ON THE CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE OF BRITAIN. Nearly the oldest observer of the national characteristics of the sundry people of the world, is undoubtedly Claudius Ptolemy. He says of the natives of this country, that they are “ impatient of restraint! lovers of freedom, warlike, industrious, imperious, cleanly and high-minded” (jTetrabiblos, book 2); and he adds that “they regard women with scorn and indifferencebut that they are still careful of the community, brave and faithful, affectionate in their families, and perform good and kind actions.” Yet he says that the people of Britain, &c., “ have a greater share of familiarity with Aries and Akars ; and the inhabitants are, accordingly, wilder, bolder and more ferocious.” These are the chief of Ptolemy’s notes on the people of England, generally. He clearly places them under Mars, essentially, and under Aries (the house of Mars), particularly. But before we attempt to examine the truth of these statements, we will note the words of the great Roman poet, who treats on the particular influ­ ences of Aries. Of course, we allude to Manilius. He says very truly and very beautifully, book 5 :— “For when the world was framed, the Mighty Cause These powers bestow’d and did enact these laws, How signs should work, how stars agree, And settled all things by a firm decree,” He then describes the first important figure in the sign Aries, viz., the ship:— “ And now, as victor o’er the conquered deep, He keeps his power and still commands the ship ; For when the Northern Rudder rears its flame, And in the fourth degree first joins the Ram, Whoever’s born shall be to sail inclined; He’ll plough the ocean, and he’ll tempt the wind ; He o’er the seas shall love or fame pursue, And other months another Phasis view : Fixed to the rudder, he shall boldly steer, And pass those rocks, which Typhys us’d to fear. Had no such births been born, Troy’s walls had stood, No wind-bound navy bought a gale“ with blood ; No Xerxes Persia o’er the ocean roll’d, Dug a new sea, nor yet confin’d an old; No Athens sunk by Syracusian shores, Nor Lybia’s seas been chok’d with Punic oars ; Nor had the world in doubt at Actium stood, Nor Heaven’s great fortune floated on the flood. Such births as these their hopes to seas resign, Ships spread their sails, and distant nations join ; �50 CHARACTER OF THE BRITISH. [zadkiel’s The world divided, mutual wants invite To close again, and friendly ships unite? Here we read the judgment of that great astrologer, Mamilius, | who spoke of the men of Britain, as though he had lived after Nelson, 1 or been contemporary with Blake or Boscawen, or had had the | advantage of fighting under a Brenton or Lord Cockrane, or any I other of our great naval heroes. For very correctly does Ptolemy I place Britain under the influence of Aries; and just as truly does the I poet point out the peculiar bent, or inclinations, of the men born with that sign rising. It is to this that England owes her naval |i greatness ; to the natural-born courage of her sailors, joined with Jr their free, wandering propensities. These it is that lead them to k “ plow the ocean and to tempt the winds.” And until “ the powers p of the Heavens shall be shaken,” shall these things produce their |i natural results. And not until then shall Britain cease to be the fo sovereign of the seas. I Let us now examine what Ptolemy says of the character of our »; countrymen. We accord with him in all his remarks; and wefe regret that he speaks so truly of the evil propensity of our people |i. to treat with scorn the female sex. Have we not always, from his ki day to our own, treated females with even worse than “indifference ?” r Have we not allowed them to feel their supposed inferiority ? Does k not the law render a married woman, in particular, perfectly help-|rj less, and treat her complaints with “ scorn ? ” Is she not robbed of |q her property and rendered miserable, too often, by the wretched man who has got possession of her person and hei’ property by means of a little set form of ecclesiastical jabber at the altar7 And if this injustice be avoided, is it not so, more by the husband being “affectionate,” than by any help of the law, or by public approbation 7 Ptolemy goes on to say that the people are “ wild, Is bold and ferocious.” T it not so ? Can any man deny the truth of p this accusation 7 Does not their “ ferocity ” shew itself in a con­■ tinued effort to treat offenders in the most unchristian and unfor­■ K giving spirit 7 Can it be doubted that not many years since we ip flogged m§n to death in the army and navy; and that we go near to (¡T do so now in our prisons 7 Not only do we practise bodily torture onk< offenders in our prisons, but we treat women with “scorn” by the huge? and beastly iniquities of the “Contagious Diseases ” Acts; and wer. punish by fine and imprisonment mothers and fathers who hold ink contempt the disgusting iniquities of the “Vaccination” Acts. Nay,h; we are now passing a law to flog men for wife-beating; thus demon-L strating our national character for the ill treatment of women andk.: for brutal “ ferocity.” Moreover, we flog men for begging and «uchjic T acts of “vagrancy,” and our House of Commons upholds sucl p * “ferocious” doings, as if to shew that Ptolemy judged us right? and by no means too severely. �ij ¡almanac.] AIDS TO FORETELL WEATHER. 51 I If we look at the present Government’s acts, we find that in India owe recently put to a horrible death, by blowing them away from sixty-five out of eighty-nine prisoners captured—a piece of «brutal and cowardly conduct, that no man in England would dare flio enact towards dogs. Again, in the House of Commons, on the ilst June, 1872, we find it stated that one Joseph Townsend was harged with being an “ incorrigible rogue,” and, was sentenced to eceive thirty-six lashes with the cat. The Daily News, 22nd June, \A872, informs us that hereupon “ Mr. Bruce said that the man in ■xj question had several times been convicted of vagrancy, and that : :pe did not think that the magistrates had exceeded their j urisdiction.” usCanwe wonder at this cruelty when we know that Maria Tranter is r<now undergoing five years' penal servitude for an act of vagrancy, \wiz, for defrauding a man of the sum of one shilling, by pretending to jjfchow him in a magic crystal the face of a man who had robbed him. iiiBuah as these are the cruel laws, which fully confirm the assertion of Ptolemy, that the people of Britain are “ferocious.” Of course, this ipplies more decidedly to men who are born with Mars rising at ^Lheir birth. If at the same time Mars have any evil aspect to the ..gun or Moon, they become furious and ungovernable, cruel and ¿.¡malicious; and such men fully bear out all that Ptolemy has dleclared i 4 AIDS TO THE FORETELLING OF THE WEATHER. j {From Ramesey, Astrologia Munda, chap, x.) Aq in conjunction of Jupiter in fiery signs, signifies a great •Httrought; in airy signs, plenty of wind; in watery, floods, continual lifain ; also inundations and overflowings of water ; in earthy, earthcibuakes and the fall of houses and ecaduation of trees. Judge also rfhe same when they are in a malicious square or opposition. [But cjMess extensively.] Saturn in conjunction, square or opposition of Mars zytn watery signs, denotes rain in winter, autumn and summer ; and summer oftentimes thunder and lightning ; especially if in fiery .coigns. In autumn and winter windy, dry weather, when in fiery ■ Jigns. In airy signs in all seasons great winds and sometimes qwain. s!«| Nohwrn in conjunction, square or opposition of the Sun, in the Iwpring denotes cold, rain or hail. In summer much rain, with ^thunder and lightning, according to the nature of the sign. In . jAutumn tempestuous, stormy weather. And in winter grievous cold, jdnowy, slabby weather. uJ Saturn in conjunction, square or opposition of Venus, promises in .ijihe spring rain and cold ; in summer sudden cold; in autumn jjkuch rain ; and in winter rain and snow ; especially if the sign be d'jpatery. �52 AIDS TO FORETELL WEATHER. [zadkiel’; Saturn in conjunction, square or opposition of Mercury, signifie; wind and rain in the spring ; especially in watery and airy signs also in summer wind and showers. But if they be in fiery signs thunder lightning and rain or hail. In autumn wind and cold according to the nature of the signs ; and in winter cold and snow Jupiter in conjunction, square or opposition of Mars shews tht spring to be windy and tempestuous ; a thundering and lightning summer; rain and storms in autumn ; and in winter cold snows and sharp winds, according to the nature of the signs. Jupiter in conjunction, square or opposition of the Sun, in tht spring signifieth high winds; in summer thunder and lightnnig and in autumn vehement winds. But in the winter very dry, cold frosty weather. For the most part they signify thus in everj sign. e/zqoiter in conjmiction, square or opposition of Venus, shews temperate air, according to the nature of the season, all the yea! long. Yet if they be in watery signs they incline somewhat t« misling showers. Jupiter in conjunction, square or opposition of Mercury, denote! great and vehement winds in every quarterthey are so aspected, *!! in airy signs; in watery signs rain ; and in fiery thunder and light ning, but of no great continuance. Mars in d , □ or g of the Sun, in fiery signs, promiseth drough I in summer, dry air in the spring ; in autumn and winter frost; i watery signs, showers in the spring ; in summer thunder and rain i in autumn showers, in winter rain and cold. Mars in d , □ or g of Venus in the spring, will cause sudde; i great and violent rains ; in the summer and autumn tempests ; bi: if in fiery signs, or each other’s house, great thunders and ligh f nings. Mars in d, □ or g of Mercury in fiery signs causes heat as i drought in summer; but rain if in watery signs, and sometim thunder and lightning. In autumn sudden great winds ; and j winter cold. The Sun in d of Venus, in the spring causeth rain ; in summ i@ tempests and rain; in the autumn showers and wind; in wint p much moisture. The Sunns, d of Mercury, denotes wind and moisture, especially y watery and airy signs; but in fiery a serene air in summer ai i frosty in winter. Venus in Mercury rain in the spring, summ n and autumn; and snow in the winter and sudden high winds. A]|K in the summer they raise storms and tempests. ' Judge also the same in everyone being in sextile or trine ; bl you must know they are not altogether so bad. J [Ramesey might have said also that these inferior aspects fi quently pass by without doing more than causing the sky to iSd �AUJANAC.j FREEMASONRY. 53 overcast with clouds, instead of producing absolutely rain. We must also remark the parallels of declination, marked p. d. in this Alma­ nac ; as they are nearly as potent as even the conjunction. There are many other rules for judging the weather; but it will be time enough to learn these, when the student shall have well mastered the above.—Z.J FREEMASONRY. What was the meaning of the ceremonies practised in the Mys­ teries, or Ancient Freemasonry ? is an enquiry that has been long pursued, but hitherto, as is well known, without any satisfactory result. The Rev. Dr. Oliver (“History of Institution,’’ page 26) says, “The mysteries were proclaimed the beginning of a new life of reason and virtue (Cic De Heg., ii, 14), and the initiated or esoteric companions were said to entertain the most agreeable anticipations ^respecting death and eternity (Isoc. Panegyr.); to comprehend all the hidden mysteries of nature (Clem. Strom. 5); to have their soul restored to the state of perfection from which it had fallen, and at their death to be elevated to the supernal mansions of the Gods. (Plat. Phsed.) They were believed also to convey much temporal felicity and to afford absolute security amidst the most imminent, dangers by land or water. (Schol. in Aristoph. Iren., v, 275.) A public odium was studiously cast on those who refused the rites. (Warb. Div. Leg., i, p. 140.) They were considered as profane wretches unworthy of public employment or private confidence (Plat. Phsed.), sometimes proscribed as obdurate atheists (Lucian. Daemon), and finally condemned to everlasting punishment. (Ori­ gen, cont. Cels, 1. viii.) The mysteries professed to be a short and certain step to universal knowledge, and to elevate the soul to absolute perfection; but the means were shrouded under the impenetrable veil of secrecy, sealed by oaths and penalties the most tremendous and appalling. (Alleurs. Eleusin., c. xx.) Innu­ merable ceremonies, wild and romantic, had been engrafted on the few expressive symbols of primitive observance ; and instances have occurred where the terrified aspirant, during the protracted rites, has absolutely expired through excess of fear. But the potent spell which sealed the authority of the hierophant was the horrid custom, resorted to in times of pressing danger or calamity, of immolating human victims. (Diod. Sic., 1. v ; Strabo, 1. iv ; Euseb. Orat. ad Const.) The selection of victim was commonly the prerogative of the chief hierophant. (Samones, Brit., i, p. 104.) The most careful selection and preparation were necessary to deter­ mine who were fitted for these important disclosures; and for this �64 EKEEMASONKY. [zadkikl’s purpose they were subjected to a lengthened probation of four years (Tertul. adv. Valentín.) before it was considered safe to admit them into the Sanctum Sanctorum, to become depositaries of those truths the disclosure of which might endanger not only the institution, but also the authority of the civil magistrate. Hence to reveal the mysteries was the highest crime a person could commit, and was usually punished by an ignominious death, embittered by denunciations of the hottest pains of Tartarus in another world. (Clem. Stram.; 2. Sam.; Petit in Lege Attic., p. 33. Si quis arcana? mysteria Cereris sacra vulgasset lege morti addicebatur.) The places of initiation were contrived with much art and ingenuity, and the machinery with which they were fitted up was calculated to excite every passion and affection of the mind. Thus the hierophant could rouse the feelings of horror and alarm, light up the fire of devotion, or excite terror and dismay; and when the soul had attained its highest climax of apprehension, he was fur­ nished with the means of soothing it to peace by phantasmagoric visions of flowery meads, purling streams, and all the tranquil scenery of nature in its most engaging form, accompanied with strains of heavenly music—the figurative harmony of the spheres. These places were indifferently a pyramid, a pagoda or a laby­ rinth. The iabyrinths of Egypt, Crete, Lemnos and Italy were equally designed for initiation into the mysteries (Fab. Cag. Idol., iii, p. 269), furnished with vaulted rooms, extensive wings connected by open and spacious galleries, multitudes of secret dungeons, subterranean passages, and vistas terminating in adyta, which were adorned with mysterious symbols carved on the walls and pillars, in every one of which was enfolded some philosophical or moral truth. The pagans entertained such a very high opinion of the mysteries that one of their best writers attributes the dissolution of the Roman polity to their suppression. He says (Josinus, 1. ii, p. 671), “Whilst therefore the mysteries were performed according to the appointment of the oracle, and as they really ought to be done, the Roman empire was safe, and they had in a manner the whole world in subjection to them ; but the festivals having been '' neglected from the time that Diocletian abdicated, they have decayed and sunk into oblivion. We shall endeavour first to ascertain the meaning of mythology. That once determined, there is a short and easy method with the mysteries. These were of much later origin than mythology; and just as the mysteries that were presented four or five hundred years ago were dramatic exhibitions ci the Scripture mythology, as Dr. Colenso and others would term it, so the ancient mysteries were mere dramatic presentment? fa mythology older than these same mysteries. Of course no cne would attempt to make out the meaning of Scripture by a study of the mysteries of the 15th century. �U| ALMANAC.] FREEMASONRY. It should be remembered, that what to us is mythology was to hi1 Pagans religion. Jupiter and Neptune, now the subjects of fable merely, had their temples, priests and sacrifices. It is not true that tnese been mj these fables are the fables of books only: they have in all ages been .................................. " blood ,................................ „ h) written in characters of ” ’ and fire, in widow-burning by uti Hindoos and in Druse massacres, still in course of perpetration. 