CREED AND DEED
OF DISCOURSES
BY
FELIX ADLER, PH.D.
epy;ov A0Yx
-Aeschylus, Promnet. Vinet. 1. 336.
NEW YORK
PU}3LS}HED FOR THIE JSOCIETY FOR ETHICAL SCULTURE
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
I88o
A SERIES 
COPYRIGHT, -877
BY FELIX ADLER, PH. D. 
580
PREFATORY NOTICE.
THE lectures contained in the following pages
are published by request of the society before which
they were delivered. Those on Immortality and
Religion have been considerably abridged and condensed. The remainder have been allowed to retain
their original form without any serious modification.
The First Anniversary Discourse reviews the work
of the year, and gives a brief account of the motives
which impelled the society to organize and of the
general animus by which its labors are directed.
The Lecture entitled The Form of the Ideal foreshadows the constructive purpose of the movement.
The articles on The Evolution of Hebrew Religion
and Reformed Judaism from the Popular Science
Monthly (September, i876) and the North American
Review ( yuly-August and September-October) contain the substance of several of the lectures of last
winter's course, and are reprinted in the appendix
with the kind consent of the editors. Rigid adherence to the requirements of systematic exposition is
2t (),30'  I 
PREFATORY NOTICE.
neither possible nor desirable in addresses of this
kind and has not therefore been attempted.
In giving this volume to the public I gladly
embrace the opportunity of expressing my sincere
gratitude to those faithful and self-sacrificing friends
whose indefatigable labors have gone so far to win
for a hazardous venture the promise of assured permanence and satisfactory development.
FELIX ADLER.
New York, September, I877.
iv 
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
IMMORTALITY..................................... I
RELIGION........................................ 37
THE NEW IDEAL................................ 63
THE PRIEST OF THE IDEAL..................... 76
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL................... 90
THE RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN.......... IO4
OUR CONSOLATIONS................................ II8
SPINOZA.........................................
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY...................
THE ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.....................
APPENDIX.
I. THE EVOLUTION OF HEBREW RELIGION............. 183
II. REFORMFD JUDAISM, I II.......................... 202
III. REFORMED JUDAISM, III........................... 2i8
I
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
vii.
viii.
IX.
X.
.133
I50
i67  
CREED AND DEED.
0
IMMORTALITY.
a. Not by the Creed but by the Deed."
THE Society which I have the privilege of
addressing has been organized with the above for
its motto. Some of my hearers have entirely abandoned the tenets of the positive religions; others
continue to hold them true, but are discouraged by
the lack of spiritual force, the prominence given to
mere externals, the barren formalism in the churches
and synagogues. (We agree in believing that theology is flourishing at the expense of religion) It
seems to us that differences in creed are constantly
increasing, and will continue to multiply with the
growth and differentiation of the human intellect.}
We perceive that every attempt to settle problems
of faith has thus far signally failed, nor can we hope
for better results in the future. Certainty even
with regard to the essential dogmas appears to us
impossible. We do not therefore deny dogmna, but 
CREED AND DEED.
prefer to remit it to the sphere of individual conviction with which public associations should have
no concern. Far from believing that the doctrines
of religion as commonly taught are essential to the
well being of society, we apprehend that the disputes
concerning the "author of the law" have diverted
the attention of men from the law itself, and that the
so-called duties toward God too often interfere with
the proper performance of our duties toward one
another. It were better to insist less upon a right
belief, and more upon right action.
In order to find a common basis whereon good
men, whether believers or unbelievers, can unite, we
look to the moral law itself, whose certainty rests in
the universal experience of civilized humanity. We
shall hold questions of faith in abeyance, shall endeavor to stimulate the conscience and to this end
shall seek to awaken an interest in the grave social
problems of our day, which need nothing so much as
a vigorous exertion of our moral energies, in order
to arrive at a peaceable solution. To broaden and
deepen the ethical sentiment in ourselves, and to
hold up to the sad realities of the times, the mirror
of the ideal life, is the object with which we set out.
We do not therefore delude ourselves with the hope
that the ideal will ever be fully realized, but are convinced that in aspiring to noble ends the soul will
take on something of the grandeur of what it truly
2 
IMMORTALITY.
admnires. Starting with the assumption that the
doctrines of religion are incapable of proof, it
behooves us to show in one or more instances the
fallacy of the arguments upon which they are commonly founded, and we shall begin with the doctrine of IMMORTALITY.
In approaching our subject we are first confronted by the argument from the common consent of
mankind. Like the belief in God, the hope of
immortality is said to be implanted in every human
heart, and the experience of travellers is cited to
show that even the most barbarous races have given
it expression in some form, however crude. Aside
from the fact that the statement, as it stands, is
somewhat exaggerated, we will admit that the
belief in a future state is widely current among
savage tribes. But the value of this testimony
becomes extremely doubtful on closer inspection.
A brief account of the origin of the conception of
soul among our primitive ancestors, will make this
plain.
If we observe a child in its sleep, some half articulate word, some cry or gesture occasionally reveals
to us the vividness of the dreams with which the
little  brain  is teeming.   It is hardly doubtful
that the child mistakes the visions of its dream for
3 
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actual occurrences, and attaches the same reality to
these miasmas of the stagnant night as to the clear
prospects of daylight reason. Even the adult sometimes finds it difficult to clear his brain of the fancies
which occupied it in the hours of sleep. And the
test of large experience can alone enable him to
distinguish between fact and phantom. I call attention to these facts, because the phenomena of sleep
and dreams seem to offer a satisfactory clue to the
naive theories of the lower races concerning death
and the after life. The savage indeed is the veritable
child-man. His ardent emotions, his crude logic,
the eagerness with which he questions the how and
wherefore of nature, and the comparative ease with
which his simple understanding accepts the most
fanciful solutions, all combine to place him on the
level of the child.
Aware that the body in sleep is at rest, while at
the same time the sleeper is conscious of acting and
suffering, visiting distant regions perhaps, conversing with friends, engaging in battle with enemies,
the savage reasoned that there must be a man within the man, as it were,-an airy counterfeit of man
which leaves its grosser tenement in the night, and
in the course of its wanderings experiences whatever
the fortunes of the dream may chance to be.
Instances are related where the body was prematurely disturbed. the inner man was prevented from
4 
IMMORTALITY.
returning to his envelope, and death resulted. The
shadow cast by the human figure, an attenuated
image of man, connected with the body and yet
distinct from it, afforded a curious confirmation of
this artless theory. The Basutos * affirm that a person having on one occasion incautiously approached
the bank of a river, his shadow was seized by a
crocodile, and he died in consequence. The story
of shadowless or soulless men has been made familiar to modern literature by Chamisso's well known
tale.t The spectral man who severs his connection with the body during sleep, remains concealed
within it during the hours of waking, and in this
manner, the idea of a human soul as distinct from
the body, takes its rise.:  It is easy to see how by
extending the analogy, what we call death must
have appeared as only another form of sleep, and
how the theory of dreams gave rise to a belief ill
the continuance of life beyond the grave. That
sleep and death are twin brothers, was to the primitive man more than mere metaphor. As in sleep,
so in death, the body is at rest, but as in sleep, so
* The dream theory seems to be the one generally adopted by
writers on primitive culture. For an extended account of this subject vide the works of Tylor, Lubbock and Bastian, from which the
illustrations given in the text are taken.
t Peter Schlemihl.
t The soul was believed to be corporeal in nature, only more
vague and shadowy than the framework of the body, and distinguished
by greater swiftness of locomotion.
5 
CREED AND DEED.
also in death, a shade was supposed to go forth capable of acting and suffering, and yearning to return
to its former condition. The apparitions of the
deceased seen at night by the friends they had left
behind, were taken to be real visitations, and corroborated the assumption of the continued existence
of the departed. The ghosts of the dead were dreaming phantoms, debarred from permanently returning
to their abandoned bodies.
The view we have taken of the origin of the
conception of soul is greatly strengthened when we
consider the thoroughly material character of the
ghost's life after death. The ghost continues to be
liable to hunger, pain, cold, as before. But the living
have shut it out from their communion; in consequence it hates its former companions, persecutes
them where it can, and wreaks its vengeance upon
them when they are least prepared to resist it. In a
certain district of Germany it was believed that the
dead person, when troubled by the pangs of hunger,
begins by gnawing its shroud until that is completely devoured, then rising from the grave, it
stalks through the village and in the shape of a
vampire, sits upon the children in their cradles, and
sucks their blood. When sated with the hideous
feast, it returns to the churchyard to renew its visits
on the succeeding nights. In order to hinder them
from using their jaws, it was customary to place
6 
IMMORTALITY.
stones or coins into the mouths of the dead before
burial and the most grotesque devices were resorted
to, to prevent the much dreaded return of the deni zens of the tomb. In the middle ages the corpse
was often spiked down to hinder its rising. Among
the Hottentots a hole was broken into the wall,
through which the corpse was carried from the
house, and  then carefully covered up, it being the
prevailing superstition, that the dead can only
reenter by the same way in which they have pre viously made their exit. Among a certain negro
tribe of Africa, the path from the house to the grave
was strewn with thorns, in the hope that the ghost
would find the path too painful, and desist. As late
as I86I, it occurred in a village in Gallicia, that the
ghost of a dead peasant was found to pursue the
living, and the inhabitants rushing out to the grave
fearfully mutilated the body, to prevent it from
committing further injury.
The same conception, from a more charitable
point of view, led to the institution of regular meals
for the ghosts at stated intervals. In North-eastern
India, after the body has been consigned to its final
resting-place, a friend of the deceased steps forward,
and holding food and drink in his hand, speaks the
following suggestive words, "Take and eat; heretofore you have eaten and drunk with us, you can do
so no more; you were one of us, you can be so no
7 
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longer; we come no more to you; come you not to
us." In Eastern Africa, the Wanicas are accustomed
to fill a cocoa-nut shell with rice and tembo, and
place it near the grave. In the Congo district, a
channel is dug into the grave leading to the mouth
of the corpse, by which means food and drink are
duly conveyed.  The sense of decorum impels certain Turanian tribes to place not only food, but
even napkins, on the graves of their relatives. We
cannot resist the temptation of quoting the following
passage from Mr. Tyfor's graphic account of the
manner in which the Chinese feast their ghostly
visitors. "Some victuals are left over for any blind
or feeble spirit who may be late, and a pail of gruel
is provided for headless souls, with spoons for them
to put it down their throats with. Such proceedings
culminate in the so-called Universal Rescue, now
and then celebrated, when a little house is built for
the expected visitors, with separate accommodations,
and bath rooms for male and female ghosts." * In
the Alpach Valley of Tyrol, ghosts released from
purgatory on the night of All Souls, return to the
houses of the peasantry. A light is left burning in
the dining room, and a certain cake, prepared for
the occasion, is placed upon the table for their delectation, also a pot of grease for the poor souls to
anoint their wounds with.
* Tylor, Primitive Culture, ii, p. 34.
8 
IMMORTALITY.
Occasionally, to obviate the necessity of con tinued attendance upon the dead, a single sumptuous
feast is provided immediately after their demise,
and this is believed to cancel their claims once for
all. In this manner arose the custom of funeral
banquets. In England, in the fifteenth century, a
noisy revel of three days' duration attended the
obsequies of Sir John Paston. The so-called Irish
wake originated in the same way. After the first
outbreaks of grief have subsided, meat and drink
are brought in, chiefly the latter, and what was at
first intended for a parting entertainment to the
dead, often ends in the boisterous excesses of the
living.
It is here proper to remark that the savage
tribes who believe in an after existence, do not in
many instances claim this privilege for themselves
alone, but share it willingly with the lower animals
and even with inanimate objects. Weapons, utensils, and even victuals-have their ghostly representatives like men. When a great chief dies, his
widow is often forced by public opinion to follow
him to the grave, in order that the departed brave
may not be wifeless in the hereafter. But besides
the widow, his horse, his war-club, his girdle, his
favorite trinkets are buried or burned with him to
serve his use or vanity in spectre-land.
From what has preceded, it must be clear that
I*
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the savage's conception of a ghost bears but a faint
and distant resemblance to the idea of soul, as it
became current in the schools of philosophy; nor
can the latter derive support from the ignorant reasonings, the hasty inductions of primitive man. On
the lower levels of culture the idea of immortality
indeed is quite unknown. If the ghost continues
its shadowy existence after death, it is none the
less liable to come to an abrupt end, and then nothing whatever of its former substance remains; it
is a pale, filmy thing, exposed to the inroads of the
hostile elements, surrounded by numerous dangers,
to which it may at any moment succumb. In the
Tonga Islands only the souls of the well-born are
supposed to survive at all. The common people
have no souls worth speaking of, and when they die,
are completely extinguished. The ghosts of Guinea
negroes are compelled to approach the bank of the
terrible river of death. Some of them are thereupon wafted across to lead pleasant lives on the opposite side, others are drowned in the stream, or
beaten to atoms with a club. With the Fijians it
is always a matter of doubt whether a soul will succeed at all in maintaining its feeble existence after
it has left its protecting house of sinew and bone.
But they open a peculiarly dismal prospect to wifeless souls. Nanananga, a fierce demoniac being,
watches for them on the shore as they approach,
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IMMORTALITY.
and dashes them to pieces upon the rocks. The
Greenlanders affirm that after death the soul enters
upon a long, lone journey over a mountain full of
precipitous descents, covered with ice and snow.
The storms howl about its path, and every step is
fraught with pain and danger.  If any harm happens to the poor wanderer here, then it dies "the
other death" from which there is no re-awakening.
In the theories of a future state, as devised by
the lower races, we are at a loss to detect the germs
of any more spiritual longings. Far from looking
forward with pleased anticipation or confidence to
the world to come, the barbarian shuddered as he
thought of his approaching end, and was loath to
exchange the white and sunny world for the dreary
companionship of luckless shades. The life that
awaited him was not in the majority of instances a
better or a higher life than this; not free from the
limitations of sense; no larger perfecting of what
is here dwarfed and crippled; it was lower, poorer,
meaner; it was to the present, what the pressed
flower is to the full-blown rose; the same in substance, indeed, but with its beauty perished, and its
joyous fragrance evanesced.
The argument from the common  consent of
mankind in truth deserves no serious attention.s
* The doctrine of spiritual immortality is not common to the human
race. The material life of the ghost bears no analogy to what we
I I 
CREED AND DEED.
The argument cannot be substantiated, it would
prove nothing, if it could. The general concurrence
of the whole human race in any form of error would
not make that error less erroneous, and the testimony of united millions against a solitary thinker
might kick the beam when balanced in the scales
of truth.
When we behold an ignorant knave squandering
his ill-gotten gains on superfluities, while honest
people are famishing for want of the necessaries;
when we see the unscrupulous politician outstripping the deserving statesman, in the race for fame
and station; when modest merit shrinks in corners,
and the native royalty of talent plays courtier to
the kings of lucre, we are reminded of the complaint
of Job, that the bad prosper, and the righteous are
down-trodden, yet that they sleep together in the
dust and the worm covers them alike.
This evident disparity between virtue and happiness has led men to take refuge in the thought of
compensation hereafter, and the necessity of a
future state in which the good shall be rewarded,
and the evil punished, according to the verdict of a
just judge, has been deduced even from the apparent injustice of the present. Thus the very imper
mean by the soul's continuance. The continuance of the ghost's exist.
ence is not an immortal continuance.
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IMMORTALITY.
fections of our own life on earth, afford a pretext
for the most ambitious conceptions of human
destiny.
The argument from the necessity of reward and
punishment is extremely popular among the uneducated, since it appeals ostensibly to their sense of
justice and assures them that by the aid of Divine
omnipotence, a full correspondence between worthiness and happiness, though vainly expected here,
will be established in another sphere. It behooves
us to enquire whether there is anything in the
nature of virtue, that demands a correspondence of
this kind.
The philosopher Epicurus was perhaps the first
among the ancients to take strong ground in favor
of the utilitarian view of virtue. Pleasure, he holds,
is the purpose of existence, and virtue is thus reduced to enlightened self-interest. There are different kinds of pleasure; pleasures of the senses and of
the soul. Epicurus points out that the former cannot be considered true pleasures, since they defeat
their own end, blunting the capacity of enjoyment
in proportion as they are indulged, and incapable
of affording permanent  satisfaction.   Himself a
man of refined tastes and fastidious habits, he
shrank from the very coarseness of the passions,
and counselled moderation, friendship and benevolence. But he refused to recognize in these virtues
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any intrinsic value of their own, and lauded them
only because in contrast to the lower appetites, the
enjoyment they afford is lasting and constantly
increases with their exercise. It is easy to perceive
that when the moral law is thus stripped of its
authority to command, the choice between duty
and inclination will be governed by fortuitous preferences, and not by principle. It then remains for
each individual to decide what form of pleasure may
be most congenial to his temper and desires. The
philosopher will value the delights of contemplative
ease, and of kindly communion with his fellow-men;
the passionate youth may hold that a single deep
draught from the chalice of sensual pleasure is worth
more than a whole lifetime of neutral self-restraint;
"eat and drink" will be his motto; "remote consequences-who knows? To-morrow we may die."
Moreover the doctrine of enlightened self-interest
has this fatal objection to it, that if consistently
applied, at least among the powerful of the earth, it
would lead to consequences the very reverse of
moral. It is but too true that honesty is not always
the best policy; that fraud and violence, when perpetrated on a scale of sufficient magnitude, (instance
the division of unfortunate Poland,) are not always
punished as they deserve to be. Far from teaching
the tyrant to subdue his baser instincts, enlightened
self-interest might rather lead him to stifle the
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IMMORTALITY.
accusing voice of conscience, and to root out the
scruples that interfere with his ambition. Unless
we concede that the moral law has a claim upon us
which the constitution of our nature does not per mit us to deny with impunity, and that its pleasures
differ, not only in degree, but in kind, from all
others, virtue, while a necessity to the weak, becomes
folly in the strong; and Napoleon, that gigantic
egotist, was correct, when he called love a silly in fatuation, and sentiment a thing for women.
The principles of Epicurus not only adulterate
the motives of goodness with the desire of reward,
but they make the reward of desire the very sanction of all virtue, and thus deprive human nature of
its best title to nobility.
/Truly disinterestedness is the distinguishing
mark of every high endeavor. The pursuit of the
artist is unselfish, the beauty he creates is his
reward.   The  toil of the  scientist  in the pursuit of abstract truth is unselfish, the truth he
sees is his reward. Why should we hesitate to
acknowledge in the domain of ethics, what we concede in the realm of art and science? To say that
unselfishness itself is only the more refined expression of a selfish instinct, is to use the term selfish
with a double meaning, is a mere empty play on
words. We have the innate need of harmony in
the moral relations; this is our glory, and the stamp
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of the Divine upon our nature. We cannot demonstrate the existence of disinterested motives, any
more than we can demonstrate that there is joy in
the sunlight and freedom in the mountain breeze.
The fact that we demand unselfishness in action
alone assures us that the standard of enlightened
self-interest is false.,
And indeed if we consult the opinions of men,
where they are least likely to be warped by sophistry, we shall find that disinterestedness is the universal criterion by which moral worth is measured.
LIf we suspect the motive we condemn the act. If a
person gives largely for some object of public useful
ness or charity, we do not permit the munificence
of the gift to deceive our judgment. Perhaps he is
merely desirous of vaunting his wealth, perhaps it
is social standing he aims at, perhaps he is covetous
of fame. If these suspicions prove well founded,
the very men who accept his bounty will in their
secret hearts despise him, and by a certain revulsion
of feeling we shall resent his action all the more,
because, not only is he destitute of honorable purpose, but he has filched the fair front of virtue, and
defiled the laurel even in the wearing of it.
We do not even accord the name of goodness to
that easy, amiable sympathy, which leads us to
alleviate the sufferings of others, unless it be
guided by wise regard for their permanent welfare,
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IMMORTALITY.
The tattered clothes, the haggard looks, the piteous
pleading voice of the pauper on the public highway
may awaken our pity ut the system of indiscriminlate alms-giving is justly condemned as a weakness
rather than a virtue.)
On the other hand obedience to duty, when it
involves pain and self-abnegation, seems to rise il
the general estimation.   Clearly because in this
instance even the suspicion of interested motives
is removed, since hardship, injury in estate and
happiness, and even the possible loss of life, are
among the foreseen consequences of the act. It is
for this reason that the Book of Martyrs has become
the golden book of mankind, and that the story of
their lives never fails to fill us with mingled sorrow,
and admiration, and pride. They are monuments
on the field of history, milestones on the path of
human progress. We regard them and gain new
courage and confidence in our better selves. The
blazing pyre on the Campo Fiore, whereon Giordano
Bruno breathes his lasts, becomes a beacon-light for
the truth-seeker; the dying Socrates still pours
benignant peace over many a sufferer's couch; the
Man of sorrows, on Calvary, comforts the hearts of
the Christian millions.   In the presence of these
high examples the inadequacy of the selfish standard
becomes clearly apparent.   We  recognize what a
sublime quality that is in man which enables him,
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not only to triumph over torment and suffering, but
to devote his very self to destruction for the sake of
honor and truth. Freely must virtue be wooed,
not for the dowry she may bring; by loyal
devotion to her for her own sake only, can she be
won!
If thus it appears that not only is there nothing
in the nature of virtue to warrant a claim to reward,
but that it is her very nature to disclaim any reward,
it will become plain that the problem, as stated in
the beginning, rests upon an entirely false foundation. That the unrighteous and unprincipled
should enjoy temporal happiness, does not offend
the law of justice. That you, my good sir, honest
in all your dealings, truthful in all your acts, should
be unhappy, is greatly to be deplored. Why evil
and unhappiness should have been allowed at all to
enter a world created by an all good and all powerful Being may fairly be asked. Why those who
possess the treasure of a clear conscience should not
also possess the lesser goods of earth, is a question
with which morality is in no wise concerned.
\TVirtue can have no recompense, save as it is
its own recompense, and vice can receive no real
punishment save as it is its own avenger.   The
hope of immortality, in so far as it is based upon
the  supposed  necessity of righting in a future
state what is here wrong, is therefore untenable,
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IMMORTALITY.
for it is based upon the assumption of a wrong
which exists in the imagination merely.   And ite
who claimzs a reward because  of  his virtue, has
thereby forfeited his riglht to mnaintain the claim,
sizzce that is not virtue, which looks for reward.
Having endeavored to show that the joys of
earth cannot be claimed as the recompense of a
moral life, we must yet admit that the desire of
happiness is altogether too strong and deep-seatcce
in human nature to be thus summarily dismissed.
We seek happiness on its own account quite apart
from any title which virtue may give us to its
enjoyment. Were we created for misery? Does
not the poverty and general unsatisfactoriness of
our present condition warrant us in expecting
ampler fulfilment, permanent bliss in an after life?
I think we shall derive some assistance in discussing
this question, by attempting to resolve the conception of happiness into its constituent elements.
Pleasure has been defined to consist in the satisfaction of any of man's natural wants. The variety
of our pleasures corresponds to the diversity of our
wants.
Food.b the hungry, rest to the weary, are sources of pleasure. To feel on some cold wintry day
the genial warmth of th'e hearth fire creeping into
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our blood, and the frozen limbs relaxing their stiffness, is pleasure. All men admire the beautiful and
delight in adornment. Even the rude savage seeks
to gratify his aesthetic tastes, so far as the means
which nature places at his command permit. The
custom of tattooing the skin is widely practiced
among the lower races, and stars and circles, trees
and plants, and other ingenious devices are impressed
with laborious patience upon the different members
of the body. The chiefs of the Fiji Islanders, a
nude and cannibal race, are represented as wearing
an elaborate head-dress of three and even five feet
in dimensions, and were accustomed to spend
several hours each day, under the care of the royal
hair-dresser. Among civilized men the desire for
adornment finds vent chiefly in external objects,
while every coarse solicitation of attention to the
person  is  shunned.   Tastily  decorated  houses,
flowers, paintings, music, gratify our sense of symmetry, and spread an atmosphere of culture and
refinement in the vicinity of our daily occupations.
But there are deeper and purer joys in reserve.
Man is eminently a social being; he has the need
of sympathy and depends upon the affections of his
fellows. The presence of cherished companions
and friends becomes a necessity to him; in absence
he yearns for it, and the lack of it is one of the
most serious afflictions of human life. "Woe unto
20 
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him who, far from parents and loved kinsmen, a
lonely life must lead. His present joys devouring
grief doth snatch. His thoughts are ever straying
in the distance back to his father's hall, where the
sun of life first rose upon him, and where children
of the common home, playfully, with gentle bonds,
close and closer drew their hearts together." * The
tranquil delight which we derive from the enlargement of intellect, and the exquisite inward satisfaction that results from high fidelity to duty, may
be mentioned as the last to crown the scale of
pleasures.
