“But,” says the believer, again, as a last resort, “Jesus, whether real or mythical, has certainly saved the world, and is its only hope.” If this assertion can be supported with facts, then surely it would matter very little whether Jesus really lived and taught, or whether he is a mere picture.


Although even then it would be more truthful to say we have no satisfactory evidence that such a teacher as Jesus ever lived, than to affirm dogmatically his existence, as it is now done. Whatever Jesus may have done for the world, he has certainly not freed us from the obligation of telling the truth. I call special attention to this point. Because Jesus has saved the world, granting for the moment that he has, is no reason why we should be indifferent to the truth.


Nay, it would show that Jesus has not saved the world, if we can go on and speak of him as an actual existence, born of a virgin and risen from the dead, and in his name persecute one another—oppose the advance of science, deny freedom of thought, terrorize children and women with pictures of hellfire and seek to establish a spiritual monopoly in the world, when the evidence in hand seems clearly to indicate that such a person never existed.

We shall quote a chapter from Christian history to give our readers an idea of how much the religion of Jesus, when implicitly believed in, can do for the world. We have gone to the earliest centuries for our examples of the influence exerted by Christianity upon the ambitions and passions of human nature because it is generally supposed that Christianity was then at its best. Let us, then, present a picture of the world, strictly speaking, of the Roman Empire, during the first four or five hundred years after its conversion to Christianity.

We select this specific period, because Christianity was at this time fifteen hundred years nearer to its source, and was more virile and aggressive than it has ever been since.

Shakespeare speaks of the uses of adversity; but the uses of prosperity are even greater. The proverb says that “adversity tries a man.” While there is considerable truth in this, the fact is that prosperity is a much surer criterion of character. It is impossible to tell for instance, what a man will do who has neither the power nor the opportunity to do anything.


“Opportunity,” says a French writer; “is the cleverest devil.” Both our good and bad qualities wait upon opportunity to show themselves. It is quite easy to be virtuous when the opportunity to do evil is lacking. Behind the prison bars, every criminal is a penitent, but the credit belongs to the iron bars and not to the criminal. To be good when one cannot be bad, is an indifferent virtue.

It is with institutions and religions as with individuals— they should be judged not by what they pretend in their weakness, but by what they do when they are strong. Christianity, Mohammedanism and Judaism, the three kindred religions—we call them kindred because they are related in blood and are the offspring of the same soil and climate—these three kindred religions must be interpreted not by what they profess today, but by what they did when they had both the power and the opportunity to do as they wished.

When Christianity, or Mohammedanism, was professed only by a small handful of men—twelve fishermen, or a dozen camel-drivers of the desert—neither party advocated persecution. The worst punishment which either religion held out was a distant and a future punishment; but as soon as Christianity converted an Emperor, or Mohammed became the victorious warrior, that is to say, as soon as, springing forth, they picked up the sword and felt their grip sure upon its hilt, this future and distant punishment materialized into a present and persistent persecution of their opponents. Is not that suggestive?


Then, again, when in the course of human evolution, both Christianity and Mohammedanism lost the secular support—the throne, the favor of the courts, the imperial treasury—they fell back once more upon future penalties as the sole menace against an unbelieving world. As religion grows, secularly speaking, weaker and is more completely divorced from the temporal, even the future penalties, from being both literal and frightful, pale into harmless figures of speech.

It was but a short time after the conversion of the Emperor Constantine, that the following edict was published throughout the provinces of the Roman Empire:

“O ye enemies of truth, authors and counsellors of death—we enact by this law that none of you dare hereafter to meet at your conventicles ... nor keep any meetings either in public buildings or private houses. We have commanded that all your places of meeting—your temples—be pulled down or confiscated to the Catholic Church.”

The man who affixed his signature to this edict was a monarch, that is to say, a man who had the power to do as he liked. The man and monarch, then, who affixed his imperial signature to this first document of persecution in Europe—the first, because, as Renan has beautifully remarked,

“We may search in vain the whole Roman law before Constantine for a single passage against freedom of thought, and the history of the imperial government furnishes no instance of a prosecution for entertaining an abstract doctrine,”

—this is glory enough for the civilization which we call Pagan and which was replaced by the Asiatic religion—the man and the monarch who fathered the first instrument of persecution in our Europe, who introduced into our midst the crazed hounds of religious wars, unknown either in Greece or Rome, Constantine, has been held up by Cardinal Newman as “a pattern to all succeeding monarchs.”


Only an Englishman, a European, infected with the malady of the East, could hold up the author of such an edict, -- an edict which prostitutes the State to the service of a fad—as “a pattern.”

If we asked for a modern illustration of what a church will do when it has the power, of Russia. there is the example of Russia. Russia is today centuries behind the other European nations. She is the most unfortunate, the most ignorant, the most poverty-pinched country, with the most orthodox type of Christianity. What is the difference between Greek Christianity, such as prevails in Russia, and American Christianity?


Only this:

The Christian Church in Russia has both the power and the opportunity to do things, while the Christian church in America or in France has not.

We must judge Christianity as a religion by what it does in Russia, more than by what it does not do in France or America. There was a time when the church did in France and in England what it is doing now in Russia, which is a further confirmation of the fact that a religion must be judged not by what it pretends in its weakness, but by what it does when it can. In Russia, the priest can tie a man’s hands and feet and deliver him up to the government; and it does so. In Protestant countries, the church, being deprived of all its badges and prerogatives, is more modest and humble.


The poet Heine gives eloquent expression to this idea when be says:

“Religion comes begging to us, when it can no longer burn us.”

There will be no revolution in Russia, nor even any radical improvement of existing conditions, so long as the Greek Church has the education of the masses in charge. To become politically free, men must first be intellectually emancipated.

  • If a Russian is not permitted to choose his own religion, will he be permitted to choose his own form of government?

  • If he will allow a priest to impose his religion upon him, why may he not permit the Czar to impose despotism upon him?

  • If it is wrong for him to question the tenets of his religion, is it not equally wrong for him to discuss the laws of his government?

  • If a slave of the church, why may he not be a slave of the state?

  • If there is room upon his neck for the yoke of the church, there will be room, also, for the yoke of the autocracy?

  • If he is in the habit of bending his knees, what difference does it make to how many or to whom he bends them?