1 ' Professor Max Muller thinks he shows that widow-burning arose from a mistake in the meaning of a single word of the Rig. Veda. If 9m the hidden meaning of the various mythologies, constituting the sacred book of the heathen, could be deciphered, and shown to refer id to something else than religion, an end would be put to these evils ; it. Ji but as long as these sacred books are thought to have the sanctions ra of religion, their real meaning being unknown, so long these evils Ri|will endure. To investigate, therefore, the nature of mythology is an enter­ fit prise of the utmost practical importance. Mythology, after all, is or should be the great quest: on of the day, even in this fastidiously Ripractical nineteenth century. Let him who subscribes his guineas to put down false religions <>r fanatical wars look to this. In another and orthodox point of ft’ view, and in the words of Wilkinson (Egypt, iv, p. 166), “ When we reflect that the allegorical religion of the Egyptians contained many Kii important truths founded upon early revelations, made to mankind nj and treasured up in secret to prevent their perversion, we may be disposed to look more favourably on the doctrines they entertained, jdjand to understand why it was considered worthy of the divine legistator to be learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians. Pi We are to show reasons for believing that the basis of m taology was a certain natural science, or the authority of the amients, and of course we must interpret the ancients by the ancien's There is a science, as the ancients believed, the nr st important vuuvv w* nxivxvv that can be vvxivvxivv J; XVI XV uvwxw with the whole destiny of man, conceived for it deals nxuxi F® not only with all the events that will happen to him, as birth, srrimarriage, occupation, death, but also with his very nature and marriage, constitution, mental and bodily. It is self-evident that this is the all-important thing : it is importance itself: nothing else could be St» so fit for the foundation of the imposing pomps and ceremonials of the mysteries and religions. I need only mention the name of „ ___ .. M Astrology, or the science of foretelling future events, of reading the O fate of men and of empires in the positions of the heavenly ^bodies. But the mere general knowledge of astrology, possessed by astro­ W Hog ers, has not hitherto enabled them to solve the great mytho■'? ) logical problems, any more than the general knowledge of mechanics, EOt1 r ■ ... i possessed by the mechanicians of bygone ages, had enabled them to ’ ------ ------------------------------ — — —v o----------- o~' i yp invent the steam-engine ; and so on with other sciences. So there �56 FREEMASONRY. [zadkiel’s is a certain and peculiar and entirely original application of astro­ logy, which we shall introduce as necessary and sufficient for unravelling the mysteries of mythology. Before however proceeding to this application, it may be satisfac­ tory, though not necessary, to give prima facie reasons for believing that mythology is astrology. Landseer observes (Sab. Res. p. 191), “ If the secrets of the mysteries were astronomical, or were so even in part, the same religious dread which would account for their being so rarely, if ever, divulged, accounts also for the little that has been directly imparted and the much that has been withheld of ancient astronomy. JEschylus occasionally deals in astronomical notices, blending with them the sacred charm and elevated pathos of his poetry. And it is known that rEschylus would have been in danger of capital punishment for revealing the mysteries, had he not been able to prove to the satisfaction of the Areopagus that he never was initiated. Again, why is Herodotus so chary and so vague in his astronomical notices, when treating of the ancient Sabean nations ? Why so much freemasonry ? Why, in mentioning the deified animals of Egypt, which were of astronomic reference, does he fear to disclose the reasons of their being held sacred ? Why put off his readers with,“ If I were to explain these reasons I should be led to the disclosure of those holy matters which I particularly wish to avoid, and which but from necessity I should not have discussed at all P In the “Io” of Plato, Socrates says, “Homer and Hesiod both write of things that relate to divination” (Astrology is divination.) Io—“ True.” Soc—“ Well, now, the passages in either of these poets, relating to divination, who, think you, is capable of inter­ preting with most skill and judgment, yourself or some able diviner Io—“ An able diviner, I must own.” Ritter remarks on the Timseus, “ Now as the work of the created gods possesses such power over the rational soul, the gods who formed it—the stars—must exercise no inconsiderable influence upon the lot of all mortal creatures. Plato accordingly believedj that the fate of man is dependant on the complicated motions of the stars, and that, by a due and careful contemplation of the heavens, his future destiny may be discovered.”—Ancient Philo­ sophy, p, 374. That the planets were the real gods of the Egyptians is evident, if, as is constantly asserted, the gods of that people were the same as the gods of the Greeks ; “ The seven planets being, in the words of the philosopher Albricus, the seven first gods of the heathen, whom he arranged in this order: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Apollo, Venus, Mercury and the Moon.” Thus Albricus, p. 171: Saturnus primus deorum supponebatur j �FREEMASONRY. 57 *Æars tertius deorum dictus est. This order is adopted, in modern .iastrology, in the planetary arrangement of the days of the week, ¡and depends on the increase of distance and decrease of the ap.1 parent motion of those bodies. * i The same order (see Macrobius) is observed in the Demotic 1 tablets discovered by the Rev. H. Hobart. Wilkinson remarks, ! that “ Clemens of Alexandria, too, placed in the first class of Pagan . deities the stars or heavenly bodies. The summary of Egyptian theology, given by Diogenes Laertius from Manetho and Hecatæus, is in the same spirit, which considers that matter was the first principle, and the sun and moon the first deities of that people.” Ritter (Indian Philosophy, p. 90), observes, “ In the more ancient portion of the Vedas, physical religion prevails. The heavenly bodies are worshipped as gods.” We have the following expression in the Cratylus of Plato :— “ The only gods are the sun, moon and stars.” In the Timæus the gods are spoken of as revolving—“ As many as visibly revolve.” Porphyry excelled, as Taylor observes, in all philosophical knowledge, and was called “the philoso­ pher.” He treats the gods as visible—“ Which gods are as you now see;” and again (ii, 37)—“To the remaining gods, therefore, to the world, to the inerratic and erratic stars who are visible gods.” Of these he says, (ii, 36)—“The Pythagoreans frequently implored their aid in divination, and if they were in want of a certain thing for the purpose of some investigation. In order, therefore, to effect this, they made use of the gods within the heavens, both the • “Nous avons vu que l'ordre des planètes, selon la croyance des anciens et aussi des Egyptiens, était Saturne, Jupiter, Mars, Vénus, Mercure. Dans les quatre tablettes dont nous nous occupons, et où les cinq p'anètes se suivent 28 fois dans le même ordre, il est à croire que cet ordre des noms sera le même que les anciens.” This order is said to prevail in the attributing the days of the week to the planets, according to the order of their rule over the hours of the day; each day bearing the name of the planet ruling its first hour, as thus : the first hour of Saturday being dedicated to Saturn, the second to Jupiter, and so on; the 25th, or first hour of the next day, is that of the Sun, which gives its name to the day; and so on with Monday, or Lundi, Maidi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Ven­ dredi—Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. The sarcophagi of the monarchs of the 18th dynasty were decorated with representations of the Sun Mythos—the passage of the Sun through the twelve hours of the day and those of the night. The Sun passes in a bark, always accompanied by seven deities, who differ according to the hour, and who appear to represent the Moon and planetary system. This forms a clue to the mythology of the 18th and 19th dynasties.—Birch, on the Determination of the Relative Epochs of Mummies (p. 374). This system of “ planetary hours,” though at least as old as the 18th dynasty, appears to be a late affection of astrology. Herbs ruled by the various planets are gathered in the hours respectively dedicated to those planets. �58 FREEMASON11V. [ZADKlKtS t erratic and non-erratic, of all of whom it is requisite to consider the sun as the leader, but to rank the moon in the second place; and we should conjoin with these fire (or Mars) in the third place, from its alliance with them, according to the theologists. We must call, therefore, the nature of the stars, and such things as we perceive together with the stars, the visible gods.—Plato, Epinanis, p. 401.—■ I n the Timeeus the planets are called celestial beings. The first inventors of astrology were kings, then priests, or augurs, who derived their augury from the celestial signs. Belus, king of Babylon, is referred to, and other kings of the Chaldeans and Assyrians, as Zoroaster, king of the Bactrians. Among the Egyptians no one but an astrologer was appointed priest. “ Those who were appointed to the worship of the gods were Chaldeans, most skilful in astrology.” (Pliny, xxx, 1; Justin., 1. 6.) “The Egyp­ tians,” says Wilkinson (iv, p. 153), “predicted future events, both relative to private occurrences and natural phenomena; for which purpose Diodorus (i, 81) tells us they took advantage of their skill m arithmetical calculations; this last being of the highest im­ portance to them in the study of astrology. For the Egyptians most accurately observe the order and movement of the stars, preserving their remarks upon each for an incredible number of years ; that study having been followed by them from the earliest times. They most carefully note the movements, revolutions and positions of the planets, as well as the influences possessed by each upon the birth of animals, whether productive of good or evil. And they frequently foretell what is about to happen to mankind with the greatest accuracy, showing the failure and abundance of crops, or the epidemic diseases about to befall men or cattle ; and earthquakes, deluges, the rising of comets, and all those phenomena, the knowledge of which appears impossible to vulgar comprehen­ sions, they foresee by means of their long-continued observations. It is indeed supposed that the Chaldeans of Babylon arrived at their celebrity in astrology in consequence of what they derived from the priests of Egypt. The art of predicting future events, as practised in the Greek temples, says Herodotus (ii, 58), came from the Egyptians'' (See Diod. Sic., ii, 31.) Each of these temples wa3 a planetarum, says Morgan (p. 57), or representation of the heavens» The principles on which they are constructed are strictly astro­ nomical. From the importance they attached to the study of astro­ nomy the Druids were termed by the Greeks Saranidee (serenyddion, from the Kymric seren, a star), astronomers. Their system of edu­ cation appears to have embraced a wide range of arts and sciences. The lowest degree of the mysteries of the Druids conveyed the power of vaticination, in its minor divisions. Borlase (Ant. Corn., p. 67), says, the Eubates or Vates were of the third or lowest class ; their name, as some think, being derived from Thada, which �^RlmanAC.] 59 . .¡amongst tlie Irish commonly signifies magic; and their business Ams to foretell future events. The Druids practised augury for the public service of the State; < mt L 7 ■; ~ .. d-¡while-------------- the Eubates were merely fortune-tellers. (Oliver, Hist. Init., v x ? J ,k 226.) Fosbroke remarks, “The Druids and Etrurian augurs, like “ the V/lltblLlCai-liS, told fortunes by the planets. Eruidism is not tile Chaldeans, UVAVA AVALIAAACO KJJ VAAA> jAAUlAAA, VA3. A--/ cvvwvv.iv w ! wt ta extinct : it still exists in Ceylon, where it is termed Baliism. These extinct Cingalese worshippers of the stars generally conceal their opinions. Townley says the worship consists entirely of adoration to the heavenly bodies, invoking them in consequence of the supposed hi influence they have on the affairs of men. The priests are great 1ft astronomers, and believed to be thoroughly skilled in the power and 10 influence of the planets. (Loss, vol.ii, p. 161.)—“ The usual appellation given by the bards to the sacred inclosure of an open temple was 11 the mundane circle ; and Faber says that the ark was called the M circle of the world. It follows, therefore, the open circular temple was thè representation of the ark, which was anciently denominated fe! CJaer Gaur, or the Great Cathedral, or the Mundane Ark. (In., p. 189.) P “ The general name of the sanctuary where the peculiar mysteries of $ Ueridwen were formally celebrated was Caer Sidi, the circle of ©■ revolution, so called from the well-known form of the Druidical ¡9. temple. This phrase, according to Mr. Davies, implies, in the first hj place, the ark in which the patriarch and his family were enclosed ; ^secondly, the circle of the Zodiac; in which emblems the sun, i Imoon and planets revolved ; thirdly, the sanctuary of the British which r Ceres, _ .. represented both the ark and the Zodiac. (Davies Myth. Druid., p. 516.) THE RULE OF GOD OVER THE HEAVENS, OR HEAVENLY BODIES. ’ In numerous places do we find in the Scriptures the most direct a assertion that God rules the stars; which is often poetically mend tioned as His riding on them. Thus in the 68th Psalm, 4th verse, V We read, “ Sing unto God, sing praises to His name ; extol Him that A- rideth upon the heavens, by His name Jah,” And again in the 32nd verse we find it written, “Ye kingdoms of the earth, 0 sing praises li unto the Ruler, Selah.” Our version renders the word MTN, Adoni, ;< by the terms “ the Lord but we contend that being formed from ¡‘"J. C Dan, a Judge or Ruler, and considering that the translators most i frequently render the word HIFT', Jehovah, by “ the Lord,” we >1 do not see why this word Adoni should also be made to have .the 3i| same meaning exactly. This becomes more obviously questionable, w when we go on to read the 33rd verse, thus : “ To Him that rideth i, upon the heavens of heavens, which were of old and when we >i read in the following verse that “the strength of God is in the �60 THE RULE OF GOD. [zADKIEl’s ' heavens,” as it is rightly rendered in the margin, since the evanescent “clouds” certainly cannot be thought,for a moment, to depict the ■ strength of God. AVell, here we find that God is said to ride upon : the heavens of heavens, which were of old. Now, what can this signify, but that God is the Ruler of the heavens, which, although moved by His servants, the angels, are yet altogether subject to His will, whose fiat first called them into existence ? Rightly, there­ fore, did David, in the 20th verse, 69th Psalm, say, “Let the heavens: and the earth praise Him ; the seas, and everything that moveth i therein.” We will now give the original Greek of the twenty-fifth verse ofj the thirteenth chapter of St. Mark’s Gospel, wherein the words of our Blessed Lord are related, and we will follow these by the Latin Vatican translation, made for the use of the Catholi : Church, and termed “the Vulgate.” We shall then present the French translation by Jaques de Bay, made in 1572, which is considered to be extremely accurate; and, finally, we shall otter the authorised translation of the Protestant Testament, and *llow o with our own literal rendering. The reader will then perceive that our Saviour did actually and forcibly declare the existence of th# influences, or virtud^ or powers, which are in the heavenly bodies. 1st. The Greek runs thus : Kai ol atrfspsf tov ovzavov ’'ercvra^ sr.wlwrovTSS, xal al Svvaasif, at ev to7$ ocpavoi$ trateufycroyi'ai. 2nd The Vulgate Latin for this passage is as follows : Et stellse cceli erunt decidentes, et virtutes, quae in ccelis sunt, movebuntur. 3rd. The old French translation runs thus : “ Et les estoilles du ciel cherront, et les vertus qui sont es cieux, seront esmues.” 4th. The authorized Protestant Testament has, “And the stars of heaven shall fall, and the powers that are in heaven shall be shaken.” We shall now give the rendering we conceive to be literal and in exact accordance with the original Greek. It is this : “ And the stars of heaven shall fail, and the powers that are in the heavens^ shall be shaken.” The first clause of the verse, if taken in the sense of the authorized version, would import that “ the stars,” meaning thereby the heavenly bodies in general, including fixed stars, planets and comets, should absolutely fall down, on, to, or towards the earth. But if we examine the word in the original which our version renders “fall,” viz., ¿/.■zvmTorrff, ekpiptontes, we find it formed truly from the verb pipto, to fall ; but not in the direct and palpable sense of falling down, but in the metaphorical sense of failing. Thus, when Mr. Parkhurst says “the word is used to express the destruction of the heavenly bodies, i.e., then fall from * �ALMANAC, j Gl THE RULE CT GOD heaven,”* he foolishly adopts the idea of the failure or destruction of the heavenly bodies being “ their fall from heaven,” as if they were merely toys ; as if, in fact, they could fall anywhere! If we, however, will adopt the idea of the destruction or the failure of the heavenly bodies being signified, which we must do if we read the preceding verse relating to the Sun being “darkened” and the Moon ceasing to give her “ light,” we easily discover that the true reading of the passage is, “And the stars of heaven shall fail? But it is the latter clause of the verse, which, when truly and grammatically translated from the Greek, becomes of such vast importance, because it declares that there are “powers” in the heavens which shall be, when the heavenly bodies themselves shall be found to fail, not destroyed with them, but “shaken.” This expression imports that those “powers” have a mission to perform during the existence of the heavenly bodies; and that, after the destruction or failure of these, that mission shall cease to be, although the powers themselves may continue to exist. And this is quite consistent with the idea that the Jews have always had, as Maimonides testi­ fies, that the powers in the heavens were spiritual beings, or angels. If so, they may be shaken, but will not, of course, be destroyed. Now the question arises as to what these “powers which are in the heavens” are said to be by the Evangelist. He calls them zzi Swapels • which word is formed from ewagi;, dynamis, which is equivalent to the Latin terms potentia, vis, virtus, that is, “power,” “force,” “virtue.” And accordingly we see that the Vatican Latin translation has “ Virtutes quae in coelis sunt,” the * virtues which are in the heavens.” And the French translation is also, “les vertus qui sont cs cieux,” that is, “the virtues which are in the heavens.” But the word “virtus,” in Latin, signifies not only virtue, but force, power, strength; as, for example, Deum virtute, “ by God’s help.” Mr. Parkhurst renders the word in the text, dynameis, “angelical powers, angels ; whether good ©r bad.” He adds, that Wolf and others say that the Jews called angels powers or virtues (see Jalkut Chabdasch, fol. 89, col. 4), as .Valesius ad Euseb., p. 254 (see Praep. Evang., iv, 6), shows that the Greeks did. But he farther adds, that this word dynameis meant ^mighty, i. e., miraculous powers? And, lastly, he says that it signified “ the powers or hosts of heaven? i. e., the stars. “ Avvaat; and vis in Latin often denote the armies or forces of a kingdom ; and hence Suydgsi; rwv ovpocvwv (dynameis ton ouranon) denote the stars, or splendid bodies with which the heavens are adorned.” The reader will perceive that the learned Mr. Parkhurst here makes I »jumble of the whole thing ; for he first makes the word dynameis signify the “powers” of heaven, and then again “the stars.” Now • "Greek and English Lexicon, E �62 THE RULE OF GO». [zadkiel’s this is absurd ; because the stars might exist and have no powers ; as very many foolish folk declare they do. And they may exist and have “powers,” as the astrologers contend, and as the Saviour has declared. The cause of this jumble perhaps is, that the Jews in early times believed all the stars, or heavenly bodies, to be gods ; and in course of time both Jews and Greeks came to believe that they were, as Parkhurst states, angels; which explains the ex­ pressions of David in the 103rd Psalm, v. 20, where he says, “ Bless Jehovah, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his command­ ments;" and v. 21, “ Bless Jehovah, all ye his hosts, ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure" Where we see the doctrine taught that the hosts or stars of heaven do the pleasure of the Great Jehovah, as do the angels. But it seems evident that “ the powers that are in the heavens ” can be no other than the angels. And so Astro­ logy has always taught that each planet has its angel, that “ excels in strength,” as David says. Now these angels, or ministers of Jehovah, wh® “do his commandments,” have