Now, it is evident that all these elements of
happiness, these diverse rays that nowhere melt into
the perfect light, are dependent upon the physical
organization of man, such as it is, even for their
partial attainment; of the lower pleasures, this is
at once evident. But a little reflection will show the
same to be the case with the higher. If we consider
the esthetic faculty, we find its gratification conditioned by a physical basis.   What were music
without the ear; what the symmetry of form, without the eye and touch? The intellect, in its turn,
fashions the rough timber of experience, which an
ever flowing stream of sensation carries into the
workshop of the brain. Can the mind feed upon
itself?   Can the laws of thought act otherwise
* Goethe, Iphigenie auf Tauris, Act I.
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CREED AND DEED.
than upon the material afforded by the senses? The
same is also true with respect to our moral qualities,
and the exercise of the virtues is inconceivable
beyond the pale of human society. All virtue presupposes a tendency to err; the failings and limitations of  our  mortal  condition.   Justice is the
adjustment of limitations common to all men in
such manner that their stress shall not bear more
heavily upon one than upon the other. Love is
the expansion of one limited nature in another and
their mutual enrichment by such union. Charity,
fortitude, continence, whatever we applaud in
human conduct, is but an indirect testimony to the
natural imperfections inherent in the human heart,
and is accounted admirable only in so far as it tends
to ensure the best interests of the race on earth.
When therefore this body is corrupted, when we
depart from out the fellowship of men, the gratification of the appetites, the enjoyment of beauty, the
exercise of reason, and the practice of virtue
become alike unthinkable.
We desire larger happiness than we can here
achieve; but because we desire a thing, are we
therefore at all warranted in believing that we shall
obtain it? Is the course of the world's affairs such
as to encourage so flattering an hypothesis? Is
not the fatality that so often attends our best
efforts in this life, an argument against, rather than
22 
IMMORTALITY.
in favor of increasing felicity in another? We
should assume a wiser attitude as against fate.
There are those who fret under disappointment,
and murmur and rebel as if they had been defrauded
of a right; as if they had entered into a compact
with destiny to their advantage, as if the myriad
worlds moved through space for their especial good.
This is an insane spirit. We need something of
the vim of stoicism to grapple with the difficulties
of life; we need to cultivate a larger patience; an
humble spirit prepared for every loss, and welcoming every hour of joy as an unlooked for gain.
There are a thousand pleasures too in little things
which we, with the petulance of children, daily
spurn, because we cannot have all we ask for. In
every stone there is instruction, in every varying
aspect of the sky there is beauty, wherever men
congregate and commune, lessons of wisdom are
revealed to the observer. The movement of
everlasting laws quivers in the meanest trifles, and
the eternities, thinly veiled, look out upon us with
their solemn gaze from every passing mask of time.
These let us study; art will help us; science will
open to us a wondrous chain of workings which the
mind cannot exhaust, and active exertions for the
common weal will give a generous glow to our lives,
andstill the unquiet yearnings which we may never
entirely set at rest. You have seen how the flowers
23 
CREED AND DEED.
grow, how that many seeds are scattered and but
few take root; how the germ slowly and with difficulty develops. The rain waters it. the warm sunbeam fosters it; storms sweeping over the earth,
may crush it while it is still a young and tender
shoot. At last, sometimes after years of preparation, it buds and opens and blooms and becomes a
delight and a glory, a fount of fragrance, a crown of
beauty. A few days pass and it droops; what the
long process of time has slowly created, a single
moment may suffice to destroy; and yet though its
time was brief, the flower fulfilled its nature only in
that passing bloom; all the previous stages of its
existence had a meaning only as they led up to this,
the final revelation of its purpose.
The bloom of human life is morality; whatever
else we may possess, health, and wealth, power,
grace, knowledge, have a value only as they lead up
to this; have a meaning only as they make this
possible. Nor should we complain that the blight
of death so quickly withers what the course of threescore years has scarce sufficed to produce. In the
hour of our destruction, we will lift up our hearts in
triumph-we have blossomed! We have blossomed!
But it will be said, that the flower when it is
wilted and withered here, may be transplanted to
fairer regions; that the soul may take on new
organs, when it has abandoned its earthly habitation,
24 
IMMORTALITY.
and in a series of transformations of which, it is true,
we can form no definite conception, may enter
afresh upon its struggles for worthiness in other
spheres. This is, indeed, the loftiest expression
which the hope of immortality has found. Unlike
the arguments previously considered, it is unalloyed
by any selfish motive, is founded upon a really
exalted sentiment, and it is Love and Virtue themselves that here take up the strain, and sing us their
animating song of ceaseless progress toward the
good. The argument in this shape, involves the
further question whether the existence of an indepcndent and indestructible soul is assured, and upon
this point the whole problem of immortality finally
hinges.
The question whether what we are accustomed
to call the soul is a distinct and indivisible entity, or
merely the result of material processes, has divided
mankind for more than two thousand years, and
some of the ablest thinkers have ranged themselves
on either side. As early as the fifth century B. C.
the philosopher Democritus propounded materialistic doctrines among the Greeks. According to
him, the soul is a combination of smooth, round,
polished and moving atoms, and to the motions of
these atoms the phenomena of life are to be ascribed.
2
25 
CREED AND DEED.
Among the Romans, Lucretius advanced similar
views.   He took particular pains to combat  the
"vulgar fear of death," protesting that the prospect
of dissolution would lose its terrors, did we not
foolishly imagine ourselves conscious of being dead,
forgetting that death implies the entire cessation of
consciousness. The followers of materialistic opinions among the ancients, were not a few. But during
the ascendancy of the Christian Church, these opinions retired into the background, until in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they were revived by
such men as Gassendi and La Mettrie, and others.
In modern times they have been widely spread.
The list of names on the opposite side is headed
by Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and embraces the
gbreat majority of writers and public teachers, down
to the present day.
It may appear strange that when the belief in
immortality had once become current, men should
have been tempted to forego its pleasing prospects,
and even, with a certain vehemence, to urge their
sceptical views upon  others.  Let us consider for
a moment, what it was that induced the materialists
to assume their position. The observed correspondence between mental and physical phenomena
doubtless led them in the first instance to adopt
their peculiar views.
We see in the tiny body of the new born babe,
26 
IMMORTALITY.
barely more than the faint stirrings of animal life;
months pass by before it is able to form any clear
conception of the persons and things in its vicinity,
the simpler mental processes appearing simultane ously with the growth of the bodily organs. The
intellect reaches its highest development in the
age of manhood and womanhood, when we stand
in the maturity of our physical powers.   In that
middle age of life lies, with rare exceptions, the
best work we are destined to accomplish. Having
entered upon the downward slope, our faculties
gradually lose their vigor, until we sink into the
final stage of drivelling old age, and become feeble
in mind, as we are helpless in body. In this
manner the close connection between our spiritual
and material parts, is brought home forcibly, even
to the unreflecting; as the one enlarges so does the
other: as the one diminishes so does the other:
together they increase, together they are weakened;
the inference is drawn, shall it not be, that together
they will perish?
The phenomena of sleep and of coma seem to
convey the same lesson. A haze steals over our
consciousness; sometimes settling into impenetrable night; as the body for a time wears the semblance of death, so also is the mind stupefied or
completely paralyzed. Hours pass by; in the interval, the business of the world has gone on as before,
27 
CREED AND DEED.
but to us there has been only a void and utter
blank. And thus it is said shall there be a void and
a blank in the tomb; time will pass by, and we shall
not know it; men will move and act and we shall
be none the wiser for it; it will be all like sleep,
only that there will be no dreams.
And again when some malignant fever seizes
upon the body and corrupts the currents of the
blood, how do the poor disordered thoughts dance
about wildly, driven by the lash of the distemper;
how does the use of stimulants besot the intellect,
so that every higher power is deadened; how in the
wild ravings of the diseased brain, do we behold the
hideous mockery of mind.
And does not the grave itself testify loudly that
the end is an end indeed; the body falls to pieces,
the dust commingles with the dust, and nothing
remains, nothing at least of which we can ever
have experience. Right or wrong, these facts impress the mind, and their leaden weight serves to
drag down our aspirations.
It is true, the considerations I have enumerated
are based upon a mere surface view of things, but
the more accurate methods of science seem, at first
sight, to confirm the general conclusions to which
they lead. On this point, it would be well to dwell
for a moment. John Stuart Mill acknowledges
that "the evidence is well-nigh complete that all
28 
IMMORITALITY.
thought and feeling has some action of the bodily
organism for its immediate coincident and accompaniment, and that the specific variations, and especially the different degrees of complication of the
nervous and cerebral organism, correspond to differences in the development of our mental faculties."
The peodigious difficulties in the way of the
study of the brain may long retard the progress of
the investigator, but for the purposes of our argument we are at liberty to assume whatever is within
the limits of possible achievement.  We may suppose that physiology will succeed so far that the
brain will be accurately and completely mapped
out, and that the motions of the atoms upon which
the thousand varying modes of thought and feeling
depend, will be known and measured. In anticipating such results, we have reached the utmost
tenable position of materialism.
But now to our surprise we discover that all this
being allowed, the ultimate question, what is soul,
remains still unsolved and as insoluble as ever.
The unvarying coincidence of certain modes of soul
with certain material processes may be within the
range of proof, but what cannot be proven is, that
these material processes explain the psychic phlenomena.
If it is urged that the same difficulty presents
itself in the explanation of the most ordinary occur
29 
CREED AND DEED.
rences, this objection is based upon a misapprehen.
sion of the point at issue.
The scientist cannot show why heat should be
convertible into motion, but how it is thus transformed is easy to demonstrate, and the exact mechanical equivalent of heat has been calculated. But
how certain motions of atoms in the brain should
generate, not heat, but consciousness, but thought
and love, is past all conception. There are here two
different orders of facts, having no common principle to which they could both be reduced. There is
an impassable gulf between them which can in nowise be bridged over.
Nor would it avail us to endow the atom itself
with the promise and potency of intellect; we should
thereby throw back the issue a step further, and disguise the problem whose existence it were better to
plainly acknowledge. The broad fact of consciousness therefore remains unexplained and inexplicable
as before. Arrived at this limit, science itself pauses
and refuses to pass further.
Some of the leading naturalists of our day have
lately expressed themselves clearly and tersely in
this sense. The eminent physiologist Dubois Reymond denies that the connection between certain motions of certain atoms in the brain, and what he calls,
the primal, undefinable and undeniable facts of consciousness, is at all conceivable. Professor Tyndall
3o 
IMMORTALITY.
in his address on "The scope and limits of Scientific
Materialism," explains his views with similar precision. Were our minds so expanded, strengthened
and illuminated as to enable us to see and feel the
very molecules of the brain; were we capable of following all their motions, all their groupings, all their
electric discharges, if such there be; and were we
intimately acquainted with the corresponding states
of thought and feeling, we should be as far as ever
from the solution of the problem. How are these
physical processes connected by and with the facts
of consciousness? I do not think the materialist
is entitled to say that his molecular groupings and
his molecular motions explain everything, in reality they explain nothing... The problem of
body and soul is as insoluble in its modern form as
it was in the pre-scientific ages."
Now since it is impossible to demonstrate that
the powers of mind are a product of matter, the possibility undoubtedly remains that these powers may
continue to exist even after their connection with
the physical organism has been dissolved. If all the
arguments that are commonly adduced in support
of the doctrine of a future life fall.short of their object, it is but just to add that every argument to the
contrary is equally devoid of foundation. The doctrine of immortality cannot be disproved. Of the
nature of soul we are in absolute ignorance; we
3  
CREED AND DEED.
know nothing; what is more, we can know nothing
At this point we touch the utmost boundary of human reason, and must be content to write mystery
of mysteries.
In the state of settled uncertainty to which we
are thus reduced, the shape of our opinions will be
determined by the bias of our natures or the influence of education. The sceptic will remind us of the
points in which we resemble all the perishable forms
of nature and hold it improbable that we alone should
escape the universal law of dissolution. Others will
cling to the hope of continued life, even on the brink
of the grave, and the strong instinct of self preservation will give tone and color to their religious beliefs.
Deep philosophical speculations are possible as to that
ultimate source of being, that hidden light of which
both matter and mind are diverse reflections. And
here too poetry assumes its legitimate office. On the
mists that cover the infinite abyss, we may project
whatever images, foul or fair, we list. Science you
may be sure will never disturb us. Dogmatic assertion however, on either side is totally unwarranted:
and the question of immortality (I think we must
sooner or later make up our minds to that) will
remain an open one. Certain, only, is the fact of our
uncertainty.
If the conclusions to which we have thus been
led, seem purely negative in their bearings, they are
32 
IMMORTALITY.
none the less capable of certain positive applications,
which deserve our serious attention. The longing
for immortality has been developed into a morbid
craving under the influence of the current religious
teachings, and has become a disturbing element in
human society. On more than one occasion it has
imperilled the peace of nations, and the doctrines of
salvation became the watchwords of contending armies. The doubtful chances of eternal felicity or
damnation became the one absorbing topic on
which men's minds dwelt, and the wild horrors of the
Christian Hell have cast a gloom over many an innocent life, and curtailed the scant measure of its
earthly happiness. It were something gained, if by
a cool and dispassionate judgment the influence of
these dismal fantasies could be lessened, and men
be freed from their slavish subjection to phantoms
born of their own distempered imaginations.
Furthermore, it follows from what we have said
that the belief in immortality should not be inculcated as a dogma in our schools of religion, and
above all that the dictates of the moral law should
in no wise be made to depend upon it for their sanction. The moral law is the common ground upon
which all religious and in fact all true men may meet.
It is the one basis of union that remains to us amid
the clashing antagonisms of the sects. While dogma is by its nature, open to attack, and its accep
33 
CREED AND DEED.
tance at all times a matter of choice, the principles of
morality have a right to demand implicit obedience,
and should rest as everlasting verities in the human
heart. Let us reflect well before we imperil the latter by the undue prominence which we give the
former. It is not needful to impart to a child the
whole truth, but what it learns should be wholly
true, and nothing should be taught it as a fundamental fact which it can ever in after years be led to
call in question. How often has it occurred that
when the riper reason of the man has rejected the
tenets of the church in which he was educated, he
has been tempted to cast aside all the religious
teachings of his youth, the moral with the rest, as
idle fable and deceit.
And lastly, friends, as we do not, cannot know,
it is presumably wise that we should not know.
The vanity of all our efforts to grasp the infinite,
should teach us that on this island of time whereon
we live, lies our work. In its joys we may freely
take delight; for its woes we should reserve our
sympathies, and in laboring to advance the progress
of the good we must find our satisfaction.
Before closing this subject however let us recall
vividly to our minds that the desire for continuance
after death is capable of the most noble expression,
and of supplying us with wholesome consolation and
inspiriting motives to action. The individual passes,
34 
IMMORTALITY.
but the race lives! There is a law in nature that no
force is ever lost. The thousand varying forms that
ebb and flow around us are various only to our feeble
vision. At the core they are one, transmuted, yet
the same, changing yet changeless, perishing to rise
anew. The law of the conservation of energy holds
good throughout the entire domain of matter. And
such a law too obtains in our spiritual life.  The
law of the conservation of moral energy is no less an
abiding truth; we are not dust merely, that returns
to dust; we are not summer flies that bask in the
sunshine of the passing day; we are not bounded in
our influence by the narrow tenure of our years. Say
not when the sod has closed above those who have
been dear to you that all is gone. Say not that the
grace and loveliness, and wisdom that once dwelt
within the pallid form is breathed away like a hollow
wind. Nor yet stand idly gazing upon the cloudland of the future, watching if you can trace perchance their shadowy lineaments fading into the
dimness of untried worlds. The dead are not dead if
we have loved them truly. In our own lives we give
them immortality. Let us arise and take up the
work they have left unfinished, and preserve the
treasures they have won, and round out the circuit
of their being to the fullness of an ampler orbit in
our own.
All the good that was in them lives in you, the
35 
CREED AND DEED.
germ and nucleus of the better that shall be. All the
evil that inhered in them shall be cleansed away in
you and your virtues shall be the atonement for their
sins. Thus shall the fathers live in the children, and
from generation to generation the bond that connects the past with the future remains unbroken.
They that have left you are not afar; their presence
is near and real, a silent and august companionship.
In the still hours of meditation; under the starlit
night, in the stress of action, in trials and temptations, you will hear their voices whispering words
of cheer or warning, and your deeds are their deeds
and your lives are their lives.
So does the light of other days still shine in the
bright hued flowers that clothe our fields; so do they
who are long since gathered into the silent city of
the dead still move about our houses, distributing
kindness and nobleness among our lives. So does
the toll ofthe funeral bell become an alarum to rouse
us to more active effort and to the nobler service of
mankind.
36 
II.
RELIGION.
THE question, Have we still a religion, propounded by David Friedrich Strauss some few years
ago, will long engage the attention of radical
thinkers. It is clear that to answer it satisfactorily
we must determine, in the first instance, what
meaning ought rightly to be attached to the term
religion. In common parlance, it is often used
with reference to mere externals, a religious person
being one who conforms to the rites and usages of
some particular church. On the other hand, every
innovation in the sphere of doctrine is branded as
irreligious. Thus Luther was deemed irreligious
by the Catholics; St. Boniface by the heathen
Germans, Jesus by the Jews, Elijah by the servants
of Baal. There is not any single form, nor -even a 
single fundamental principle common to all religions. Religion is not identical with theology. It
is indeed often maintained that the belief in a personal God should be regarded as the foundation and
criterion of religion; but upon this assumption, two
facts remain inexplicable, the existence of religion 
CREED AND DEED.
before ever the idea of a deity had arisen among
men, and the existence of what may be termed an
atheistical religion, in conscious antagonism to the
doctrine of a personal God. Among the lower races
we find men worshipping, sacrificing and uttering
their invocations to mountains, fountains, rivers,
rocks and stones: they know not a deity-sometimes they have not even idols, and yet they certainly have, after a fashion of their own, a religion.
Again, Buddhism, while possessing a subtle system
of philosophy and an admirable code of ethics, starts
with the proposition that there never was a creation,
and in consequence, never a creator, and yet more
than four hundred millions of the earth's inhabitants
call it their religion!
The question returns to us, What is religion?
It is not creed; it is not sacrifice; it is not prayer;
it is not covered by the dogmas of any special form
of belief; it has acted as a controlling force in all
ages, in every zone, among all manner of men.
Are we devoid of it?  Of it?  Of what?
The feeling which the presence of the Infinite
in the thoughts of man awakens within him, is
called, the feeling of the sublime. The feeling of
Ithe sublimne is th~e root of the,religious sentiment.
It assumes various phases, and to these correspond
the various religions. Let us endeavor to enumerate some of the most prominent.
38 
RELIGION.
The feeling of the sublime is awakened by the
mysterious. The indefinite gives us our earliest
presentiment of the infinite; the religion of mystery is fetishism. The feeling of the sublime is
awakened by exhibitions of superhuman  power.
The religion of power is paganism. The feeling of
the sublime is evoked by vastness; the religions
of vastness are Brahminism and Buddhism. The
loftiest type of sublimity is to be found in the
morally infinite.  Judaism, Christianity and  Islam
have sought to give it expression.*
Let us discuss in the first place the origin of
Fetishism. There are certain natural phenomena
that fill us with alarm, without our being able to
attribute the effect to any definite  cause.  The
darkness of night, the rustling of leaves, the moaning of the wirnd through the forest, the wailing cry
of certain birds, and the peculiar effects of a gathering fog, are of this kind. I have had occasion to
observe a little child suddenly starting from its play
with every sign of fear depicted upon its countenance; the spasm passed away as quickly as it had
come, but was repeated at various intervals, until at
last the child ran up to me in uncontrollable alarm,
* We do not pretend that the above schedule is at all exhaustive.
Various elements of the sublime, not mentioned in the text, have
entered into the composition of each of the great religions. We
have merely attempted to seize the more salient feature of a few
leading types.
39
.    * *           I..
.   A..      C,'  
CREED AND DEED.
and threw up its arms for protection: it was a raw
wintry day, a gusty wind blew fitfully against the
windows; and the dreary sound of the rattling
panes could be distinctly heard in the stillness of
the room; on closer observafion I noticed that the
signs of alarm in the child recurred with great
regularity, as often as this sound was repeated.
In a similar way we may imagine our earliest ancestors to have been affected by whatever was vague
and mysterious in nature. The sense of uncertainty
occasioned in this manner, gave rise in the primitive
man to the first conceptions of mysterious powers
beyond him.
The invention, or rather the discovery, of fire
tended still further in the same direction. To us it
is barely possible to imagine life without this most
useful of the elements. The wild beast flees fire and
fears it, man uses it, and it becomes the chief instrument of civilization. But if we strive to picture to
ourselves the state of the savage's mind on his first
acquaintance with fire and its properties we shall
find him utterly at a loss to account for. How will
he regard this nimble, playful being, so bright and
yet so fearful in its ravages.  Of the laws of chemnical
action he has of course no conception, but he has
sometimes seen the lightning strike into the wood
of the tree, and now from the same wood he evokes
the semblance of the lightning.   He is twirling
4o 
RELIGION.
two dry sticks between his hands; of a sudden, a
lambent flame shoots forth, seizes the wood, makes
away with it, and leaves nothing but blackened
cinders behind. Whence did it come, whither has
it vanished? Here was a new mystery; a spiritual
presence, latent in trees and stones; kindly and
beneficent at times, then again hostile and fiercely
destructive.
The mystery of the preparation of fire is celebrated in the ancient hymns of the Vedah. We
there find its birth from the friction of the double
sticks described, and its properties rehearsed in reverent language. It is invoked like any superior
spirit to bless its votaries, and to protect them from
harm. The important role ascribed to fire in the
sacred usages of the ancients, is well-known, and
the origin of fire worship apparent.
The theory of dreams, to which we have referred
on a previous occasion, contributed in like manner,
to extend the boundaries of the world of mystery.
Convinced that he bore within himself an airy counterfeit of self, the savage attributed the same species
of possession to things animate and inanimate alike.
Why should not beasts and rivers and stones have
their ghosts like man? Moreover, as to the ghosts
of the human dead, no one could tell where they
might take up their abode. They might be anywhere and everywhere. Their countless legions sur
41 
CREED AND DEED.
rounded the living in all places. They were heard
shouting in the echo among the hills; they were
seen to ride past on the midnight gale.  Often they
assumed the shape of birds and reptiles and beasts
of prey.  Those creatures were singled out with a
preference, whose movements and habits suggested
the idea of mystery. Thus the owl was supposed to
harbor an evil spirit, and the serpent was worshipped
because of its stealthy, gliding motion, its venomous
bite, and the fascination in its eye. Serpent worship existed the world over. Traces of it are preserved in the literature of the Greeks and Romans,
and it was practised even among the Hebrews, as
the Books of Kings attest. Among certain African
tribes it is still customary to keep huge serpents in
temples, and priests are dedicated to their service.
Powerful animals also, such as the bear, the lion and
the tiger, were sometimes supposed to contain the
ghosts of departed chieftains, and were revered accordingly.
If we remember the unfriendly relations supposed to subsist between the living and the dead,
we may conceive the state of alarm in which our
primitive ancestors must have passed their lives
on beholding themselves thus beset on every side,
with ghosts or demons in disguise. A thousand
fabulous terrors haunted their imagination. Wherever they turned they suspected lurking foes;
42 
RELIGION.
spirits were in the earth, in the air, in birds, in animals, in reptiles, in trees. They could not move a
step without infringing on the boundaries of the
spirit realm. Every object the least extraordinary in
size, or shape, or color, appeared to them the token
of some demon's presence, and was worshipped in
consequence, not on its own account, but because of
the mystery which it suggested.
In this manner Fetishism arose. The fetish
worshipper leaves his hut in the morning, sees some
bright pebble glistening on his path, lifts it from
the ground and says, this shall be my fetish. If he
succeeds in the business of the day, he places the
little object in a shrine, gilds it, brings it food, addresses his prayers to it; if it fails, it is cast aside.
Again, if after a little time the fetish ceases to fullfil his wishes, he breaks it and drags it in the mire
by way of punishment.