Not until Russia has become religiously emancipated, will she conquer political freedom. She must first cast out of her mind the fear of the church, before she can enter into the glorious fellowship of the free. In Turkey, all the misery of the people will not so much as cause a ripple of discontent, because the Moslem has been brought up to submit to the Sultan as to the shadow on earth of Allah. Both in Russia and Turkey, the protestants are the heretics.


The orthodox Turk and the orthodox Christian permit without a murmur both the priest and the king to impose upon them at the point of a bayonet, the one his religion, and the other his government. It is only by taking the education of the masses out of the hands of the clergy that either country can enjoy any prosperity. Orthodoxy and autocracy are twins.

Let me now try to present to you a picture of the world under Christianity about the year 400 of the present era. Let us discuss this phase of the subject in a liberal spirit, extenuating nothing, nor setting down aught in malice. Please interpret what I say in the next few minutes metaphorically, and pardon me if my picture is a repellant one.

We are in the year of our Lord, 400:

I rose up early this morning to go to church. As I approached the building, I saw there a great multitude of people unable to secure admission into the edifice. The huge iron doors were closed, and upon them was affixed a notice from the authorities, to the effect that all who worshiped in this church would, by the authority of the state, be known and treated hereafter as “infamous heretics,” and be exposed to the extreme penalty of the law if they persisted in holding services there.

But the party to which I belonged heeded not the prohibition, but beat against the doors furiously and effected an entrance into the church. The excitement ran high; men and, leaders shouted, gesticulated and came to blows. The Archbishop was urged to ascend his episcopal throne and officiate at the altar in spite of the formal interdiction against him. He consented.


But he had not proceeded far when soldiers, with a wild rush, poured into the building and began to discharge arrows at the panic-stricken people. Instantly pandemonium was let loose. The officers commanding the soldiers demanded the head of the offending Archbishop. The worshipers made a attempt to resist; then blood was shed, the sight of which reeled people’s heads, and in an instant, the sanctuary was turned into a house of murder.


Taking advantage of the uproar, the Archbishop, assisted by his secretaries, escaped through a secret door behind the altar. On my way home from this terrible scene, I fell upon a procession of monks. They were carrying images and relies, and a banner upon which were inscribed these words:

“The Virgin Mary, Mother of God.”

As they marched on, their number increased by new additions. But suddenly they encountered another band of monks, carrying a different banner, bearing the same words which were on the other party’s banner, but instead of,

“The Virgin Mary, Mother of God,” their banner read: “The Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus Christ.”

The two processions clashed, and a bloody encounter followed; in an instant images, relies and banners were all in an indiscriminate heap. The troops were called out again, but such was the zeal of the conflicting parties that not until the majority of them were disabled and exhausted, was tranquility restored.

Looking about me, I saw the spire of neighboring church. My curiosity prompted me to wend my steps thither. As soon as I entered, I was recognized as belonging to the forbidden sect, and in an instant a hundred fists rained down blows upon head.

“He has polluted the sanctuary," they cried.

“He has committed sacrilege.”

“No quarter to the enemies of the true church,” cried others, and it was a miracle that, beaten, bruised, my clothes torn from my back, I regained the street.

A few seconds later, looking up the streets, I saw another troop of soldiers, rushing down toward this church at full speed. It seems that while I was being beaten in the main auditorium, in the baptistery of the church they were killing, in cold blood, the Archbishop, who was suspected of a predilection for the opposite party, and who had refused to retract or resign from his office. The next day I heard that one hundred and thirty-seven bodies were taken out of this building.

Seized with terror, I now began to run, but, alas, I had worse experiences in store for me. I was compelled to pass the principal square in the center of the city before I could reach a place of safety. When I reached this square, it had the appearance of a veritable battlefield. It was Sunday morning, and the partisans of rival bishops, differing in their interpretation of theological doctrines, were fighting each other like maddened, malignant creatures. One could hear, over the babel of discordant yells, scriptural phrases.


The words, “The Son is equal to the Father,” “The Father is greater than the Son,” “He is begotten of the same substance as the Father,” “He is of like substance, but not of the same substance,” “You are a heretic,” “You are an atheist,” were invariably accompanied with blows, stabs and sword thrusts, until, as an eye-witness, I can take an oath that I saw the streets leading out of the square deluged with palpitating human blood. Suddenly the commander of the cavalry, Hermogenes, rode upon the scene of feud and bloodshed.


He ordered the followers of the rival bishops to disperse, but instead of minding his authority, the zealots of both sides rushed upon his horse, tore the rider from the saddle and began to beat him with clubs and stones which they picked up from the street. He managed to escape into a house close by, but the religious rabble surrounded the house and set fire to it. Hermogenes appeared at the window, begging for his life. He was attacked again, an killed, and his mangled body dragged through the streets and rushed into a ditch.

The spectacle inflamed me, being a sectarian myself. I felt ashamed that I was not showing an equal zeal for my party I, too, longed to fight, to kill, to be killed for my religion. And, anon! the opportunity presented itself. I saw, looking up the street to my right, a group of my fellow-believers, who, like myself, shut out of their own church by the orthodox authorities, armed with whips loaded with lead and with clubs, were entering a house. I followed them. As we went in, we commanded the head of the family and his wife to appear. When they did, we asked them if it was true that in their prayers to Mary they had refrained from the use of the words, “The mother of God.”


They hesitated to give a direct answer, whereupon we used the club, and then, the scourge. Then they said they believed in and revered the blessed virgin, but would not, even if we killed them, say that she was the mother of God. This obstinacy exasperated us and we felt it to be our religious duty, for the honor of our, divine Queen, to perpetrate such cruelties upon them as would shock your gentle ears to hear. We held them over slowly burning fires, flung lime into their eyes, applied roasted eggs and hot irons to the sensitive parts of their bodies, and even gagged them to force the sacrament into their mouths. ... As we went from house to house, bent upon our mission, I remember an expression of one of the party who said to the poor woman who was begging for mercy:

“What! shall I be guilty of defrauding the vengeance of God of its victims?”

A sudden chill ran down my back. I felt my flesh creep. Like a drop of poison the thought embodied in those words perverted whatever of pity or humanity was left in me, and I felt that I was only helping to secure victims with which to feed the vengeance of God!

I was willing to be a monster for the glory of God!