been largely spoken of by ancient writers. It will now be time, however, to show why, in the second clause of the 25th verse of the thirteenth chapter of Mark, I have given the words, “ that are in the heavens,” instead of ‘ that are in heaven,” as it stands in the authorised version. The Latin and the French both correctly translate the Greek terms ey roif oupavoi; (en tois ouranois) by “in the heavens and as these words are in the plural form, there can be no excuse for our translators having rendered them in the singular. The perverse negligence with which the translators wrote the passage in the sin­ gular, instead of the plural, is very evident if we refer to the parallel passage in the 29th verse of the 24 th chapter of Matthew. For therein we find the original Greek is in the genitive plural, viz., rwy ovpaytiv (ton ouranon), and the English, Latin and French all agree in rendering it in the same manner. A mere hasty reference to the latter passage would have been enough to prevent the blun­ der in the other. It may be well to remark here, that all the translators have made a slip, however, in rendering the words in the 29th vei’se of the 24th of Matthew, viz., of acrtpep wstrovvTa.i a,wo Toy ovpavov, (oi asteres pesountai apo tou ouranou), by “the stars shall fall from heavenfor, where dvio implies motion, it is better to render it by “ away fromand therefore the words should be rendered by “ the stars shall fail away from heavenwhich agrees with the passage in Mark, and implies that they shall be destroyed. At first sight it may appear of little moment whether we say with Mark, “the powers that are in heaven,” or “ the powers that are in the heavens.” But it is really very important; because the word “ heaven,” taken in the singular, leads the mind to refer to the dwelling of the Almighty; whereas, “the heavens” at once gives us the idea of the �ALMANAC.] THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY. 63 heavenly bodies, or stars, &c., only. Hence we know, from the true rendering of the latter clause of Mark xiii, v. 25, and the parallel passage, Matt, xxiv, v. 29, that our blessed Saviour did, in the most pointed manner, record the fact of his sacred word that there are powers or virtues in the heavenly bodies, or stars, &c., and as these are those which we astrologers call ordinarily “ influences,” we cannot be denied the right to claim the highest possible authority for the doctrine we teach. * THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY. “ Mr. B. Cochrane rosé to call the attention of the House (of Commons) to the organisation of the International Society. The Society was growing, and in a country like England an organisation which sought to abolish marriage, which denied God, which denied all rights of property, and which preached assassination, ought to be denounced in the strongest way by all honest men.”—Daily News, 13th April, 1872. Remarks on the above by Zadkiel.—We agree that Mr. Cochrane has ground for alarm ; but we would ask him whence has sprung this teaching of atheism, by the class of men likely to become members of this denounced Society. Is it not manifest that the doctrines taught by the so-called men of “ science ” in this country, who openly teach that life began on this earth from the accidental falling of a moss-covered stone, containing a bug, from an aerolite, are the true original of the evil ? It is not the workman, who has no leisure for such studies, even if he have the ability, that originates and thrusts these disgusting lies into being. It is the man of “ science ” to whom Mr. Cochrane should look ; whose doctrines he should denounce ; and not the International Society, which simply follows the lead of these men. Let this worthy M.P. remember that he himself, as a member of the Legislature, has done his best to de­ stroy the only true teachers of the existence of a God, as proved by daily reference to his works, in the Heavens, or in other words, by the science of Astrology. He has sanctioned a law that treats Astro­ logy as a fraud, and punishes its professors as if they were common vagrants, thieves and vagabonds; although the best and brightest characters of mankind have been well known as Astrologers. Will Mr. B. Cochrane prove his own feelings in favour of truth and righteousness, by some attempt to amend that abominable * The hymn called Te Deum la/udamus has for many centuries been sung by the whole Catholic and Anglican Church. It runs thns : “To thee all angels cry aloud : the heavens and all the powers therein.” Now what are these words to signify, if there be no powers in the heavens, as the adversaries of astrology declare ? What mockery to address the Deity in language devoid of meaning Yea, verily, there are powers in the heavens, as all may know who will examine for themselves ; and these powers are no doubt the “ministers” of God, who “do his will.” �ttFECTS Oi' iiAliS. [zADKlEl/s A agrant Act ?. If so, we promise him that he will do more to check the vile teachings of men of “ science,” and to destroy the “ Inter­ national, than by a thousand speeches in the House of Commons against the latter, as things now stand. Let him observe also that Astrologers have never denied the existence of their Creator; and let him learn and remember that “ An un devout Astrologer is mad.” NO CONJURORS CONJECTURE. Could a Meteoric Stone, Pray, Sir William Thomson, Fall, with lichen overgrown ? Say Sir William Thomson. From its orbit having shot, Would it, coming down red-hot, Have all life burnt off it not ? Eh, Sir William Thomson 1 Not? Then showers of fish and frogs Too, Sir William Thomson, Fall: it might rain cats and dogs. Pooh, Sir William Thomson ! That they do come down we’re told. As for aerolite with mould, That’s at least too hot to hold True, Sir William Thomson !—Punch THE EFFECTS OF MAES IN LEO, IN ANY NATIVITY. There is no aphorism more settled than that which teaches the several parts of the body ruled, or influenced, by the signs of the Zodiac. Among these we find (see page 28) that “ the Heart and the Back ” are ruled by Leo. Now I purpose to shew, very briefly, that this rule was evinced in the case of His Royal Highness Prince Alfred ; and also of the late Lord Mayo, Governor General of India. Planets' places at 7h 50m, a.m., on the 6th August, 1844, the day Prince Alfred was born. O o’? , f O 4 / 0 $ / 0 0 / 0 ? / oU 0 D / 5ty>59 3x?12 37,42 13SV18 13ft 53 23SB52 29 ft 20 15^46 R R R Herein we find Mars, the Sun, and Mercury, all in St, Eeo, ruling w the backand we know that the miscreant, who was hanged in Australia for the act, shot, the Prince in the back, �EFFECTS OF MARS. ALMANAC.] C5 Planets' places at noon, on the 21s? February, 1822, on which day the late Lord Mayo was born. p, O 4 O / 0 / 0 / o ? / o 5 / O D / j 6 #20 22T59 27<rl6 29^14 2X21 26X44 20X22 28ï£19 R Here we find Mars also in Leo, and in close opposition to tl e Moon, indicating most serious evil to the noble native in the back, by a stab, oi’ other wound. If we look to the previous birthday < f ifhe native, on the 21st February, 1871, what do we behold? Why, we see Saturn in Vf 7° 23', in close conjunction with Uranus at birth; and Mars on that day in -"= 7° 10' in exact square with him. Nothing could have been more plainly indicative of the danger tl e native would be in at the time. But, perhaps, the most strikii g position, of all that then occurred, was the place of Uranus at the end of 50 days, equal to 50 years after birth, the 12th April (the IMondary direction), he being found in exact conjunction with Saturn at the previous birthday, viz., in vy 7° 21'! Yet we find further evidence of the fatal influences that brought this great man to an untimely end ; for, on the 22nd December, 1870, there was a great visible eclipse of the Sun, in Capricorn, ruling India. The places of the Sun, Moon, Saturn, Venus and Mercury were as follows, at the Eclipse :—• o î / j ° ÿ / I1 0Vÿ31 0#31 0#52 3#55 16#39 J © O / o / O *2 / And we see that the place of Uranus in the radix was yf 6° 20' ; whence it seems that this eclipse was very fatal to the native, as appears by the melancholy result. Of course he was educated according to the fashionable He, that rules predominant in our universities, viz, that there is no truth in the doctrine of the stars. Had it been otherwise, he might have avoided exposing himself to the knife of the assassin ; or, better still, he might have forbidden those cruel deeds—the blowing away from guns the miserable sixty-five men engaged in the Kooka insurrection, which perhaps gave rise to the feeling that led to his destruction. Now let us turn our eyes upon the figure of the Prince of Wales. In that we shall see that in December, 1871, there was also a great eclipse of the sun, which fell on the 12th December, when His Royal Highness was at the worst, and thought by many to be dying. But as on that day the eclipse took place, the sun was �66 ¿EFFECTS OF MARS. [zADKIEL’s exactly on the place of Jupiter, at his birth, we saw, and said, and wrote to many friends, that he would not die, in fact, we believe that he could not die, as the hyleg (or life-giver) was no ways afflicted. The following is the figure, under which His Royal Highness came into the world; and in this figure we find the moon just 30° 16' from the M. C., which of course, came to the body of the moon just past 30 years of age. This gives troubles both of body and minrl. But the moon has but little rule over the life, which depends wholly on the sun. Figure of Birth of His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales. At lOh. 38m. 12s., a. m., 9th November, 1841, London. R.A.208.“o. Let us next behold the eclipse of the sun at 4h l‘5m, a. m., 12th December, 1870, and we see that the new moon fell in f 19° 44', in close trine to the place of Venus, and in close conjunction with the place of Jupiter in this figure, �EFFECTS OF MARS. ALMANAC.] 67 Well, on that very day His Royal Highness began to mend, according to all the newspapers, and then steadily improved in health; the only drawback being an affeetioa of the hip, which arises from bad blood therein, as shewn by Jupiter so near ths ascending degree. I here give the planets' places at the return of the sun to his own place, on th® 9th November, 1871. o 7 o 4 / O / o o / o ? o J, o D / | 1SL16 6Vf20 29 s 50 lltf41 161H55 3^=44 2HTL15 7^14 I R Here it will be seen that the two malefics, Mars and Saturn, are nearly conjoined in the ascendant; and the moon lies in square to them both. This led me to anticipate a serious illness for the prince ; but as Jupiter was in exact sextile to the moon, I did not foretel any danger to life; neither was there any such; although the whole nation were led astray, by ignorance of the rales and doctrines of astral science, to believe and to apprehend such danger. The words I used at page 25, November, 1871, were these : “ On the 9th the moon is afflicted by a square of Mars and Saturn, which bespeaks serious losses and troubles for all persons born that day, be they prince, or peasant; and these will endure through all the ensuing year of life." My readers well know how true these remarks really were ; but they must also see that the whole of the Royal Family, and all the people of these realms, would have been spared great anxiety and much alarm, if they had but known the true principles of astrology. These are as ancient as the stars, firm and unfailing as the great globe itself! They never yet did deceive those men who could read their indications, and who fail not to remember, that they are the servants of the Great Eternal whose fiat called them into being, for the very purpose that they should do his will ! Hence we read in the original Hebrew, the 21st verse of the 10 3rd Psalm, as follows :— mi liis will rrwa that do Ministers of his all his Hosts * mn Jehovah Bless ye Here we may note that Si ^al Tseba Heshemim, u All the hosts of the heavens,” used in 2 Kings, 23, v. v, imports generally, all the fixed stars. From the worship of these the greater part of the pagan world were called Zabians or Sabians. mm jehovah of Hosts, is frequently used as a title of the Great �EFFECT OF SATUIiN. [zADKTET.’s God; shewing, as it does, “that from Him the host of the heavens derive their existence and amazing powers, and consequently imply his own eternal and almighty power. Accordingly the Seventy frequently interpret Tsdbaoth, by IIay7azca7cu;, Almighty. THE EFFECT OF SATURN, &c., IN THE TWELVE HOUSES. Ceylon, November 25th, 1871. My dear Sir,—The two copies of your Almanac for 1872, and one copy of the Companion, with its accompanying, letter, have duly reached my hands. Please accept my best thanks for the same. You want, it appears, that I should give my opinion about the Almanac. What opinion can you expect from an insignificant astrologer in a remote Island, who can scarcely approach you, or one of your meanest disciples, in point of erudition, with respect to this sacred science ? However, I can conscientiously say, that not only the contents of your Almanac for 1872, but almost all your Almanacs for past years, contain pure truth, and nothing but truth. It would be in vain in a letter like this to mention in detail the exact verification of most of your predictions, even in Ceylon, unless I undertake to write a large pamphlet on the subject. Your weather predictions turn out to be exactly correct, even in Ceylon ; and your unerring calculations on the configuration of the planets are perfect as perfect could be. The most wonderful and admirable of all your predictions are especially those with reference to people born in such a month in any year. I have found them not only to be exactly true with respect to several persons, in the course of my practice, but they were verified to a very great extent in my own case. There are a thousand and tens of thousands of Budhistical astrologers swarming throughout the Island, but, alas ! their calculations are not at all correct; hence their several failures in prediction. There are a few of them studying under me the Occi­ dental way of casting nativities, and they, I see, are gradually opening their eyes to the correct system. Thank God we have no penal laws against astrologers in Ceylon. Besides astrology, there are different other varieties of occult sciences prevalent and practised in Ceylon, about which I promised to provide you with a brief description in my last letter.—Hoping to hear soon from you * I remain, my dear Sir, yours ever faithfully—J. P. 1st House.—When Saturn is posited in the nativity (i. e., 1st house), know that your hands and feet will be swollen; you shall have to quit your native land, and your father will be subject to diseases of the abdomen. 2nd House.—When Saturn is in the 2nd, the native will be sickly, and moneyless; he shall be subject to epilepsy, and will torn out a regular wanderer. �ALMANAC.j EFFECT OF MARS. 69 3rd House.—The God Saturn in the 3rd is good, will give plenty of gold and silver to the native ; he will cause him (the native) to be a renowned man, especially for his learning. 4th House—If Saturn be in the 4th, he will cause the native’s, parents to be sickly ; the native will turn out a great sinner, poor-, dejected, and a deserted man. 5th House.—If Saturn be in the 5th, the native’s parents will die prematurely ; he shall lose all his inheritance in his own village, he shall be entangled in litigation and lose his younger brothers, daughters, sons and cattle. 6th House.—If the blne-bodied God (meaning Saturn) be in the 6 th, he will confer much eruditeness in learning to the native. He shall have many persons to attend on him, he shall be rich equally in moveable and immoveable properties. 7th House.—If Saturn be in the 7 th, the native shall be poor, will get a wife, but children will die, will be of a very sickly con­ stitution, especially affections in the head. 8th House.—If Saturn be posited in the house of death, the native will suffer from incurable cancers, rheumatism in hands and feet; will lose wife and children, and, losing all his substance, shall turn out ultimately to be a ruined man. 9th House.—If Saturn be in the 9 th, the native will commit many sins, the mother will be sick of dropsy, and the native will be a renowned atheist. 10th House.—If Saturn be posited in the 10th, the native shall possess three landed properties; shall have cattle, shall marry three times, the mother will be suffering from head disease. 11th House.—If Saturn be posited in the 11th, the native’s fame for kindness and power will be spread throughout the country; be shall have all riches and comfort this world could afford, and shall be a learned and an erudite scholar. 12th House.—If Saturn be posited in the 12th, the native will be driven away from among his relations: the father will be suffering from a gripe, the native will suffer from an incurable sore in his leg. __________________________ EFFECT OF MARS POSITED IN EACH OF THE TWELVE HOUSES OF THE HEAVENS (NOT IN THE TWELVE SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC). Translated from an ancient Singhalese Manuscript. 1st House.—If God Mars be posited in the ascendant, he will cause strife and contention to the native in the village or country that gave birth to him, and involve him in litigation: he will be separated from his wife, and will have very few or no children at all, and endless domestic troubles. E 3 �70 EFFECT OF MARS. [zadkiel’s 2nd House.—If God Mars goes to the 2nd house, the native will be sundered from his father, and will be very unfortunate, losing all his estates and effects, and will ultimately cause the native to quit the village which gave birth to him. 3rd House.—If God Mars be posited in the 3rd house, he will cause the native to be rich in gold and silver, and cause him to possess three landed properties in three distinct villages, and ulti­ mately cause the native to be injured by a bull. 4th House.—If the red-bodied God be in the 4th house, wherever the native goes he will be implicated in contentions and other affairs that do not concern him at all; he will be hated by his brothers, and will ultimately turn out a regular wanderer out of his own country. 5th House.—If (the son of the earth) Meh& Puth (this is one of the appellations of Mars), be posited in the 5th, tell surely the native will never have children, the father of the native must be continually sick, and say also to a certainty that the native’s wife has two paramours. 6th House.—If Mars be posited in the sixth from the ascendant, the native will be powerful and prosperous, and will be favoured by great men, and will be a famous man, possessing three landed properties in three distinct places. 7th House.—If the son of the earth be posited in the 7th, the native will be choleric and bilious, two of his children shall die in their younger days, and the native himself will be subject to rheu­ matism in arms and legs. 8th House.—If Mars were to be in the 8th, or the house of death, the native will depart his native country, owing to continual ill-health ; he will for a long time be confined to bed, on account of the pain he will have to sutler in his legs and arms, on account of rheumatism : he will have sons and daughters, but they are perfectly helpless. 