Such are a few of the gross and grotesque conceptions to which the religion of mystery has given
birth. It is true, to the educated mind of the present day they will appear the very reverse of sublime. But greatness is relative, and our own loftier
conceptions of the sublime are but the slow result
of a long process of growth and development.
THE RELIGION OF POWER.-It has often been
said that fear is the beginning of religion; a state
43 
CREED AND DEED.
ment of this kind however, cannot be accepted,
without serious qualification. There is a sense of
kinship with the great, in whatever form it may appear, of which even the meanest are susceptible. A
nation worships the hero who ruins it; and slaves
will take a certain pride in the superiority of their
masters. It is not fear so much as admiration of
might which makes men servants of the mighty.
The first tyrants on earth were, in all likelihood,
strong, agile, and brave men, possessing in an extraordinary degree, the qualities which all others coveted. They won applause, they were looked up to
as natural leaders, and the arm of force maintained
what the esteem of their fellows had accorded in
the first instance. There is a touch of the sublime
even in the rudest adoration of force.
In the second stage of religious development,
which we are now approaching, the theory of possession discussed in the above, was extended to the
heavenly bodies, and the sun, moon and stars were
endowed with the attributes of personal beings.
Hence the origin of the great gods. As the sun is
the most conspicuous body in the heavens, the sun
god figures as the central deity in every pantheon.
The various phases through which the luminary
passes are represented in distinct personalities.
We find gods of the rising sun and of the setting
sun; gods of the sun of spring, summer and winter,
44 
RELIGION.
gods also of the cloud-enshrouded sun, that battles
with the storm giants.
Since the hosts of heaven were supposed to be
beings allied in nature to ourselves, the action and
interaction of the meteoric phenomena was ascribed
to personal motives, and the ingenuity of the
primitive philosophers was exhausted in finding
plausible pretexts to explain their attractions and
repulsions, their seeming friendships and hostilities.
Thus arose the quaint and fanciful myths with
which the traditions of antiquity abound. Those
problems which the modern mind seeks to settle
with the help of scientific investigation, the limited
experience of an earlier age was barely competent to
attack, and it covered with some pretty fiction, the
difficulties which it could not solve. The genealogy and biography of the sun-god formed the
main theme of all mythologies.
The daily progress of the sun through the
heavens, is described as follows: Each morning the
golden crowned god leaves his golden palace in the
East, deep down below the ocean's waves; he
mounts his golden chariot, drawn by fiery steeds.
A rosy fingered maiden opens the purple gate of
day, upward rush the steeds through blinding
mist along the steep ascent of heaven, down they
plunge at evening into the cooling waters of the
45 
CREED AND DEED.
sea; the naiads await the deity and bear him backward to his orient home.
Again the fair youth Adonis is said to come out
of the forest, where nymphs had nurtured him.
Venus and he hunt in joyous company through
wood and dale. One day Adonis is slain; the blood
that trickled from his wounds has turned the roses
red, and the tender anemones have sprung from the
tears that love wept when she beheld his fall. The
young god who comes out of the forest is Spring;
for a time he disports joyously on earth, with love
for his companion, but his term of life is quickly
ended. Spring dies, but ever returns anew. Among
the Syrian women it was customary for a long
period to observe the festival of the Adoneiah; with
every sign of grief they first bemoaned the god's
untimely death; they beat their breasts, cut off the
rich luxuriance of their hair; showed upon his effigy
the marks of the wounds he had received; bound
him with linen bands, anointed him with costly oil
and spices, and then buried him. On the seventh
day the cry was heard, Adonis lives, Adonis is
resurrected from the grave. The story of a young
god typical of the Spring who suffers a premature
death, and after a time resurrects from the grave is
well known in the mythologies of other nations.
The progress of the sun through the seasons is thus personified.   The rays of the sun
46 
RELIGION.
are described as the locks of the sun-god's hair.
When the sun's heat waxes, these locks increase in
abundance, when it wanes they diminish, until in
mid-winter the head of the sun-god is entirely
bald. At this season the god is supposed to be
exceedingly weak, and his eye, bright in the
summer, is now become blind. He is far from his
home, and subject to the power of his enemies, the
wintry storms. These traits recur in the familiar|
Hebrew  myth  of Samson.   The  word  Samson
means sun; he is bound with ropes, as is also the 
sun-god among the Polynesians. The secret of his
strength is in his hair.  Shorn of this the giant
becomes feeble as a child, and is blinded by his
foes.
But it is the sun in its conflict with the demons
of the storm, the sun as a warrior and a hero, that
chiefly attracts the religious reverence of the heroic
age. In nature there is no more striking exhibition
of power than is revealed in the phenomena of the
thunder-storm.   Even to  us it has not lost its
sublimity, and a sense of awe overcomes us whenever the mighty spectacle is enacted in the heavens.
Primitive man had a far deeper interest in the issue
of the tempest than we are now capable of appreciating. To him the clouds appeared to be ferocious monsters, and when they crowded about the
central luminary, he feared that they might quench
47 
CREED AND DEED.
its light in everlasting darkness. The very existence of the universe seemed to be threatened.
The sun-god, the true friend of man, however
arises to wage war against the demons: a terrific
uproar follows and the contending forces meet.
Do you hear Thor's far-sounding hammer, Jove's
bolt falling in the thunder clap: do you see Indra's
lightning-spear flashing across the sky, and piercing
the sides of the storm dragon? The light triumphs;
the tempest rolls away, but presently returns to be
again defeated. In this way arose the transparent
stories of Jupiter's conflict with Typhon, his precipitate flight, and his final victory; the story of
Indra's warfare against the writhing serpent, Vritra,
and numerous others that might be mentioned.
It is the sun-god who flashes the lightning and
hurls the thunder. To him men owe the maintenance of the order of existence. He is the mightiest
of the gods. Fighting their battles on high, he is
invoked by the warriors to aid them in their earthly
conflicts; he takes precedence of all the other deities; he the strongest god is raised to the throne
of the celestial state.
Now if we study the history of these deities,
their intercourse among themselves and with men,
we find them to be no more than colossal images
of ourselves cast on the mists of the unknown. It
is our face and form that Jupiter wears; the echo
48 
RELIGION.
of our wishes comes back to us in his oracles.  "If
horses and cows could draw their gods," an ancient
philosopher has pointedly said, "as horses and cows
would  they draw  them."   The  gods share our
passions, the good and the evil, distinguished only
in this, that what we feebly attempt, they can
execute on a scale of gigantic magnitude. They
love and bless and shower a thousand gifts upon
their worshippers; but they can hate also; are vain,
vindictive, cruel.
The gods demand tribute. Like the kings of
earth, they received the best share of the spoils of
war and of the chase; and gold and silver also was
deposited in their sanctuaries. Perfumed incense
and dainty cakes were placed upon their altars.
The gods are hungry, they must be fed. The gods
are thirsty, and certain strong narcotic beverages
were brewed especially for their benefit.  For this
among the Hindoos the juice of the soma plant
was mixed with pure milk.
The gods demand blood. The wide prevalence
of human sacrifice is the saddest fact that stains the
annals of religious history. Among the Fijians
the new boat of the chieftain was not permitted to
venture upon the waves until it had been washed
with human blood, in order to secure it against
shipwreck. Among the Khonds of India, we learn
that the body of a human victim was literally torn
3
49 
y                   -                    ~
CREED AND DEED.
in pieces and his blood mixed with the new turned
clod, in order to insure a plentiful harvest. It is
estimated that at least twenty-five hundred human
beings were annually sacrificed in the temples of
Mexico. Human sacrifice was known among the
Greeks, and its practice among the Hebrews is
recorded in the Hebrew Bible.
When the manners of men ameliorated, and
gentler customs began to supplant the barbarous
usages of an earlier day, the tyranny of the gods
was still feared, but various modes of substitution
were adopted to appease their jealousy of human
happiness. In India we are told, that the god of
light being displeased with the constant effusion of
blood, commanded a buffalo to appear from out the
jungle, and a voice was heard saying, sacrifice the
buffalo and liberate the man.
Another mode of substitution was to give a part
for the whole. Some one member of the body was
mutilated or curtailed in order to indicate that the
person's life was in reality forfeit to the god.
Among certain of the aboriginal tribes of America,
the youth, on reaching the years of maturity, was
forced to place his hand upon a buffalo's skull, and
one or more joints of the finger were then cut off
and dedicated to the great spirit. There were other
modes of mutilation of which I dare not speak, but
I will briefly add that the so-called rite of the
50 
RELIGION.
covenant, which is practised among the Jews even
at the present day, rose in exactly the same manner.
Of course the original signification of the custom
has been forgotten and a purely symbolical mean ing has  been  attached to it.  Nevertheless, its
continuance is a disgrace to religion. The grounds
of sanity on which it is urged, are not in themselves
tenable, and if they were, religion would have no
concern with them. It is but a fresh instance of
the stubborn vitality which seems to inhere in the
hoary superstitions of the past.
Occasionally, when a whole people was threatened with destruction, some prominent and beloved
individual was selected for sacrifice, in order that
by his death he might save the rest. The same
feature was also introduced into the legends of the
gods. Philo tells us that the great God E1 whom
the Hebrews and Phcenicians worshiped, once descended to earth, and became a king. This E1 was
the supreme deity. He had an only son whom he
loved. One day when great dangers threatened his
people, the god determined to sacrifice his only begotten (uovoxev7~) son and to redeem his people: and
year by year thereafter a solemn festival was celebrated in Phcenicia in honor of that great sacrifice.
The religion of force has left its dark traces in
the history of mankind.  Even the higher religions
accepted, while they spiritualized, its degrading
5 I 
CREED AND DEED.
conceptions into their systems. Slowly only and
with the general spread of intelligence and morality, can we hope that its last vestiges will be
purged from the minds of men.
Vastness is an element of the sublime. In the
religious conceptions of the Hindoos we find it
illustrated. It entered alike into the system of the
Brahmin and of the Buddhist, and determined their
tone  and quality.  A  certain fondness  for the
gigantic, is peculiar to Hindoo character. Witness
the almost boundless periods of their ancient
chronology; the colossal forms with which the remains of their monuments and architecture abound.
A great Aryan nation having advanced from the
waters of the Indus to the shores of the sacred
Ganges and having subdued the natives by the force
of superior numbers or bravery, had learned to forget
the active pursuits of war, and yielded to the lassitude engendered by the climate of their new settlements. Around them they beheld a rich and luxuriant vegetation; birds of rare and many colored
plumage, stately trees rising from interminable
jungles. Ravishing perfumes lulled their senses as
they reposed in the shade of these fairy-like forests.
It was a land suited to dreamy contemplation. Her
the philosophic priests might dwell upon the vastness of the Universal, and the imagination bewil
52 
RELIGION.
dered by the ever shifting phenomena of the scene
might well seek some principle of unity which
could connect and explain the whole. Brahma
was the name they gave to the pervading Spirit
of All things. From Brahma the entire order
of existence has emanated; the elements of
material things, plants, birds, beasts and men. The
lower castes came forth first and are nearest the
brutes; the castes of free-born workmen, and of
warriors next, the priests and saints last, in whom
the world's soul found its loftiest expression.
To  Brahma all things must return.   Passing
through an endless series of transformations, and
paying in the long and painful interval the penalty of every crime it has committed, the migrating spirit of man is led back at last to its primal
source, and is resolved in the Brahma whence it
arose. The connection between individual and
universal life was thus kept constantly in view.
The soul in the course of its wanderings might
pass through every conceivable mode of existence;
might assume the shape of creeping plants and
worms, and wild animals; might rise to the possession of miraculous powers in the heavens of the
Rishis, while its final destiny was to be reunited
with the One and All.
The Buddhist Nirvana resembles the Brahma
in being accounted the ultimate principle of the
53 
CREED AND DEED.
world. When in the sixth century B. C. the royal
Hermit of the;akyas revolted against the cruel
despotism of the priesthood, the legend relates that
the sight of suffering in the forms of sickness, old
age and death, roused him from a life of indolent
pleasure, and impelled him to seek a remedy for the
ills of human life. His counsels were sweet and
kindly; he taught self-control and wise moderation
in the indulgence of the passions, and brotherly
help and sympathy to lessen the evils which foresight cannot avert. He lifted thedegraded masses
of the Indian land from out their dull despair; he
warred against the distinctions of caste, he took
women and slaves for his companions, he was a
prophet of the people, whom the people loved.
But even to him the ills of this mortal condition
seemed little when compared with the endless
possibilities of future ill that awaited the soul in
the course of its ceaseless transmigrations.  — Ie
yearned to shorten its weary path to the goal;
and the mystic methods by which he sought to
enter Nirvana were a means adapted to this end.
Nirvana is the beginning and the end of things.
Nirvana in which there is neither action nor feeling; in which intelligence and consciousness are
submerged, appeared to this pessimist preacher
the last, the only reality. Life is a delusion, real
only in its pains: the entire cossation of conscious
54 
RELIGION.
existence, is the solution he offers to human
suffering.
Nirvana is the universal-its conception is vast
and dim; it hovers in the distance before the pilgrim of the earth; there will he find rest.
Unlike the Western nations, the Hindoos regarded the idea of immortality with dread and terror, rather than pleased anticipation. The highest
promises of their religion, were intended to assure
them that they would cease to continue as individual beings or cease to continue altogether. Peace
in the tomb when this present toil is over seemed to
them the most desirable of goods, and a dreamless
sleep from which no angel trump should ever wake
the sleeper.
"Two things," says Kant, "fill the soul with ever
new and increasing admiration and reverence; the
star-lit heavens above me, and the moral law within
me." *
The Hebrews were the first to lend to the moral
ideas a controlling influence in the sphere of religion.
Let me attempt to briefly sketch the origin of Monotheism amongst them, as numerous considerations
elsewhere recited in detail, have led me to conceive
of it. The religions of the Semitic nations who surrounded ancient Israel were intensely emotional in
* Kant's Works (Rosenkranz edition) vol. viii. p. 312.
55 
CREED AND DEED.
character, and their gods were gods of pleasure and
pain. In the temples unbounded license alternated
with self sacrificing asceticism. The lewd rites of
the goddess of love must be regarded as typical of
the one; the slaughter of sons in honor of Moloch,
of the other. Now the Hebrews have been distinguished for the purity of their home life from a very
early period of their history. The high value which
they set on male offspring, the jealous vigilance with
which they guarded the virtue of their women are
alike illustrated in the narratives of the Bible. The
more gifted and noble minded among them, beholding their domestic feelings outraged by the prevailing religions, rebelled against the gross conceptions
of idolatry. How could they offer up their beloved
sons for sacrifice, how could they give over their
wives and daughters to shame? The controlling
force of their character determined the doctrines of
their creed. Judaism became, so to speak, a family
religion. Jehovah is conceived of as the husband of
the people. Israel shall be his true and loyal spouse,
the children of Israel are His children. The image
of Jehovah is that of the ideal patriarch. Like the
patriarch, he is the head of the spiritual family of
man. Like the patriarch in ancient times, he is the
lawgiver and the judge; He is the guardian of
domestic purity. The word for false religion in
Hebrew signifies fornication.    "Contend  against
56 
RELIGION.
your mother," says Jehovah, "for I am not her
spouse, nor she my wife." "My people lust after
false gods, for the spirit of impurity has seduced
them." And the day of the triumph of the true religion is thus predicted: "On  that day thou shalt
not call me any more my Baal, (paramour) but thou
shalt call me my husband, and I shall wed thee in
justice, etc." Thus the idea of Jehovah sprang
from the soil of the family, and the conception of a
divine father in heaven was derived from the analogy
of the noblest of moral institutions on earth. The
spiritual God of the Hebrews.was the personification
of the moral Ideal.
Like his relations to the chosen people and to
mankind in general, the relations of the Deity to
the external world were described in accordance
with the demands of the Ethical Law. Two things
morality insists upon; first, that the natural in its
coarser acceptation shall be subordinate to the
moral. Secondly, that in the scale of values itself
shall occupy the highest rank, and that the purpose of human life on earth can only be a moral
purpose. As the mechanism of nature is not of
itself calculated to harmonize with the purposes
of spirit, it behooves that the spiritual God shall
possess a power over matter adequate to enforce
the claims of the moral ideal, such power as only
the creator can exert over his creatures. Hence the
3*
57 
CREED AND DEED.
doctrine of the creation. And again the state of
perfection to which the human heart aspires can only
be attained through the instrumentality of supreme
wisdom, power and love, in a millennial age when
the scheme of the universe will be perfected in
the reign of absolute justice and peace. Hence the
doctrine of the Messiah. Both doctrines are the
typical expression of a moral need.
In the opening of Genesis we read a description
of the making of the world. All was wild vast
chaos, and darkness brooded over the abyss, when
the Spirit of Jehovah breathed on the waters; a
single word of command and light penetrated the
gloom, the waters divided, the great luminaries
started forth on their course; the earth clothed herself in verdure, and the forms of living beings sprang
into existence. The words "God saw everything
he had made and behold it was very good," contain
the gist of the narrative. In Zephaniah and Isaiah
we read:" On that day I will turn to the people
a pure language that they may all call upon the
name of the Lord to serve him with one consent."
"No one shall then do evil, no one hurt in all my
holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the
knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea."
These visions are not true in the sense of historical occurrences past or future. That the world was
ever created out of nothing, what human under
58 
RELIGION.
standing can conceive of it? That a time will come
when society shall be so transformed that the pure
language of love alone shall be spoken, who that is
instructed in the failings of our finite nature can
credit it? They are true in the sense of ideals;
true, with the truth of poetry, bodying forth in concrete shape the universal yearnings of mankind.
There is also another element of belief associated
with the doctrine of the Messiah, which still more
plainly illustrates the typical value of religious tenets.  In the coming week the churches throughout
Christendom will rehearse the story of the passion
and the death of their founder. Mournful chants and
lamentations will recall every circumstance of the
dark drama that closed on Calvary. That tale of
harrowing agony still moves the hearts of millions
as though it were a tale of yesterday. It is the symbol of the suffering and the crucifixion of the whole
human race.  "Ah, but our griefs he has borne, our
sorrows he has carried, he was wounded for our
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities."
Hundreds of years before the birth of Christ, the
author of these lines transcribed in them the sad experience of the reformers of his day. He does not
refer to any one Messiah; he speaks of that legacy
of sacrifice which is the heritage of the great and
good, the world over. For who can help us when
we are plunged in deepest anguish, when it seems as
59 
CREED AND DEED.
though we must sink under the load of trouble, but
one who has endured like trials, endured and triumphed over them? It is the martyrdom of the
pure that has redeemed mankind from guilt and sin?
There is this constant atonement of the strong for
the weak, of the good for the evil. As old Paul
Gerhard has it in his seventeenth century hymn:
"When utmost dread shall seize me,
That human heart can know,
Do thou from pain release me,
By thy great pain and woe."
The teachings of religion then have their source
in the aspirations of the human heart; are the echoes
of our wishes and our hopes. Not valueless on that
account, but valuable only in so far as they express
in noble types, noble aspirations of our souls. It were
sad indeed if morality depended upon the certainty
of dogma. On the contrary it is true that all that is
best and grandest in dogma, is due to the inspiration of the moral law in man. The time will come
when the tenets of faith will no longer be narrowly
understood as now; and while their influence will
still be great, they will cease to be harmful and confining. They will be used as rare imagery, to deck
the sublime meanings which they symbolize; not
as vessels that contain the absolute truth, but as
choice and beautiful vases, fit to hold the ever fresh
and ever blooming flowers of the ideal.
60 
RELIGION.
The dogmfatic assertion of religious teachings we
hold to be a serious evil, and dogma as such we cannot accept. Its influence in the past has been pernicious, and is so at the present day no less. It has
inflamed the hatred of man against his brother man,
it has led to the fatal error of duties toward a personal Creator, distinct from our duties toward our
fellows: it has perverted the moral sense, by giving
to the concern of future salvation, a degree of prominence before which the interests of the present
life sink into comparative insignificance; it does
not afford us a common basis whereon we could
unite, for it is by nature uncertain and calculated to
provoke dissensions. On the other hand we behold
in conscience the root of whatever good religion
has achieved, and the law of conscience must suffice
to guide and elevate our lives. To refresh the moral
sentiment is the one thing needful in our time, and
indeed presents a task on whose accomplishment the
highest interests of society depend. Time will show
that a simple appeal to duty will surely suffice to
lead men to more earnest exertions toward the
good. Time will show that those who know no
other mode of salvation than the salvation which is
attained by works of love, will be at least as active
in the pursuit of virtue as those who put their trust
in faith.
The gold of morality has been variously coined
6i 
CREED AND DEED.
in the world's religious systems. Various have been
the symbols that were stamped thereon, and various the images of the King in whose name it was
issued, but their value so far as they had value was
in the moral gold that they contained, and in
naught else. Let Liberalism stamp its coin with
the Eagle of Liberty only, in its ethical teachings it
will still retain the substance of all religion.
Dogma we will keep in abeyance,-this is our
point of departure, and the deed superior to the
creed. Be it ours to hold high the moral ideal,
whether we clothe it with personality or not. Be it
ours to act divine things, no matter how we regard
divine mysteries. Be it ours to help in lifting up
the fallen, to lend free utterance to the complaints
of the oppressed, to brand the social iniquities of
our time, to give our hearts warmth and the labor
of our hands to the cause of their redress, and
to push on with whatever power we may, the
progress of our race toward those high and holy
goals of which the dreamers dream, the prophets
prophesy.
62 
III.
THE NEW IDEAL.
THE old religions and science are at war. With
pitiless consistency science directs its attack upon
their vulnerable positions. The conception of inexorable law subverts the testimony of miracles; the
fond belief in truths divinely revealed fails to withstand the searching analysis of historical criticism;
the battle of science is yet far from being won, but
from our standpoint the issue cannot appear doubtful. It behooves us therefore to inquire into the
moral bearings of the general result thus far
achieved and to review what we have lost and won.
Shall we succeed thereby in allaying the sense of
alarm that is wont to agitate the timid heart when
it beholds so much that it confidently believed a
part of the everlasting verities of life, sink back into
the gulf of uncertainty and doubt?
We are standing at the portals of a new age, and
new conceptions have arisen of the purpose which
we are here to accomplish and of the means of help
we can command in the attempt to realize our destiny.  These new  conceptions we call The  New 
CREED AND DEED.
Ideal. It is the purpose of our present discourse to
compare some salient features of the old and new.
The old and new Ideals agree in looking to an
Infinite beyond the borders of experience, for it is in
the nature of the ideal to lift us above the merely
real. They differ in the direction in which they seek
their object, and the bias which they consequently
give to men's thoughts and actions. Theology, perceiving the inability of reason to solve the problems
of the beginning and the end, yet unable to restrain
a desire to know what is really unknowable, has
impressed the imagination into its service, and
drawn a picture of the transcendental world, conforming indeed to the analogies of man's terrestrial
existence, but on this account all the more adapted
to answer the wishes of the masses of mankind.
Enough for them that they feel the need of believing the picture true. We of the New School are,
if possible, even more profoundly convinced of the
limitations of human reason. We cheerfully accord
to the religious conceptions of the past a poetic
value; they are poetry, often of the sublimest kind;
but we cannot deceive ourselves as to the noble
weakness of the heart to which they owe their
origin; we cannot forget that in their case alas the
wish has been father to the thought. To us the mystery is still mystery-the veiled arcana are not revealed, the riddle is unread. But we are not there
64 
THE NEW IDEAL.
fore filled with terror or dismay.   In the moral
nature of man we discover a divine element. In
the voice of conscience we hear the voice of the
present divinity within us, and we learn to regard
this mortal state of ours as a channel through
which the currents of Eternity ebb and flow
ceaselessly. The divine nature is not far off, nor
beyond the sea; in our own hearts on our own
lips!
--    But let us seek to scrutinize the distinctive features of the old and new more closely. The old
ideal was supernatural in character, it taught man
to regard his life on earth as a brief, temporary
transit, himself an exile from the Kingdom on high.
The concerns of the present world were in consequence deemed of secondary importance, and the
eye dwelt with anxious preference on the dim
chances of the hereafter. Where the hope of immortality has been prominently put forward by
any religion, the effect has thus but too often
proved disastrous to the progress and security of
society. It is well-known by what painful penances
the monks of the Middle Ages sought release from
the trammels of the flesh, how they affected to despise the ties of domestic affection, how they retarded the advancement of knowledge, how the
passions which they sought in vain to suppress,
often recoiled upon them with fearful retribution,
65 
CREED AND DEED.
and gave rise to disorders which seriously undermined public virtue.