The Christian sect to which I belonged was one of the oldest in Christendom. Our ancestors were called the Puritans of the fourth and fifth centuries. We believe that no one can be saved outside of our communion. When a Christian of another church joins us, we re-baptize him, for we do not believe in the validity of other baptisms. We are so particular that we deny our cemeteries to any other Christians than our own members. If we find that we have, by mistake, buried a member of another church in our cemetery, we dig up his bones, that he may not pollute the soil.


When one of the churches of another denomination falls into our hands, we first fumigate the building, and with a sharp knife we scrape the wood off the altars upon which other Christian priests have offered prayers. We under no consideration, allow a brother Christian from another church to commune with us; if by stealth anyone does, we spare not his life. But we are persecuted just as severely as we persecute, ourselves.


[This sect (Donatist) and others, lasted for a long time, and made Asia and Africa a hornet’s nest, -- a blood-stained arena, of feud and riot and massacre, until Mohammedanism put an end in these parts of the world, not only to these sects, but to Christianity itself.]

As the sun was setting, fatigued with the holy Sabbath’s religious duties, I started to go home. On my way back, I saw
even wilder, bloodier scenes, between rival ecclesiastical factions, streets even redder with blood, if possible, yea, certain sections of the city seemed as if a storm of hail, or tongues of flame had swept over them. Churches were on fire, cowled monks attacking bishops’ residences, rival prelates holding uproarious debates, which almost always terminated in bloodshed and, to cap the day of many vicissitudes, I saw a bear on exhibition which bad been given its freedom by the ruler, as a reward for his faithful services in devouring heretics.


The Christian ruler kept two fierce bears by his own chamber, to which those who did not bold the orthodox faith were thrown in his presence while he listened with delight to their groans.

When I reached home, I was panting for breath. I had lived through another Sabbath day. [If the reader will take the pains to read Dean Milman’s History of Christianity, and his History of Latin Christianity; also Gibbon’s Downfall of the Roman Empire, and Mosheim’s History of Christianity, he will see that we have exaggerated nothing. The Athanasian and the Arian, the Donstist and Sabellian, the Nestorian and Alexandrian factions converted the early centuries into a long reign of terror.]
I feel like covering my face for telling you so gruesome a tale.


But if this were the fourth or the fifth century, instead of the twentieth, and this were Constantinople, or Alexandria, or Antioch, instead of Chicago, I would have spent just such a Sunday as I have described to you. In giving you this concentrated view of human society in the great capitals of Christendom in the year 400, I have restrained, rather than spurred, my imagination.


Remember, also that I have excluded from my generalization all reference to the centuries of religious wars which tore Europe limb from limb, -- the wholesale exterminations, the crusades, which represented one of the maddest spells of misguided and costly zeal which ever, shuck our earth, the persecution of the Huguenots, the extermination of the Albigenses and of the Waldenses, -- the massacre of St. Bartholomew, the Inquisition with its red hand upon the intellect of Europe, the Antibaptist outrages in Germany, the smithfield fires in England, the religious outrages in Scotland, the Puritan excesses in America, -- the reign of witchcraft and superstition throughout the twenty centuries—I have not touched my picture with any colors borrowed from these terrible chapters in the history of our unfortunate earth.


I have also left out all reference to Papal Rome, with its dungeons, its stakes, its massacres and its burnings. I have said nothing of Galileo, Vanini, Campanella or Bruno. I have passed over all this in silence. You can imagine, now, how much more repellant and appalling this representation of the Roman world under Christianity would have been had I stretched my canvas to include also these later centuries.

But I tremble to be one-sided or unjust, and so I hasten to say that during the twenty centuries reign of our religion, the world has also seen some of the fairest flowers spring out of the soil of our earth. During the past twenty centuries there have been men and women, calling themselves Christians, who have been as generous, as heroic and as deeply consecrated to high ideals as any the world has ever produced.


Christianity has in many instances, softened the manners of barbarians and elevated the moral tone of primitive peoples. It gives us more pleasure to speak of the good which religions have accomplished than to call attention to the evil they have caused. But this raises a very important question.

“Why do you not confine yourself,” we are often asked, “to the virtues you find in Christianity or Mohammedanism, instead of discussing so frequently their short-comings? Is it not better to praise than to blame, to recommend than to find fault?”

This is a fair question, and we may just as well meet it now as at any other time.

Such is the economy of nature that no man, or institution or religion, can be altogether evil. The poet spoke the truth when he said: “There is a soul of goodness in things evil.” Evil, in a large sense, is the raw material of the good. All things contribute to the education of man. The question, then, whether an institution is helpful or hurtful, is a relative one. The character of an institution, as that of an individual, is determined by its ruling passion.


Despotism, for instance, is generally considered to be an evil. And yet, a hundred good things can be said of despotism. The French people, over a hundred years ago, overthrew the monarchy. And yet the monarchy had rendered a thousand services to France, It was the monarchy that created France, that extended her territory, developed her commerce, built her great cities, defended her frontiers against foreign invasion, and gave her a place among the first-class nations of Europe. Was it just, then, to pull down an institution that had done so much for France?

Why did the Americans overthrow British rule in this country? Had not England rendered innumerable services to the colony? Was she not one of the most progressive, most civilizing influences in the modern world? Was it just, then, that we should have beaten out of the land a government that had performed for us so many friendly acts?

Referring once more to the case of Russia: Why do the awakened people in that country demand the overthrow of the autocracy? Is there nothing good to be said of Russian autocracy? Have not the Czars loved their country and fought for her prosperity? Have they not brought Russia up to her present size, population and political influence in Europe? Have they not beautified her cities and enacted laws for the protection of their subjects? Is it right, then, in spite of all these things that autocracy has done for Russia, to seek to overthrow it?

Once more: Why do the missionaries go into India and China and Japan trying to replace the ancestral religion of these people with the Christian faith? Why does the missionary labor to overthrow the worship of Buddha, Confucius and Zoroaster? Have not these great teachers helped humanity? Have they not rendered any services to their countrymen? Are there no truths in their teachings? Are there no virtues in their lives? Is it right, then, that the missionary should criticize these ancient faiths?

Let us take an example from nearer home. We were talking some years ago with a gentleman who had just returned from Dowie’s Zion. He was surprised to find there a clean, orderly and well-behaved people, apparently quite happy. He said that after his experience there, he would rather do business with Dowie and his men than with the average member of other religious bodies. He found the Dowieites honest, reliable and peaceful. Now, all this may be true, and I hope it is; but what of it?