9th House.—If God Mars should go to the 9th house, the native will turn out to be a great debauchee, wandering from place to place in quest of satisfaction to his animal propensities ; however he will be somewhat consequential for his having two landed properties of some value. 10th House.—If Mars be in the 10th, the native will be victorious in battle, and he will positively overcome his enemies; he will possess four landed properties inherited from his ancestors, and he will have plenty of riches. 11th House.—If the son of the earth be in the 11th, the native will obtain the command of a large host or army; he will be a brave and a literary man, and will have plenty of sons, daughters and cattle. 12th House.—If God Mars be posited in the 12th house, the �^Jj^MÂNAC.] EFFECTS OF VENDS. 71 -.pther of the native will be indisposed and other people claimlessly ~ 'lherit the landed properties of the native. And these are the unjm rring effects of Mars when posited in each of the twelve houses fl: J rn' f thé heavens. fTTHE EFFECTS OF VENUS IN THE TWELVE HOUSES. K Venus in the First House.—If Venus happen to be in the p©l scendant of one’s nativity, the native shall obtain four landed j<# »roperties; he will pass his three stages of life in equal happiness, Oi <nd have plenty of gold and silver. VjVenus in the Second.—If Venus be posited in the house of subVenus sub­ ViXllW, he W1XX get pXVXXVJ of riches and favours « * —o~. — —J stance, 11U will gCU plenty MX XXMXXWM ...... i«,.—v» from kings. The fa ather of the native will be a learned man; he will have landed proither pro­ perties in three different localities, but he will not Eve himself in $ my one of them. ’1 Venus in the Third.—If Venus be in this house, the native will ^inherit lands, but he will turn out a favourite of females and will ^possess a beautiful bodily appearance. Venus in the Fourth.—In the fourth, Venus will cause the native io have several brothers, but he will lose his father early. Four -landed properties, and a good musician. 'J Venus in the Fifth.—If Venus be found in the fifth, if the na. live be one of the Royal Family, he will be the ruler of the whole prorld; he will have several children of very good condition, and ape will prosper to the end of his life. jf Venus in the Sixth.—If in the sixth, the native will be poor and '^possess no riches, and will be suffering from a chronic disorder in I the belly. ,, Venus in the Seventh—The native will be very learned, will get m good and an amiable wife, and plenty of children, and he will live n to the long age of 84 years. £! Venus in ttie Eighth.—Moderately fortunate, very energetic mind, „ifond of the parents, and abhor women of low standing. ij Venus in the Ninth.—The native will be very religious, if not [rU priest, will get a beautiful partner and be the chief over several. Venus in the Tenth.—The native will be famous throughout the | country in which he lives, he will have plenty of cattle, and a large i tree will stand towards south-east of his house. Venus in the Eleventh.—The native’s great grandfather will be , a great man, the native himself will be a very great man, and comp mand the respect of many. j f Venus in the Twelth.— The native will be suffering from his eyes ; i unprofitable brothers and children; he will lose his lands by litiga- �72 [ZADKIEI MARS MEN AND THINGS. From, Raphael’s Prophetic Almanac, 1872. The influence of Mars is doubtless the most active agent in th system of worlds. It appears to be pointed out by its fiery color It has been held that Britain (England) is ruled by Aries—-Mar hence we are nationally Mars-men ; and we have shown ourselv Hie most active and pioneering amongst the nations of the worl The Hebrews are held to be under Scorpio—Mars—and where there a more active and persevering race ? In England the H brews are more sympathized with than in any other land—astr logical evidence of the ruling influences and vice versa. Men wl have the luminaries, or one of them, in aspect to Mars, are t! pioneers of the world in their various spheres ; they are the worke and discoverers of hidden things. Let any one take note of tl position of Mars in the horoscopes of great men, they will readi perceive the truth of this. Space will only admit of our pointii to two personages, Napoleon, and our contemporary, Zadkie The influence of Mars is the most active principle in medicin Mars governs iron, machinery and the workers therein ; to theses owe the position we have held among nations. Let none neglect tl influence and aspects of Mars, especially when of an unfavourab nature ; for, although the effect may not be so durable, it is moi potent than that of Saturn. THE EFFECT OF THE ASCENDING NODE (RAAHU) I THE TWELVE HOUSES. 1st House.—The enemy of the Sun, in the first house, sha cause the death of the first wife, shah award four landed propertie of which three only permanent, and the native shall ultimate! have to leave his native place for good. 2nd House.—If Panidu (Ascending Node) be in the second, tl native will be poor and dejected ; the father will die in the youngt days of the native, but he shall inherit two landed properties. 3rd House.—When Pani (Ascending Node) comes to the 3rd, tl native will inherit three landed properties, will have fortunate sons however, he shall be twice married. 4th House.—When Pani comes to the 4th, the native’s brothei v ill be extremely poor; he shall meet with a fall from a heigh and he shall never prosper in his native place. 5th House.—If Panidu be in the 5th, the native will not b blessed with children; he shall be rich, and inherit four lande properties. 6th House.—If the Dragon goes to the 6th, the native’s wife sha] be childless, he shall be a renowned man, and enjoy the best-o earthly prospects. �ALMANAC.") EFFECT 01? THE NODES. 73 7th House.—When Palanga (another name for Ascending Node) is in the 7th, the native will be the head of the family, will get sickly children, and three landed properties. 8th House.—When Panidu goes to the 8th, he shall cause the native to be leprous, rheumatism in the arms and feet, and the native shall have to contend with a turbulent wife. 9th House.—When Panidu goes to the 9th, the native’s grand­ father will be transported; all his children will be still-born; how­ ever, he shall possess three landed properties. 10th House.—When Pani is in the 10th, the father of the native will be poisoned, the native shall have to quit three different places of residence, and the mother of the native shall die. 11th House.—When Pani is in the 11th, the native shall be very prosperous ; he shall have landed property, and favours from kings, and he shall be the chief in the family. 12th House.—When Pani comes to the last, the native shall be entangled in litigation, the father sick, constantly troubled, and ejected from the house in which he lives, and surely there are two paramours to his wife. THE EFFECT OF THE DESCENDING NODE IN THE TWELVE HOUSES. 1st House.—If Ketu a (name of the Descending Node) be posited in the 1st house, the native shall have to run away from his native land; wherever he goes he shall be entangled in litigation ; he shall get a wife, but the children shall all die. 2nd House.—If Ketu be posited in the 2nd, the native shall have a mark or a scar on his left arm, and his right leg be bitten by a dog. 3rd House.—When Bamba is in the 3rd, the native will be much famed ; he shall have plenty of wealth and cattle, and shall inherit a lion’s portion from his parents. 4th House.—When Bamba is posited in the 4th, the native shall be leprous, and the mother will be the enemy of the native, and she shall be a troublesome woman. 5th House.—When Bamba is in the 5th, the native’s parents are always sickly, and the native himself shall have no children; he shall quit his land, and he will be suffering from incessant pain in the stomach. 6th House.—When Kaatu is in the 6th, the native has to contend with enemies ; however, he shall have four landed properties and plenty of riches, but the mother shall be sick. 7th House.—When Bamba is in the 7th, the native shall quit his place, and the native shall get his inheritance by causing the death of his parents. �74 PRANKS OF OLD SATURN. [zADKIEL’s 8th House.—When Bamba is in the 8th, the native shall prove very troublesome to the neighbours; will lose all his wealth; parents sick, and he himself shall be lame. 9th House.—When Bamba is in the 9th, the native shall be a great sinner, and he shall be a wanderer in quest of fortune; he shall never prosper in his children, and his mother shall be sick. 10th House.—If Bamba be in the 10th, the native’s legs will be swollen ; shall quit his country; his mother has a paramour attend­ ing on her from a distance. 11th House.—When Bamba is in the 11th, the native’s body shall appear very lovely and beautiful; he shall get lands, houses and money. Know this is called the (Sinha) lion’s configuration. 12th House,—When Bamba is in the 12 th, the native shall be always sick, the native’s wife shall desert him, and elope with some one else. THE PRANKS OF OLD SATURN, IN 1872, THE EARTHQUAKES IN CALIFORNIA. New York, April 1. The earthquakes in Southern California have continued two days. Thirty persons have been killed and one hundred injured at Loan Pine, and other deaths have occurred in the adjoining hamlets.— Daily News, 2nd April, 1872. EARIHQUAKES AT ANTIOCH. The following special telegram appears in the Times:— Alexandretta, April 6—Half the towns of Antioch was de­ stroyed by an earthquake on the 3rd of April; 1,500 persons were killed. Great distress prevails in consequence.—Echo, 8 April, 72. Floods near Oxford.—The lowlandsand meadows around Oxford are inundated with water—rather an extraordinary circumstance in April. THE LATE EARTHQUAKE IN ANTIOCH. Further interesting details are published of the earthquake which occurred in Antioch on the 3rd of April. Two-thirds of the houses in the town have been utterly ruined, including the most ancient and most durable public buildings, and the remaining houses are so greatly damaged that there is no possibility of occupying them. The inhabitants, who are in great misery, are living in tents out­ side the town, and are in deep grief on account of the loss of rela­ tives and property. The sacrifice of life has been very great; 1,500 Mahometans and 250 Christians and Jews being reported missing. Close to Antioch is the Isle of Suadia, in which all the houses, numbering about one thousand, are ruined. In Elonshia and Eljadida scarcely a building is left standing. Eljalba and Gallack are also entirely ruined; 3JO persons have perished in the latter place. When the earthquake took place, Mount Britias was split �almanac.] a dirge to war. 75 into two pieces, and a torrent of black water burst forth, tainting the atmosphere with a strong offensive odour. The shepherds.neat' the coast state that the sea rose about one hundred feet higher than usual.—Echo, 25th May, 1872. EATHQUAKE IN ICELAND. Copenhagen, May 14. A schooner which has arrived here from Iceland reports that au earthquake occurred at Husavik, on the northern coast of the Island, on the 16th, 17th, and 18th of April. Twenty houses were de­ stroyed, but no lives were lost.—Daily News, \5th May, 1872. “Tempests and earthquake shocks alarm and damage the people.” January, 1872. “Earthquakes frequent and terrible, both by sea and land.’ June, 1872. _______________________ A DIRGE TO WAR. 0, War ! accursed War ! how fell thy deeds ! To tell of half thy crimes, the poor heart bleeds For now, alas ! thou art more horrible, More grimly savage—ay 1 more terrible., More ruthless, cruel, and more steeped in gore Thau was thy fellow iu yon days of yore ! Hast thou no sense of wrong ? no human feeling I Wouldst murder e’en a guileless child when kneeling I Since thou art habited in German guise, Lost to all decency, thou hast no eyes To note the deep disgust the nations feel For thee, defiant with thy blood-stained steel. Think not to hand down to posterity A claim to honour or to verity ! Thy false-tongued champions parade in lies ! Thou smilest grimly when a maiden dies ; Till Heaven and Earth and Hell, aghast, stand back, And curse the course of thy infernal track. A myriad demons from dire depths below— Whence spirits cursed into demons grow— Attend thy steps, aud urge thy fated sway, Till blushes at thy acts the God of Day. And hark 1 below, the chorus of the dead, Whom thou hast struck with fatal steel or lead ' They loudly wail thy all-devouring power, And pray that soon may come the fatal hour When down to utter depths ®f dark despair Shall fall thy leaders, in the serpent’s lair; There, helpless, in dread agony to dwell— A just reward for making Earth a Hell!—R. J. M. �76 [zadxiel’s THE STARS. The stars, the stars, the beautiful stars. They come and they go ; and that’s all we know. They may be the cause of our weal, or our woe. The stars, the stars, the beautiful stars. We may think, or may fancy, Or use necromancy; The stars still remain—how we cannot explain. The stars, the stars, the beautiful stars. They shine, ay they shine ; and seem almost divine. No mortal may know whence they come, how they go. ’ Pis sweet to regard them, as peaceful they glow; Unknown as they are—the beautiful stars. ’Tis well to believe them our future abode ; Where angels will smile on our spirits in peace : No fear, or alarms, lest our joys should explode ; For pleasures for ever shall there but increase. ’Mid beautiful stars. R, J. M. SAINT PAUL AND «EVIL SPIRITS.” * The 12 verse, 6 chap., of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians has these words : “We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against, principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of t his world, against evil spirits in the Heavens. N ow the translators have in the above verse (and in chap, i, 3, and ii, 6) been at a loss to render the term ’ETroo^avio;, which is formed from £7r<, ¿n, and heaven; so they invented the term “high places,” which, besides forcing in the word “places,” destroys the obvious meaning of St. Paul. For he, being a ¿Tew, knew well that the Jews believed the air to be tilled with evil spirits. And the whole of this 12th verse, if taken in connection with the verse just preceding, where he says, “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the Devil]' is a fine burst of eloquence, arousing his readers to the remembrance that here, on earth, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against evil spirits (or wicked spirits in the Heavens. ) * This is further confirmed by the Apostle’s expression in the 16th verse, where he says: “Above all, taking the shield of faith, where­ with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one!" lov ttov^om, which means, beyond doubt, of the wicked one, that is, the Devil. See Margin, �ALMANAC.] 77 SATURN AND HIS GRIEVOUS MISCHIEF IN CAPRICORN. In my Almanac for 1870, for the month of December, I said that, “ On the 15th of this month, the slowly moving Saturn creeps over the southern tropic and enters Capricorn. Therein he will soon begin to afflict Greece, India and Mexico.” Now this prediction has been already well fulfilled ; chiefly in India and Mexico, but ateo in Persia, “about Circan and Maracan,” &c. Not only have ♦■bare been severe storms and destruction thereby on the face of the earth in India, but the horrid murders of 65 prisoners, by blowing them away from guns, well marks the brutality of men under the influence of the above evil planet, and the shocking murder of Lord Mayo, on the 8th of last February, marks the sway of Saturn over part of the world. In Mexico there has been one continued scene of anarchy and revolution, slaughter, cruelty and bloodshed. « Advices from Mexico announce that anarchy reigns throughout Northern Mexico.”—D. News, April 1st, 1872. As to Persia, the D. News, 5th May, has the following from ^Teheran: “ The road is strewn with half-eaten corpses. I had 1 ’ several .times to remove dead bodies from the rooms of the caravanserai where I lodged. Cannibalism not uncommon.” Bulgaria J has been terribly disturbed by cruel mobs, destroying the Jews, and has been hi even Oxford under the unfortunate in all her doings ; both of these influence of Capricorn. ui places being and destruction thereby have been astounding ; as The floods shewn by the following, from the D. News, 9th May, 1872 ; “ Bombay May Sth, in the recent flood in Bellore, 1,000 lives are supposed to have been lost. Twelve thousand persons are houseless, and 3,(MX) destitute. Forty tanks have burst.” j RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF THE ASSYRIANS. * .4 “ All wc can now venture to infer is, that the Assyrians worshipped ^one supreme God, as the great national deity, under whose immediate and special protection they lived and their empire existed. ’ ........................................................................................... Different nations appear to have had different names for their supreme deity; thus, the Babylonians called him Nebo. The name of this god appears to have been Asshur, as nearly as can be deter­ $ ft . mined at present from the inscriptions. It was identified with that IQ | of the empire itself—always called “the country of Asshur;” it entered into those of both kings and private persons, and was also applied to particular cities. With Ashur, but apparently far inferior * I: to him in the celestial hierarchy, although called the great gods, 77 were associated twelve other deities. Some of them may possibly * ((Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh,” �78 RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF THE ASSYRIANS. [zADKIEL’S be identified with the divinities of the Greek Pantheon, although it is scarcely wise to hazard conjectures, which must ere long be again abandoned. These twelve gods may also have presided over the twelve months of the year, and the vast number of still inferior gods, in one inscription, I believe, stated to be no less than 4,000, over the days of the year, various phenomena and productions of nature, and the celestial bodies. It is difficult to understand such a system of polytheism, unless we suppose that, whilst there was but one supreme God, represented sometimes under a triune form, all the so-called inferior gods were originally mere names for events and outward things, or symbols and myths. Although at one time generally accepted as such, even by the common people, their true meaning was only known in a corrupted age to the priests, by whom they were turned into a mystery and a trade. It may, indeed, be inferred from many passages in the Scriptures, that a system of theology, not far differing from the Assyrian, prevailed at times .amongst the Jews themselves. Ashur is generally, if not always, typified by the winged figure in the circle. Although the kings of the latter dynasty are sometimes represented worshipping thej minor deities, I know of no monument on which the earlier .monarchs are seen adoring any other figure than that of Ashur.” Mr. Layard says (p. 615), in speaking of the well-known edifice at Nimroud, that its builder was believed to be Ninus, &c. Colonel Rawlinson believed this to be his name. He has since suggested that of Assur-dan-bal. Dr. Hincks reads Ashur-ak-bal. It is cer­ tain the first monogram stands both for the name of the country of Assyria and for that of its protecting deity. We might conse­ quently assume, even were other proofs wanting, that it should be I read Assur or A shur.” [This point is clear enough, if we only look to the Hebrew name of Ash-shur, which means, Ash, star or fire, and Shur, the celestial bull. This applied to Venus, because Venus ruled in Taurus by house; and hence, the country was named after | her, the land of the Star of the Bull, which was Venus. The character, | for Ashur is in the cimeiform---- [-, the same as that which begins thefl word Shushan, the palace, which was, undoubtedly, Venus.