But not only has supernaturalism tended indirectly to weaken the springs of virtue, it has called
into being an order of men whose very existence is a
standing menace to the freedom of intellect and the
rights of conscience.   The  distance between  the
Creator and his creatures is so great, that the intervention of some third party is deemed necessary to
mediate between the finite and the Infinite. The
priest steps in to perform this office, and his influence is great in proportion to the value of the services
which he is supposed to render. Furthermore it is
believed that the personal deity requires the performance of certain actions in his honor, and what these
actions are is again left to the priest to determine.
In this manner the ceremonial part of religion grows
up, and acquires a degree of importance fatal to the
moral life. The duties toward God transcend the duties toward man, and but too often usurp their place.
The Bible likens the relations of man to God to
those of a child to its father. It is true supernaturalism has often proved a valuable stay to those
already morally strong, and it were absurd to deny
that under its fostering care many of the noblest
qualities that distinguish the filial relation have been
developed in the lives of religious men. It is from
no lack of appreciation on our part that we have
66 
THE NEW IDEAL.
dwelt on the evils rather than the blessings it has
brought. But in acknowledging that we have really
lost the sense of protection, the childlike trust which
lend such rare beauty to the character of many
ancient models of piety, we deemed it important
to point to the shades that darken the picture of the
supernatural religions, its lights are made the theme
of a thousand discourses week after week, and are
hardly in any danger of being speedily forgotten.
From the back-ground of the old Ideal stands
out in bold relief the new. It is the reverse of
supernatural; if it takes pride in anything, it is in
marking a return to nature. Trammels of the flesh,
contamination of the body? There is nothing it
tells us in itself contaminating. The body is not
alien to the mind, it is the seed plot from which
mind flowers out in every part. Regard the form
of man, observe the quick play of the features, the
expressive smile, the speaking glance, every attitude,
every gesture full of meaning, the whole body irradiated as it were, with the indwelling intelligence.
And so the passions too which we are wont to associate with our corporeal nature are but the rough
material from which the artist soul behind them
fashions its immortal types of beauty and of holiness.  There is a graceless inuendo in the term
nature, as of something hard, gross, material. In
truth, nature is the subtlest, most ethereal presence
67 
CREED AND DEED.
of which we catch a gleam only at rare intervals, the
reflex of a hidden light that glimmers through the
facts and motions of the world. Take the nature
of water for instance. Is it in the hydrogen, in the
oxygen, in the single atom?  Not there, yet there!
somewhere  hovering,  imponlderous,  elusive.   It
comes nighest to the senses when the atoms act and
react upon each other, in the flow of mighty rivers,
in the leap of cataracts, in the turmoil of the sea.
Or the nature of the tree; is it in the roots, in the
trunk, in the spreading branches, the leafy crown?
Perhaps in the fruit more than elsewhere the hidden
being of the tree comes forth into external reality,
and opens to the eye and touch. In action and
fruition the deeper nature appears. Thus in the
outward world, and thus in man. Our soul-life, too,
is a flowing stream, whose power is not in any part
but in the ceaseless, changeful motion of the whole,
that forms a strong spiritual current on which our
thoughts and sentiments move like swimmers toward an infinite sea. And like a tree are we, with
the mighty trunk of intellect, the spreading branches
of imagination, the fibrous roots of the lower instincts, that bind us to the earth. But the moral
life is the fruit we bear; in it our true nature is revealed; in it we see the purpose of our being fulfilled.
So when we speak of a return to nature, it is this
higher nature to which we refer, whose origin we
68 
TIJE NEW  IDEAL.
know not, but whose workings we feel, and know
them by the token of the sweet satisfaction they
afford us to be the crown and glory of our lives.
The old Ideal emphasizes the Eternal that is with.
out us; the new the Eternal that is within ourselves. The old styles us exiles from the kingdom
of truth; the new summons us to be the bannerbearers of truth; the old points to a heaven beyond
the earth, the new tells us that our earth too is a
part of the heaven, a light-world, among endless
worlds of light.
If secondly we consider the means of support
at our disposal in the pursuit of the ideal, we find
prayer in universal use among  the adherents of
the old. Prayer in the sense of supplication, has
been defined as "a request made to the Deity as if
he were a man." And truly the language of prayer
often tallies with this description. "Let me succeed
in this undertaking," prays the Indian, "that I
may slay my enemy and bring home the tokens of
victory to my dear family, in order that they may
rejoice together.   Have pity on me  and protect
my life, and I will bring thee an offering." Some
such inducement as the last is frequently coupled
with the petition, "Here is an offering for you, 0
God! Look kindly towards this family, let it
prosper and increase, and let us all be in good
health." "Let me come upon my enemies speedily,
69 
CREED AND DEED.
let me find them sleeping and not awake, and let
me slay a good many of them." "I pray for cattle,
I pray for corn, I ask also for children, in order that
this village may have a large population, and that
your name may never come to an end, for of old
we have lived by your favor, let us continue to
receive it.   Remember  that  the increase of our
produce is the increase of your worship, and that
its diminution must be the diminution of your
rites." Among the Hindoos the efficacy ascribed
to prayer was such that the gods themselves were
deemed powerless to resist it, and the mystic invocations of the priests exerted a fateful influence on
the  destinies of  the  world.   The  ancient  and
modern literature of the Hebrews likewise testifies
to their faith in prayer, and Christianity has herein
followed if not outstripped their example. In case
of drought the following prayer is offered in many
of our churches:  "Send us, we beseech thee, in this
our necessity, such moderate rain and showers that
we may receive the fruits of the earth to our comfort and to thy honor." In case of storms: "We
humbly beseech thee to restrain these immoderate
rains, wherewith for our sins thou hast afflicted us,
and we pray thee to send such seasonable weather
that the earth may in due time yield her increase
for our benefit."  In case of famine, "Increase the
fruits of the earth by thy heavenly benediction,
7o 
THE NEW IDEAL.
and grant that the scarcity and dearth which we
now most justly suffer for our sins, through thy
goodness may be turned into plenty." In case of;
sickness, prayers are offered for the recovery of the
sufferer.
Against all these forms of petition the modern
view of life emphatically protests. It starts with
the grandest of scientific generalizations, that of the
universality of nature's laws. These laws cannot
be broken; they govern the course of the planets
as they revolve through space, they appear in the
slightest eddy of dust that rises on our streets.
The world is a Kosmos; to pray for a change in its
arrangements is to pray for its destruction. The
rains come when they must come, and the earth
yields or withholds her crop, as a system of causes
determined from immeasurable aeons of time prescribes. Is the God to whom men pray so poor a
workman that he will change the mechanism of the
Universe at their bidding? If all that is, is his
work, why then the drought is his work, and the
famine, and the sickness are his work, and they are,
because he has willed that they should be. "The
gods help them that help themselves." We are
placed in a world with which we are but half
acquainted; our business is to know it thoroughly.
All the history of mankind from the beginning has
been a series of tentative struggles to acquire this
7I 
CREED AND DEED.
precious knowledge, and we have made indeed
some headway. We began by defending ourselves
against the attacks of wild beasts; we tilled the soil;
we invented tools, we formed communities, we
moderated the friction of social intercourse; we discovered the talisman of science, and the Aladdin's
lamp of art. In the treatment of disease also a
great advance has been made. When the Mayflower reached the American continent, she found
a bleak and barren shore, full only of graves. A
great epidemic had swept over the Indian tribes,
and the natives fell like dead flies before the
scourge. They had charms and prayers; these did
not help them. We have accomplished a little;
we are bound to aim at more. Why then call in
the supernatural? It will not come, though we
call never so loudly. The vain attempt does but
keep us from that which is more needful, active
exertion and strenuous efforts at self-help. But we
are told that our success is poor at best, and that
in the vast majority of cases, all our exertions avail
nothing: moreover it is said that man is too frail
and feeble a creature to depend upon himself alone
in times of trial, and that prayer, whether it be
answered or not, is valuable as a means of consolation that soothes and stills the heart. It is but
too true that our achievements fall far short of our
desires. Let those that do not, cannot pray, seek
72 
THE NEW IDEAL.
support in the sympathies of their kind, and where
self-help fails, mutual help will offer them an inexhaustible source of strength and comfort. As for
that species of prayer which is not addressed to a
personal God at all, but claims to be an aspiration,
an outpouring of the spirit, we do fail to see how
it deserves the name of prayer in any sense. The
use of the vocative, and of the pronoun thou is
certainly calculated to mislead, and the appearance
of inconsistency is hardly avoidable.
Lastly, the old Ideal was stationary, retrospective; it placed its paradise at the beginning of
human history. In the far off past it beheld our
best and loftiest hopes anticipated and realized.
Then the full significance of life had been reached;
then the oracles had spoken loudly and clearly
whose faint echoes now float like memories of half
forgotten melodies to our ear; then the imperishable truths were revealed in those olden, golden
days. Not so, says the new Ideal. Rude and
wretched were the beginnings of mankind on earth,
poor the mind, and void the heart. Far from being
exemplary, the ideas of right and wrong entertained
by our earliest progenitors were infinitely below our
own. Not indeed, that the substance of the moral
sentiment has ever perceptibly changed. The inherent principle of right remains the same, but it
assumes higher forms and is applied on a wider
4
73 
CREED AND DEED.
scale  as  the race  advances.   Thus  the  commandment not to kill a being like ourselves was
recognized from the first, but in the earliest times,
only members of the same family were esteemed
beings like ourselves; to kill a neighbor was not
wrong. The family widened into the clan, the clan
into the people, and all the nations are now embraced in the common bond of humanity. Thus
step by step the life of the clansman, the fellow
citizen and at last of every human being came to be
regarded as sacred. From a common centre morality has  developed outward in concentric circles.
In different ages also different virtues predominated.
Patriotism was esteemed highest in the Roman
world; self-sacrifice and chastity in the first Christian communities. But whatever had thus been
gained was not thereafter lost. Each age added its
own to the stock of virtue; each contributed its
share to swell the treasure of mankind. The
struggle for existence that raged fiercely on the
lower levels of culture, loses its harsher aspects as
we advance upon the path of civilization. The
methods of force by which the unfit were eliminated
are gradually falling into disrepute, if not into
disuse.  At last the good will survive because of its
own persuasive excellency. The conflict will become one of ideas merely, an  emulous peaceful
contest for the prize of truth.
74 
THE NEW IDEAL.
That the manners of the modern world have
indeed become ameliorated, our own brief experience as a society serves to illustrate.   A  few centuries ago, such an enterprise as ours would never
have been attempted, or if undertaken, would have
been speedily crushed by the arm of authority or
the weight of prejudice. We will not say that bigotry is dead; the fires of persecution still slumber
beneath their ashes, and now and then start up
into pretty bonfires to amuse the idle crowd; but
the time has gone by when they could mount on
funeral pyres-they can kindle conflagrations no
more.
The new Ideal is progressive.  Whatever we
have achieved, it tells us there are larger achievements yet beyond. As we rise in the scale of
moral worth, the eye becomes clearer and wider of
vision. We see in remote ages a race of men
freer and stronger because of our toils, and that
is our dearest hope and our sweetest recompense
that they shall reap what we have sown.
The old and the new Ideals will struggle for
the mastery; that which is stronger will conquer as
of old, in the struggle for existence. But the new
hope fills us with trust and gladness that that which
is true will be strong.
75 
IV.
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
IT is with good reason, that the very name of
the priesthood, has become odious to the modern
mind. How has their fanaticism drenched the earth
with blood, how has their unbridled ambition sown
seeds of discord among the nations; how lamentable a commentary is the record of their frailties
upon the assumption of superior sanctity and Godgiven authority. Yet it is not the priestly office,
but its abuse, which has proved of evil, nor has the
time yet come, when the ministry of priests can
be safely dispensed with. There shall come a new
Ideal to attract men's reverence and a new service
of the Infinite and a new priesthood also to do its
ministry. It is of this modern priesthood, I would
speak.
Fear not that I am about to advocate a return
to that system of spiritual bondage, from which we
have but just escaped. The priests to whom we
allude shall not be known by cassock or surplice.
It is not at the altar they shail serve, least of all
shall they have dogmas to communicate. They 
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
shall not be more than human, only if possible more
human. Priests have we of science, we name them
so; men whose whole soul is wrapped up in the pursuit of knowledge: priests of art, who dedicate their
lives to the service of the Beautiful, priests also of
the Moral, artists of the Good, sages in the science
of Virtue, teachers of the Ideal.
Let us consider for a moment, in order to illustrate our meaning, the life of one such priest, whose
fame has come down to us undimmed by the corroding influence of time-the life of Socrates. He held
no office, he ministered at no shrine, yet he was in
the true sense a priest. A plain unpretentious man,
content to live on coarse fare, inured to want, homely
in appearance, using homely language; nothing had
he in appearance to attract; yet the gay youths left
their feasts and frolics when he approached, and
the busy market-place was hushed to listen to the
strange wisdom of his sayings; there was indeed a
singular and potent charm in this man s soul. He
had a great need of righteousness, wonderful, how
he awakened the same need in the hearts of the
Athenian burghers of his day. He was the reverse
of dogmatic. In comparison with the vastness of
the unknown, he was wont to say, all human knowl edge is little even to nothingness, he did not assume
to know the truth, but strove to assist men in find ing truths for themselves. He had his own enlight
77 
CREED AND DEED.
ened  views on questions of thleology.   But far
from desiring to convert others to his convictions,
he rather sought to divert their attention from those
mysterious problems, in which men can never be
wise, problems that are no nearer their solution to day, than they were two thousand years ago. To
those who questioned him concerning religion he re plied: Are ye then masters of the humanities, that
ye seek to pry into divine secrets? His father had
been a fashioner of statues before him, he was a
fashioner of souls! This Socrates was condemned
to suffer death on the charge of atheism, and met his
fate with the calmness of the philosophic mind. If
death, he said, is progress to untried spheres, then
welcome death! If it is sleep only, then also welcome death and its deep repose. All the tokens of
the priest were fulfilled in him. He was true to
himself and unbared to others the veiled truths of
their own higher nature. He was a loftier presence
on earth, a living flame fed from its own central being, a sun to which the world turned and was thereby enlightened. We perceive then, that what we
desire is not a new thing. There has been this
service of the Ideal from the earliest times. Only
a new plea would we urge for larger fidelity to that
which the best have striven for, and which under
new conditions it will be the glory of our age to
approach more nearly.
78 
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
The priest shall be a teacher of the "Ideal," but
what is the Ideal and how distinguish it from the
Real. Regard the trees, behold their number, the
wondrous plenitude of their kinds. There is the
lithe and slender pine, the mighty oak, the stately
palm, the tender willow. Alike yet most unlike.
And who has ever seen the perfect tree! Observe
the expressive features of the human face. How
many thousands of such faces are born into the
world each year and yet no two alike. By what fine
shades, what scarce perceptible curves, what delicate
touches has nature's chisel marked them each apart.
Graceful forms and lovely faces there are, yet perfect none. Now the Ideal is the perfection of the
Real. To find it we must go beyond the Realities.
We study the nature of the tree, of man. We note
the suggestions of the various parts, complete and
produce them in utmost harmony, each perfect in
itself, each serving by its own perfection, the
rounded symmetry of the whole. In the image thus
created we grasp the ideal form. Art with its genial
enchantments, creates such images and gives them
permanence in pure types of immortal significance.
Art is idealism of form.
The intellect also, which looks out from behind
the features, the indwelling man, exhibits the same
twofold aspect of the Real and Ideal.  Our real
thoughts are incomplete and inadequate. We are
79 
CREED AND DEED.
led astray a thousand times by false analogies, we
are decoyed into the labyrinths of fancy, we become
the victims of impression, the toys of circumstance.
But deep down in the basic structure of the mind
are true laws, unerring guides. Logic expresses
them, logic is the idealism of intellect.
And lastly we recognize the same distinction in
the realm of feeling. To the untutored caprice, the
overmastering impulse, in brief to the realism of the
passions is opposed the law of right feeling, which
ethics expresses. Ethics is the idealism of character. We call this last the capital revelation of man's
nature. The moral law is not derivative, it can not
be proven, it can not be denied. It is the root from
which springs every virtue, every grace, all wisdom
and all achievement. An attempt has indeed been
made to base morality upon a certain commonplace
utility, but true morality scorns your sad utilities.
That is useful, which serves an object besides
itself, while morality is itself an end, and needs and
admits no sanction save its own excellency. As it
delights the man of science to expand his judgment in ever wider and wider generalizations, as the
larger thought is ever the truer thought, so is there
an exquisite pleasure and an unspeakable reward in
expanding the narrow consciousness of self in the
unselfish, and the larger emotion is ever the nobler
emotion. We speak of the moral Ideal, as Ti-i,
80 
TIE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
IDEAL, because it expresses the central idea of
human life, the purpose of our existence on earth.
To expound and illustrate its bearings on our daily
duties, our joys, our griefs and our aspirations, is
the scope and limit of the priestly office.
The moral ideal would embrace the whole of
life. Before it nothing is petty or indifferent, it
touches the veriest trifles and turns them into
shining gold. We are royal by virtue of it, and
like the kings in the fairy tale, we may never lay
aside our crowns.   It tells us, that nothing shall
be for its uses only, but all things shall take their
tone and quality from the central idea.
When we build a house, it shall not be for its
uses only. We shall have kitchens and drawing
rooms and libraries and pictures and flowers, if
possible. But the house, with all its comforts and
luxuries, is mere framework, and our words and
doings construct the true, the spiritual home.
When we sit down to table, it shall not be for the
use of the food and the flavor of the wine only, but
morality should preside at the feast and lend it
grace and dignity. Morality does not mope in
corners, is not sour nor gloomy. It loves genial
fellowship, loves to convert our meanest wants into
golden occasions for joy and sympathy and happy
communion. Manners too are the offspring of
character. We do not rate highly the dry and
8i
4 
CREED AND DEED.
cheerless conventionalisms of etiquette, but in their
origin, they were the fruit of truth, and love. The
rules of good breeding may be reduced to two; selfpossession and deference. As when a public speaker
loses his self-control, his own uncertainty is quickly
communicated to his audience, and he forfeits his
influence over his hearers; so the same cause
produces the same effect in every lesser audience
that gathers in our parlors. Society says to you:
If I shall trust you, you must begin by trusting
yourself. The man of the world will enter the
palace of the prince and the cottage of the peasant
with the same equipoise of manner. If he respects
himself, there is no reason why he should stand
abashed. Self-possession is essentially self-respect.
Deference, too, is a primary condition of all courtesy. It teaches us to concede to others whatever
we claim for ourselves; it leads us instinctively to
avoid loudness, and self-complacency.   It is expressed not only in the polished phrase, but in mien,
attitude, every movement. Self-possession and deference of manner are both the outgrowth of moral
qualities, the one depending on the consciousness
of personal worth, the other inspired by an
unselfish regard for the well-being of others. From
these two it were possible to deduce the rules of a
new' Chesterfield,' which should be free from all the
conceit and affectation of the old. Unfortunately,
82 
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
manners are no longer the natural outpouring of
heart-goodness. Men attire themselves in politeness
as they do in rich apparel; they may be as rude as
they please, the year round, they know they can
be fine on occasion. Moreover in the home circle,
where the forms of courtesy are quite indispensable
to prevent undue friction; to send the light of
grace and poetry into a world of little cares; to
fill the atmosphere of our daily surroundings as
with the fragrance of a pervading perfume; they
are yet most commonly neglected. The word
manners has the same meaning as morals. When
we shall have better morals, we shall have truer
and sweeter manners.
The Ideal which thus seeks to interpenetrate the
most ordinary affairs of private life, stands out also
in the market place, in the forum, in the halls of
legislation, and setting aside the merely useful,
exhorts men to return to permanent values. That
is the ideal view of politics which teaches us to hold
the idea of country superior to the utilities of party,
to exact worthiness of the public servants, to place
the common good above sectional animosities and
jealousies. That is the ideal view of commerce,
which impels the merchant, while seeking prosperity by legitimate means, to put conscience into
his wares and dealings and to keep ever in sight the
larger purposes of human life. That is the ideal
83 
CREED AND DEED.
view of the professions, which leads their represent atives to subordinate the claims of ambition and
material gain to the enduring interests of science,
justice, and of all the great trusts that are confided
to their keeping. And he therefore shall be called
a priest of the Ideal, who by precept and example
will divert us from the absorbing pursuit of the
realities and make plain to us that the real is transitory, while in the pursuit of the Ideal alone we
can find lasting happiness.   For the realities are
constantly disconcerting us in our search for the
better. They are so powerful, so insistent; we
think them every thing until we have proved their
attractions and find them nothing. We have that
only which we are. But the common judgment
holds to the reverse; we are only what we have.
And so the turbulent crowd plunges madly into
the race-for acres, for equipage, for well-stocked
larders, for office, for fame. Good things are these,
as scales on the ladder of life, but life is somewhat
more than acres and equipage and office and fame.
Seldom indeed do we truly live. Often are we
but shadows of other lives. We affect the fashions
not only in dress but also in thought and opinion.
We are good or bad, as public opinion bids us.
The state is ruined, the church is corrupted, and the
world's giddy masquerade rushes heedlessly on.
Give me one who will think Having and Seem
84 
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
ing less than Being; who will be content to be himself and a law unto himself and in him I will revere
the ideal man. Before him the shams and mockeries of existence shall sink away. He will look into
his own soul and tell you the oracles he has read
there, and you will hear and behold your own heart.
He will plant the sign of the Eternal on a high
standard and call unto a people that strays in the
wilderness to look up to that and be saved. The
old and the young will he instruct, and they shall
love him, for his words will be an articulate cry to
the dumb voices in their own breasts. This is the
be-all and end-all of his mission,-to make them acquainted with themselves. Do you know he will
say, what a power is in you, what a light is hidden
in the deep recesses of your nature. Artists are ye
all to whom your own soul is given to mold it into
beauty. Happy, happy indeed if you seek no other
reward but the artist's joy in his work and know that
to be your glory and your recompense.
It is well, that there should be priests appointed
to bear such messages to us from time to time as
we rest from our toil; to bring us face to face with
the inner life. But there are special occasions in
these passing years of ours, when the ideal bearings
of life come home to us with peculiar force and
when we require the priest to be their proper inter preter.
85 
CREED AND DEED.
Marriage is one of them. We often hear it said
that marriage is a mere legal compact. The state,
it is true, has a vital interest in protecting the puri ty of the conjugal relation and may prescribe cer tain forms to which its citizens are bound to con form. But has the meaning of the new bond been
indeed fully expressed, when the magistrate in the
court room has pronounced the young man and the
maiden to be now husband and wife? Among the
ancient Hebrews youths and young girls were wont
to meet on the Day of Atonement, the most solemn
day of the year, the day of purification from sin, to
cement their affections and plight their troth. For
marriage itself was esteemed an act of purification.
Marriage is the foundation of all morality. Its celebration does not end with the wedding day: it is a
constant celebration, a perpetual intermarrying of
two souls while life lasts.
Not the state only, but humanity also, that ideal
state of which we are all citizens, has an interest in
the contract. A new sanctuary is to be reared sacred
to the ineffable mysteries of the home-life; in the
home with all the tender and holy associations that
cluster about it let it be dedicated. The supreme
festival of humanity is marriage. There shall be
music and joy and a white-robed bride with myrtle
wreath; and solemn words to express the solemn
meanings of the act.
86 
THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL.
At the grave also is the office of the priest.
When some dear friend has been taken from us,
when the whole earth seems empty for the loss of
one and the pillars of existence seem broken, he
shall say to the grieving heart: Arise, be strong.
He  shall bid your brooding sorrow pause.   He
shall speak of larger duties, which they you mourn
have left you, as their legacy. Larger duties: this
is his medicine. You are not free, you poor and
sadly stricken friends to stand aside in idle woe, but
you shall make for the departed a memorial in your
lives and assume their half completed tasks. So
the loss, though loss it be, will purify you, and vim
and vigor be found in the consolations of the Ideal.
We trust that we have used the term priest in
no narrow restricted sense. It is not the hierarchies
of the past or the present of whom we have spoken.
The priest is not superior to his fellow men, nor
has he access to those transcendental regions which
are closed to others. His power is in this, that he
speaks what all feel. And he shall be counted an
acceptable teacher, then only, when the slumbering
echoes within you waken to the music that moves
and masters him.
There have been those, whose lives were molded on such a pattern among the clergy at all
times, and it is this circumstance, that has attracted
the reverence of mankind to the priestly office.
87 
CREED AND DEED.