Dowieism is an evil, notwithstanding this recital of its virtues. It is an evil, because it arrests the intellectual development of man, because it makes dwarfs of the people it converts, because it pinches the forehead of each convert into that of either a charlatan or an idiot. We regret to have to use these harsh terms.


But Dowieism is denounced, because it brings up human beings as if they were sheep, because it robs them of the most glorious gift of life, the freedom to grow, Dowieism is an evil, because it makes the human race mediocre by contracting its intellect down to the measure of a creed. We would much rather that the Dowieites smoked and drank and swore, than that they should fear to think. There is hope for a bad man. There is no hope for the stupid.

In the case of an institution or a religion, then, it is not by adding up the debit and credit columns and striking a balance sheet that the question whether it has helped or hurt mankind is to be determined. We cannot, for instance, place ninety-nine vices in one column, and a hundred virtues in another, and conclude therefrom that the institution or the religion should be preserved. Nor, conversely speaking, can we place a hundred vices against ninety-nine virtues, and, therefore, condemn the institution.


Even as a man is hanged for one act in his life, in spite of the thousand good acts which may be quoted against the one evil deed, so an institution or a religion is honored or condemned, as we said above, for its ruling passion. Mohammedanism, Judaism and Christianity have done much good, just as other religions have, but they are condemned today by modern thought, because they are a conspiracy against reason—because they combat progress, as if it were a crime!

Another criticism frequently advanced against us is that we fail to realize that all the evil of which Christianity is said to have been the cause, is only the result of human ignorance and passion. When attention is called, for instance, to the intolerance and stubborn opposition to science, of Christianity, the answer given is, that this conduct is not only not inspired by the spirit of Christianity, but that it is in direct contradiction to its teachings. The Christians claim that all the luminous chapters in history have been inspired by their religion, all its sorrowful and black pages have been written by the passions of men.


But this apology, which, we regret to say, is in every preacher’s mouth, is not an honest one. In our opinion, both Mohammedanism and Christianity, as also Judaism, are responsible for the evil as well as the good they have accomplished in the world. They are responsible for the lives they have destroyed, as for the lives they have saved. They are responsible for the passions they have aroused, -- for the hatred, the persecutions and the religious wars of the centuries, as for the piety and charity they have encouraged.

The central idea in all the three religions mentioned above, is that God has revealed his will to man. There is, we say frankly, the root of all the evil which religion has inflicted upon our unfortunate earth. The poison is in both the flower and the fruit which that idea brings forth. If it be true that God has revealed his will, that he has told us, for instance, to believe in the Trinity, the atonement, the fall of man, and the dogma of eternal punishment, and we refuse to do so, will we not, then, be regarded as the most odious, the most heinous, the most rebellious, the most sacrilegious, the most stiff-necked, the most criminal people in the world?


Think of refusing to believe as God has dictated to us! Think of saying no! to one’s Creator and Father in Heaven I Think of the consequences of differing with God, and tempting others to do the same! Is it at all strange that during the early centuries of Christianity, the people who hesitated to agree with the deity, or to believe as he wanted them to, were looked upon as incarnate fiends, as the accomplices of the devil and the enemies of the human race, and were treated accordingly?

The doctrine of salvation by faith makes persecution inevitable. If to refuse to believe in the Trinity, or in the divinity of Christ, is a crime against God and will be punished by an eternity of hell in the next world, and if such a man endangers the eternal salvation of his fellows, is it not the duty of all religious people to endeavor to exterminate him and his race, now and here? How can Christian people tolerate the rebel against their God, when God himself has pronounced sentence of death against him? Why not follow the example of the deity, as set forth in the persecutions of the Old Testament?

When we have a God for a teacher, the highest and surest virtue is unconditional acquiescence. Judaism, Mohaemmedanism and Christianity, in giving us a God for a teacher, have taken away from us the liberty to think for ourselves. Each one of these three religions makes unconditional obedience the price of the salvation it offers, but do you know what other word in the English language unconditional obedience is a synonym of? -- Silence! A dumb world, a tongue-tied humanity alone can be saved!

The good man is the man on his knees with his mouth in the dust. But silence is sterility! Silence is slavery! Think, then, of the character of a religion which makes free speech, free thought, a crime—which hurls hell against the Protestant!

There is a third question to be answered: It is true, they say to us, that there are many things in the Koran, the Old Testament and the New, which are really injurious, and which ought to be discarded, but there are also many beautiful principles, noble sentiments and high educational maxims in these scriptures. Why not, then, dwell upon these, and pass in silence over the objectionable teachings of these religions?

It is not necessary to repeat again that in all so-called sacred scriptures, there are glorious truths. It could not have been otherwise. All literature, whether secular or religious, is the voice of man and sweeps the whole compass of human love and hope. We have no objection to quoting from the Veddas, the Avestas, the Koran or the Bible; nor do we hesitate to admire and enjoy and praise generously the ravishingly beautiful utterances of the poets and prophets of all times and climes. Nevertheless, it remains true that the modern world finds more practical help and inspiration in secular authors, in the books of science and philosophy, than in these so-called inspired scriptures.


Jesus, who is popularly believed to have preached the Sermon on the Mount, has said little or nothing which can help the modern world as much as the scientific revelations of a student like Darwin, or of a philosopher like Herbert Spencer, or of a poet like Goethe or Shakespeare. We know this will sound like blasphemy to the believer, but a moment’s honest and fearless reflection will convince everyone of the fact that neither Mohammed nor Jesus had in view modern conditions when they delivered their sermons. Jesus could have had no idea of a world outside of his little Palestine.


The thought of the many races of the world mingling together in one country could never have occurred to him. His vision did not embrace the vista of two thousand years, nor did his mind rise to the level of the problems which today tax the brain and heart of man. Jesus believed implicitly that the world would speedily come to an end, that the sun and the moon would soon fall from the face of the sky, and that people living then in Palestine would not taste of death before they saw “the Son of Man return upon the clouds.”


Jesus had no idea of a progressive evolution of humanity. It was beyond him to conceive the consolidation of the nations into one fellowship, the new resources which science would tap, or the new energies which human industry would challenge. Jesus was in peaceful ignorance of the social and international problems which confront the world of today.


The Sermon on the Mount, then, which is said to be the best in our gospels, can be of little help to us, for it could not have been meant for us. And it is very easy to show that the modern world ignores, not out of disrespect to Jesus, but by the force of circumstances and the evolution of society, the principles contained in that renowned sermon.