—Zac?.] A Mirage.—The Scotch papers report a mirage at the mouth of I the Forth on Sunday. The weather was remarkably warm, and in 1 the afternoon there was a dull, deceptive haze. The sea presented | almost the appearance of a mirror, and the vessels upon it seemed [ to have a double reflection from the sea and the background |i beyond. At one time the masts and rigging seemed elongated to < four or five times their natural length, and then in the course of h a few minutes they were reduced so as to be scarcely visible. At L other times the vessels appeared to be sailing double—one ship sea, and one in air. Extraordinary appearances were assumed bysj �fl ALMANAC.] PERSECUTION OF ASTROLOGERS. 79 11 the May Island, which rose and fell and changed to all manner of 4 shapes in the course of a few minutes. At one time it appeared a perpendicular wall, rising to the height of several hundred feet, 4 and shortly afterwards it appeared to be flat on the surface of the 3’sea. All the other objects which came within the range of the i refraction underwent similar changes, and the illusion lasted with varying features for several hours.—Pall Mall Gazette. PERSECUTION OF ASTROLOGERS. Those readers, who feel an interest in this question, will be rathei’ ip surprised to learn that the Petition to the House of Commons which appeared in the Almanac for 1872, was sent to not less than ft three respectable members of the House, with a civil request that it I ■ should be presented; and that it was politely returned, with a I A refusal to present it. No reason was given in either case; nor was The only n any statement offered in explanation of such refusal. S« conclusion we can come to from these circumstances is, that the (4 several members were afraid of being laughed at, if they were seen ¿b be so far in favour of an investigation of Astrologv, as the pre­ senting a Petition in its behalf would indicate. Well, we must OH submit silently to this indication of the wisdom of the House. 4I And we must hope that when the members are elected by ballot, II In the mean time, we beg those of wi we may have better success. Eft our friends, who have sent subscriptions to assist this movement, Pt to oblige us with their present address, that the subscription may < be returned. We shall not lose sight of the object in view, howi vr ever, although we perceive that the difficulty is greater than we had jf 0 apprehended. In the mean time, the history of the present state ;'ix of things may be thus epitomized: In 1824the Vagrant Act was It contains a clause against fortune-telling either by chiro­ a passed. Not a word is said about Astrology; nor Mi mancy or “otherwise.” was it till full forty years after the passing of the act, that ------------ .— ------ o __ __ ^magistrates began to read “otherwise,” as embracing all practice of id that science. They, many of them, now proceed in this way against jjd, the Astrologers. They send policemen, who always make use of two vile women, who visit the Astrologer and ask his advice, for which ¿»d|they nay him in marked money. On their leaving, the two policemen Juwho haw sent them, follow and arrest the artist. The magistrate .li rarely allows a word to be said in defence of the accused, but con­ demns him to a month’s hard labour. What for? The having defrauded the complainants. But how so? Where is there any .1’» evidence, such as this Act of Parliament, being a pen«? Act, requires; viz.,that it be rendered literally and exactly? The women go with intent to entrap the artist and induce him to break the law; ■br which it is clear they and the policemen ought to be indicted tvfor a conspiracy; in which also ought to be included the magistrate, adj Nhenever it can be proved that he was privy to the act. �80 DR. LIVINGSTONE AND PTOLEMY. [ZADKIELT It is not very likely that, in England, and in the nineteenth ten^ury> such a law can be long upheld, or maintained, notwithstanding the violence of the atheistical opponents to all belief in spirits, 01 spiritual influence on mankind. DR LIVINGSTONE AND PTOLEMY. The Times of 6th August, 1872, contains the letters of Dr. Living­ stone, which are very greatly interesting. All honour to the enter­ prising Ameiican, who discovered the long-lost and eminent geographer. The following extract from the letters proves that this really great man, Dr. Livingstone, fully appreciates the know­ ledge of Claudius Ptolemy, on the subject of the sources of the Nile :— “ The mountains on the watershed are probably what Ptolemy, for reasons now unknown, called the Mountains of the Moon. From their bases I found that the springs of the Nile do unquestionably arise. This is just what Ptolemy put down, and is true geography. No must accept the fountains, and nobody but Philstines will reject the mountains, though we cannot conjecture the reason for the name. Mounts Kenia and Kilimanjaro are said to be snowl capped, but they are so far from the sources, and send no water to any part< I the Nile, they could never have been meant by the correct ancient explorer ] from whom Ptolemy and his predecessors gleaned their true geography, so] different from the trash that passes current in modern times.” It will be seen that the “ worthy Doctor cannot conjecture thtj reason for the name of ‘Mountains of the Moon.’ Well, we tel| him the reason. Ptolemy knew and taught that all Africa” (see pj 18) was especially under the influence of the sign Cancer ; and aa this sign is the House of the Moon, in which she has the chief power, we see at once why these, the most celebrated mountains in Africa, were called after her name. It so happens that Ptolemy! whose knowledge in geography and astronomy is admitted to b« unsurpassed, was the very fountain from whence are drawn all th| doctrines of Astrology, that our savons choose to disbelieve without any, the least, attempt at refuting by reference to facts. It is t® such men as Ptolemy, whose name will never die, that we poi# i when the buffoons who write in newspapers against the truths o | Astrology begin to bray. ASTROLOGY. ooks for sale on astrology, alciiymy, chiromancy, dreams i, GHOSTS, Magic, Physic, Spirits and Witchcraft. Sibly’s Astrology, two voli t 25s. Raphael’s Prophetic Almanac, 1832 to 1862, 35s. Barrett’s Magus, £112s. 6c Bromhall’s Spectres, £2 2s. Dee on Spirits, 2 guineas. Soloman’s Key to Magic ( t> rare MS.), 275 pages, 5 guineas. Webster’s on Witchcraft, 18s. Gadbury’s Nativitie i and Tables, 18s. Culpeper’s Herbal, coloured, 15s Ferguson’s Twenty Years’ Pre ternatural Phenomena, 5s. Agrippa’s Occult Philosophy, four books, guineas Coley’s Art of Astrology, 8vo. calf, 18s. Magick, a rare MS., by Dr. Parkins, in folia 1 5 guineas. Ramsey’s Astrology, folio, calf, 21s. “ Crystal Ball,” with instruction,! p guineas. Works of Glanville, Heydon, Lilly’s Astrology, Ptolemy, Salmon, Paij' tridge, &c. Apply for Catalogues, gratis, to Thomas Millard, Bookseller, 79, Sain' I. l’aul’s Churchyard, London. B �q W.5USAC?] Si | EXPLANATION OF THE EMBLEMS IN HIEROGLYPHIC 41 FOR 1872. , The angel flying over head, with an olive-branch in hand, implied that A [Peace would be maintained. The twins are shewn (the rulers of America), ¡rand a fire burning between them. This indicates the destructive fire in ^Chicago ; and may be made to import the fire of discord, through the inland. The ” English soldier, with drawn sword, imported the new arma­ ment undertaken by the Government, in furtherance of their scheme of The military man holding back a lion by the ears IS military defence. speaks plainly of the insidious establishment of “military centres” sthroughout the land, to keep down discontent. The Turk fully armed if shews his condition, with a powerful navy and 800,000 well-armed troops. ¡The furious cock aptly paints the new President in France, and all his fighting propensities. The bull, excited and irate, shews the fearful state of the Irish people, anent the Galway election, &c. The coffin, with an English flag thereon, denotes the lamentable death of the GovernorGeneral of India. N.B. Not one of these emblems was given by any mortal hand. They nne and all were portrayed in the magic crystal, for the special benefit of ie readers of Zadkiel. I NOAV READY, SECOND EDITION, ©fje Nth) -princtpia; OR, THE TRUE SYSTEM OF ASTRONOMY IN WHICH tiThe Earth is proved to be the Stationary Centre of the Solar System, AND The Sun is shown to be only 365,006’5 miles from the Earth. By R. J. MORRISON, M.Á.I., F.R.H.S., COMMANDER, R.N. LONDON: J. G. BERGER, NEWCASTLE STREET. FRIGE THREE SHILLINGS. �82 [zadkiel’s £ FULFILLED PREDICTIONS. PREDICTIONS. “ Hence, especially when he [Mars] reaches the place of this eclipse in November, 1871, he will bring serious grief [in Paris].”—Eclipse of the Sun, December, 1870. FULFILMENTS. There were many cases in which this t Eclipse showed its power; chiefly in r November, by the shooting of that fine patriot, Rossel. “ The talk will be of war and war­ The squabble with America came on h like doings, and the trumpet will re­ at this time, and the Government en- ii sound throughout the land. But not gaged to establish “Military centres” t much harm will come of it."—March, throughout the land. Alas for liberty! j. 1872. “ A great struggle goes on in the “ Mr. A. Herbert then rose to se- ? House of Commons the last week of cond the motion, which was the com-i i this month.”—March, 1872. mencement of a scene, the like of I which has certainly not been wit- fi nessed in the House of Commons for 0 many years. “ Mr. Mundella then rose, and saidli that he had witnessed with feelings |» the profoundest sorrow the extraordiY nary scene which, during the past hour,! had been enacted in that House.”—|Daily News, March 20,1872. j “This will trouble him [the King The King of Sweden was at this timegft of Sweden] greatly, both in health confined by illness, and reported to belt! and in the affairs of his kingdom.”— on his death-bed. j May, 1872. “ Mars passing through Taurus will The Galway election, and all its b afflict Ireland with much violence.”— fearful scenes of violence, now took o May, 1872. place. “On the 17th and 18th there will In London took place the great be three planets joined together, &c. strike among the building trades, and h Being just on the ascendant of London innumerable others broke out neat i it will do mischief there. These planets this time. In New York, the most f in Gemini will very much excite the fearful death-rate occurred. people of America.”—June, 1872. “ DEATn-RATE IN NEW YORK. “ New York, July 6th. “The deaths in New Yoik during p the past week have been 1,569, viz, si three times the average number.”—t Daily Nevis, July 8,1872. An attempt to raise the fares on the i; “ It will affect Egypt, and do some mischief to the Suez canal.”—Eclipse Canal was made, but frustrated by thi Sultan. of the Sun, June 6th. “ The female sex will not be for­ Lady Twiss was cruelly treated treated©; miss uioianc misiiessl^ tunate; but during the next three Miss Diblanc murdered her mistress dB months will be oppressed and ill- and very many cases of horrid murder»' treated generally.” — Sun in Capri­ of women were recorded. corn, Dec., 1871. �fc<[ ALMANAC.] “ In and near Sardinia shocks of an earthquake and volcanic phenomena.” —Sun in Aries, p. 39. “ Great and noble men shall be w slain ; hut I hope and think this may s^i refer to Greece and India, rather than a# to our own country.”—Ibid, p. 39. “ The evils of this troublesome oppo­ sition [Jupiter in opposition to Saturn] will fall liberally on the people of the United States, but we see no token of any public quarrel of importance; nor do we judge that there will be any warlike doings in the land.”—Sun in Aries, p. 39. “ Mars is in Aries, &c. His diseases therein will be very extensively pre­ valent. Pains in the head, and affec­ tions of the eyes, &c.—Ibid, p. 40. 19 H j “ There will be fightings, and I fear i some sudden outbreak of war in Spain. This will soon be put down."—Eclipse of the Moon, p. 40. “ Jupiter is now fairly sailing I through Leo. Commerce [in France] i lifts her head and smiles.”—July, 1872. | “ THE YEAR OF DISCORD I ” I. T “ Gardens will be much spoiled by ; 'osfeat in June, and fruit destroyed. The ajiwfruits of the earth Will be much wasted brdand injured by heat and creeping ri|jiffllhings.”—pp. 40 and 41, Eclipse of the tyMUioon. a. 10 A most violent eruption of Vesuvius took place; immense destruction en­ sued, and very many lives were lost. The lamentable death of that great and noble man, Lord Mayo, took place —“ in India," be it observed. We all know the sad squabble for the “Indirect Claims;” and the noted debates in our Parliament. But all passed off peacefully—a result that no human wisdom but that of the stars could have foreseen. The deaths by sun-stroke in NevYork were fearfully numerous—some 200 cases in one day took place; and these were, of course, all “ pains in the head ! " The death-rate was awful. “ The highest point the thermometer reached yesterday was 93 degrees, and people cried out that the heat was in­ sufferable.’’—TVew York Herald. A very sharp warfare on the part of the Carlists broke out in June; but, as predicted, it was “soon put down." The great French Loan was sub­ scribed for, over fourteen times its amount! This was the note in the title-page, and it has been astoundingly fulfilled ! The whole country has rung with dis­ cord ! Every class of men, the trades and servants all through the country, have been up and waved the Flag of Discord ! — demanding higher wages and less work; and this state of things is yet rife, in July, 1872. “ The House of Lords gives much trouble,” p. 39, has been fulfilled, anent the Ballot Bill. In America Discord has reigned —the President being iD trouble, and a Judge of the Supreme Couit put on his trial.—See D. News, July 24, 1872. “ The Fruit Crop.—The fruit crop of 1872 is probably the smallest that the most experienced and observant cultivator can call to remembrance. Our neighbours across the channel are in much the same plight—the failure is complete.”—Times, Aug. 6th, 1872. �HIEROGLYPHIC FOR 18'73. Printed by B. D. COUSTNS, Helmet Court, 338, Strand, London, � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Zadkiel's Almanac for 1873 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Morrison, Richard James (ed) Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 84 p. : ill. (black and white) ; 18 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Editor name taken from KVK. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available J. G. Berger Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5719 Subject The topic of the resource Astrology Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Zadkiel's Almanac for 1873), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Astrology Conway Tracts https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/f12f8e5e6ea56c8f1d835afc8db827ea.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=oD2WjmZRidHa9Px0GzA5rRYdvwxAoBmdKLnWMjhaGwq1uxIeMb7EZVMO4BiDd0aZhDXD7bkwEUEkYHYl9BsJecjwMkxxGol5wZ8GVH30rt6EI36lB%7EWEsUzq1hZND2HExoZEKKkx-xy9pJ0nChKhIXsUKRmOBofcSfv94JvsvMArUwRzNjI6x8WXqxB3pYGpNWy1HuJrnKmVTcle5pSvXpgZJYiKTX8G3JkDouIYX-wzYGV1RV4V8xWDPjtHWK6NBKpMeYMdeIese9JEl9pBqYb5RJRFJA09trDNMogLbqEtFrB1nWiHjDI0ic%7EoCW7zeCUse1BDxruxTgksVbiDWg__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM fa740fea1437dcf59433664f512f8da3 PDF Text Text THE CONTROVERSY ABOUT PRAYER. BY PROFESSOR F. W. NEWMAN. PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, No. 11 The Tebeace, Fabquhar Road, Uppee Nobwood, London, S.E. 1873. Price Threepence. ��THE CONTROVERSY ABOUT PRAYER. OME have said that religious knowledge is not progressive: with about as Ssay that medical knowledge much tr.uth we might On is not progressive. each topic mankind has made enormous errors, and on each is still very far from a sound and satisfactory state ; yet on each it has left many errors far behind. Primitive theology is man’s interpretation of the outer world which he perceives ; and his interpreta­ tion is largely influenced by his consciousness and his emotions. Enlarged and improved knowledge of the universe almost necessarily modifies theology, as does the improved moral culture of nations. Religion therefore (in its popular sense of “ thought concerning God”), unless artificially stereotyped by nationally established creeds and by sacerdotal authority, must everywhere tend to improve, as nations become nobler in morals, or in breadth and accuracy of know­ ledge. So strong indeed is this natural tendency, that we do in fact trace this improvement, in spite of hierarchies and domineering institutions, and some­ times, in the higher minds, even in spite of public demoralization. Theological opinion, and the inter­ pretation of generally received doctrines, cannot but undergo change, when the ascendant system of (what is called) metaphysics changes; much more, when, �4 ^he Controversy about Prayer. as in the last three centuries of Europe, acquaintance with the outer world has been immensely enlarged and at the same time become beyond comparison more accurate. But the mass of the population in Christendom is very far from duly appreciating the truths of natural science ; and the teachers of religion on the one side are bound down by Church Articles and Liturgies, or on the other cannot conveniently outrun the tra­ ditionary creed of their congregations. Men of business have not much time for original thought concerning religion; and a great majority of the female sex have too little scientific knowledge or too little independence of judgment to deviate knowingly from current .opinion. Necessarily therefore within the same Church, whatever the submission to common ordinances, there is a great mental gap between those who are most and those who are least influenced by the thought and knowledge of the age, especially in Astronomy, in Geology, in Geography, in Physiology, to say nothing of History and Literary Criticism. Minds which have by no means gone so far as to throw off belief of an established religion, or the cardinal and prominent tenets of a creed, nevertheless to a great extent interpret things differently, so as practically to come to a different result from the older beliefs. Now in this matter of Prayer, it is obvious what was the primitive doctrine of most nations, and in particular both of the Hebrews and of the early Christians. That God ruled the universe by law, none had any idea. They supposed that His rule might be compared to that of an earthly king, who said to one servant Go, to another Gome, to a third Do this, and was obeyed. Indeed the Hebrews, like the Persians and Arabs, supposed ministering spirits to guide the actions of the elements and of the heavenly bodies ; also, to guard or watch humaji in­ �The Controversy about Prayer. 