Noblemen were they whose love burst through
the cramping fetters of their creeds, apostles of liberty, missionaries of humanity.
But there is one other trait necessary to complete the picture.  The priest of the Ideal must
have the gift of tongues and kingly words to utter
kingly thoughts. In the philosophy of Alexandria it
was held, that before the world was, the word was,
and the word created a universe out of chaos and
the word was divine. With that heaven-born energy must he be filled, and with a breath of that creative speech must he inspire. No tawdry eloquence
be his, no glittering gift of phrase or fantasy, but
words of the soul's own language, words of the pith
and core of truth.
The image of the Ideal priest which I have attempted to draw is itself an ideal image, nowhere
realized, never to be fully attained. But it is to it
that the priests of the new age will strive to come
near and nearer, and that will be their pride and their
happiness, if they can become in this sense friends
and helpers of their kind.
In the eyes of the dogmatist they are strangers
out of a strange land of thought. If you ask them
for their pass word, it is freedom, if you ask for their
creed, it is boundless. The multitude seeking to
compress the infinite within the narrow limits of the
senses, must needs have tangible shapes to lay hands
88 
THE PRIESTS OF TIlE IDEAL.
on, names if nothing better.   But the Ideal in the
highest is void of form and its name unutterable.
We will ascend on the wings of the morning, we
will let ourselves down to the uttermost depths of
the sea, and know it there. But chiefly within ourselves shall we seek it, in ourselves is its shrine.
The time will come when single men shall no more
be needed to do its ministry, when in the brotherhood and sisterhood of mankind all shall be priests
and priestesses one to another, for all their life shall
be a song of praise to the highest, and their whole
being shall be consecrated and glorified in the immortal service of deathless Ideals.
89 
V.
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
A NEW ORDER.
I AM aware that there exists a deep seated
prejudice in the minds of many of my hearers
against what are called the forms of religion. We
have too long experienced their limitations and
restraints, not to be jealous now of our hard won
liberties. But let us ask ourselves what it is that
alienates our sympathies from the ritual and ceremonial observances of the dominant creeds? Is it
the forms as such? Is it not rather the fact that to
us they have become dead forms: that they no
longer appeal to our sentiments, that they fail to
stir, to invigorate, to ennoble us? We have not
cast them aside lightly. Often have we entered the
house of worship, prepared to be drawn back into
the influence of its once familiar surroundings: we
beheld again the great assembly, we heard the
solemn music, we listened to the preacher as he
strove to impress upon a silent multitude, the
lessons of the higher life. But in the prayers we
could not join, and the words to which the music 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
moved we could not sing, and the maxims of the
preacher were couched in language, and enforced
with doctrinal arguments that touched no chord in
our hearts. We left disappointed, we had received
no help: if this were religion, we felt ourselves more
distant from religion than ever before.
On the banks of the Euphrates there flourished
of old an extensive colony of Jews.  A "Prince of
the Captivity" revived the memory of the vanished
glory of King David's house. High schools were
erected that afforded a common centre to the
scattered members of the Jewish Faith. In these
the people beheld at once their bond of connection
with the past, and the pledge of future restoration
to their patrimony. In the early part of the middle
ages, a prayer for the health and prosperity of the
presidents of the high schools was inserted into the
liturgy. Well nigh eight hundred years have
elasped since these dignitaries, and the schools
themselves, have ceased to exist, yet the prayer is
still retained, and may be heard repeated on any
Sabbath in the synagogues of the orthodox-a
prayer for the health of the Prince and the higl
schools on the Euphrates that vanished from the
face of the earth eight hundred years ago. Thus
do religious forms continue to maintain themselves
long after their vitality is perished and their very
meaning is forgotten. But if the prevalent forms
91 
CREED AND DEED.
have ceased to satisfy us, can we therefore dispense
with form altogether? If the house that has given
us shelter is in ruins, shall we therefore live in the
woods and fields, or shall we not rather erect a new
mansion on a broader foundation, and with firmer
walls? It has been the bane of liberalism, that it
was simply critical and not constructive. Your
thought must have not wings only, but hands and
feet to walk and work, to form and reform. Liberalism must have its organs, must enter the race
with its rivals; must not criticise only, but do
better. Liberalism must pass the stage of individualism, must become the soul of great combinations.
What then shall be the form adequate to express
the new Ideal?
The form of any religion is the image of its ideal.
To illustrate what this means, let us consider for a
moment the origin of the synagogue and the church.
The orthodox opinion that Judaism was revealed
to Moses fourteen hundred years 13. c. is condemned  by modern  critics of the Bible.  The
following are some of the considerations that have
influenced their verdict. First, we read in scripture
that so late as the reign of David, idolatry was still
rampant among the Hebrews, and the attempt to
explain this fact upon the theory of a relapse, is
contrary to the testimony of the Bible itself.
Secondly: The name of Moses is unknown to
92 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
the prophets, his ostensible successors, a circumstance which would remain inexplicable if Moses
had indeed been the founder of monotheism.
Thirdly: Large portions of the Pentateuch were
probably not composed before the sixth or fifth
century B.C., that is to say about a thousand years
after the time of Moses. The account they give of
the early history of the people is therefore open to
serious and just doubt. The prophets were the real
authors of monotheism. The priestly code of the
Pentateuch does not represent the form of Judaism
which they taught. They are not chargeable with
the technicalities and dry formalism of the "Books
of Moses." They were the avowed enemies of the
priesthood and for a long time engaged in fierce
struggles with the ruling hierarchy. Their doctrines
were in the essence these: That there is a Creator,
that he is just and merciful, that the same qualities
in man are the most acceptable species of divine
service, that God directs all events, whether great or
small; and that it is the duty of man to accept the
guidance of the Deity, and to follow with tireless
diligence the clews of the Divine Will. Jehovah is to
be reverenced not only as a spiritual, but also as a
temporal sovereign, and the prophets are his ministers commissioned to transmit his decrees to men.
Thus Monotheism found expression in the form of
Theocratic government. It is true the heathen world
93 
CRIEED AND DEED.
was not yet prepared to enter into so near a relationship with the Creator. On this account the Jews
were selected to be a typical people, and the Kingdom of God was for the time being confined to them.
It is evident from the above that the order of the
prophets was the very mainstay of the Theocratic
fabric. When these inspired messengers ceased to
appear, the conclusion was drawn that the Will of
God had been fully revealed. The writings of the
prophets were then collected into sacred books, and
were regarded as the constitution of the divine empire. When Jerusalem was destroyed, the sacrifices
were discontinued and Judaism was purged of many
heathenish elements which had been allowed to mar
the simplicity of the prophetic religion. The synagogue took the place of the Temple, and an intricate
code of ceremonies was gradually elaborated, intended
to remind the pious Jew at all hours and seasons of
his duties toward God, and the peculiar mission accorded to his people. The synagogue was a single
prominent peak in the range of the religious life, a
rallying point for the members of the Jewish community, a meeting house where they assembled to
confirm their allegiance to their heavenly King.
Now the cardinal point of difference between
primitive Christianity and Judaism related to the
alleged abrogation of the ancient constitution set
forth in the old Testament. Christianity said: The
94 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
Messiah has come; the law of Moses is fulfilled;
the King has issued a new constitution, and sent his
own Son to put it in force. The time has arrived
when the Kingdom of God need no longer be restricted to a single people. Jesus who perished on
the cross will presently return, and the universal
theocracy will then be proclaimed. But Jesus did
not return, his followers waited long and patiently,
but they waited in vain. As time rolled on, they
learned to dwell less upon the expected Millennium
on earth, and to defer the fulfilment of their hopes
to the life beyond the grave. In the interval they
perfected the organization of the  church.   The
Christian Ideal of the Kingdom of Heaven is that of
a communion of all saints under the sovereignty of
God through Christ. The Christian Church is designed to be an image of this Ideal, a communion
of saintly men on earth, accepting Christ as their
Master.   Christianity aspired to be the universal
religion; there should be no barriers any more between man and man; the exclusiveness of ancient
Judaism should be broken down; yet withal the
barriers of a new creed soon arose in place of the
old; the portals of the Kingdom of Heaven were
rigidly closed against all who refused to bow to the
despotism of dogma; and the virtues of pagans were
declared to be shining vices. The moral teachings
of Christ are gentle and kindly, but in the doctrinal
95 
CREED AND DEED.
contentions of the Christians the spirit of the Master
was forgotten, and the earth was deluged with blood.
And now the new Ideal differs from Christianity
in this, that it seeks to approach the goal of a Kingdom of Heaven upon earth, not by the miraculous
interference of the Deity, but by the laborious exertions of men, and the slow but certain progress of
successive generations. We have named the form
of religion an image of the Ideal, yet an image
poor and incomplete at best, rather a symbol, a
suggestion of what can never be realized. In the
realm of art we do not find the soul of beauty in the
colored canvas or the marble statue; these are
helpful hieroglyphics only, teaching those that can
read their mute language to create anew the ideal as
it lived in the artist's soul, in the divine hour of
conception. Thus all form has its value only in
what it suggests. Our Ideal is that of the fellowship of humanity in highest wisdom, highest truth
and highest love. The form of this ideal therefore
can be none other than a new fellowship united by
the higher truths and purer love that make its bond
to be a symbol of the highest! We are weary of
the unreal and untrue existence we are forced to
lead; we are weary of the emptiness of routine,
weary of the false coin of reputation that passes
current in the market of vanity fair; we are weary of
the low standards by which actions are judged, and
96 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL,
to which, to our dismay, we perceive our actions insensibly conform. But the pressure of social influences about us is enormous, and no single arm can
resist it. We must needs band together then, if we
would achieve ahigher life; we must create for ourselves a purer atmosphere, if any rarer virtues are to
flourish in our midst; we must make our own public
opinion, to buoy us up in every loftier aspiration.
Unions we want that will hold, not religion as a
duty, but duty as a religion; union to achieve a
larger morality. Three things morality demands of
us as interpreted in the light of our present social
conditions: greater simplicity in manners, greater
purity in the passions, greater charity.
The habit of luxurious living is eating into the
vitals of society, is defiling the family, and corrupting the state. Let me not be falsely understood.
All that is luxury which political economists are
wont to class as unproductive consumption. In
this sense, books, music and pictures are luxuries,
and         who would be willing to forego them.   It
becomes us to the utmost of our powers to satisfy
the thirst for knowledge, and to educate the sense
of harmony: it is wise to expend generously upon
every means of culture and refinement. But this
we must bear in mind, that there should be a rank
and         a proper subordination among our tastes and
desires. Now that is luxury in the evil, in the de           5
97 
CREED AND DEED.
basing sense of the term, that we subvert the natu ral order of our tastes, that we make the mere grati fication of the animal passions, the mere pursuit of
wealth, the mere adornment of our clay, main objects,
while the graces of intellect perish, and the adorn ment of the soul is neglected. Say not, we will do
the one, and not leave undone the other; for the
inordinate degree to which the meaner passions are
developed, dulls our sense of loftier needs. We can not serve these two masters. Frivolous in prosperity, we become helpless in adversity and perish inwardly, our growth stunted, our nobler sympathies
blunted, long before we are bedded in our graves.
What single effort can achieve a change? Fellowship,
friends are needed, and a public opinion on behalf of
simplicity.
And purity in the passions is needed. An ugly
sore is here concealed, a skeleton in the closet of
which men speak with bated breath. Is there not
such a thing as sanctity of the person! Did you not
rebel against human slavery because you said it
was wrong that any being born in the image of
man should be the tool of another? And no arguments could deceive you-not if the slave offered
himself willingly to the yoke, and rejoiced in his bondage. You dared not so sin against human nature, and
accept that offer. And yet New York has its slaves,
Boston its slaves, and every large town on the face
98 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
of the wide earth has this sinful, outcast army of
slaves-tools, whom we have robbed of that which
no human being has a right to barter, the right to
virtue at least, if not to happiness. Call not that a
law of nature, which is the lawlessness of nature!
Say not, it has ever been thus, and ever shall be!
From depths of vice which the imagination dare not
recall, humanity has slowly risen to its present
level, and higher and higher will it take its course
when the conscience is quickened and true love
expands. Fellowship is needed to support this
difficult virtue and a public opinion on behalf
of purity.
And charity, friends; not that which we commonly called charity; but charity that prevents
rather than cures. You pass through the lower
quarters of our city, you see the misery, the filth,
the gaunt, grim poverty, the careworn faces, the
candidates  for starvation.  Starvation! whoever
hears of it? The newspapers rarely speak of it;
here or there an exceptional case. Nay truly, these
people do not starve; they die of a cold perhaps;
the small-pox came and carried them off: diphtheria
makes its ravage among them. Ah, but was it not
want that sapped their strength, and made them
powerless to resist disease? WVas it not their life of
pinched pauperism that ripened them for the reaper's scythe? Then pass from these sorrowful sights
t c!.:::~
99 
CREED AND DEED.
to our stately Avenue. Behold the gay world of
fashion, its painted pomp, its gilded sinfulness, its
heartless extravagance. Is not this an intolerable
contrast? Shall we rest quiet under the talk of irremediable evils? Is it not true that something must
be done, and can be done because it must? The
distribution of wealth they say, is governed by economic laws, and sentiment has no right to be considered in affairs of business. But where I pray you is
the sentiment of brotherly love considered as it
should be? Educate the masses! But do we educate them? Stimulate their self-respect and teach
them self-help! But what large or effective measures
are we taking to this most desirable end? You cannot help, good friend, nor I.  But a dozen might aid
somewhat, and a thousand brave unselfish hearts
knit together for such a purpose, who shall say what
mighty changes they could work. Surely fellowship
is needed here, and a public opinion on behalf of
charity.
The "fine phrase," humanity has pregnant meanings. They stand for the grandest, the sternest realities of the times. Purity, charity and simplicity,
these shall be the watchwords of a new fellowship,
which shall practice the teachings of humanity, that
are vain as the empty wind, if heard only and approved, but not made actual in our deeds.
And yet some will smile incredulously and ask,
IOO 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
Where are the men and women prepared to undertake such a task? It is true, we must begin at the
beginning. From earliest childhood the young must
be trained on a nobler method, and in the ethical
school lies the main work of preparation. There
every step in the course of development must be
carefully considered, vigilantly watched and wisely
directed, to the one crowning purpose of ripening
the young minds and hearts for that fellowship of
love and hope.
A new fellowship, a new order, I say boldly,
whose members shall not be bound by any vows,
which shall have no convents, no mysteries, but
shall make itself an exemplar of the virtues it preaches, a form of the ideal. The perils that attend such
organizations are great; we will not attempt to underrate their gravity, but we believe they can be
overcome. The spirit of co-operation lends mighty
momentum to every cause; it depends upon the
cause itself whether the influence exerted shall be
for good or evil. And there has been in history a
single order at least of the kind which I describe:
"The brotherhood of the common life," it was
called; an order composed of earnest, studious men,
to whom the upheaval of Europe in the sixteenth
century was largely due; a noble brotherhood that
prepared the way for the great Reformation. The
Catholic orders are dedicated to the world to come;
IOI 
CREED AND DEED.
the order of the Ideal will be dedicated to the
world of the living: to deepen and broaden the conscience of men will be its mission.
The propaganda of Liberalism in the past has
been weak and barren of great results. Strong personalities it has brought forth; around these societies have clustered and fallen asunder when the
personal magnet was withdrawn. What we need
is institutions of which persons shall be merely
the exponents; institutions that must be grounded
on the needs of the present, and that shall last by
their own vitality, to future ages and to the increase
of future good.
It is the opening of the spring.* After its long
winter sleep, the earth reawakens, and amid the
fierce storms of the Equinox nature ushers in the
season of flowers and of summer's golden plenty. It
is the day of Easter. Loudly the bells are pealing
and joyous songs celebrate in the legend of" Christ
risen from the grave," the marvel of the Resurrection. What we cannot credit of an individual, is
true of the nations. After long periods of seeming
torpor and death, humanity ever arises anew from
the dust, shakes off its slumbers, and clothes itself
with fresher vigor and diviner powers.
Let the hope of the season animate us. Let it
* The above discourse was delivered on Easter Sunday, April Ist,
1877.
102 
THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL.
fill our souls with confidence in our greater desti
nies; let it teach us to trust in them and to labor
for them, that a new Ideal may vivify the palsied
hearts and a new spring tide come, and a new Eas
ter dawn arise over all mankind.
IO3 
THE RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF
WOMEN.
No thoughtful person can fail to appreciate the
enormous influence which women are constantly exercising for good and evil upon the destinies of the
world. The charms and graces of existence, whatever ennobles and embellishes life, we owe mainly
to them. They are the natural guardians of morality, and from age to age the mothers of households
have preserved the sacred fire on the domestic
hearth, whereat every virtue is kindled. But they
have also been the most formidable enemies of progress. Their conservatism is usually of the most unreasoning kind, and the tenacity with which they
cling to favorite prejudices is rarely overcome either
by argument or appeal. They have been from time
immemorial the dupes, the tools, and the most effective allies of priestcraft. Their hostility to the cause
of Reform has been so fatal, not only because of the
direct influence of their actions, but because of that
subtle power which they exert so skilfully over the
minds of husbands, brothers and friends, by the arts
vi. 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. I105
of remonstrance, entreaty and the contagion of their
feeble alarms. The question whether their hostility
can be turned into friendship, is one of momentous
importance for the leaders of the Liberal movement
to consider.
In the following we shall endeavor to make plain
that the subordinate position hitherto assigned to
women, is the principal cause that has impelled them
to take sides against religious progress.
Among the primitive races woman was reduced
to a condition of abject slavery. Affection of the
deeper kind was unknown. The wife was robbed
or purchased from her relations; was treated as
a menial by her husband, and often exposed to
the most brutal abuse. As civilization advanced,
the marriage bond became more firm, and common interest in the offspring of the union served
to create common sympathies. Among the Greeks,
the ideal of domestic life was pure and elevated.
The tales of Andromache, Penelope and Alcestes
illlustrate the strength of conjugal fidelity and
the touching pathos of love that outlasts death.
The Grecian home was fenced about with scrupulous care and strictest privacy protected its inmates
from temptation. It was the duty of the wife to
superintend the internal economy of the household,
to spin and weave, to direct the slaves in their
various occupations, to nurse them when sick, to 
CREED AND DEED.
watch over the young children, and chiefly to insure
the comfort and satisfaction of her lord. His cares
and ambitions indeed she hardly shared. She never
aspired to be his equal, and simple obedience to his
wishes was the supreme virtue impressed upon her
by education, and enforced by habit. Among the
Romans, the character of the matron is described in
the most laudatory and reverential terms. Still the
laws of the Republic made woman practically the
bondswoman of man. It is well-known that our
English word family is derived from the Latin
where it originally means the household of slaves.
The matron too, was counted, at least theoretically,
among these slaves, and the right of deciding her
fate literally for life or death, belonged exclusively
to her husband. It is true in the cordial intimacy
of the monogamic bond, the austerity of usage, and
the harshness of the laws are often tempered by
affection and mutual respect; yet we are aptly reminded by a modern writer on this subject, that the
law which remains a dead letter to the refined and
cultivated becomes the instrument of the most
heartless oppression in the hands of the vulgar and
the passionate.
Among the Hebrews, a position of great dignity
and consequence was sometimes accorded to their
women. The wives of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
played an important part in directing the affairs of
io6 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. 107
the Patriarchal households. A woman performed
the functions of judge and leader of armies, women
sat upon the throne, prophetesses were consulted in
grave matters of the State and of religion; in the
absence of sons, the Mosaic law guarantees to daughters the right of succession to the family estate.
The later writings of the Jews are likewise replete
with noble sentiments touching the sanctity of the
conjugal tie. Many of the ordinances of the Talmud depend upon women for their execution, and
this circumstance alone must have contributed to
raise them in the popular estimation. In every
marriage contract a certain sum was set apart for
the wife, in case of her husband's death or of divorce. Still the right of dissolving the matrimonial
connection belonged exclusively to the husband,
although under certain conditions he could be forced
by the court to issue the "writ of separation."
However the wife might be honored and loved, she
was ever regarded as man's inferior.
The influence of Christianity upon the position
of women, was twofold, and in opposite directions.
On the one hand women had been among the first
and most devoted followers of Jesus; women were
largely instrumental in effecting the conversion of
the Roman Empire, and in the list of martyrs, their
names shine preeminent. On the other hand, the
church in the early centuries cast an unpardonable 
CREED AND DEED.
slur on the marriage relation. We read of young
maidens fleeing the society of dear companions and
friends, to escape the temptation of the affections,
of faithful wives, filled with inexpressible loathing
at a connection which they deemed contrary to the
dictates of religion, and deserting husbands and
children. The desire of love was poisoned with a
sense of guilt. The celibacy of the clergy, finally
enforced by Pope Hildebrand, gave rise to the most
shocking irregularities. All this tended to degrade
the female sex.
At the time of the crusades a partial revulsion
of feeling took place. The spirit of chivalry entered
the church, the character of woman was transfigured,
and the worship of the Virgin Mary spread in consequence throughout Europe.   A  change in the
education of girls was one of the results of the
rise of Chivalry.   Music and poetry became its
chief elements; women were fed on intellectual
sweetmeats, but strong and healthy nourishment
was still denied them.
In all the different stages of progress which we
have thus rapidly scanned, the assumption of man's
superiority to woman was held as an incontestible
article of belief, and even the chivalric ideal is only
a more amiable and disguised expression of the same
view.
What effect the disabilities under which they
io8 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. 109
labored must have had upon the religious life of
women will readily be perceived. There are two
attitudes of mind peculiarly favorable to orthodoxy; the one a tendency to lean on authority, the
other a disposition to give free sway to the feelings without submitting them to the checks of reason. Now it is plain that the condition of dependence to which society has condemned woman
is calculated to develop these very qualities to an
abnormal degree. From early childhood she receives commands and is taught to distrust her own
judgment. When she enters the bonds of matrimony she becomes dependent on her husband for
support, and in the vast majority of cases, his riper
judgment shames her inexperience. In all graver
matters she must perforce defer to his decision.
Accustomed to rely on authority, is it surprising
that in matters of religion, where even men confess
their ignorance, she should rejoice in the authority
of the priest, whose directions relieve her of doubt
and supply a ready channel for her thoughts and acts.
Again the feelings are her natural weapons, shall she
not trust them! The stability and security of society are the conditions on which her dearest hopes
depend for their realization. Can she welcome the
struggles of innovation. All her feelings cluster
about the religious traditions of the past; all a
woman's heart pleads for their maintenance. 
CREED AND DEED.
Now to confine the feelings of woman within
their proper bounds, it is necessary to give wider
scope, and a more generous cultivation to her intellect; in brief to allow her the same freedom of
development as is universally accorded to man.
Freedom makes strong, and the confidence of others
generates an independent and self-reliant spirit in
ourselves. It is indeed often urged that woman is
by nature the inferior of man.   But the appeal
to physiology seems to be at least premature; the
relation of the size of the brain to intellectual capacity being by no means clearly determined; while
the appeal to history is, if possible, even more treacherous, because it cites the evils engendered by an
ancient and long continued system of oppression in
favor of the system itself. Counting all the disadvantages against which woman has been forced to
contend, and which have hampered her every effort
to elevate her condition, it is truly marvelous, not
that she has done so little, but that she has accomplished that which she has. Even in the difficult
art of government she has earned well merited distinction, and women are named among the wisest
and most beneficent rulers of ancient and modern
times.* What the possibilities of woman's nature
may be, no one can tell; least of all she herself.
As it is she is credited with a superior power of
* J. S. Mill, The Subjection of Women, p. ioo.
IIO 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. I I I
intuition, a readier insight into character, a more
complete mastery of details. What larger powers
now latent a broader culture will bring to light, remains for the future to show.
But we are told that the sphere of woman's work
is in the horne, and that properly to perform her
vocation there, she does not need the vigorous
training required for men. That woman's mission
ought to be and happily is in the majority of cases
in the home, no one will gainsay. At the same
time, we should not close our eyes to patent facts,
facts such as these; that the number of women
whose mission actually does not lie in the home, is
exceedingly great; that according to the last census
of the United States, for instance, the female population of the State of New York, is fifty-six thousand
in excess of the male; that well nigh two millions of
women in this country are engaged in working for
their livelihood. Is it not cruel mockery to say to
these women that their business is in the household?
If the condition of things is such that they must
seek outside labor; if we permit them to toil by
hundreds of thousands in the fields and factories, on
what plea of right or reason can we deny them admission to the higher grades of service? Is it not
simple justice to admit them to all the professions,
and to allow them the same advantages in colleges
and professional schools as are enjoyed by men? 