I was waiting for transportation at the corner of one of the principal streets of Chicago, the other day, when, looking about me, I saw the tremendous building’s which commerce and wealth have reared in our midst. On one hand was a savings bank, on the other a colossal national bank, and up and down the street a thousand equally solid and substantial buildings, devoted to the interests of commerce and civilization.


To bring out and emphasize the wide breach between the man who preached the Sermon on the Mount, and progressive and aggressive, busy and wealthy, modern Chicago, I took the words of Jesus and mentally inscribed them upon the walls of these buildings.


Upon the savings bank— and a savings bank represents economy, frugality, self-sacrifice, self-restraint, -- the desire of the people to provide for the uncertainties of the future, to lay by something for the education of their children, for the maintenance of their families when they themselves have ceased to live, -- I printed upon the facade of this institution, figuratively speaking, these words of the Oriental Jesus:

“Take no thought of the morrow, for the morrow will take care of itself.”

And upon the imposing front of the national bank, I wrote:

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth.”

If we followed these teachings, would not our industrial and social life sink at once to the level of the stagnating Ascetics?
Pursuing this comparison between Jesus and modern life, I inscribed upon the handsome churches whose pews bring enormous incomes, and on the palatial residences of Bishops with salaries of from twenty-five to a hundred thousand dollars, (this was 1909 folks! EFF) these words:

“How hardly shall a rich man enter into the kingdom of Heaven,” and, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven.”

In plain words, the gospel condemns wealth, and cries, “Woe unto you rick,” and “Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,” which, by the way, would only be shifting the temptation of wealth from one class to another. Buckle was nearer the truth, and more modem in spirit, when he ascribed the progress of man to the pursuit of truth and the acquisition of wealth.
But let us apply the teachings of Jesus to still other phases of modern life. Some years ago our Cuban neighbors appealed to the United States for protection against the cruelty and tyranny of Spanish rule.


We sent soldiers over to aid the oppressed and down-trodden people in the Island. Now, suppose, instead of sending iron-clads and admirals, -- Schley, Sampson and Dewey,-- we had advised the Cubans to “resist not evil,” and to “submit to the powers that be,” or suppose the General of our army, or the Secretary of our navy, had counseled seriously our soldiers to remember the words of Jesus when fighting the Spaniards: “If a man smite thee on one cheek,” etc.

Write upon our halls of justice and court-houses and statute books, and on every lawyer’s desk, these solemn words of Jesus:

“He that taketh away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.”

Introduce into our Constitution, the pride and bulwark of our liberties, guaranteeing religious freedom unto all, -- these words of Paul: “If any man preach any other gospel than that which I have preached unto you, let him be accursed.” Think of placing nearly fifty millions of our American population under a curse!

Tell this to the workers in organized charities: “Give to every man that asketh of thee,” which, if followed, would make a science of charity impossible.

To the workingmen, or the oppressed seeking redress and protesting against evil, tell this: “Blessed are they that are persecuted,” which is equivalent to encouraging them to submit to, rather than to resist, oppression.

Or upon our colleges and universities, our libraries and laboratories consecrated to science, write the words: “The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God,” and “God has chosen the foolish to confound the wise.” Ah, yes, the foolish of Asia, it is true, succeeded in confounding the philosophers of Europe. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Jesus, did replace Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Cicero, Caesar and the Antonines! But it was a trance, a spell, a delirium only, and it did not last, -- it could not last. The charm is at last broken. Europe is forever free from the exorcism of Asia.

I believe the health and sanity and virtue of our Europe would increase a hundred fold, if we could, from this day forth, cease to pretend professing by word of mouth what in our own hearts and lives we have completely outgrown. If we could be cere and brave; if our leaders and teachers would only be honest with themselves and, honest with the modern world, there would, indeed, be a new earth and a new humanity—But the past is past.


It is for us to sow the seeds which in the day of their fruition shall emancipate humanity from the pressing yoke of a stubborn Asiatic superstition, and push the future even beyond the beauty and liberty of the old Pagan world!


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Christianity AND PAGANISM

Christianity as an Asiatic cult is not suitable to European races. To prove this, let us make a careful comparison between Paganism and Christianity. There are many foolish things, and many excellent things, in both the Pagan and the Christian religions. We are not concerned with particular beliefs and rites; it is Paganism as a philosophy of life, and Christianity as a philosophy of life, that we desire to investigate.


And at the threshold of our investigation we must bear in mind that Paganism was born and grew into maturity in Europe, while Asia was the cradle of Christianity. It would be superfluous to undertake to prove that in politics, in government, in literature, in art, in science, in the general culture of the people, Europe was always in advance of Asia. Do we know of any good reason, when it comes to religion, why Asia should be incomparably superior to anything Europe has produced in that line?


Unless we believe in miracles, the natural inference would be that a people who were better educated in every way than the Ascetics should have also possessed the better religion. I admit that this is only inferential, or a-priori reasoning, and that it still remains to be shown by the recital of facts, that Europe not only ought to have produced a better religion than Asia, but that she did.

In my opinion, between the Pagan and Christian view of life there is the same difference that there is between a European and an Asiatic. What makes a Roman a Roman, a Greek a Greek, and a Persian a Persian? That is a very interesting, but also a very difficult question. Why are not all nations alike? Why is the oak more robust than the spruce? What are the subtle influences which operate in the womb of nature, where “the embryos of races are nourished into form and individuality?

” I cannot answer that question satisfactorily, and I am not going to attempt to answer it at all. We know there is a radical difference between the European and the Asiatic; we know that Oriental and Occidental culture are the antitheses of each other, and nowhere else is this seen more clearly than in their interpretations of the universe, that is to say, in their religions.

In order to understand the Oriental races, we must discover the standpoint from which they take their observations.

But first, it is admitted, of course, that there are Europeans who are more Asiatic in their habits of life and thought than the Ascetics themselves, and, conversely, there are Ascetics who in spirit, energy and progressiveness are abreast of the most advanced representatives of European culture.

Nor has Asia been altogether barren; she has blossomed in Many spots, and she nursed the flame of civilization at a time when Europe was not yet even cradled.


To show the intellectual point of view of the Asiatic, let me quote a passage from the Book of Job, which certainly is an oriental composition, and one of the finest:

“How, then, can man be justified with God, or how can he be clean that is born of a woman? Man that is a worm, and the son of man, which is a worm.”