5 dividuals. Instinct, under a sense of weakness or desire, often impelled them, as it impels us, to pray for this, or for that; and they could but very vaguely define to themselves the limits within which prayer was right, and beyond which it would be rather impious than pious. We should all be much astonished to hear of barbarians so stupid as to pray that the new moon should give as much light as the full moon,' or that a winter day should be luminous and long as a day of summer. In the very infancy of man the steadiness of sun and moon was so fully recognized, that it would have seemed idiotic to pray for any irre­ gularity. But there has always been an enormous margin of events concerning which man saw no reve­ lation of a fixed divine purpose, and therefore could not chide prayer as a presumptuous desire to turn the divine decrees aside. Indeed under polytheistic belief, the gods are morally imperfect; and no greater im­ propriety was felt in coaxing a god (a genius, a fairy) than in coaxing a mortal man. A vow,—in which a promise was made contingently upon the god hearing a prayer,—was thought a pious procedure ; yet it is nothing but an attempt to bargain with the god. Such bargains in antiquity were solemnly sanctioned by many states, as by the Romans, and public money was often voted in fulfilment. In the Hebrew book of “ Judges ” the atrocious vow of Jephthah is not blamed. To vow to a god the tithe of an enemy’s spoil on condition of victory, seemed wholly unblameable and decidedly pious to most ancient nations. It may be doubted whether in any Christian sect of England or the United States prayers of this character could be endured. A vow, as understood by Christians, has nothing conditional in it. If it be an arbitrary, yet it is an absolute, promise to the Most High ; it is not a bargain, as with the Romans. Of necessity those among us who believe the tides, the meteors, the clouds, the winds, to be guided by laws �6 'The Controversy about Prayer. as fixed as gravitation, are hereby disabled from praying about them or against them, equally as about an eclipse. Nevertheless, whatever weaknesses—the fruit of ancient ignorance—are incorporated with the Christian Scriptures, are accepted and even treasured up by simple hearted and pious persons, whose intel­ lect either is not duly informed or has not duly acted on their creeds ; and the deplorable dogma of Infalli­ bility has made it very difficult for the pious to go directly against the sacred book, however grave and obvious the error. But within the compass of that book itself there is a variety of doctrine, a higher as well as a baser view; and to the higher view the nobler and more thoughtful minds tend. If at one time encouragement is given to importunity in prayer, on the assumption that God is comparable to a man who grants a petition merely to get rid of a teazing beggar ; yet elsewhere it is laid down that repetition in prayer is vain, and that God is not moved by much speaking. If in one place it is said, that when two or three shall agree to pray for a thing, be it what it may, it shall be granted to them ; in other places there is limitation, and human ignorance of what it is wise to ask is pointed at. In fact, in every prayer for things outward, among persons not wholly fana­ tical, the proviso, “ if it be according to Thy will,” is now understood or expressed; and in matters of vehement personal desire, the clause is probably added: “ nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done.” Also, if any Christian teacher be asked, under what circumstances it is reasonable to have confidence that our prayer will be granted, he will hardly fail to reply, under the guidance of a familiar text, that it is only when we know that we ask a thing which is in accordance with the will of God. Under such a complication,—which is the ordinary state of every Church,—it is (I must think) painful rudeness in an opponent, if indeed he is as well �The Controversy about Prayer. 7 informed of the facts as a critic ought to be, to assume in the present generation of English Christians the lowest and meanest views of prayer which prevailed in less instructed and Pagan times. It exasperates too much to enlighten. It was a simple insult, nothing less, to propose that Christians should pray for the sick in one special ward of an infirmary, and then (as a test of the utility of prayer) should observe whether the patients recovered better in that ward than in the other wards. Did its proposer imagine that a Christian is a&Ze to pray for any thing that others may dictate to him ? One must be drawn keenly by desire from within or by painful distress, and must feel either assurance or strong hope that the petition conforms with the divine mind, before he can pray fervently. A philosopher (whatever his merits in his own line) sadly lowers himself when he so intrudes into sacred feelings and j udgments which he does not understand. At the same time, there was and is abundant cause for grave remonstrance with the religion of the day in this very matter ; and with a moderate turn, the same proposal might have given point unblameably to the argument. It might have been set before English Christians, that they would certainly resent it as an insult, if any one were to propose, as a test of the utility of prayer, petition for a given topic (such as that concerning the hospital-ward)—without caring to ascertain first whether the thing asked could reasonably be esteemed in accordance with the divine will, or whether they themselves had any fervent desire for it. This being the ease, how can the same enlightened Christians passively endure that the Privy Council should dictate to them what they are to ask of God for each member of the Royal Family ? How can they approve of a stereotype prayer against public enemies, as if it were always a priori certain that in every war England is right and has God on her side ? Knowing, as all the �8 The Controversy about Prayer. educated do, that rains and droughts and pestilences, follow laws of matter as fixedly as do the planets, how can they think it pious to supplicate the Most High to interfere with them ? Such public prayers, written in an age of lower knowledge, and sustained by the routine of State, train all the educated to hypocrisy, and lower the standard of truthfulness. Evidently, to pray for the royal family is enforced as a test of loyalty ; which is on a par with the command to show loyalty by worshipping Caesar’s image. The coarseness of (what is called) the National Anthem,— “ God save the Queen,”—against the Queen’s (imagi­ nary) foes, is quite disgusting. There is plenty of matter here for just and profitable attack from those who never pray, if they would make the attack from the highest and noblest principles of Christians them­ selves ; moreover, it is very reasonable to claim, that those who hold high dignity in Church or State, and at the same time are distinguished by intellect and freedom of thought, will initiate public movement against these evil stereotyped prayers. Will they for ever preserve a dastardly silence, and leave reform to avowed opponents or to enemies who are strangers to the deep things of the Christian heart ? Cicero and Horace alike held, that men ought to pray to God for things external,—which man cannot control and God does control;—not for things internal, such as contentment, courage, or in a word, virtue; which a man ought to provide by his own effort. To despise any one for believing with Cicero, I find myself unable; the contumely which I read in many quarters is to me very unseemly and painful. Nevertheless, I regard it as quite certain that the progress of knowledge will ere long enforce the entire abandonment of stereotype prayer,—prayer made beforehand,—for outward blessings or conveniences however inevitable it be, that under pain, want or severe anxiety human nature will ejaculate to the All- �The Controversy about Prayer. 9 ruler earnest desire, not unprofitably. “He who searcheth hearts ” knows how to estimate such prayers aright,—cannot blame them,—and has his own way of answering them. But to plan beforehand how others may or shall pray for a King or Queen’s “ health, wealth, long life ” and “ victory,” is quite a different matter from prayer that is extorted by inward instinct or agony. So too is the “ agreeing together ” before­ hand what to pray for, as if (in the coarse words of a ranting preacher) “ by a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all-together ” men could rival Keliama, and drag God along with them. Undoubtedly the received belief of old was, that God’s Providence ruled the world by agencies from without. A pious saint in danger from enemies was imagined to pray for (perhaps) “twelve legions of angels ” as a military aid. A prophet’s eyes were opened to see chariots and horses, invisible to other mortals, fighting on the side of his people. To such a mental condition the prayer of those days adjusted itself. But now all thoughtful persons educated in England are aware that the Divine rule is carried on by the laws of the material universe, and by the agencies of the human mind; and as it is no longer admissible to entreat that the Most High will tamper with his own laws, prayer tends to concentrate itself upon the human mind,—that is, invokes influence from the Divine Spirit on the mind either of him who prays or of some others. Against this form of prayer, which may be called spiritual prayer, materialists rush with as rude and coarse attack as against prayer for things external. Their tone, and frequently their bold utterances, all but make an axiom of Atheism. Now I have no harsh feeling for Atheists, knowing as I do with what difficulties noble intellects struggle, and how cruelly the follies and crimes of theological devotees have led astray and exasperated meaner intellects. But it �io The Controversy about Prayer. suffices to accept and accost Atheists as our equals, whom we invite to courteous debate on fit occasion, and will always esteem and love, if they be morally worthy. Many of them seem to manifest nothing but scorn for Theism, and demand to lay down axioms of their own, which no wise Theist can ever accept. One of these axioms is, that “ of course we can know nothing but phenomena.” Since God assuredly is not a phenomenon, this assumes that “of course ” we can know nothing of God. Another axiom is, that when we speak of one thing as the cause of another, all that we mean is, that the latter invariably follows the former; so they attempt to resolve causation into antecedence. I stoutly deny that that is all that I mean when I say “ causeand if they reply that it it is all that I ought to mean, I beg them to prove that, and not assume it without proof, as they do. The purport of their pretended axiom is to involve the whole universe, material, moral, and mental, in a rigid mechanical chain,—that is, in Fate : this granted, prayer of course is vain. Again, the idea of a Per­ sonal Deity they treat with contempt as “ anthropo­ morphic,” and assert that Personality implies limita­ tion. Nay, but Person is only another word for Mind or Spirit. If we say Divine Spirit, they show equal enmity to the phrase. What avails the objections of such men to prayer ? Their attack is not against prayer as such,—i.e., entreaty made to a Divine Spirit, but against the existence or accessibility of any such Spirit. Spiritual prayer of course assumes that God is in the human mind,—that he is aware and (so to say) conscious of all our minds,—moreover, that he not only approves of, but is concerned to promote, human virtue. In the attacks which I read against spiritual prayer, it is visible that these axioms of Theism are denied: hence the attack is really that of Atheism against Theism,—which is all fair, if it be conducted by quiet reasonable argument, not by �Che Controversy about Prayer. ti scornful assumptions, nor under a pretence that they are only attacking a practice of Theists. As Cicero and Tacitus and Aristotle, and the wisest modern moralists, insist, there is no morality if there be no freedom of the will. . If a man’s action is in all details predetermined like the path of a comet, he can no more be virtuous or vicious, praiseworthy or blame­ able, than the comet. Whatever may be said for a doctrine of universal Necessity by eccentric and con­ fident reasoners, who think themselves pre-eminently philosophic, the great mass of mankind continue to believe as firmly as their own existence, that they have a choice between the better and the worse, and that they deserve blame for many of their bad actions ; in short, that God, “ while binding Nature fast in Fate, left free the human will.” For myself, I must profess that my belief in my Free Will is coeval with and as firm as my belief in matter; and I think it 'clear that the belief in both is the first principle of all knowledge, and of course is prior to a belief in God. The assailant of spiritual prayer is apt to assume that the actions of the human will are as much deter­ mined beforehand as the movements of material par­ ticles, and therefore such prayer is as vain as prayer for things outward. But he does not pretend any proof that the will is thus mechanically predeter­ mined : indeed he knows that proof is impossible: but he says that we probably shall hereafter find that the case of mind is similar to that of meteorology, and that in the progress of knowledge it will be dis­ covered that the mind has no freedom. This amounts to saying that the progress of knowledge will probably annul the first axioms on which all knowledge is built. I need only reply that it has not yet done so, and I utterly disbelieve that it ever will. We see in the marvellous instincts of brute minds, and in human instinct too, the operation of a Higher Mind in the animated universe. How this action �12 The Controversy about Prayer. takes place we are necessarily ignorant, just as we are how we think at all. We can have no ultimate standing ground but in simple fact. Thought, life, existence, must remain for ever a mystery. So must the action of the Divine Spirit on the animal mind, which I see as a fact; and seeing it, I cannot doubt the action of the same Spirit in the higher regions of the human mind. Religion has long been described by pious persons as a “walking with God that is, as a permanent tendency of the mind, when relieved of other necessary thought, to remember the over­ sight, the insight, the joint consciousness of the Divine Spirit, who essentially and primarily loves goodness, justice,—in short, moral perfection. That virtue is the final object for which man and the whole of human life is ordained is a main principle of Theism. To supplicate God inwardly for increase of virtue, or pour out gratitude for his tender mercies to ourselves, and admiration of his manifold infinitude, is therefore its natural instinct; and such instinct cannot have been given us for nothing. In fact, its moral influence on the heart which cultivates it is the richest of all rewards. Materialists and Atheists are generally very severe against those who needlessly mortify lower and animal instincts, and are often slow to discover when it is not needless: they have then certainly no right to claim that a pure and noble instinct shall be repressed rather than cultivated. The best informed among the opponents of all prayer will (with good reason) deprecate the epithet Atheist; but if the God whom alone they admit to be possible has none but a mechanical existence, and praying to him is no wiser than praying to the clouds, he is no more to us than the gods of Epicurus ; we can have no personal rela­ tions with him any more than with dead men. Let the strong and scornful opposition to Prayer, which has been so widely echoed, be directed . on formal, public, cut-and-dried Prayer, lengthy musical �The Controversy about Prayer. 13 Prayer, profane singing of sacred words for the sake of fine music, Litanies with endless repetition, the “Lord’s Prayer ” recited so often and so fast that it becomes unintelligible ;—and much good may come of this outburst. There is scarcely a public prayer used in all Christendom which does not admit, perhaps urgently need, keen criticism. The “ Lord’s Prayer ” is nowise to be excepted from this remark. Moreover, to pray without desire, is the more profane, the more it is done in combination and in system. What then of coaxing or scolding young people into it ? What of paying choristers and public singers of addresses to God ? There is abundant room for intelligent and profitable correction, without shocking any of the rightful sanctities of the heart. �INDEX TO MR SCOTT’S PUBLICATIONS, ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED. The following Pamphlets and Papers may be had on addressing a letter enclosing the price in postage stamps to Mr Thomas Scott, 11 The Terrace, Farquhar Road, Upper Norwood, London, S.E. Price. Post-free. ABBOT, FRANCIS E., Editor of ‘Index,’ Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A. S’ The Impeachment of Christianity. With Letters from Miss Frances P. Cobbe and Professor W. F. Newman, giving their Reasons for not calling themselves Christians 0 3 Truths for the Times -03 ANONYMOUS. A.I. Conversations. Recorded by a.Woman, for Women. Parts I., II., and III. 6d. each Part -16 A Few Self-Contradictions of the Bible - 1 0 Modern Orthodoxy and Modern Liberalism - 0 6 Modern Protestantism. By the Author of “ The Philosophy of Necessity” -06 On Public Worship -03 Questions to which the Orthodox are Earnestly Requested to Give Answers -------Sacred History as a Branch of Elementary Education. Part I.—Its Influence on the Intellect. Part II.—Its Influence on the Development of the Conscience. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Church and its Reform. A Reprint - 1 0 The Church : the Pillar and Ground of the Truth - 0 6 The Opinions of Professor David F. Strauss - 0 6 The Twelve Apostles -06 Via Catholica; or, Passages from the Autobiography of a Country Parson. Part I. -13 Woman’s Letter -03 BARRISTER, A. Notes on Bishop Magee’s Pleadings for Christ • - 0 6 BASTARD, THOMAS HORLOCK. Scepticism and Social Justice - 0 3 �Index to Mr Scott's Publications. Price. Post-free. BENEFICED CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. The Chronological Weakness of Prophetic Interpretation - 1 1 The Evangelist and the Divine - 1 0 The Gospel of the Kingdom - 0 6 BENTHAM, JEREMY. The Church of England Catechism Examined. A Reprint - 1 0 BERNSTEIN, A. Origin of the Legends of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob Critically Examined -10 BROOK, W. 0. CARR. Reason versus Authority -03 BROWN, GAMALIEL. An Appeal to the Preachers of all the Creeds - 0 3 Sunday Lyrics ------The New Doxology - 0 3 CARROLL, Rev. W. G., Rector of St Bride’s, Dublin. The Collapse of the Faith; or, the Deity of Christ as now taught by the Orthodox -06 CLARK, W. G., M.A., Vice-Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. A Review of a Pamphlet, entitled, “ The Present Dangers of the Church of England ” -06 CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. Letter and Spirit -06 The Analogy of Nature and Religion—Good and Evil - 0 6 The Question of Method, as affecting Religious Thought - 0 3 COBBE, Miss F. P. Letter on Christian Name. (See Abbot) . CONWAY, MONCURE D. The Spiritual Serfdom of the Laity. With Portrait - 0 6 The Voysey Case -06 COUNTRY PARSON, A. The Thirty-Nine Articles and the Creeds,—Their Sense and their Non-Sense. Parts I., II., and III. 6d. each Part - 1 6 COUNTRY VICAR, A. Criticism the Restoration of Christianity, being a Review of a Paper by Dr Lang -03 The Bible for Man, not Man for the Bible - 0 6 CRANBROOK, The late Rev. JAMES. On the Formation of Religious Opinions - 0 3 On the Hindrances to Progress in Theology - 0 3 The Tendencies of Modern Religious Thought - 0 3 F. H. I. Spiritual Pantheism . -06 FORMER ELDER IN A SCOTCH CHURCH. On Religion --06 GELDART, Rev. E. M. The Living God 0 3 �Index to Mr Scott's Publications. Price. Post-free. s. d- GRAHAM, A. D,, and F. H. On Faith ------03 HANSON, Sir R. D., Chief-Justice of South Australia. Science and Theology -04 HARE, The Right Rev. FRANCIS, D.D., formerly Lord Bishop of Chichester. The Difficulties and Discouragements which Attend the Study of the Scriptures -06 HINDS, SAMUEL, D.D., late Bishop of Norwich. Annotations on the Lord’s Prayer. (See Scott’s Practical Remarks) Another Reply to the Question, “ What have we got to Rely on, if we cannot Rely on the Bible ? ” (See Professor Newman’s Reply) > . - 0 6 A Reply to the Question, “ Apart from Supernatural Revela­ tion, what is the Prospect of Man’s Living after Death ? ” 0 6 A Reply to the Question, “Shall I Seek Ordination in the Church of England? ” -06 Free Discussion of Religious Topics. Part I., Is. Part II. - 1 6* The Nature and Origin of Evil. A Letter to a Friend - 0 6 HOPPS, Rev. J. PAGE. Thirty-Nine Questions on the Thirty-Nine Articles. With Portrait -03 JEVONS, WILLIAM. The Book of Common Prayer Examined in the Light of the Present Age. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Claims of Christianity to the Character of a Divine Revelation Considered - 0 6 The Prayer Book adapted to the Age - 0 6 KALISCH, M., Ph.D. Theology of the Past and the Future. Reprinted from Part I. of his Commentary on Leviticus. With Portrait - 1 0 KIRKMAN, The Rev. THOMAS P., Rector of Croft, Warrington. Church Cursing and Atheism - 1 0 On Church Pedigrees. Parts I. and II. With Portrait. 6d. each Part 1 0 On the Infidelity of Orthodoxy. In Three Parts. 6d. each Part - 1 6 LAKE, J. W. The Mythos of the Ark -06 Tree and Serpent Worship - 0 6 LA TOUCHE, J. D., Vicar of Stokesay, Salop. The Judgment of the Committee of Council in the Case of Mr Voysey -03 LAYMAN, A, and M.A. of Trinity College, Dublin. Law and the Creeds -06 Thoughts on Religion and the Bible - 0 6 M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge. Pleas for Free Inquiry. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 MACFIE, MATT. Religion Viewed as Devout Obedience to the Laws of the Universe -06 �Index to Mr Scott's Publications, Price. Post-free. s. d. MAITLAND, EDWARD. Jewish Literature and Modern Education ; or, the Use and Abuse of the Bible in the Schoolroom -16’ How to Complete the Reformation. With Portrait -06 The Utilisation of the Church Establishment - 0 6 M.P., Letter by. The Dean of Canterbury on Science and Revelation - 0 6 NEALE, EDWARD VANSITTART. Does Morality depend on Longevity ? - 0 6 Genesis Critically Analysed, and continuously arranged; with Intro­ ductory Remarks . . -10 The Mythical Element in Christianity - 1 0 The New Bible Commentary and the Ten Commandments - 0 3 NEWMAN, Professor F. W. Against Hero-Making in Religion - 0 6 A Reply to the Question, “What have we got to Rely on, if we cannot Rely on the Bible ? ” (See Hinds) . James and Paul . _ -06 Letter on Name Christian. (See Abbot) On the Causes of Atheism With Portrait - 0 6 On the Relations of Theism to Pantheism; and On the Galla Religion -06 The Bigot and the Sceptic - 0 6 The Controversy about Prayer - 0 3 The Divergence of Calvinism from Pauline Doctrines - 0 3 The Religious Weakness of Protestantism - 0 7 The True Temptation of Jesus. With Portrait - 0 6 Thoughts on the Existence of Evil - 0 3 OXLEE, the Rev. JOHN. A Confutation of the Diabolarchy - - -0-6 PADRE OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH. The Unity of the Faith among all Nations - - - 0 6 PARENT AND TEACHER, A. Is Death the end of all things for Man ? - - - 0 6 - PHYSICIAN, A. A Dialogue by way of Catechism,—Religious, Moral, and Philosophical. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Pentateuch, in Contrast with the Science and Moral Sense of our Age . . - 1 6 PRESBYTER ANGLIOANUS. Eternal Punishment. An Examination of the Doctrines held by the Clergy of the Church of England . - 0 6 The Doctrine of Immortality in its Bearing on Education - 0 6 ROBERTSON, JOHN, Coupar-Angus. Intellectual Liberty . . . -06 The Finding of the Book . . -20 ROW, A. JYRAM. Christianity and Education in India. A Lecture delivered at St George’s Hall, London, Nov. 12,1871 - 0 6 �Index to Mr Scotfs Publications. Price. Post-free. SCOTT, THOMAS. A Challenge to the Members of the Christian Evidence Society 0 6 Basis of a New Reformation - 0 9 Commentators and Hierophants; or, The Honesty of Christian Commentators. In Two Parts. 6d. each Part - 1 0 Miracles and Prophecies -06 Original Sin -06 Practical Remarks on “The Lord’s Prayer” - 0 6 Redemption, Imputation, Substitution, Forgiveness of Sins, and Grace -06 The Dean of Ripon on the Physical Resurrection of Jesus, in its Bearing on the Truth of Christianity - 0 6 The English Life of Jesus. A New Edition -44 The Tactics and Defeat of the Christian Evidence Society - 0 6 STATHAM, F. REGINALD. Rational Theology. A Lecture - 0 3 STRANGE, T. LUMISDEN, late Judge of the High Court of Madras. A Critical Catechism. Criticised by a Doctor of Divinity, and Defended by T. L. Strange - 0 6 Clerical Integrity - 0 3 Communion with God -03 The Bennett Judgment -03 The Bible; Is it “ The Word of God ? ” - 0 6 The Speaker’s Commentary Reviewed - 2 6 STMONDS, J. ADDINGTON. The Renaissance of Modern Europe - 0 3 TAYLOR, P. A., M.P. Realities -------VOYSEY, The Rev. CHARLES. A Lecture on Rationalism - 0 6 A Lecture on the Bible - 0 6 An Episode in the History of Religious Liberty. With Portrait 0 6 On Moral Evil - 0 6 W. E. B. An Examination of Some Recent Writings about Immortality - 0 6 WILD, GEO. J., LL.D. Sacerdotalism -03 WORTHINGTON, The Rev. W. R. On the Efficacy of Opinion in Matters of Religion - 0 6 Two Essays : On the Interpretation of the Language, of The Old Testament, and Believing without Understanding - 0 6 PRINTED EY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET, W. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. 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Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G4853 Subject The topic of the resource Religious Practice Prayer Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br />This work (The controversy about prayer), identified by Humanist Library and Archives, is free of known copyright restrictions. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Morris Tracts Prayer https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/662491e5583bf5399e75a2ddaf67d88e.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=WOo-FfmIc%7EwApBKmdX3L2es-dgLkXcZd6VtYFNuEJyrDFMi1yfB7TG%7EHzLmXD2CU8XLR0oJvyH9HvnfWRPCcIYW8skg%7EGZz8HqPOpJVb0XnYkZ0PniiRecUV0xGzDhC3OjlGl%7E2m8jTi3sv3tWCSPESegk6NwcVvPSAzrFE89fGw3dqABflVnpP9pSgaXTsdSkqM4bMzNmjOe8NR7sxt42WDVS75m1zL5v-xAN4IYM%7ENZgQxkelDQiT45cg5wjkoP--p6ABop7oZf-A0GnhYlyBZFIEUa2NvE2uyX4iD%7EwaJU2MDKw1WfpvL1DEdo69jImO%7EWuVu%7ExZo9s5NS2Eqnw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM c177529e66963fe7f7c9bc94d3e6200f PDF Text Text 0^7 • ZS-2. 4 Man ON THE HISTORICAL DEPRAVATION OF CHRISTIANITY. BY F. W. NEWMAN. PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, NO. II THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E. 1873. Price Threepence. �LONDON: PRINTED DY C. W. BEYNELL, 16 LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET, IV. �ON THE HISTORICAL DEPRAVATION OF CHRISTIANITY. HRISTIANITY is not the only religion which has undergone depravation. Side by side with it Mohammedanism has developed its celibate fakirs and its traditions, directly or indirectly, against the doctrine of the prophet. The Parsee religion has been corrupted by apathy, ignorance, and contact with Hindooism, and Parsee reformers look back to the earlier state for purer doctrine. Hindoos also allege, and in important points have proved, that moral enormities in their creed and practice are a later depravation; insomuch that a school has arisen which appeals to the Vedas or ancient Scriptures against modern error. Finally, in the farthest east and north of India the Buddhist religion has undergone change, damaging additions, startling developments, which remind every one of Christianity. Its first preacher and eminent founder has been deified, an enormous apparatus of monks, nuns, and holy orders has grown up, with a materialistic worship utterly opposed to the spirituality of its origin. There is a philosophy now abroad among the opponents of Christianity, which charges upon the religion whatever evil has been historically intro­ C �4 On the Historical duced into it. The main purpose of this tract is to consider under what form such charge is justified, and where it is unjust. I. But before entering on the general question, I wish to deal with a special accusation, which I perceive to be made very widely and persistently. I copy from a book which I just now opened at random :—“ The tenets of every man’s religious creed determine, more or less, the precepts of his morality. He whose creed includes salvation to its recipients and damnation to doubters and unbelievers, is of necessity a persecutor.” This is part of a chapter with which I on the whole agree, while I strongly deprecate this mode of attack as unjust and untrue. The vague phrase more or less makes it impossi­ ble to deny the former sentence; yet the theoretic and the practical morality of every nation are far more influenced by national law and history, by literature and science, than by its religious creed ; and, in turn, the current morals modify the creed. Next, at no time did any Christianity known to me teach that all its recipients would be saved. “ Re­ pentance of sin ” has always been taught and held to be as needful as “ faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.” To do evil that good may come has always (in theory) been held sinful. However intense a Christian’s be­ lief that rejection of Christianity is a damnable sin, that has not the slightest tendency (according to any good logic) to turn him into a persecutor. I want to know, Was the man who wrote this charge ever a Christian himself ? If so, had lie the heart of a per­ secutor then ? I do not believe it; yet I cannot ac­ count for his inability to understand how the case presents itself to Christians who abhor persecution, as I think all earnest Protestants do. It may be of interest to state what arguments were used (to my personal knowledge) from within the Anglican Church in the years 1827-29, in favour of admitting Dis­ senters, Catholics, and Jews to an equal participa- �Depravation of Christianity. $ tion of all civil and political rights. Of course it was seen that they applied equally to Hindoos and Mussulmans in India ; but indeed that was not in contest. It was urged :— “ Christians who happen to be English have the political rights of Englishmen, just as Paul had Roman citizenship from his birth ; but it is not 6ecause we are Christians that we have any right to State-power. We can claim nothing to which every Pagan would not be equally entitled ; for imagine that some spiteful opponent had attacked Paul by saying, that if Christians could get the opportunity, they would eject from the Senate and from all the posts of administration every adherent of the old re­ ligion, and ask yourself how Paul would have re­ plied. Would he not have rebutted the charge as a slander showing utter ignorance of Christianity, which teaches that our citizenship is in heaven ? Christ’s kingdom is not of this world ; we have no more right to oust Pagans from posts of honour than to deprive them of their goods. If we could use power better than they, perhaps also we could use money better than they ; but this will not justify despoiling them. We claim our rights as men and equals. In order to rob us of these, it is pretended, most falsely, that we do not concede to others the rights of men and equals. Such, surely, would have been Paul’s reply.” A fortiori, like arguments apply to the direct per­ secution of a misbeliever. “I claim to announce Christianity anywhere and everywhere. If I were to. preach in Turkey, and a Mussulman were to im­ prison me for it, I should feel and judge that he was unjust. If he may not use violence against me for uttering my convictions, neither may I against him for uttering his convictions. To persecute him for it would be sin in me; and my sin would be worse than his error. To kill him for his error would be murder in me. If his error is a wickedness, God is his judge ; but I am not. Who made me judge over him ? �6 On the Historical Where does Jesus or an Apostle command any pri­ vate person or any magistrate to use violence against the teachers of error ? Did the Apostles teach that magistrates or any hierarchy bear the sword to enforce religious truth ? Nay, but Paul says that a Bishop must be no striker. And again : The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness instructing opponents, if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth. James not only agrees with Paul, but goes beyond him. The wise man, full of knowledge, is to win over opponents by good works and meekness of wisdom, which is pure, peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated. James will not permit even denunciations, but declares that these furies of the tongue are set on fire by hell; and that if a man cannot keep his tongue with a bridle, his religion is vain.” In my youth and early manhood, I believed (or supposed myself to believe) that there was an eternal hell in which the wicked would be punished, and a perverse rejection of Christ I held to be wickedness. Nevertheless, this never suggested to me, nor could have suggested, that it was right for Christians to touch by legal punishment or restraint those who taught a foreign religion or atheism. To justify per­ secution by logic from the New Testament would have appeared to me then, as it does now, to be wholly puerile. I am amazed to find people quote, “ Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,” as an argument why Christians must believe it right to use the sword against unbelievers; whereas it is Paul’s argument for the very contrary. Not only so, but if the case had happened—which certainly never did—that I met a Christian reasoning from the Scrip­ tures for persecution, I should unhesitatingly have said that the doctrine was essentially opposed to the whole spirit of Christianity, and was therefore in­ capable of proof by quoting detailed texts. Nothing �Depravation of Christianity. 7 but a confusion of the Old Testament with the New led the Puritans astray, and the Independents set them right before long. Hooker and his contem­ porary Anglicans, I think, were free from this specially Puritanical confusion. The doctrine of persecution I hold to be a depra­ vation of Christianity, to which the New Testament affords no countenance. It rose out of human pas­ sions—pride, self-confidence, impatience, love of power, and other still baser motives, all vehemently condemned by the original Christian doctrine to whichever of the earliest Christian schools we look. II. I return to the more general question. We see how early the elements of monkery and nunnery, of ceremonialism, of episcopal power, of saint-worship, and other errors, can be found within Christianity. Are we therefore to treat full-blown Romanism as the ZeyiYmufe unfolding of Christianity ? Those who say Yes appear to me to confound two things—the erroneous logic natural to an ignorant age, and legitimate logic. Given the Roman world in its actual state, in which the more educated stood aloof from Christianity in disdain, while the unedu­ cated, the busy, and the slaves flocked into it, per­ haps it is strictly true that, with such materials and circumstances, the downward course of Christianity into grossly carnal ordinances, a monstrous creed, and priestly rule, was inevitable. But this has no tendency to disprove the assertion that the new system was a depravation and essentially different from the original; and that to pass it off as Chris­ tianity is a portentous misrepresentation. I gravely deprecate forms of speech which must seem to Protestants a wild injustice. They earnestly desire to hold fast the original Christianity. It is fair and right to tell them that they do not go far enough back, or to show them the difficulties of their search ; and there is nothing in this to irritate them. But to declaim against Christianity, and mean by the �On the Historical word simply Romanism, puzzles them on the one side, or, on the other, insults them by identifying their religion with an essentially different system, which they disclaim, perhaps abhor. When it is notorious that in the course of history the tendency of every national religion is to change, and often for the worse, there is no ostensible fairness, no plausibility, in accepting the latest state as truly exhibiting the essence of the first. Neither, therefore, on the face of the matter, has the critic a right to adduce the later stage as an aspersion on the honour of the earlier. I have carefully written, “ on the face of the matter.'" But an assailant may allege, that the depravations are not accidents ; that if the logic of the historical de­ velopment was weak, the weakness was largely caused by errors essential to the religion from the first. If he can prove this, he may justly maintain, that the later state, though a depravation and not a legitimate development, is still a solid objection against the original teachers. The closer the history of Christianity is canvassed, the more undeniable does it appear, that its tendency to depravation was caused by its diligently fostering the spirit of