CREED AND DEED.
We need not fear that the privilege will be abused.
If women undertake to engage in pursuits for which
they are physically or mentally unfit, the effect of
competition will quickly discourage them, and here
as elsewhere, only the fittest will survive.
But aside from those who are destined to
remain single, and considering the seven millions of
women, or more, who will become wives and
mothers of families; is not the demand for higher
education equally imperative in their case? Young
girls are but too often educated to be the agreeable
companions, rather than the partners of their future
husbands.   They receive sufficient instruction to
give them a general acquaintance with the surface
of things, but not sufficient to develop what ought
to be the chief end of every scheme of educationa permanent intellectual interest in any one direction.
Much time is wasted on minor accomplishments.
At an age when the young girl is still totally
immature, she is often withdrawn from the influence
of her preceptors, and hurried from dissipation to
dissipation, to tread the round of society's gayeties,
and to inhale the poisonous atmosphere of flattery
and conventional falsehoods. She enters a new
world. The contrast between the restraints of
school life, and her novel sense of consequence intoxicates her; the desire for pleasure becomes a
passion; the books of useful information, that never
112 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. 113
possessed a real charm for her, are cast aside, and the.
literature of the sentiments alone retains its attractions during the remainder of life. It is not astonishing that those whose minds are thus left barren,
should employ their leisure hours in frivolous or vicious occupations; that an exorbitant luxury, the sign
at all times, of deficient culture, should have infected
the community. It is not wonderful that when the
trials of life approach, these women grasp wildly at
the nearest superstition, and prostrate themselves
before any idol of the vulgar, in their blind ignorance and credulity.
I have said that higher education can alone
make marriage what it ought to be, for it is not
fancy or the glow of passion that can bind the hearts
together in lasting wedlock. The marriage bond
has deeper meanings. Two souls are united, each
to be all in all to each. Here shall be the very consummation of love; love, that precious boon that
assuages every pang, and stills every grief, and
triumphs over sickness, sorrow, and the tomb.
All nature's symbols fail to express its fulness; it
has the hope of the dawning day; it has the tender
pathos of the light of the moon; it has the melody
of birds, the mystic stillness of the forest, the infinity of the fathomless sea! Bounteous love, how
inexhaustible are its treasures! The fires of the
passions kindle affection, but cannot secure it. If 
CREED AND DEED.
there be only the stubble of desire in the heart, that
will quickly be consumed; if there be veins of true
gold there, that will be melted and refined. Years
pass, youth fades, the attendant train of the graces
vanishes, loveliness falls like a mask, but the union
only becomes firmer and trustier, because it is a
union, not of the sentiments merely, but of the
souls. The wife becomes the true sharer of her
husband's thoughts; mutual confidence reigns between them; they grow by mutual furtherance;
each sees in each the mirror of his nobler self; they
are the true complement one to the other. Who
does not know that such unions are rare! Common
sympathies, common duties do indeed create a tolerable understanding in most households; but that
is not wedlock that men and women should jog on
tolerably well together for the better part of a lifetime.
The modern  mind is constantly broadening;
new facts, new discoveries are constantly coming to
light, and loftier problems engage the attention of
thinkers. If woman would not be utterly left behind in the race, then must she make an effort to
acquire more solid knowledge, and educational
reform is the first step in the cause of woman's
emancipation. The electoral franchise, and whatever other measures may be included in the popular phrase of" Woman's rights" should be reserved
II4 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. I 15
for future discussion. If practicable at all, they are
assuredly for the present of secondary importance.
Permit me to close by briefly formulating a few
points that seem to me to deserve special consideration in this connection.
Woman, like man, should comprehend the age in
which she lives and the great questions by which it
is agitated. To this end a knowledge of history,
and chiefly the history of her own nation, is requisite. She should learn to understand the principles
of the language she speaks, and the literature in
which it is preserved, not from dry text-books, but
from the living works of the authors themselves.
She should be able to pass an intelligent judgment
upon the political issues of the day, that take up
so large a share of men's conversation, and to this
end the rudiments of political science might profitably be taught her. She should possess sufficient
familiarity with the natural sciences to comprehend
at least the main results of scientific investigations,
and a training of this kind would have the further
advantage of accustoming her mind to the methods
of accurate thinking. She should gain some knowledge of the human body and of the laws upon which
its health depends. Is it not strange that this important branch of knowledge is so generally neglected in the training of those who are to be mothers of the future generation?  How  often would 
CREED AND DEED.
proper attention to a few simple rules of hygiene
prevent sickness; how often would more efficient
nursing avert death, where it is now freely allowed
to enter. Then too the outlines of pedagogy should
be included in a course of advanced instruction for
women. Mothers are the educators of the children,
but the educators themselves require to be educated.
If the intellect of girls were braced and stimulated in this manner, they would exhibit greater selfpossession and self-reliance in their later lives; they
would be less apt to be deluded by false appeals to
the feelings: "the woman's view" would be no
longer proverbial for the weaker view; the whole
of society would feel the beneficent change, and the
problem which we set out to discuss in the beginning would in due time solve itself.
We do not for a moment apprehend that the increased cultivation of the intellect would entail any
loss of sweetness or of those gracious qualities that
make the charm of womanhood. Wherever such a
result has been apparently observed, it is safe to ascribe it to other causes. Truth and beauty are far
too closely akin in their inmost nature to exclude
each other. Nor do we fear that the intensity of
moral feeling, for which women are distinguished,
would suffer under the restraining influence of reason's guidance. The moral feelings would indeed
II6 
RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN. I I7
be purified, elevated and directed to their proper
objects by the judicious use of reason; they would
not therefore be enfeebled. In the past, the conservatism of women has been a mighty obstacle in
the path of progress. It is but just to add that at
the dawn of every great religious movement which
promised the moral advancement of the race, gifted
women, rising above the weakness of their sisters,
have been among the earliest to welcome the new
hope for humanity; have been among the most
ardent, the most self-sacrificing of its disciples.
The Liberal movement of our day also is essentially
a movement for larger morality, and more and more
as this feature will be clearly developed, may it hope
to gain the sympathies of brave and good women
to its side. In their support it will behold at once
the criterion of its worthiness, and the surest pledge
of its ultimate triumph. 
VII.
OUR CONSOLATIONS.*
WE go out in these balmy days of spring into the
reviving fields, and the eye drinks in with delight
the fresh and succulent green of the meadows; the
willows begin to put forth their verdant foliage, the
brooks purl and babble of the new life that has
waked in the forest: be glad, all nature cries, summer is coming. And the freshness of the season
enters into our own hearts, our pulses beat more
quickly, our step is more buoyant.  We remember
all that is joyful in existence; the arts that embellish, the aspirations that ennoble, the affections that
endear it. Golden the future lies before us; our
very cares lose their sombre hues; like the golden
islands of cloud that glow in the glory of sunset
skies.
But beneath the fair semblance of nature that for
a time deludes our senses, a dark and terrible reality
is concealed. Observe how pitilessly the destructive elements pursue their path, the earthquake the
* A discourse delivered on Sunday, April 29, I877. 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
tornado, the epidemic. A few months ago a rise of
the sea swept away two hundred thousand human
lives in the course of a few hours. Myriads of sentient beings are daily cast up in the summer to perish with the first breath of cold. In the animal
world, the strong feed upon the weak, and the remorseless struggle for existence extends even into
the sphere of human activity. At this very moment
the whole of Europe is filled with anxious alarm in
view of an impending war of conquest. While industry is paralyzed, while trade is at a stand-still,
while a virulent disease generated by starvation has
broken out in Silesia, and the workmen of Lyons
have become dependent on the public charity of
France, the resources of nations, already well nigh
exhausted, are drained to prepare for the emergencies of conflict. With a secret thrill of terror we
read that beds for the wounded and millions of
roubles for hospital appliances are being voted by
the municipalities of Russia. Readily the imagination can picture to itself what these ghastly preparations mean. It is true, so long as all is well with
us, the larger evils of the world do not greatly disturb our equanimity. Man has the happy faculty
of abstracting his attention from things remote.
The accumulated woes of a continent affect us
less than some trifling accident in our immediate
vicinity. But when the messengers of evil have
II9 
CREED AND DEED.
cast their shadows across our threshold, when
calamity has laid its heavy hand upon our shoulder,
it is then that the general unsatisfactoriness of life
recurs to us with added force in view of our own experience; the splendor fades from the surrounding
scene; every dark stain takes on a deeper blackness,
and the gloom that comes from within fills and obscures the entire field of our vision. We have sustained financial loss, perhaps we are harrowed by
domestic discord, we are suddenly stricken in the
midst of health, and drag on long years as hopeless
invalids, or worse still, we stand at the bedside of
some dear friend or kinsman, see him stretched upon
the rack of pain, and can do nothing to alleviate his
sufferings; we see the end slowly nearing; but oh,
the weary waiting, the patient's agonizing cry for
death, the cruel struggle that must still intervene.
And when at last, it is over, and we have laid him
away under the sod, and returned to our desolate
homes, what hope remains! Whither now, we
ask, shall we turn for consolation? Is there no outlook from this night of trouble? Is there no winged
thought, that will bear us upward from out the
depths; is there no solace to assuage our pangs?
Among the means of consolation commonly recommended the doctrine of Immortality seems to be
regarded as the most appropriate and effective. It is
needless to lament; the deceased has entered a bet
I20 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
ter life. Yet a little and you will join him to be no
more parted. Nor can we deny that to those who
cordially entertain it, the belief in the soul's immortal
continuance becomes a source of pure and inexpressibly tender satisfaction. But with a certain class of
minds-and their number, I believe, is on the increase
-the consoling influence of this doctrine is marred
by the fatal uncertainty in which the whole question
is involved, and which no efforts of man have ever
yet, nor ever will, avail to remove.  Christianity indeed claims to have settled the point. The Deity
himself, it avers, intervened by direct revelation from
on high, to set our doubts at rest, and Jesus when he
arose on the third day forever deprived the grave of
its sting and took away our fears of the tomb. But
to those who read the books of revelations with unbiased mind, the fact of their human authorship becomes sadly apparent, and the resurrection itself is
as difficult to prove as the doctrine which it is
designed to substantiate.
In modern times spiritualism has likewise endeavored to demonstrate to the senses the existence of
a world of souls beyond our own. But the phenomena on which it lies are in part disputed, in part the
interpretation put upon them, must, to say the least,
be regarded as premature.
Moreover we should remember that even if by
some unknown means the fact of immortality could
6
121 
CREED AND DEED.
be established, the question of our re-union with
friends in the hereafter, in which alone the heart of
the mourner is interested, would still remain an open
one and might be answered in the negative. The
belief in immortality has been held in this way by
some of the greatest intellects of the human race,
Spinoza among the rest. If we knew that we shall
continue to live, we should not therefore know how
we shall continue to live. Perhaps it might prove
that all our previous connections would be severed;
and who can tell what new phases of existence,
what endless metamorphoses might await us among
the infinite possibilities of Eternity.
So deep seated is the sense of uncertainty concerning our fate beyond the tomb, that no religion,
however great the control which it exerted over men,
has ever been able to banish it entirely from their
hearts. The most ardent Christian is hardly less anxious than the infidel to retain those who are dear to
him in life. He prays as fervently for their health
as though their present state were the sum total of
their existence. And yet he should rather hail the
day of death as a day of thanksgiving, and rejoice
that those whom he loves have been translated to
a sphere every way so much more desirable than
our own. No, the natural feeling cannot be suppressed, loss is felt to be loss, and death remains
death.   No  hope of a happier condition in the
I22 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
world to come, no confidence in the promises and
prophesies of faith, can efface the sense of present
bereavement, and as we all alike feel it, so are we
all, believers and unbelievers, interested in seeking
the means of its present relief.
Some of the most fervid, religious natures of the
past endeavored to escape the sorrows of the
world by having recourse to the cruel remedy of
asceticism.   The ascetic ponders the origin of suffering; he sees that the desire for pleasure is the
cause of pain. Were we not eager to possess we
should not regret to lose. He cuts the gordian knot
saying, abjure desire! When you cease to want, you
shall no longer be bruised.   There are certain wants
inherent in the body-the want of food, drink, sleep;
the heart has its needs-friendship, sympathy; the
mind-knowledge, culture.   All these should be
subdued. We should eat and drink the coarsest in
quality and the least possible in quantity; we
should avoid the attachments of love; we should be
poor in spirit, and despise wisdom.   The ascetic
ideal took firm root in Christianity at an early period
of its history. The extravagance of the Egyptian
anchorites is well known.   The "pillar saint," St.
Simeon, who is said to have passed some thirty years
of his life on the summit of a column twenty yards
in height, taking only the scantiest nourishment,
eschewing ablutions, covered with filth and sores,
I23 
CREED AND DEED.
was worshipped as a holy man by the multitude and
his example was followed by others, though with
less rigor, during a period of nearly a thousand years.
Among the Hindoos, too, the ascetic ideal acquired
a baneful ascendency. We can hardly credit the
tales that have come to us concerning the insane
fanaticism which raged amongst this people. To
what tortures of body and soul did they subject
themselves, what cruel ordeals did they invent in
order to steel themselves against the inevitable sufferings of life. It was their beau-ideal to achieve a
state bordering upon absolute unconsciousness, in
which the power of sensation might be entirely
blunted, and even the existence of the physical man
be forgotten.
This, indeed, is a capital remedy, a species of
heroic  treatment  that  attains  its  end.   Man
becomes passive in pain, incapable of sorrow,
unmoved by any loss. But with the pains, the
joys of existence have likewise fled. The human
being walks as a shadow among shadows, a soulless
substance, the wretched semblance of his former
self. Who would not rather bear the heaviest ills
that flesh is heir to, than purchase his release at
such a cost.
And now in setting forth our own view of this
mighty problem of human sorrow, let us bear in
mind that our private hardships and those general
124 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
evils which we see enacted on a scale of such appalling magnitude in the world around us, must be
considered together, for the same cause constantly
gives rise to both. It is of the utmost importance
that we should weigh well what we have a right to
expect, and ponder the conditions on which
humanity holds the tenure of its existence. Perhaps our deepest disappointments are often due
to the fact that we ask more than we have any
legitimate title to receive, and judge the scheme of
the Universe according to false analogies and preconceived notions which the constitution of things
does not bear out. We are subject to two laws,
the one the law of nature, the other that of morality: the two clash and collide, and a conflict
ensues.   Theology labors to show  that this conflict is apparent rather than real, to admit it would
seem to impugn the justice of the Deity. Thus we
read in the Old Testament that when the sufferer
Job protested his innocence, his friends assailed
his veracity, and persisted in holding the bare fact
of his misfortune as unimpeachable evidence of his
sinfulness. And thus the Psalmist assures us, that
he has grown old and never seen the righteous man
in want. The experience of the Psalmist must have
been limited indeed! The conflict exists, however
it may be denied. Nature is indifferent to morality,
goes on regardless. The great laws that rule the
12 5 
CREED AND DEED.
Kosmos, act upon this planet of ours, nor heed our
presence. If we chance to stand in the way, they
grind us to pieces with grim unconcern: the earth
opens, the volcano sends forth its smoldering fires,
populous cities are overwhelmed, locusts devastate
the country; they do not pause before the field of
the righteous; they have no moral preference.
The seeds of disease also are scattered broadcast
over the land, and the best, often those whom we
can least afford to lose, are taken. These are the
hostile forces, and against these man must contend.
To them he opposes his intellect, his moral energy;
he seeks to adapt himself to his place in the
universe.  He discovers that these foes are blind,
not necessarily his enemies, if he can trace their
path. If he can read the secret of their working,
they cease to threaten him; he holds them with
the reins of intellect, and binds them to his chariot,
and behold like swift steeds they carry him whithersoever it pleases him, and on, on, they draw his car
of progress. In this manner the sway of man's
genius is extended on earth. Already life is far
easier than it was among our ancestors ten thousand
years ago; the epidemic is checked by wise
sanitary regulations, greater justice prevails in government, and the means of happiness are extended
over wider areas of the population. What we thus
behold realized on a partial scale, we conceive in
I26 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
our visions of the future to be indefinitely prolonged,
the course of development leading to higher and
higher planes, healthier conditions, wiser laws,
nobler manners. The moral order will thus increase
on earth.  The moral order never is, but is ever
becoming. It grows with our growth, and to bring
on the triumph of intellect over mechanism, of
responsible morality over irresponsible force, is our
mission. The purpose of man's life is not happi
ness, but worthiness. Happiness may come as an
accessory, we dare never make it an end. There is
that striving for the perfect within us: in it we live,
by it we are exalted above the clod; it is the one
and only solace that never fails us, and the experience of progress in the past, the hope of greater progress in the future, is the redeeming feature of life.
But the condition of all progress is experience; we
must go wrong a thousand times before we find the
right. We struggle, and grope and injure ourselves
until we learn the uses of things. Pain therefore becomes a necessity, but it acquires in this view a new
and nobler meaning, for it is the price humanity pays
for an invaluable good. Every painful sickness,
every premature death, becomes the means of
averting sickness and death hereafter. Every form
of violence, every social wrong, every inmost tribulation, is the result of general causes and becomes
a goad in the sides of mankind, pressing them on to
127 
CREED AND DEED.
correct the hoary abuses it has tolerated, the
vicious principles of government, education and
economy to which it has conformed. Wide as the
earth is the martyrdom of man, but the cry of
the martyr is the creaking of the wheel which
warns us that the great car of human progress is in
motion.
If we keep duly in mind the position which
the human race occupies over against nature, we
shall not accuse fate. Fate is our adversary; we
must wrestle with it, we are here to establish the
law of our own higher nature in defiance of fate.
And this is the prerogative of man, that he need not
blindly follow the law of his being, but that he is
himself the author of the moral law, and creates it
even in acting it out. We are all soldiers in the
great army of mankind, battling in the cause of
moral freedom; some to fight as captains, others to
do valiant service in the ranks; some to shout the
paean of victory, others to fall on the battle field or
to retire wounded or crippled to the rear. But as
in every battle so too in this, the fallen and the
wounded have a share in the victory; by their
sufferings have they helped, and the greenest wreath
belongs to them.
It is strictly in accordance with the view we
have taken, that we behold in the performance of
duty the solace of affliction. All of us have felt,
I28 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
after some great bereavement, the beneficent influence of mere labor: even the mechanical part of
duty affords us some relief. The knowledge that
something must be done calls us away from brooding over our griefs, and forces us back into the
active currents of life. The cultivation of the intellect also is a part of man's duty, and stands us in
great stead in times of trouble. We should seek to
accustom the mind to the aspect of large interests.
In the pursuit of knowledge there is nothing of the
personal: into the calm and silent realm of thought
the feelings can gain no entrance. There, after the
first spasms of emotion have subsided, we may find
at least a temporary relief,-there for hours we drink
in a happy oblivion. But more is needed, and the
discharge of the duties of the heart alone can really
console  the heart.   There is this  secret in the
affections, that they constantly add to our strength.
Constant communion between allied natures leads
to their mutual enrichment by all that is best in
either. But when the rude hand of death interferes,
we are as a stream whose outlet is barred, as a
creeper whose stay is broken. A larger channel is
needed then into which the waters of our love may
flow, a firm support, to which the tattered tendrils of
affection may cling anew. True, the close and intimate bond that unites friend to friend can have no
substitute, but the warm love that obtains in the
I29
6 
CREED AND DEED.
personal relations may be expanded into a wider
and impersonal love, which, if less intense, is
broader, which, if less fond, is even more ennobling. The love you can no longer lavish on
one, the many call for it. The cherishing care you
can no longer bestow upon your child, the neglected
children of the poor appeal for it; the sympathy
you can no longer give your friend, the friendless
cry for it. In alleviating the misery of others, your
own misery will be alleviated, and in healing you
will find that there is cure.
This remedy is suggested in an ancient legend
related of the Buddha, the great Hindoo reformer,
who was so deeply affected by the ills of human
life.* There came to him one day a woman who
had lost her only child. She was wild with grief,
and with disconsolate sobs and cries called frantically on the prophet to give back her little one to
life. The Buddha gazed on her long and with that
tender sympathy which drew all hearts to him, said,
"Go my daughter, get me a mustard seed from a
house into which death has never entered, and I
will do as thou hast bidden me." And the woman
took up the dead child, and began her search.
From house to house she went saying, "Give me a
mustard seed, kind folk, a mustard seed for the
* We have ventured to offer this interpretation of the legend in
an article published in the Atlantic Monthly for June, I875, from
which the account in the text is taken.
130 
OUR CONSOLATIONS.
prophet to revive my child." And they gave her
what she asked, and when she had taken it, she
inquired whether all were gathered about the
hearth, father and mother and the children; but the
people would shake their heads and sigh, and she
would turn on her way sadder than before. And
far as she wandered, in town and village, in the
crowded thoroughfare, and by the lonely road side,
she found not the house into which death had
never entered. Then gradually as she went on, the
meaning of the Buddha's words dawned upon her
mind; gradually as she learned to know the great
sorrow of the race every where around her, her
heart went out in great yearning sympathy to the
companions of her sorrow; the tears of her pity
fell free and fast, and the passion of her grief was
merged in compassion. She had learned the great
lesson of renunciation; had learned to sink self in
the unselfish.
From the depths of the heart the stream of
grief rises resistless, the dams and dykes of reason
are impotent to stay its course. Prepare a channel
therefore to lead out its swelling tide away to the
great ocean of mankind's sorrow, where in com mingling it shall be absorbed.
The consolations of the Ideal are vigorous: they
do not encourage idle sentiment: they recommend
to the sufferer, action. The loss indeed as we set
131 
CREED AND DEED.
out by saying, remains a loss, and no preaching or
teaching can ever make it otherwise. The question
is, whether it shall weaken and embitter us, or
become the very purification of our souls, and lead
us to grander and diviner deeds, lead us to raise
unto the dead we mourn, a monument in our lives
that shall be better than any pillared chapel or
storied marble tomb.
Thus from whatever point we start, we arrive at
the same conclusion still: "not in the creed but in
the deed!"   In the deed is the pledge of the
sacredness of life; in the deed is the reward of our
activities in health; in the deed our solace, and our
salvation even in the abysmal gulfs of woe. In
hours of great sorrow we turn in vain to nature for
an inspiring thought. We question the sleepless
stars; they are cold and distant: the winds blow,
the rivers run their course, the seasons change; they
are careless of man. In the world of men alone do
we find an answering echo to the heart's needs.
Let us grasp hands cordially and look into each
other's eyes for sympathy, while we travel together
on our road toward the unknown goal. To help
one another is our wisdom, and our renown, and
our sweet consolation.
132 
VIII.
SPINOZA.
Two   centuries  have  elapsed  since  Spinoza
passed from the world of the living, and to-day that
high and tranquil spirit walks the earth once more
and men make wide their hearts to receive his
memory and his name. The great men whom the
past has wronged, receive at last time's tardy
recompense.
On the day that Columbus set sail for America,
the Jews left Spain in exile. Many of their number,
however, who could not find it in their hearts to
bid adieu to their native land, remained and simulated the practice of devout Catholics while in
secret they preserved their allegiance to their
ancestral religion. They occupied high places in
the church and state, and monks, prelates and
bishops were counted in their ranks. Ere long the
suspicions of the Inquisition were alarmed against
these covert heretics, and their position became
daily more perilous and insecure. Some were con demned to the stake, others pined for years in dun geons; those that could find the means, escaped 
CREED AND DEED.
and sought in distant lands security and repose
from persecution. It was especially the Free States
of Holland whose enlightened policy offered an
asylum to the fugitives, and thither accordingly in
great numbers they directed their steps. Their
frugality, their thrift and enterprise, contributed
not a little to build up the prosperity of the Dutch
metropolis.
In the opening of the seventeenth century a
considerable congregation of the Jews had collected
in the city of Amsterdam.   There  in the year
I632, the child of Spanish emigrants, Benedict Spin oza was born.   Of  his childhood we know little.
At an early age he was initiated into the mysteries
of Hebrew lore, was instructed in the Hebrew
grammar, and learned to read and translate the
various writings of the Old Testament.   He was
taught to thread his way through the mazes of the
Talmud, and its subtle discussions proved an admirable discipline in preparing him for the favorite pursuits of his after years. Lastly he was introduced
to the study of the Jewish philosophers, among
whom Maimonides and Ibn Ezra engaged his especial
attention. Maimonides, one of the most profound
thinkers of the middle ages, strove to harmonize the
teachings of Aristotle with the doctrines of the
Bible. Ibn Ezra on the other hand, was a confirmed
sceptic. In his biblical commentaries he anticipates
I34 
SPINOZA.
many noteworthy discoveries of modern criticism,
and his orthodoxy in other respects also is more
than doubtful.