This, then, is the standpoint of the Oriental. He believes he is a poor little worm. His philosophy must necessarily trail in the dust. A worm cannot have the thoughts of an eagle; a worm cannot have the imagination of a Titan; a worm sees the world only as a worm may. This is the angle of vision of the Asiatic. He calls himself a worm, and naturally his view of life shrinks to the limits of his standpoint.


To be perfectly fair, however, we must admit there are passages in all the bibles of the Orient which are as daring as those found in any European book, but they represent only the strayings of the Oriental mind, not its normal pulse. The habitual accent of the Oriental is that man, calling a woman his mother, is a worm. In the Psalms of David, or whoever wrote the book, we read these words: “I am a worm, and not a man.”


What did the Oriental see in the worm, which, induced him to select it out of all things as the original, so to speak, of man? The worm crawls and creeps and writhes. Nothing is so distressing as to see its helpless wiggling—and its home is in the dust; dirt is its daily food. Moreover, it is in danger of being stamped or trampled into annihilation at any instant. A worm represents the minimum of worth, -- the dregs in the cup of existence; it is the scum or the froth of life, which one may blow into the air. It is impossible to descend lower than this in self-abasement.

When the Oriental, therefore, says that man is a worm or “I am a worm,” he is just as much obeying the cumulative pressure of his Asiatic ancestry, and voicing the inherited submission of the Oriental mind, as Prometheus, with the vulture at his breast, and shaking, his hand in the face of the Gods, expresses the revolt of the European mind. The normal state for the Asiatic is submission; for the European it is independence.


Slavery has a fascination for the children of the east. The air of independence is too sharp for them. They crave a master, a Sultan or a Czar, who shall own them body and soul. Through long practice, they have acquired the art of servility and flattery, of salaams and prostrations—an art in which they have become so efficient that it would be to them like throwing away so much capital to abandon its practice. They expect to go to Heaven on their knees. This is not said to hurt the feelings of the races of the Orient.


We are explaining the influence of absolutism upon the products and tendencies of the human mind. The religion of the Orient, then, notwithstanding its many beautiful features like its polities, is a product of the suppressed mind, which finds in the creeping worm of the dust the measure of its own worth. How different is the European from the Asiatic in this respect! The latter crawls upon the stage of this magnificent universe with the timidity, hesitancy and tremblings of a worm.


True to his bringing up, be falls prostrate, overwhelmed by the marvelous immensities opening before him and the abysses yawning at his feet. He contracts and dwindles in size, imploring with outstretched hands to be spared because he is a poor worm. It is a part of his religion or philosophy that if he admits he is nothing but a worm, the dread powers will not consider him a rival or a rebel, but will look upon him as a confirmed subject, and permit him to live. This is his art, the strategy by which he hopes to secure his salvation.

There has never been a republic in Asia, which is another way of saying that the Asiatic mind has never asserted its independence. Hence its thought smacks of slavery. In politics, as in religion, the Asiatic has always been passive. He has never been an actor, but only a spectator. It is his to nod the head, fold the arms and bend the knee. On earth he must have a king and a pope, and in heaven an Allah or a Jehovah. He has not been created for himself, but for the glory of his earthly and heavenly Lords. This radical difference between European self-appreciation and Asiatic self-depreciation furnishes the key to the problem under discussion.

Paganism is the religion of a self-governing race. Buddhism, Judaism, Mohammedanism, and Christianity are religions born on a soil where man is owned by another. It will be impossible to imagine Marcus Aurelius, for instance, crawling upon his knees before any being, or calling himself a worm. One must have in his blood the taint of a thousand years of slavery, before he can stoop so low. Marcus Aurelius was a gentleman. The European conception of a gentleman implies self-respect and independence; the Oriental conception of a gentleman implies self-abasement and acquiescence. The Oriental gentleman is a man who serves his king as though he were his slave.

But observe now how the Oriental proceeds. to pull down his mind to the level of his body, which he has likened to a worm.
When I was still a Presbyterian minister, I was invited to address a Sunday-school camp-meeting at Asbury Park in New Jersey. There were other speakers besides myself; one of them, known as a Sunday-school leader, had brought with him a chart of the human heart, which, when he arose to address the children, he spread on a black-board before them: This is a picture of your heart before you have accepted Jesus. What do you think of it?” he asked the school. “It is all black,” was the answer; and it was. He had drawn a totally black picture to represent the heart of the child before conversion.

In all the literature of Pagandom, there is not the least intimation of so fearful an idea as the total depravity of human nature. The Pagans never thought, spoke, or heard of such a thing. It was inconceivable to them; they would have recoiled from it as from a species of barbarism. How radically different, then, must European culture have been from the Asiatic. There is a gulf well-nigh impassible between the thought of a free-born citizen and that of the oppressed and enslaved Oriental.

But let us continue. Not satisfied with thinking of himself as a worm, and of his Intellectual and moral nature as totally degraded, the Oriental strikes with the same paralyzing stroke, at the world in which he lives, until it, too, withers and becomes an ugly and heinous thing. He calls the world a “vale of tears,” ruled by the powers of darkness, and groaning under a primeval curse. “The world, the flesh and the devil” become a trio of iniquity and sin.


Some of you in your earlier days must have sung that Methodist hymn which represents the world as a snare and a delusion:

“The world is a fleeting show
For man’s illusion given.”

Given! Think of believing that the world has been purposely given us to lead us astray. The thought staggers the mind. It suggests a terrible conspiracy against man. For his ruin, sun, moon and stars co-operate with the devil. Help! we cry, as we realize our inability to cope with the tremendous powers hurling themselves against us like billows of the raging sea, and taking our breath away. It suggests that we are placed in a world which has been made purposely beautiful, in order to tempt us into sin.


Think of such a belief! It is that of a slave. It is Asiatic; it is not European. Neither you nor I, in all our readings, have ever come across any such attitude toward nature in Pagan literature. The Greeks and the Romans loved nature and made lovely Gods out of every running brook, caressing zephyr, dancing wave, glistening dew, sailing cloud, beaming star, beautiful woman, or brave man.


The Oriental suspects nature and regards her smiles—the shining of the sun, the perfume of the meadows, the swell of the seal the fluttering of the branches tipped with blossoms, the emerald grass, the sapphire sky—looks upon all these as the seductive advances of a prostitute in whose embrace lurks death!