credulity as a religious duty. If it be said, as above, in excuse, that none of the highest in­ tellect of the age entered the Christian Church,—that it was peopled by slaves and an uneducated mass, who hung on the lips of a few pious but narrow­ minded teachers,—the reply is at hand, that neither Jesus nor the Apostles went the way to bring edu­ cated men into the Church. Whether Jesus laid claim to miracles, may be doubtful; but those who believe that he did, will not say that he used any method likely to convince the educated of their truth. He did not even leave behind him an authenticated copy of his precepts and doctrine. So long as James and Paul speak on purely moral subjects, we find plentiful reason to admire and honour them; but as soon as Paul begins to expound the Old Scriptures, �Depravation of Christianity. g the intellectual weakness of his Rabbinism warns us at once why he could not make converts among edu­ cated men; yet his failures, instead of suggesting to him that his logic was unsound, makes him only moralize, like a modern Mussulman, on the mysterious wisdom of God, who hides divine truth from the wise and prudent, and reveals it to babes. Indeed, the words, as I now quote, are ascribed to Jesus himself. I do not think any candid person can deny that the first teachers of Christianity quickly despaired of con­ verting any but the ignorant. They invariably ad­ dressed men’s consciences only, as if there could be no such thing as legitimate intellectual doubt, which needed for removal arguments addressed to the in­ tellect. What can be more inconsequential and point­ less than the historical rhapsody imputed to the in­ spired Stephen? What less fitted to remove the reasonable hesitations of a thoughtful and good man than the addresses in the book of Acts ascribed to Peter and Paul ? Paul at Athens is said to have moved incredulity by announcing a future day, on which God would judge the world by the interven­ tion of a Man; and the only evidence he offers of the truth of this is, that God has given assurance of it by raising that Man from the dead. Although the book of Acts is not the same thing as Paul’s own epistle, this sketch is in general harmony with his doctrine and method. We see distinctly, in his 1st Epistle to the Corinthians, ch. xv., where he undertakes to re­ prove and refute those who deny the future resur­ rection of the body, how little understanding he has of the evidence required by his case. That Jesus was risen, he probably did not need to prove, but only to show that this entails the resur­ rection of mankind; yet in his own way he undertakes to prove both. On neither topic is . he aware how entirely unsatisfactory is the evidence which he offers. Those who know anything of Socrates or Aristotle may easily imagine the blank �IO On the Historical astonishment of those good and wise men, if such proof had been laid before them as adequate. Yet the resurrection of Jesus, if a fact, was a physical fact, addressed to the common intellect, and no way a spiritual truth, to be judged of by spiritual discern­ ment. But Paul, after a short and rapid assertion that Jesus had been many times seen after his death, and that, last of all, he himself had seen him [of course, in a vision or trance], rushes into a close and animated argument, on which evidently is his chief dependence. They must believe the resurrection of Jesus, he says; for if it be not true, they will lose all future reward for present sacrifice, and all motive for preferring virtue to vice. (What would King Heze­ kiah have said to this astonishingly base argument ?) Nay, he adds, they are “ yet in their sins,” if Jesus is not risen, as though deliverance from the power of sin were not a matter of fact to the spiritual man, of which he is himself conscious, and a sufficient judge ! Thus he reduces to a minimum ordinary evidence concerning an outward fact, which in no other way can be sustained ; and overbears an inward spiritual fact by a simple dogma I If it be said, that when he wrote, “ Ye are yet in your sins,” he meant, “ Ye are unforgiven ; ” it is obvious to reply that Hebrew Psalmists and Prophets had long taught that God forgives all sins hated and renounced by the sinner, and does not make forgiveness depend on His raising some one from the dead; nor did Jesus ever assert such dependence. In the second place, the resurrec­ tion of Jesus, if a fact, took place under totally dif­ ferent circumstances from that of men whose bodies have “ seen corruption,” that is, suffered dissolution ; and the argument from the one to the other is not com­ plete, even as an analogy. Paul indeed does not define what he means by “ resurrection,” while he scolds as a “ fool ” any one who understands him literally. While the paucity of cultivated men in the Church is a theme of pious exultation, “lest any flesh glory,” �Depravation of Christianity. 11 at the same time even in Paul, noble and heart-stirring as his moral tone is, we cannot but see that he is far quicker to denounce and threaten unbelief, than to meet doubts with patient candour. This element reigns through nearly all the New Testament. I gladly except the Epistle of James, which is almost free from dogmatic elements, and wish to believe that in this respect also he represents Jesus to us. Yet Matthew, Mark, and Luke agree in ascribing to Jesus haughty denunciation, where it appears least justified. It is not practically possible to reach a Christianity in which intellectual doubt was kindly welcomed and candidly satisfied. It is always treated as a sin, and easy faith magnified as a high merit. This, I apprehend, is the fatal fact which ensured corruptions through the triumph of credulity in the Church. Fancy and folly, bad logic and blundering, haste and love of the marvellous, are ever at work to deform every oral tradition, and pervert the inter­ pretation of whatever is written. The only check upon their inroads lies in keen and jealous criticism. To commend easy belief as a virtue, and frown on slowness to believe as a dishonour to God, was certain to entail illimitable error, burying out of sight the original doctrines. If easy belief in a newly-announced marvel is meritorious to-day, so will it be to-morrow, so will it be next year : hereby a premium is offered for a harvest of lies. From the beginning, the merit of believing things wonderful was distinctly pro­ claimed ; in the third century it was frankly applied to believing things incredible. The reasoning faculty, unless kept in constant exercise, withers as certainly as the hand or the arm. While we approach God mentally, or seek moral edification devoutly, argu­ mentation is lulled to sleep : hence, if devotion absorb the mind wholly, free intellect gets no play. To foster criticism is the only sure way of holding fast attained truth, not to speak of advancing to new truth. To �12 On the Historical Depravation, &c. scold down free thought prepares the corruption of a religion by weakening the mind of the votaries. When Infallibility is ascribed to any set of enuncia­ tions and statements, every flaw in a noble discourse becomes its most admired feature, and is most insisted on, because it is difficult to believe,—because it mor­ tifies “that beast Reason,” to use Luther’s vehement phrase. The doctrine of Infallibility, which is the head and front of Popery, is but the consolidation of the authoritative tone of teaching which was originally made a supplement to defective argument. It is a familiar thought, that if the earth, without human labour, bore to us, as in a fabled Paradise, milk and honey, fruits and crops, clothes and shelter, our bodies would be enfeebled by laziness and inaction. Just so do our minds become torpid and weak, when truth is guaranteed to us authoritatively. Infallibility, whether in a Church or in a Book, such as shall super­ sede criticism of the things asserted, is as little to be desired, and as little to be expected, in Theology as in Morals or Politics. No form of Christianity has shaken off its incrustations of error, except where Free Science has arisen to exercise and brace the spirit of criticism. The noble moralities of the New Testament will stand out more admirable and more valuable, when surrounding error is purged away : but until this work of criticism is performed, and the dogmatic principle disowned, the spiritual and moral will con­ tinue to be drowned in the ecclesiastical. Depravation and schism, anathema and recrimination, must be expected in the future, as in the past. �INDEX TO THOMAS SCOTT’S PUBLICATIONS ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED. The following Pamphlets and Papers may be had on addressing a letter enclosing the price in postage stamps to Mr Thomas Scott, 11 The Terrace, Farquhar Load, Upper Norwood, London, S.E. Price. Post-free. ABBOT, FRANCIS E„ Editor of ‘Index,’ Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A. * d' The Impeachment of Christianity. With Letters from Miss Frances P. Cobbe and Professor F. W. Newman, giving their Reasons for not calling themselves Christians 0 3 Truths for the Times - 0 3 ANONYMOUS. A.I. Conversations. Recorded by a Woman, for Women. Parts I., II., and III. 6d. each Part -16 A Few Self-Contradictions of the Bible - 1 0 Modern Orthodoxy and Modern Liberalism - 0 6 Modern Protestantism. By the Author of “ The Philosophy of Necessity” -06 On Public Worship -03 Questions to which the Orthodox are Earnestly Requested to Give Answers _ -01 Sacred History as a Branch of Elementary Education. Part I.—Its Influence on the Intellect. Part II.—Its Influence on the Development of the Conscience. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Church and its Reform. A Reprint - 1 0 The Church : the Pillar and Ground of the Truth - o 6 The Opinions of Professor David F. Strauss 6 TnE Twelve Apostles -06 Via Catholica; or, Passages from the Autobiography of a Country Parson. Part I. - 1 3 Woman’s Letter - 0 3 BARRISTER, A. Notes on Bishop Magee’s Pleadings for Christ - 0 6 BASTARD, THOMAS HORLOOK. ' Scepticism and Social Justice - 0 3 �11 Index to ’Thomas Scolds Publications. Price. Post-free. BENEFICED CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. The Chronological Weakness of Prophetic Interpretation - 1 1 The Evangelist and the Divine -10 The Gospel of the Kingdom - 0 6 BENTHAM, JEREMY. The Church of England Catechism Examined. A Reprint - 1 o BERNSTEIN, A. Origin of the Legends of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob Critically Examined -10 BROOK, W. 0. CARR. Reason versus Authority -03 BROWN, GAMALIEL. An Appeal to the Preachers of all the Creeds - 0 3 Sunday Lyrics . -03 The New Doxology - 0 3 CARROLL, Rev. W. G., Rector of St Bride’s, Dublin. The Collapse of the Faith; or, the Deity of Christ as now taught by the Orthodox '-06 CLARK, W. G., M.A., Vice-Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. A Review of a Pamphlet, entitled, “ The Present Dangers of the Church of England ” -06 CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. An Examination of Canon Liddon’s Bampton Lectures - 0 6 Letter and Spirit -06 Rational Piety and Prayers for Fine Weather - 0 3 The Analogy of Nature and Religion—Good and Evil - 0 6 The Question of Method, as affecting Religious Thought - 0 3 COBBE, Miss F. P. Letter on Christian Name. (See Abbot) CONWAY, MONCURE D. The Spiritual Serfdom of the Laity. With Portrait - 0 6 TiIe Voysey Case -06 COUNTRY PARSON, A. The Thirty-Nine Articles and the Creeds,—Their Sense and their Non-Sense. Parts I., II., and III. 6d. each Part - 1 6 COUNTRY VICAR, A. Criticism the Restoration of Christianity, being a Review of a Paper by Dr Lang -06 The Bible for Man, not Man for the Bible - 0 6 CRANBROOK, The late Rev. JAMES. On the Formation of Religious Opinions - 0 3 On the Hindrances to Progress in Theology - 0 3 The Tendencies of Modern Religious Thought - 0 3 F. H. I. Spiritual Pantheism -06 FOREIGN CHAPLAIN. The Efficacy of Prayer. A Letter to Thomas Scott - - 0 3 �Index to Thomas Scott's Publications. iii Price. Post-free. FORMER ELDER IN A SCOTCH CHURCH. On Religion .... - 0 6 GELDART, Rev. E. M. The Living God -03 GRAHAM, A. D., and F. H. . On Faith ------03 HANSON, Sir R. D., Chief-Justice of South Australia. Science and Theology -04 HARE, The Right Rev. FRANCIS, D. D., formerly Lord Bishop of Chichester. The Difficulties and Discouragements which Attend the Study of the Scriptures -06 HINDS, SAMUEL, D.D., late Bishop of Norwich. Annotations on the Lord’s Prayer. (See Scott’s Practical Remarks) Another Reply to the Question, “ What have we got to Rely on, if we cannot Rely on the Bible ? ” (See Professor Newman’s > . - 0 6 Reply) A Reply to the Question, “ Apart from Supernatural Revela­ tion, what is the Prospect of Man’s Living after Death ? ” 0 6 A Reply to the Question, “Shall I Seek Ordination in the Church of England?” - 0 6 Free Discussion of Religious Topics. Part I., is. Part II., Is. 6d. 2 6 The Nature and Origin of Evil. A Letter to a Friend - 0 6 HOPPS, Rev. J. PAGE. Thirty-Nine Questions on the Thirty-Nine Articles. With Portrait _ -0 3 JEVONS, WILLIAM. The Book of Common Prayer Examined in the Light of the Present Age. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Claims of Christianity to the Character of a Divine Revelation Considered - 0 6 The Prayer Book adapted to the Age - 0 6 KALISCH, M., Ph.D. Theology of the Past and the Future. Reprinted from Part I. of his Commentary on Leviticus. With Portrait - 1 0 KIRKMAN, The Rev. THOMAS P., Rector of Croft, Warrington. Church Cursing and Atheism - 1 0 On Church Pedigrees. Parts I. and II. With Portrait. 6d. each Part 1 0 On the Infidelity of Orthodoxy. In Three Parts. 6d. each Part - 1 6 LAKE, J. W. The Mythos of the Ark . - 0 6 LA TOUCHE, J. D., Vicar of Stokesay, Salop. The Judgment of the Committee of Council in the Case of Mr Voysey . . . _ -03 LAYMAN, A, and M.A. of Trinity College, Dublin. Law and the Creeds . -06 Thoughts on Religion and the Bible M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge. Pleas for Free Inquiry. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 �iv Index to Thomas Scotfs Publications. Price. Post-free. MAOFIE, MATT. d' Religion Viewed as Devout Obedience to the Laws of the Universe -06 MAITLAND, EDWARD. Jewish Literature and Modern Education ; or, the Use and Abuse of the Bible in the Schoolroom - 1 6 How to Complete the Reformation. With Portrait - 0 6 The Utilisation of the Church Establishment - 0 6 M.P., Letter by. The Dean of Canterbury on Science and Revelation - 0 6 NEALE, EDWARD VANSITTART. Does Morality depend on Longevity ? . . - 0 6 Genesis Critically Analysed, and continuously arranged; with Intro­ ductory Remarks . _ -10 The Mythical Element in Christianity . - 1 0 The New Bible Commentary and the Ten Commandments - 0 3 NEWMAN, Professor F. W. Against Hero-Making in Religion -06 James and Paul . . . -06 Letter on Name Christian. (See Abbot) On the Causes of Atheism With Portrait - 0 6 On the Relations of Theism to Pantheism ; and On the Galla Religion . . -06 Reply to a Letter from an Evangelical Lay Preacher - 0 3 The Bigot and the Sceptic - 0 6 The Controversy about Prayer - 0 3 The Divergence of Calvinism from Pauline Doctrines - 0 3 The Religious Weakness of Protestantism - 0 7 The True Temptation of Jesus. With Portrait - 0 6 Thoughts on the Existence of Evil . - 0 3 OLD GRADUATE. Remarks on Paley’s Evidences - 0 6 OXLEE, the Rev. JOHN. A Confutation of the Diabolarchy -06 PADRE OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH. The Unity of the Eaith among all Nations - 0 6 PARENT AND TEACHER, A. Is Death the end of all things for Man ? - 0 6 PHYSICIAN, A. A Dialogue by way of Catechism,—Religious, Moral, and Philosophical. Parts I. and II. 6d. each Part - 1 0 The Pentateuch, in Contrast with the Science and Moral Sense of our Age . . -16 PRESBYTER ANGLIOANUS. Eternal Punishment. An Examination of the Doctrines held by the Clergy of the Church of England - 0 6 The Doctrine of Immortality in its Bearing on Education 0 6 ROBERTSON, JOHN, Ooupar-Angus. Intellectual Liberty 0 6 The Finding of the Book - 2 0 ROW, A. JYRAM. Christianity and Education in India. A Lecture delivered at St George’s Hall, London, Nov. 12,1371 0 6 �Index to Thomas Scott's Publications. v Price. Post-free. SCOTT, THOMAS. Basis of a New Reformation - 0 9 Commentators and Hierophants; or, The Honesty of Christian Commentators. In Two Parts. 6d. each Part - 1 0 Miracles and Prophecies -06 Original Sin -06 Practical Remarks on “The Lord’s Prayer” - 0 6 The Dean of Ripon on the Physical Resurrection of Jesus, in its Bearing on the Truth of Christianity - 0 6 The English Life of Jesus. A New Edition - 4 4 The Tactics and Defeat of the Christian Evidence Society - 0 6 STATHAM, F. REGINALD. Rational Theology. A Lecture - 0 3 STRANGE, T. LUMISDEN, late Judge of the High Court of Madras. A Critical Catechism. Criticised by a Doctor of Divinity, and Defended by T. L. Strange - 0 6 Clerical Integrity -03 Communion with God -03 The Bennett Judgment -03 The Bible ; Is it “ The Word of God ? ” - 0 6 The Speaker’s Commentary Reviewed - 2 6 STMONDS, J. ADDINGTON. The Renaissance of Modern Europe - 0 3 TAYLOR, P. A., M.P. Realities -------VOYSEY, The Rev. CHARLES. A Lecture on Rationalism - 0 6 A Lecture on the Bible -06 An Episode in the History of Religious Liberty. With Portrait 0 6 On Moral Evil -06 W. E. B. An Examination of Some Recent Writings about Immortality - 0 6 WHEELWRIGHT, the Rev. GEORGE. Three Letters on the Voysey Judgment and the Christian Evidence Society’s Lectures - 0 6 WILD, GEO. J., LL.D. Sacerdotalism -03 WORTHINGTON, The Rev. W. R. On the Efficacy of Opinion in Matters of Religion - 0 6 Two Essays : On the Interpretation of the Language, of The Old Testament, and Believing without Understanding - 0 6 ZERFFI, G. G., Ph.D., Natural Phenomena and their Influence on Different Religious Systems 0 3 �Since printing the preceding List the following Pamphlets have been published. Price. Post-free. BENEFIOED CLERGYMAN, WIFE OF A. On the Deity of Jesus of Nazareth - 0 6 NEWMAN, Professor F. W. On the Historical Depravation of Christianity - 0 3 STRANGE, T. LUMISDEN, late Judge of the High Court of Madras. The Christian Evidence Society - 0 3 W. E. B. The Province of Prayer -06 SUFFIELD, the Rev. ROBERT RODOLPH. The Resurrection . -03 PRINTED EY C. W. REYN ELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET, W. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource On the historical depravation of Christianity Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Newman, Francis William [1805-1897.] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 12, v, [1] p. ; 18 cm Notes: Part of Morris Misc. Tracts 4. Publisher's list on numbered pages at the end. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1873 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G4850 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (</span>On the historical depravation of Christianity<span>), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Christianity Christianity Christianity-Controversial Literature Morris Tracts