In all these different branches of theology the
young Spinoza made rapid progress and soon gained
astonishing proficiency. He was the favorite of his
instructors, and they predicted that he would one
day become a shining light of the synagogue. Not
content, however, with this course of study, Spinoza
addressed himself to the study of Roman literature,
and with the assistance of a certain Dr. Van den
Ende, who had at that time gained considerable
repute as a teacher of liberal learning, he soon
became an accomplished Latin scholar.   He  also
took up the study of Geometry and of Physics, and
acquired considerable skill in the art of sketching.
His mind being thus stored with various knowledge,
he was prepared to enter the vast realm of metaphysical speculation and here the works of Rene
Descartes, preeminently engaged his attention. Descartes, whose motto, De  omnibus dubitandum est,
sufficiently indicates the revolutionary character of
his teachings, was the leader of the new school of
thought on the continent.   His influence proved
decisive in shaping the career of Spinoza. Bruno
also deserves mention among those who determined
the bias of Spinoza's mind.  I mean that Bruno who
was among the first followers of Copernicus, whe
I35 
CREED AND DEED.
proclaimed the doctrine of the infinity of worlds
and who himself inculcated a species of pantheism
for which he paid the last penalty at Rome in the
year I6oo, thirty-two years before Spinoza was born.
By all these influences the mind of the young
philosopher was widened beyond the sphere of his
early education. In the pursuit of truth he sought
the society of congenial minds, and found among the
cultivated Christians of his day that intellectual
sympathy of which he stood in need. From the
high plane of thought which he had now reached, the
rites and practices of external religion dwindled in
importance, and the questions of creed for which the
mass of men contend appeared little and insignificant. His absence from the worship of the synagogue now began to be remarked; it was rumored
that he neglected the prescribed fasts and he was
openly charged with partaking of forbidden food.
At first he was treated with great leniency.   So
high was his credit with the Rabbis, so impressed
were they with his singular abilities, that they strove
by every gentle means to win him back to his allegiance. They admonished him, held out prospects
of honor and emolument; it is even stated that at
last in despair of reclaiming him they offered an
annual pension of a thousand florins to purchase his
silence. Spinoza himself was keenly alive to the
gravity of his position.  It had been fondly hoped
I36 
SPINOZA.
that he would shed new lustre upon the religion of
Israel. He would be accused of vile ingratitude for
deserting his people.   He foresaw the inevitable
rupture that would cut him off forever from friends
and kinsmen, from the opportunities of wealth and
honorable position, and deliver him over to privation and poverty.  He himself tells us in the introduction of a work which had long been forgotten
and has been only recently rescued from oblivion,
that he saw riches and honor and all those goods
for which men strive, placed before him on the one
hand, and a sincere life serenely true to itself on
the other; but that the former seemed veritable
shams and evils compared with that one great good.
Nay, he said, though he might never reach the
absolute truth, he felt as one sick unto death, who
knows but one balm that can help him and who
must needs search for that balm whereby perchance
he may be healed.
Great was the commotion stirred up against him
in the Jewish community of Amsterdam. One
evening a fanatic assaulted him on the street and
attempted his life. The stroke of the assassin's
dagger was successfully parried. But Spinoza felt
that the city was now no longer safe for him to
dwell in.  He fled and for some time frequently
changed his place of residence, until at last he
settled at the Hague where he remained until his
I37 
CREED AND DEED.
death. In the mean time the lenient spirit of the
Jewish leaders had changed into stern, uncompromising rigor. Observe now how persecution breeds
persecution.   It had been the pride  of Judaism
from of old that within its pale the practice of
religion was deemed more essential than the theory;
that it permitted the widest divergence in matters
of belief, and granted ample tolerance to all. But
these Jews of Amsterdam, fresh from the dungeons
and the torture chambers of the Inquisition, had
themselves imbibed the dark spirit of their oppressors. Uriel d'Acosta they had driven to the verge
of insanity and to a tragic death by their cruel bigotry. And now the same methods were employed
against a wiser and greater and purer man, far than he.
On the 27th of July, I656, in the synagogue of
Amsterdam, the sacred ark, containing the scrolls of
the law, being kept open during the ceremony, the
edict of excommunication was solemnly promulgated. It reads somewhat as follows:
"By the decree of the angels and the verdict of
the saints we separate, curse and imprecate Baruch
de Spinoza with the consent of the blessed God
and of this holy congregation, before the holy books
of the Law with the commandments that are inscribed therein, with the ban with which Joshua
banned Jericho, with the curse with which Elias
cursed the youths, and with all the imprecations
I38 
SPINOZA.
that are written in the Law. Cursed be he by day
and cursed by night; cursed when he lies down,
and cursed when he rises; cursed in his going forth,
and cursed in his coming in. May the Lord God
refuse to pardon him; may his wrath and anger be
kindled against this man, and on him rest all the
curses that are written in this book of the Law.
May the Lord wipe out his name from under the
heavens, and separate him for evil from all the
tribes of Israel, with all the curses of the firmament
that are written in the book of the Law. And ye
that hold fast to the Lord God are all living this
day! we warn you that none shall communicate
with him either by word of mouth or letter, nor
show him any favor, nor rest under the same roof
with him, nor approach his person within four yards,
nor read any writing that he has written."
When Spinoza heard of this anathema he calmly
replied: "They compel me to do nothing which I
was not previously resolved  upon."   He  retired
from the commerce of  the world.   He  coveted
solitude. Within his silent chamber he moved in a
world of his own. There in twenty years of patient
passionless toil he built up the mighty edifice of his
system. It rises before us as if hewn of granite
rock.  Its simplicity, its grandeur,  its structural
power have been the wonder of men. I can offer
only the barest outline of its design.
I39 
CREED AND DEED.
Man's questioning spirit seeks to penetrate to
the heart of Nature, would grasp the origin of
things. There is this mighty riddle: who will solve
it?  Various attempts have been made.  Pantheism
is one. Spinoza was the great philosopher of Pantheism.
Beneath all diversity there is unity. In all of
Nature's myriad forms and changes, there is a substance unchangeable. It is uncreated, undivided,
uncaused, the  Absolute,  Infinite, God.   Thought
and extension are its attributes; it is the One in
All, the All in One.  God  is not matter, is not
mind; is that deeper unity in which matter and
mind are one; God or Nature, Spinoza says. This
is not the God of theology. God is in the tree, in
the stone, in the stars, in man. God does not live,
nor labor for any purpose, but produces from the
necessity of his Being in endless variety, in ceaseless
activity. He is the inner cause of all things, the
ultimate Reality, and all things are as in their nature
they partake of him.
Man also is of God. The essence of man is in
the mind. Man is a logical being. God alone owns
truth; in so far as man thinks truly and clearly, he
is a part of the infinite God. Logic is the basis of
ethics.   Spinoza  ignores  sentiment, ignores  art.
Good and evil are but other names for useful and
not useful. But that alone is useful that we follow
140 
SPINOZA.
the necessary and universal laws, seeking by the
depth and reach of intellect to know and understand.
Virtue is the pursuit of knowledge. There are
three kinds of knowledge: the blurred perceptions
of the senses, the light of the understanding, the
intuition of intellect. The last is the highest.
Virtue is the sense of being; whatever heightens
the joyous consciousness of our active faculties is
therefore good.   The  wise man  delights in the
moderate enjoyment of pleasant food and drink, in
the color and loveliness of green shrubs, in the
adornment of garments, in music's sweetness. But
our true being is to be found only in intellect;
hence, virtue the joy of being, is the joy of thought;
hence, the bold assertion-that is moral which
helps, and that immoral which hinders thought.
Man is a social being. As a drop is raised
upward in the great ocean by the onflowing of the
wave, so the individual mind is exalted by the
presence and communion of congenial minds moving in the same current.
'Tis thus that Spinoza deduces the social virtues.
Hate is evil at all times, for hate implies the isolation and the weakness of the powers of reason.
We should reward hatred with love and restore
the broken accord of intellect. Love is the sense
of kinship in the common search for reason's goal
-wisdom. That all men should so live and act
I41 
CREED AND DEED.
together that they may form, as it were, one body
and one mind, is the ideal of life. Friendship therefore he prizes as the dearest of earth's possessions,
and wedlock he esteems holy because in it is cemented the union of two souls for the common search
of truth. We should be serene at all times and
shun fear, which is weakness, and hope also which
is the child of desire, and haughtiness and humbleness and remorse and pity should we avoid. But
in stillness and with collected power shall we possess
our souls obedient to the laws of mind that make
our being and helping when we help for reason's
sake. The passions bind us to passing phenomena.
When they become transparent to our reason, when
we know their causes then our nature conquers out
ward nature and we are masters, we are free.
Thus the emotional life is extinguished. The
feelings lose their color and vitality, become blank
"as lines and surfaces," and man, freed from the
constraints of passion, dwells in the pure realm of
intellect, and in constant intercourse with the mind
of God, fulfills the purpose of his existence-to
know and understand.
Against the blows of misfortune also reason
steels us. Sorrow is but the lurking suspicion that
all might have been otherwise. When we come to
know that all things are by necessity. we shall find
tranquillity in yielding to the inevitable. For so
I42 
SPINOZA.
God works by necessity. For all things are in his
hands as clay in the hand of the potter, which the
potter taketh and fashioneth therefrom vessels of
diverse value, some to honor and some to disgrace.
And none shall rebuke him, for all is by necessity.
When the body passes away the mind does not
wholly perish, but something remains that is infinite,
an eternal modus dwelling in the depths of the eternal mind. But though we knew not that something
of the mind remained, yet were goodness and strength
of soul to be sought for above all else. For who,
foreseeing that he cannot always feed on healthy
nourishment, would therefore sate himself with
deadly poison? or who, though he knew that the
mind is not immortal, would therefore lead an
empty life, devoid of reason's good and guidance?
The wisdom of the wise and the freedom of the free
is not in the aspect of death but of life.  Religion
and piety lead us to follow the laws of necessity in
the world where they are manifest, to dwell on the
intellect of God, of God their fount and origin.
But I forbear to enter farther into this wonderful
system. We see a giant wrestling with nature,
seeking to wrest from her her secret. Mysterious
nature baffles him and the riddle is still unread.
That substance of which he speaks is no more than
an abstraction of the mind whose reality in the
outward world he has failed to prove. He has also
I43 
CREED AND DEED.
erred in turning aside from the rich and manifold
life of the emotions, for the emotions are not in
themselves evil, they are the seminal principle of
all virtue.
On pillars of intellect, Spinoza reared his system.
Still, solemn, sublime like high mountains it towers
upward, but is devoid of color and warmth, and even
the momentary glow that now and then starts up in
his writings, passes quickly away like the flush of
evening that reddens the snowy summits of Alpine
ranges.
Spinoza's name marks a lofty peak in human
history. He was a true man; no man more fully
lived his teachings. If he describes the pursuit
of knowledge as the highest virtue, he was himself a noble example of tireless devotion in that
pursuit. He was well versed in the natural sciences,
skillful in the use of the microscope, and his contributions to the study of the inner life of man have
earned him lasting recognition. Johannes Mueller,
the distinguished physiologist, has included the
third division of Spinoza's Ethkics in his well known
work on physiology.
Religion, however, was Spinoza's favorite theme,
that religion which is free from all passionate
longings and averse to superstition of whatever kind.
tie was among the first to hurl his mighty arguments
against the infallible authority of the Bible, argu
I44 
SPINOZA.
ments that still command attention though two
hundred years have since passed by. Miracles, he
said, are past belief, the beauty of Cosmos is far
more deserving of admiration than any so called
miracle could possibly be. He demanded-this was
a great and novel claim-that the methods of
natural science be applied to the study of scripture,
that the character of the age and local surrounditigs be considered in determining the meaning of
each scriptural author. In brief that a natural
history of the bible, so to speak, should be attempted. He claimed that the priesthood had falsified
the very book which they professed to regard
most holy. He denied the Mosaic authorship of the
Pentateuch, and set forth in singularly clear and
lucid language the discrepancies in which that work
abounds.   He  closed the treatise in which these
views are laid down-the Theologico-political Tract
-with a magnificent plea for liberty of conscience
and of speech. That state alone, he says, can be
free and happy which rests on the freedom of the
individual  citizen.   Where  the  right of free utterance is curtailed, hypocrisy and shameful conformance flourish, and public contumely and disgrace which ought to serve as a mete punishment
for the vicious, become a halo about the head of the
most noble of men. Religion and piety, he concludes, the state has a right to demand, but nothing
7
145 
CREED AND DEED.
hereafter shall be known as religion and piety save
the practice of equity and of a wise and helpful love.
It was a bold awakening note which thus rang
out into the seventeenth century, and theologians
were bitter in their replies. The book was confiscated and Christian curses were added to Jewish
anathemas. But they failed to affect Spinoza.
Few men have suffered as he did. Few have
preserved the same equanimity of soul in the face of
adverse fortune. Twenty years he dwelt alone. For
days he did not leave his student's closet, drawing
his mighty circles, intent on those high thoughts that
formed the companionship he loved.   Those that
knew him well revered him. De Witt the noble
statesman, De Witt who ended his days so miserably, torn to pieces by a maddened mob, sought his
counsel.   Young ardent disciples from a distance
sent him words of cheer into his solitude. His soul
was pure as sunlight, his character crystal clear. He
was frugal in the extreme: a few pence a day sufficed to sustain him. Not that he affected austere
views in general, but the deep meditations that occupied his mind left him little time or inclination for
the grosser pleasures.   His sense of honor was
scrupulously nice. Again and again did he reject
the munificent pensions which his friends pressed
upon him; he would be free and self-sustained in all
things. In his leisure hours he busied himself with
I46 
SPINOZA.
the grinding and polishing of optical lenses, an exercise
that offered him at once the means of support and
a welcome relaxation from the severe strain of mental effort. His temper was rarely ruffled; he was
placid, genial, childlike. When wearied with his
labors he would descend to the family of his landlord, the painter Van der Speke, and entering into
the affairs of these simple people, he found, in their
unaffected converse, the relief he sought.
He valued the peace of mind which he had purchased so dearly. When the Elector of the Palatinate offered him the chair of philosophy at the University of Heidelberg on condition that he would so
expound his philosophy as not to interfere with the
established religion, he declined, replying that he
could teach the truth only as he saw it, and that evil
and designing men would doubtless add point and
poison to his words.  Yet he was fearless.  When
toward the close of his career, his life was again
imperiled, the grave tranquillity of his demeanor
inspired his agitated friends with calmness and confidence.
He had gained his forty-fourth year. For half a
Llife time he had been fighting a treacherous disease,
that preyed in secret upon his health. His life was
slowly ebbing away amidst constant suffering, yet
no complaint crossed his lips and his nearest companions were hardly aware of what he endured. In
I47 
CREED AND DEED.
the early part of the year I677 one day in February,
while the family of the painter were at church the
end approached. Only a single friend was with him.
Calmly as he had lived, in the stillness of the Sunday
afternoon, Spinoza passed away.
He has left a name in history that will not fade.
His people cast him out, Christianity rejected him,
but he has found a wider fellowship, he belongs to all
mankind. Great hearts have throbbed responsive to
his teachings and many a sorrowful soul has owned
the restful influence of his words. He was a helper
of mankirnd. Not surely because he solved the ultimate problems of existence-what mortal ever willbut because he was wise in the secret of the heart,
because he taught men to appease their fretful passions in the aspect of the infinite laws in which we
live and are.
Sacred is the hour in which we read his Ethics.
From the heat and glare of life we enter into its
precincts as into the cool interior of some hallowed
temple of religion. But no idol stands there; the
spirit of truth alone presides and sanctifies the place
and us. The great men of the past we will reverence. They are mile-stones on the highway of humanity, types of the Infinite, that has dawned in
human breasts. Such an one was he of whom I
have spoken. And more and more as the light increases among men will all that was good and great
I48 
SPINOZA.
in him shine forth to irradiate their path. And as
we stand here to-day on this day of remembrance to
recall his teachings and his example, so when other
centuries shall have elapsed, the memory of Spinoza
will still live, posterity will still own him, and distant generations will name him anew: BenedictusBlessed!
I49 
IX.
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.*
"I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil, for
verily I say unto you till heaven and earth pass away
one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law
till all be fulfilled." "Resist not evil, * * * bless
them that curse you, do good to them that hate you."
In these sayings of Jesus the key note of early
Christianity is struck. It was not a revolt against
Judaism, it was but a reiterated assertion of what
other and older Prophets of the Hebrews had so
often and so fervently preached. The law was to
remain intact, but the spiritual law was meant, the
deeper law of conscience that underlies the forms
of legislation and the symbols of external worship.
There is a rare and gracious quality in the personality of Jesus as described in the Gospels, which
has exercised its charm upon the most heterogeneous nations and periods of history wide apart in
the order of time and of culture.
To grasp the subtle essence of that charm, and
thereby to understand what it was that has given
* A discourse delivered on Sunday, December 3I, I876. 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
Christianity so powerful a hold upon the affections
of mankind, were a task well worthy the attention
of thoughtful minds. We desire to approach our
subject in the spirit of reverence that befits a theme
with which the tenderest fibres of faith are so intimately interwoven; at the same time we shall pay
no regard to the dogmatic character with which his
later followers have invested Jesus, for we behold
his true grandeur in the pure and noble humanity
which he illustrated in his life and teachings.
The New Testament presents but scant material
for the biography of Jesus, and the authenticity,
even of the little that remains to us, has been rendered extremely uncertain by the labors of modern
critics. A few leading narratives, however, are
doubtless trustworthy, and these will suffice for our
purpose. A brief introduction on the character of
the people among whom the new prophet arose, the
characteristics of the age in which he lived, and the
beliefs that obtained in his immediate surroundings,
will assist us in our task.
The expectation of the Messiah had long been
rife among the Jews. Holding themselves to be the
elect people of God, they believed the triumph of
monotheism to be dependent upon themselves. The
prophets of Jehovah had repeatedly assured them
that their supremacy would finally be acknowledged.
Events however had turned out differently. Instead
I5I 
CREED AND DEED.
of success they met with constant defeat and disaster; Persia, Egypt, Syria had successively held their
land in subjection; the very existence of their religion was threatened, and the heathen world, far from
showing signs of approaching conversion, insisted
upon its errors with increased obstinacy and assurance. And yet Jehovah had distinctly promised
that he would raise up in his own good time, a new
ruler from the ancient line of Israel's Kings, a son
of David, who should lead the people to Victory.
To his sceptre all the nations would bow, and in his
reign the faith of the Hebrews would be acknowledged  as the universal religion.   Every  natural
means for the fulfilment of these predictions seemed
now cut off, nothing remained but to take refuge in
the supernatural; it was said that the old order of
things must entirely pass away; a new heaven and
a new earth be created and what was called the
Kingdom of Heaven might then be expected. The
"Kingdom of Heaven," a phrase that frequently
recurs in the literature of the Jews, is used, not to
describe a locality, but to denote a state of affairs
on earth, in which the will of heaven would be generally obeyed without the further intervention of
human laws and government. The agency of the
Messiah was looked to, for the consummation of
these happy hopes. To reward those who had perished before his coming, many moreover of those
I52 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
that slept in the dust would awaken, and the general
resurrection of the dead would signalize the approach of the millennium.
At the end of the first century B.C. these expectations had created a wild ferment among the population of Palestine. Now if ever, it was fondly urged,
they must be fulfilled. The need was at its highest,
help then must be nighest. For matters had indeed
grown from bad to worse, the political situation was
intolerable, after the brief spell of independence in
the days of the Maccabees, the Roman yoke had
been fastened upon the necks of the people, and
the weight of oppression became tenfold more difficult to support from the sweet taste of liberty
that had preceded it. The rapacity of the Roman
Governors knew no bounds. A land impoverished
by incessant wars and the frequent failure of the
crops, was drained of its last resources to satisfy the
enormous exactions of a foreign despot, while to all
this was added the humiliating consciousness that it
was a nation of idolators which was thus permitted
to grind the chosen people.
Nor was the condition of religion at all more
satisfactory. It is true the splendid rites of the
public worship were still maintained at the Temple,
and Herod was even then re-building the Sanctuary
on a scale of unparalleled magnificence. Bright was
the sheen and glitter of gold upon its portals,
I53 
CREED AND DEED.
solemn the ceremonies enacted in its halls, and
grand and impressive the voices of the Levitic
choirs as they sang to the tuneful melody of cymbals and of harps. But the lessons of history teach
us that the times in which lavish sums are expended
on externals, are not usually those in which religion
posesses true vitality and power and depth.   Here
was a brand flickering near extinction; here was a
builder who built for destruction; the Temple had
ceased to satisfy the needs of the people.
In the cities an attempt to supply the deficiency
was made by the party of the Pharisees. They
sought to broaden and to spiritualize the meaning
of scripture-they laid down new forms of religious
observance by means of which every educated man
became, so to speak, his own priest. The religion
of the Pharisees however assumed a not inconsiderable degree of intellectual ability on the part of its
followers. So far as it went it answered very well
for the intelligent middle classes. But out in the
country districts it did not answer at all; not for
the herdsmen, not for the poor peasants, not for
those who had not even the rudiments of learning
and who could do nothing with a learned religion.
And yet these very men before all others needed
something to support them, something to cling to,
even because they were so miserably poor and
illiterate. They did not get what they wanted
I54 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
they felt very strongly that the burdens upon them
were exceedingly grievous; that while they suffered and starved, religion dwelt in palaces, and
had no heart for their misfortunes. They felt that
something was wrong and rotten in the then state
of affairs, and that a new state must come, and a
heaven-sent king, who would lend a voice to their
needs, and lift them with strong arms from out
their despair and degradation. Nowhere was this
feeling more marked than in the district of Galilee.
A beautifulland with green, grassy valleys, groves
of sycamores, broad blue lakes, and villages nestling
picturesquely on the mountain slopes, it nourished
an ardent and impulsive population. Their impatience with the existing order of things had already
found vent in furious revolt.   Judah, their famous
leader, had perished; his two sons, James and
Simon, had been nailed to the cross; the Messiah
was daily and hourly expected; various impostors
successively arose and quickly disappeared; when
would the hour of deliverance come; when would the
true Messiah appear at last?
It was at such a time and among such a people,
that there arose Jesus of Nazareth in Galilee.
What was the startling truth he taught? What
was the new revelation he preached to the sons of
men? An old truth, and an old sermon-Right eousness;  no  more, meaning  nothing  at all, a
I55 
CREED AND DEED.
mere trite common-place, on the lips of the time server and the plausible vendor of moral phrases.
Meaning mighty changes for the better, when
invoked with a profounder sense of its sanctity, and
a new sacredness in life, and larger impulses for
ever and for ever. Righteousness he taught, and
the change that was to come by righteousness.
Yes, so deep was his conviction, so profoundly had
the current conceptions of the day affected him,
that he believed the change to be near at hand, that
he himself might be its author, himself Messiah.
The novelty of Jesus' work has been sought in
various directions. It has been said, for instance, to
consist in the overthrow of phariseeism; and it is
true that he rebukes the pharisees in the most severe terms; these reproaches, however, were not directed against the party as a whole, but only against
its more extravagant and unworthy members. The
pharisees were certainly not a "race of hypocrites,
and a generation of vipers."  Let us remember
that Jesus himself, in the main, adhered to their
principles; that his words often tally strictly with
theirs; that even the golden sayings which are collected in the sermon on the mount, may be found
in the contemporaneous Hebrew writings, whose
authors were pharisees.  Thirty  years before his
time, Hillel arose among the pharisees, renowned
for his marvellous erudition, beloved and revered be
I56 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
cause of the gentleness and kindliness of his bearing,
the meekness with which he endured persecution, the
loving patience with which he overcame malice and
hate. When asked to express in brief terms the
essence of the law, he to the pharisee replied, "Do
not unto others what thou wouldst not that others
do unto thee; this is the essence, all the rest is
commentary,-go and learn."   Jesus fully admits
the authority of the pharisees. "The pharisees," he
says, "sit in Moses' seat; all therefore whatsoever
they bid you observe, that observe and do."   If we
read the gospel of Matthew, we find that he does
not attempt to abrogate the pharisaic commandments, but only insists upon the greater importance of the commandments of the heart.