But, once more; not satisfied with dragging the world down to the plane of his totally depraved nature, and that again to the level of the worm, the Asiatic projects his fatal thought into the next world and, crossing the grave, that silent and painless home of a tired race, he crowds the beyond with a thousand thousand pains and aches and horrors and fires—with sulphur and brimstone and burning hells. His frightened imagination invokes dark and infernal beings without number, fanning with their dark wings the very air he breathes. This is too revolting to think of. Poor slave!


Inured to suffering, -- to the lash, to oppression’s crushing heel, -- he dare not dream of a painless future, of a quiet, peaceful sleep at life’s end, nor has he the divine audacity to invent a new world wherein the misery and slavery of his present existence will be impossible, -- where all his tyrants will be dead, where he shall taste of sweet freedom and become himself a God. In his timidity and shrinking submission, with the spring of his heartbroken, his spirit crushed, all independence strangled in his soul, -- he puts in the biggest corner of his heaven even, -- a hell!


Nor does he pause there, but, stinging his slave imagination once more, he declares that this future of torture and hell-fire is everlasting. He cannot improve upon that. Deeper in degradation he cannot descend. That is the darkest thought he can have, and, strange to say, he hugs it to his bosom as a mother would her child. The doctrine of hell is the thought of a slave and of a coward. No free-born man, no brave soul could ever have invented so abhorrent an idea.


Only under a regime of absolutism, only under an Oriental Sultan whose caprice is law, whose vengeance is terrible, whose favors are fickle whose power is crushing, whose greed is insatiable, whose torture instruments are without number, and whose dark dungeons always resound with the rattling of chains and the groans of martyrs—only under such a regime could man have invented an unending hell.

But we were mistaken when we said that hell was the darkest that the Asiatic was capable of. He has grafted upon the European mind a belief which is darker still.

Is there anything more precious in human life than children? The sternest heart melts, the fiercest features relax, at the sight of an innocent, sweet, laughing, frolicking babe in its mother’s arms. Look at its glorious eyes, so full of surprises, so deep, so appealing! Look at the soft round hands, the little feet, the exquisite mouth, opening like a bud! Hear its prattle, which is nothing but the mind beginning to stir! Watch its gestures, the first language of the child!


See it with its tiny arms about its mother’s neck. Mark its joy when it is kissed. What else in our human world is more beautiful, more divine? And yet, and yet, the slave creed of Asia has drawn into its burning net of damnation even the cradle. John Burroughs describes how in a Catholic cemetery near where he lives he was shown a neglected, unkept corner, used for the burial of unbaptized children. Consecrated ground is denied to them, and so their poor bodies are huddled together in this profane plot, unblessed and unsaved. I do not wish to live in a world where such absurdities are not only countenanced, but where they are exalted to the dignity of a religion!

O holy children! O sweet children! huddled together in unconsecrated ground, and thus exposed to the cruelty of indescribable demons! Can you hear me? I am a man of compassion.

I can forgive the murderer. I can pardon and pity the meanest wretch and take him into my arms, but I confess that even if I had a heart as big as the ocean, I could not, I would not, forgive the creed that can be guilty of such inhumanity against you, -- dear, innocent ones, who were born to breathe but for a moment the harsh air of this world! When such gloom overpowers me and wrings from my lips such hard words, I find some little respite in contemplating the old Pagan world in its best days. I hasten for consolation to my Pagan friends, and in their sanity find healing for my bruised heart.

In one of his letters, the Greek Plutarch says this about children, which I want you to compare with what St. Augustine, the representative of the Asiatic creed, says on the same subject.

“It is irreligious,” writes Plutarch, “to lament for those pure souls (the children) who have passed into a better life and a happier dwelling place.”

[Plutarch Ad Uxorem. Comp. Lecky’s History of European Morals, Vol. 1.]

Compare this Pagan tenderness for children with the Asiatic doctrine of infant damnation but recently thrown out of the Presbyterian creed. Yet, if St. Augustine is to be believed, it is a heresy to reject the damnation of unbaptized infants:

“Whosoever shall tell,” writes this Father of the church, “that infants shall be quickened in Christ who died without partaking in his sacrament, does both contradict the apostles’ teaching and condemn the whole church.”

[St. Augustine Epist. 166.]

It is infinitely more religious to disagree with the apostles and the church, if that is their teaching. The Pagan view of children is the holier view. The doctrine of the damnation of children could only find lodgment in the brain of a slave or a madman. It is Asiatic and altogether foreign to the culture of Europe.

All that we have advanced thus far may be summed up in one phrase: Asia invented the idea that man is a fallen being. This idea, which is the dors espinal, -- the backbone—of Christianity, never for once entered the mind of the European. We have already quoted from Job and the psalms; the following is from the book of Jeremiah:

“The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.”

This is one of the texts upon which the doctrine of the fall of man is based.


We repeat that only under a religion of slavery, where one slave vies with another to abase himself before his lords and masters, could such an idea have been invented. There is not a man in all our sacred scriptures who could stand before the deity erect and unabashed, or who could speak in the accents of a Cicero who said,

“We boast justly of our own virtue, which we could not do if we derived it from the deity and not from ourselves,” or this from Epictetus, “It is characteristic of a wise man that he looks for all his good and evil from himself.”

Such independence was foreign to a race that believed itself fallen.

In further confirmation of our position, it may be said that the models which the Pagans set up for emulation were men like themselves, only nobler. The models which the Orientals set up for imitation, on the other hand, were supernatural beings, or
men who were supposed to possess supernatural powers. The great men for the Oriental are men who can work miracles, who possess magical powers, who possess secrets and can know how to influence the deity, -- Moses, Joshua, David, Joseph, Isaiah, Jesus, Paul, - all demi-divinities.


The Pagans, on the other hand, selected natural men, men like themselves, who had earned the admiration of their fellows. Let me quote to you Plutarch’s eloquent sentence relative to this subject:

“Whenever we begin an enterprise or take possession of a charge, or experience a calamity, we place before our eyes the examples of the greatest men of our own or of bygone ages, and we ask ourselves how Plato, or Epaminondas, or Lycurgus, or Agesilaus, would have acted. Looking into these personages, as into a faithful mirror, we can remedy our defects in word or deed.”

The Westminster Catechism, which in its essentials is a resume of our Asiatic religion, emphasizes the doctrine of the fall of man, of which the Pagan world knew nothing, and refused to believe it until priests succeeded in dominating the mind of Europe:

“The catechism following the Scripture teaches that ... we are not only a disinherited family, but we are personally depraved and demoralized.”

[Wsatminster Catechism, Comments.]

Goodness! the oriental imagination, abused by slavery, cannot rid itself of the idea of being disinherited, turned out into the cold, orphaned and smitten with moral sores from head to foot. To the Pagan, such a description of man would have been the acme of absurdity. Again:

“It (the fall) affirms that he (man) is all wrong, in all things and all the time.” [Ibid]

If this was comforting news to the Asiatic, the Pagan world would have rejected the idea as unworthy of men in their senses. Once more:

“All mankind by their fall lost communion with God, are under his wrath and curse, and so made liable to all miseries in this life and to the pains of hell forever.”

[Westminster Catechism, Comments.]

And this is the Gospel we have imported from Asia! is it not pathetic? Could slavery ever strike a deeper bottom than that? Standing before his owner, the Asiatic, of his own choice, hands himself over to be degraded, to be placed in chains and delivered up to the torments of hell forever. I despair of man. I would cry my heart out if I permitted myself to dwell upon the folly and stupidity and slavery of which man voluntarily makes himself the victim. Think of it!


A man and a woman, nobody knows where or when, are supposed to have tasted of the fruit of a tree; the Oriental mind, with its crouching imagination, pounces upon this flimsy, fanciful tale with the appetite of a carrion crow, and exalts it to the dignity of an excuse for the eternal damnation of a whole world. I am dazed! I can say no more!

Let us recapitulate. The Oriental distrust of the natural man, born of self-depreciation, which is the fruit of prolonged slavery, develops into a sort of mental canker spreading at a raging pace until the whole universe, with its glorious sun and stars, becomes an object of horror and loathing. Not satisfied with thinking of himself as a worm, of his intellectual and moral nature as totally depraved, he communicates his disease to the world in which he lives until it, too, shrinks and wastes away.


Then the disease, finding no more on this side of the grave to feed upon, leaps over the grave and converts the beyond, the virgin worlds, into an inferno with which to satiate its fear. Indeed frightful are the thoughts of a slave people!
Let me now, in conclusion, call your attention to another difference between the Occidental and the Oriental mind. When the body is feeble or ill-nourished, it is less liable to resist disease; likewise when the mind is alarmed, cowed, or pinched with fear, it becomes more exposed to superstition.


Superstition is the disease of the mind. It will keep away from robust minds, as physical disease from a body in health. Now, the Asiatic mind, seared into silence and subjection, -- starved to a mere shadow of what it should be, falls an easy prey to all the maladies that mind is heir to. The European mind, on the other hand, with room and air to move and grow in, develops a vitality which offers resistance to all attacks of mental disease.


That explains why superstition thrives with ignorance and slavery, and expires when science and liberty gain the ascendancy. Sanitary precautions prevent physical disease; knowledge and liberty constitute the therapeutics of the mind. Why is the Oriental so prone or partial to miracle and mystery? His mind is sick. To believe is easier to him than to reason. He follows the line of the least resistance: he has invented faith that he may not have to think.


The mental cells in his brain are so starved, so devitalized, that they have to be whipped into movement. Only the bizarre, the monstrous, the supernatural, -- demons, ghosts, dream worlds, miracles and mysteries, -- can hold his attention. Not science, but metaphysics, barren speculation, -- is the product of the Oriental mind.


The philosopher Bacon describes the Asiatic when he speaks of men who,

“have hitherto dwelt but little, or rather only slightly touched upon experience, whilst they have wasted much time on theories and fictions of the imagination.”

Again: I sometimes think that if it be true that monotheism, the idea of one God, was first discovered in Asia, it must have been suggested to them by the regime of Absolutism, under which they lived. Unlike Asia, democratic Europe believed in a republic of Gods. Polytheism is more consonant with the republican idea, than monotheism. If we would let the American President rule the land without the aid of the two houses of congress or his cabinet ministers, his power would be infinitely more than it is now, but his gain would be the people’s loss.


His increased power would only represent so much more power taken away from the people, One God means not only more slaves, but more abject, more helpless ones. One God is a centralization which reduces man’s liberty to a minimum. With more Gods, and Gods at times disagreeing among themselves, and all bidding for man’s support, man would count for more,


The Greeks could not tolerate a Jehovah, or an Allah, before whom the Oriental rabble bent the knee. “Allah knows,” exclaims the Moslem; that is why the Mohammedans continue in ignorance. “Allah is great,” cries again the Turk. That is why he himself is small. The more powerful the sovereign, the smaller the subject.

Now this leads us to a final reflection upon the difference between the mind brought up under restraint, -- in slavery, -- and the mind free.

“The Pagan,” to quote Lecky, “believed that to become acceptable to the deity, one must be virtuous;” the Asiatic doctrine, on the contrary, taught that “the most heroic efforts of human virtue are insufficient to avert a sentence of eternal condemnation, unless united with an implicit belief” in the dogmas of religion.

In other words, the noblest of men cannot be saved by his own merits of character alone, for even when we have done our best, we are but unprofitable slaves,” quoting a Bible text. Only by the merits of Christ, or by the grace of God, can any man be saved. Have you ever paused to think of the purpose of this piece of Orientalism?


It wipes out every imaginable claim or right of man. Even when he is just and great and good, he has no rights, he is as vile as the vilest. Only the favor of the king can save, -- only the grace of God, who can save the thief on the cross if he so pleases. Is he not absolute? If he extends his scepter, you live; if he smiles you are spared; if he patronizes you, you are fortunate. He says, live! you live. He says, die I you die. This is the apotheosis of despotism exalted into a revelation.

What, then, is our creed, but the thoughts of an eastern slave population, cringing before the throne of a Sultan, and one by one signing away their liberties? “The foundation of all real grandeur is a spirit of proud and lofty independence,” says Buckle; but that is not the spirit of Asia, or of its religion. It is, and we ought to try to keep it, the spirit of the Western world.

I cannot imagine how we in this country, born of sturdy parents, born of the freedom-loving Pagans of Rome and Greece, born of men who shook their hands in the face of heaven, and pulled the Gods off their thrones when they violated the rights of man, -- I cannot understand how we have thrown overboard the proud, lofty spirit of independence of the Pagans, -- our forefathers, and taken upon our necks the strangling yoke of the slave-thought of Asia!


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