"Woe," he cries, "for ye pay tithe of mint, of
anise and cumin, but ye have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy and
faith, these ought ye to have done, and not to leave
the other undone,"-and again, "If thou bring thy
gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy
brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy
gift before the altar and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy
gift." The leper also whom he cured of his disease,
he advises  to bring  the gift prescribed by the
Jewish ritual.  We  cannot  fully understand  the
conduct of Jesus in this respect, unless we bear in
I57 
CREED AND DEED.
mind that he believed the millenial time to be near
at hand. At that time it was supposed the ancient
ceremonial of Judaism would come to an end by its
own limitation; until that time arrived, it should be
respected.   He does not wage  war  against  the
religious tenets and practices of his age; only when
they interfere with the superior claims of moral
rectitude does he bitterly denounce them, and
ever insists that righteousness be recognized as
the one thing above all others needful.
Nor is the novelty of Jesus' work to be found in
the extension of the gospel to the heathen world.
It seemns, on the contrary, highly probable that he
conceived his mission to lie within the sphere of his
own people, and devoted his chief care and solicitude
to their welfare. " I am not sent but unto the lost
sheep of the house of Israel," he says; and thus he
charges his apostles, "Go ye not into the way of the
Gentiles, and into any city of the Samaritans enter
ye not. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of
Israel, and as ye go, preach, saying the kingdom of
heaven is at hand." And yet his exclusive devotion
to the interest of the Jews is not at variance with
the world-embracing influence attributed to the Messianic character. In common with all his people, he
believed that upon the approach of the millennium,
the nations of the earth would come of their own
accord, to the holy mount of Israel, accept Israel's
I55 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
religion, and thenceforth live obedient to the Messianic King,. The millennium was now believed to be
actually in sight.  "Verily I say unto you there be
some standing here who shall not taste of death until
they see the Son of man coming in his Kingdom."
From the Jewish standpoint, therefore, which was
the one taken by Jesus and the earliest Christians,
the mission to the heathen was unnecessary.
"And again it has been said that the evangel of
Jesus was new, in that it substituted for the stern
law of retribution the methods of charity and the
law of love; that while the elder prophets had
taught the people to consider themselves servants
of a task-master, he taught them freedom and
brotherhood. But is this true? Will any one who
has read the Hebrew Prophets with attention, venture to assert that they instil a slavish fear into the
hearts of men; they whose every line speaks aspiration, whose every word breathes liberty? It is true
their language is often stern when they dwell OIt
duty. And it is right that it should be so, for so also
is duty stern and in matters of conscience sentimental
ism is out of place, harmful. Simple obedience to
the dictates of the moral law is required, imperatively, unconditionally, not for pity's sake, nor for
love's sake, but for the right's sake, simply and
solely because it is right. But the emotions that
are never the sufficient sanctions of conduct may
I59 
CREED AND DEED.
ennoble and glorify right conduct. And how tenderly do the ancient prophets also attune their monitions to the promptings of the richest and purest
of human sympathies.  "Thy neighbor thou shalt
love as thyself," was written by them, and "Have
we not all one Father, has not one God created us
all." Thy poor brother too is thy brother, and in
secret shalt thou give charity. In the dusk of the
evening the poor are to come into the cornfields and
gather there, and no man shall know who has given
and who has received. The ancient prophets were
idealists, preachers of the Spirit as opposed to the
form that cramps and belittles. In Jesus we behold
a renewal of their order, a living protest against
the formalism that had in the interval become encrusted about their teachings, only differing from
his predecessors in this, that the hopes which they
held out for a distant future, seemed to him nigh
their fulfilment, and that he believed himself destined
to fulfil them.
If we can discover nothing that had not been
previously stated in the substance of Jesus' teachings, there is that in the method he pursued, which
calls for genuine admiration and reverence, the
method of rousing against the offender the better
nature in himself: of seeming yielding to offence
based on an implicit trust in the resilient energy of
the good; of conquering others, by the strength of
i6o 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
meekness and the might of love. Hillel too was endowed with this strength of meekness, and Buddha
had said, long before the days of Jesus: "Hatred is
not conquered by hatred at any time, hatred is conquered by love; this is an old rule." But in the story
of no other life has this method been applied with
such singular sweetness, with such consistent harmony from the beginning to the end. Whether we
find him in the intimate circle of his disciples, whether
he is instructing the multitude along the sunny
shores of Lake Gennesareth, whether he stands
before the tribunal of his judges, or in the last dire
agonies of death-he is ever the patient man, the
loving teacher, the man of sorrows, who looks beyond men and their crimes to an ideal humanity, and
confides in that; who gives largely, and forgives even
because he gives so much.
But we shall not touch the true secret of his
power until we recall his sympathy with the neglected classes of society; that quality of his nature
which caused the poor of Galilee to hail him as their
deliverer, which produced so lasting an impression
upon his contemporaries, and made the development
of his doctrines into a great religion possible. His
gospel was preeminently the gospel for the poor:
he sat down with despised publicans, he did not
shun the contamination of lepers, nay nor of the
moral leprosy of sin-he visited the hovels of pau
i61 
CREED AND DEED.
pers and taught his disciples to prefer them to the
mansions of the fortunate; he applied himself with
peculiar fervor to those dumb illiterate masses of
Galilee, who knew not whither they might turn, to
what they might cling. He gave them hope, he
brought them help. And so it came about that in
the early Christian communities which were still
fresh from the presence of the master, the appeal to
conscience he had made so powerfully, resulted
in solid helpfulness; so it came about that in those
pristine days, the Church was a real instrument of
practical good, with few forms, and little parade, but
with love feasts and the communion table spread
with repasts for the needy. "Come unto me all
ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of
me, * * for my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
It is from such particulars that there was drawn
that fascinating image which has captivated the
fancy and attracted the worship of mankind. The
image of the pale man with the deep, earnest eyes,
who roused men to new exertions for the good, who
lifted up the down-trodden, who loved little children
and taught the older children in riddles and parables
that they might understand, and the brief career
of whose life was hallowed all the more in memory,
because of the mournful tragedy in which it closed.
All the noblest qualities of humanity were put
i62 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
into this picture and made it lovely. It was the
humanity, not the dogma of Jesus, by which
Christianity triumphed. Like a refreshing shower
in the perfumed spring, his glad tidings of a new
enthusiasm for the good came upon the arid
Roman world, sickening with the dry rot of selfindulgence, and thirsting for some principle to give
a purpose to the empty weariness of existence.
Like a message from a sphere of light it spread to
the Germanic tribes, tempered the harshness of their
manners, taught them a higher law than that of
force, and conquered their grim strength with the
mild pleadings of the Master of meekness in far-off
Galilee.
It is the moral element contained in it that alone
gives value and dignity to any religion, and only then
when its teachings serve to stimulate and purify our
aspirations toward the good, does it deserve to
retain its ascendancy over mankind. Claiming to
be of celestial origin, the religions have drawn their
secret spell from the human heart itself. There is
a principle of reverence inborn in every child of
man,-this he would utter. He sees the firmament
above him, with its untold hosts; he stands in the
midst of mighty workings, he is filled with awe; he
stretches forth his arms to grasp the Infinite which
his soul seeketh, he makes unto himself signs and
symbols, saying, let these be tokens of what no words
I63 
CREED AND DEED.
can convey. But a little time elapses, and these
symbols themselves seem more than human, they
point no more beyond themselves, and man becomes
an idolator, not of stone and wood merely. Then
it is needful that he remember the divine power
with which his soul has been clothed from the
beginning, that by the force of some moral impulse
he may break through the fetters of the creeds, and
cast aside the weight of doctrines that express his
best ideals no more. And so we find in history
that every great religious reformation has been
indebted for its triumphs, not to the doctrines that
swam upon the surface, but to the swelling currents
of moral energy that stirred it from below; not to
the doctrine of the Logos in Jesus' day, but to the
tidings of release which he brought to the oppressed,
not to "justification by faith," in Luther's time, but
to the mighty reaction to which his thunderous
protest lent a voice, against the lewdness and the
license of a corrupt and cankerous priesthood.
The appeal to conscience has ever been the lever
that raised mankind to a higher plane of religion.
Conscience, righteousness, what is there new in
these-their maxims are as old as the hills?  Truly,
and as barren often as the rocks. The novelty of
righteousness is not in itself, but in its novel application to the particular unrighteousness of a particular
age.  It was thus that Jesus applied to the sins
i64 
THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY.
and mock sanctities of his day, the ancient truths
known to the prophets and to others long before
him. It is thus that every new reformer will seek to
bring home to the men of his generation what it is
that the ancient standard of right and justice now
requires at their hands. That all men are brothers,
who did not concede it?  But that the enslaved
man too is our brother, what a convulsion did that
not cause, what vast expenditure of blood and treasure until that was made plain.   That we should
relieve the necessities of the poor, who will deny
it? But that a social system which year by year
witnesses the increase of the pauper class, and the
increase of their miseries, stands condemned before
the tribunal of Religion, of justice, how long will it
take before that is understood and taken to heart?
The facts of righteousness are few and simple, but to
apply them how mighty, how difficult a task. The
time is approaching when this stupendous work must
be attempted anew, and we, a small phalanx in the
army of progress, would aid, with what power ill us
resides. Let this inspire us that we have the loftiest
cause of the age for our own, that we are helping to
pave the way for a stronger and freer and happier
race. For by so laboring, alone can we feel that our
life has a meaning under the sky and the sacred
stars.
The year in which we have entered upon our
I65 
CREED AND DEED.
journey is passing away. To-night when the midnight bells send forth their clamorous voices, we
shall greet the new year, and the work it brings.
No peaceful task dare we expect, but something of
good accomplished may it see.
"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light,
The year is dying in the night,
Ring out wild bells and let him die.
"Ring out the old. ring in the new,
Ring happy bells across the snow,
The year is going, let him go,
Ring out the false, ring in the true."
I66 
x.
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.
IT is May, the gladdest season of the year. Life
is in the breezes, life in the vernal glory of the fields,
life in the earth and in the skies. Of old, men were
wont to go forth at this time into the forest, to
wreath the fountains with garlands, to cover their
houses with green branches, with songs and dances
to celebrate the triumph of the Spring. Happy
festivals, happy omens.
A year has now passed since we began our work,
and for many months we have met in this hall week
after week. We have reached the first resting place
upon our journey, and it behooves us to look back
once more upon the path we have travelled, and
forward into the yet untried future that awaits us.
What was it that induced us to enter upon so
perilous and for many reasons so uncertain an enterprise?
We felt a great need.   Religion which ought to
stand for the highest truth, had ceased to be true to
us. We saw it at war with the highest intelligence
of the day; religion and conscience also seemed no 
CREED AND DEED.
longer inseparably connected, as they should be.
We saw that millions are annually lavished upon
the mere luxuries of religion, gorgeous temples,
churches and on the elaborate apparatus of salvation; we could not but reflect that if one tithe of
the s ums thus set apart were judiciously expended
upon the wants of the many who are famishing,
distress might often be relieved, sickness averted,
and crime confined within more narrow boundaries.
We saw around us many who had lapsed from their
ancient faith but still preserved the outward show of
conformance, encouraged in so equivocal a course,
by the advice and example of noted leaders in the
churches themselves. We saw that the great tides
of being are everywhere sweeping mankind on to
larger achievements than were known to the past;
only within the churches all is still and motionless;
only within the churches the obsolete forms of centuries ago are retained, or if concessions to the
present are made, they are tardy, ungracious and
insufficient. We beheld that the essentials of religion are neglected, even while its accessories are
observed with greater punctiliousness than ever.
We were passing moreover through a period of
momentous import in our country's history. The
nation had just entered upon the second century of
its existence, and the great recollections of what the
fathers had done and designed for the republic, were
168 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   169
fresh in our minds. We recalled the memorable
words of Washington in his first inaugural address:
"That the national policy would be laid in the pure
and immutable principles of private morality." But
we were startled to observe how greatly recent
events had falsified these hopes and felt it our duty,
within our own limited sphere, to restore something
of that noble simplicity, something of that high
fidelity to righteousness which it is said adorned the
earlier days, and on which alone the fortunes of the
state can rest securely hereafter.
Then also the question, how best to educate the
children to a worthy life, confronted us. The doctrines of religion as commonly interpreted, we could
no longer impart to them; did we attempt to do so,
they would be likely to discard them in later years,
and would in the mean time be seriously injured in
their moral estate by the struggle and its probable
issue. On the other hand we were aware that the
temptations which surround the young in this complex and highly wrought civilization of ours, are peculiarly dangerous and alluring, and by all the holiest
instincts of humanity, we conceived ourselves bound
to provide more effectively for their moral welfare.
A few of us therefore took counsel how these objects
might be attained, and we determined to take a step
in a new direction. We did not conceal from ourselves the difficulties that would attend what we were
8 
CREED AND DEED.
about to undertake. We might expect honest opposition. There would be no need to shrink from
that. We might expect misconstruction, unintentioned or with malice aforethought; we might expect also cold comfort from those illiberal liberals,
who are eager enough to assert the principles of freedom for themselves, but relax alike their principles
and their tempers when the limits are transcended
which they have themselves reached, and which,
on this account, they arbitrarily set up as the
barriers of future progress.  There were other obstacles inherent in the nature of the work itself. But
all these weighed lightly in the scales, when opposed
to the stern conviction, that there are certain hideous shams allowed to flourish in our public life;
that there are certain great truths which ought to be
brought home with new energy to the conscience of
the people.
Upon what platform could we unite. To formulate a new creed was out of the question. However
comprehensive in its statements it might be, nay
though it had been the creed of absolute negation,
from which indeed we are far removed, it would
never have combined our efforts in permanent union.
And yet it was plain that to be strong and to exert
influence, we must effect a firm, cordial, enthusiastic
agreement upon some great principle. The weakness of the Liberal Party had hitherto been, as we
170 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   I71
knew, its dread of organization. It ensured thereby
for its members a greater measure of freedom than
is elsewhere known, but it purchased this advantage
at an immense expense of practical influence and
coherency.   Its forces are scattered, and in every
emergency, it finds itself paralyzed for want of unity
in its own ranks. The Catholic Church has pursued
the opposite policy, and presents the most notable
instance of its successful prosecution. It is so formidable, mainly because of its splendid scheme of
organization, and the high executive ability of its
leaders. But its power is maintained at a complete
sacrifice of freedom.   Could we not secure both?
Could we not be free and strong? This was the
problem before us, and it seemed to us we could.
What the exigencies of the modern age demand,
more than aught else, is a new movement for the
moral elevation of the race. Now the basic facts of
man's moral nature, though insufficiently illustrated
in practice, are universally admitted among civilized
human beings. Concerning them there is and can be
no dispute. Here then appeared the solid principle
of our union. The moral ideal would point the way
of safety, the moral ideal would permit us to preserve
the sacred right of individual differences intact, and
yet to combine with our fellow-men for the loftiest
and purest ends. Taking the term creed therefore
in its widest application, we started out with the 
CREED AND DEED.
watchword, Diversity in the Creed, Unanimity in the
Deed. This feature, if any at all, lends character to
our movement, and by it would we be judged. We
claim to be thereby distinguished, as well from those
religious corporations that base their organization
upon definite theological dogmas, as also from the
great majority of Liberals who meet, for purposes of
contemplation and poetical aspiration, in that we put
the moral element prominently forward and behold
in it the bond of our union, the pledge of our vitality.
But at the very threshold of our enterprise, we
were met by the objection that our main premise is
false; that morality is impossible without dogma,
and that in neglecting the one we were virtually
neutralizing our efforts toward the other. It became
our first and most serious task therefore to show the
futility of this objection, and to make clear by an
appeal to philosophy and history that the claims of
dogma are conditional, while the dictates of morality
are imperative. Then, having established the priority
and supremacy of the moral law, to examine what
manner of substitute the ethical ideal can offer us
to replace the offices of the doctrinal religions;
what are the hopes it holds out, what its consolations, what it can give us for the priesthood and
the church. With this task we have been occupied
during the year that has gone by, and now, at the
I72 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   173
close, we propose to review once more, the chief
steps which we have taken in the course of our
enquiry.
We discussed in the first place the doctrine of
immortality, and some of the main arguments upon
which it is commonly founded.
We next proceeded to take up the study of the
Hebrew Bible; for it is evident that so long as this
book is clothed with infallible authority, arguments
based on fact and logic avail nothing, and reason is
helpless before any random scriptural quotation.
We examined the composition of the work: we
learned that many of those portions that are
esteemed most ancient, are of comparatively recent
origin; that the text is studded with discrepancies,
and that the marks of savage and cruel customs
such as the offering of human sacrifices to the Deity,
are still clearly indented on the sacred volume.
The conclusion followed that a book so full of contradiction, so deeply tinged with the evidence of
human fallibility, could not have been the work of a
divine author. The inspiration theory being thus
divested of its support, we considered how baneful
Lhad been its influence  on the course of human
history; how it had retarded the progress of the
Jews among whom it arose; how it had checked
the intellectual development of Europe, how it had
hampered the advancement of science; how it had 
CREED AND DEED.
offered a specious plea for the despotism of kings,
and of the holy Inquisition; how in our own days
it had become in the hands of the Southern slave holders a most formidable means of perpetuating
their infamous scheme of oppression. We con cluded that whatever is false and worthless in the
book we should feel at liberty to reject, while what
is great and holy would not therefore become less
great or less holy to us, because it was proven to be
man's work, man's testimony to the divine possibilities inherent in the human soul.
We went on striving to penetrate more deeply
the origin of that mysterious power which we call
religion. To us it appeared that the feeling of the
sublime is the root of the religious sentiment in man.
That the Vedahs, Avesta, Koran, Bible are the
songs of the nations on the theme of the infinite;
and that the moral ideal, whether we endow it with
personality or not, presents to us the highest type
of sublimity and is the sole object worthy of religious
reverence.
Who dare express him
And who profess him
Saying,'I believe in him?'
Who feeling, seeing, deny his being
Saying I believe him not?
"Call it then what thou wilt
Call it bliss, heart, love, God;
I have no name to give it.
Feeling is all in all,
The name is sound and smoke."
I74 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   175
We maintained lastly, that the entrance of the
moral into the sphere of religion has endowed
the latter with whatever excellence it now possesses.
We showed in another course of lectures, that
every great religious movement has been in the
essence, a protest against the formalism and mock
holiness of its time, and derived its vital impulses
from the moral elements with which it was suffused.
We instanced the case of monotheism, which, as we
believe, arose in the struggle of the prophets against
the immoral rites of Baal: We mentioned Buddha,
the reformer of the Hindoos, whose sermon of unselfishness won for him the affections of the people.
We referred on frequent occasions to the fact that
Christianity likewise triumphed because of the humanity of Jesus: because he was the Master of
meekness; because his gospel was a gospel for the
poor. The result of all which was to confirm the
priority of morality, and to show that it is indeed
the source of whatever is durable and valuable in
the Creeds.
Toward the end of February the two hundredth
anniversary of the death of Benedict Spinoza,
afforded us a welcome opportunity to dwell upon
the life and philosophy of that illustrious thinker.
Later on, we endeavored to comprehend the
causes which have produced that remarkable change 
CREED AND DEED.
the religious opinions of modern men, that is daily
becoming more widely apparent. We found them to
be the critical investigation of the Bible, the progress of the natural sciences, and indirectly, the influence of commerce and of industry. We attempted
to set forth how the introduction of machinery became the means of fostering the growth of scepticism
even among those classes to whom the arguments
of scholars and men of science do not appeal. We
spoke of the enlightenment of the masses, and considered the theory of those who hold that a religion,
even when it is found to be false, should still be
maintained as a salutary curb upon the passions of
the multitude. We insisted that this view of religion is as unsound as it is degrading; that while all
men may not be capable of the highest order of
intellectual action, all men are capable of heart goodness, and goodness is the better part of religion; that
a generous confidence is the highest principle of
education, and that to trust men is the surest means
of leading them to respond to our confidence; that
we should cease therefore to preach the depravity of
human nature and preach rather the grandeur which
is possible to human nature; that in freedom alone
can we become worthy of being free.
And  again  in a distinct group of lectures we
sought to unfold our conception of the New Ideal,
and to point out that which distinguishes it from
I76 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   177
what has gone before. We spoke of its appeal to
the higher nature, of its teachings concerning the
Infinite within ourselves. We spoke of the priests
that shall do its service; of the solace it affords us by
its summons to larger duties; of the ethical schools
that shall be erected for its culture; of the manner
in which women may be prepared to aid in its propaganda; lastly of the form which it may assume in
the future, in our discourse on the Order of the Ideal.
Thus far have we proceeded. We issued our
appeal, at first, as men uncertain what the fortunes
of their enterprise might be. But while we avowed
it to be an experiment, we were deeply convinced
that it was an experiment which deserved to be
tried. And more and more as week followed week,
the response from your side came back full and cordial; and more and more as the scope and the ultimate tendencies of our work were developed, new
friends came to us whom we had not known, and it
became apparent that there is a deep, downright
purpose in your midst which will form a bond of
union for us that shall not easily be snapped asunder. Until at last after a period had gone by, you
thought it time to exchange your temporary organi zation for one more stable, and you declared to all
who might be interested in learning it, that it is your
intention and your hope to become a permanent
institution in this community.
8* 
CREED AND DEED.
We have made a beginning only. If we look
ahead, dangers and difficulties still lie thickly on
our path. The larger work is still before us. But
we will confide in the goodness of our cause, and
believe that if it be good indeed, in the end it must
succeed.
The country in which we live is most favorable
for such experiments as ours. There are lands of
older culture, and men there of wider vision and
maturer wisdom, but nowhere, as in America, is a
truth once seen, so readily applied, nowhere do even
the common order of men so feel the responsibility
for what transpires, and the impulse to see the best
accomplished.   Here  no  heavy  hand  of rulers
crushes the incipient good. When the Pilgrims set
out on their voyage across the unknown Atlantic,
Robinson, their pastor, their leader, addressed them
once more before they embarked, and in that
solemn hour of parting, warned them against the
self-sufficiency of a false conservatism, and dedicated
them and the new states they might found, to the
increase and the service of larger truths. To larger
truths America is dedicated.
0, if it were thine, America, America that hast
given political liberty to the world, to give that
spiritual liberty for which we pant, to break also
those spiritual fetters that load thy sons and daughters! All over this land thousands are search
178 
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.   I 79
ing and struggling for the better, they know not what.
Oh that we might aid them in the struggle, and
they us; and the hearts of many be knit together
once more in a common purpose that would lift
them above their sordid, weary cares, and ennoble
their lives and make them glorious! The crops are
waiting; may the reapers come!  
APPENDIX.  
APPENDIX.
I.
THE EVOLUTION OF HEBREW RELIGION.
" Dans l'opinion du peuple pour qui ces livres ont et6 6crits le point capital
et essentiel n'est certes pas la narration historique, mais bien la legislation et
l'edification religieuse." 1
IN I795, Frederick Augustus Wolf published a modest octavo volume entitled "Prolegomena to Homer," from whose
appearance is dated the beginning of a new era of historic criticism. The composition of the poems of Homer formed its
subject. For wellnigh twenty years the author had collected
evidence, weighed arguments, and patiently tested his results
by constant revision. His own wishes were engaged on the
side of the unity of the great Grecian epic. But the results
of his researches continued to point in the opposite direction,
and at last his earnest devotion to truth compelled him to adopt
a theory the soundness of whose construction seemed to be no
longer questionable. He was thus worthy to become the
"founder of the science of philology in its present significance." 2
The influence of Wolf's discovery was not confined to the
study of classic literature only. It quickly radiated through every
department of history.  " In every singing age," he said, "a
single saeculum is almost like a single man. It is all one mind,
1 " In the estimation of the people for whom these books were
written, the capital, essential point surely was, not the historic narrative, but rather legislation and religious edification."   (Noldeke,
' Histoire Littgraire de l'Ancien Testament," p. Ig9.)
2 Bonitz, "Ueber den Ursprung der Homnerischen Gedichte," p. I 1. 
APPENDIX.
one soul." I This conception involved a new social law, and
radically altered the current opinions concerning the relation ot
individual effort to the larger forces that affect the development
of nations. The creative energy of remarkable minds was not,
indeed, lessened in importance, but spontaneity, in this connec tion, acquired a new meaning; and for the Deus ex machzna of
the olden time was substituted the cumulative force of centuries
of progressive advancement, culminating, it is true, at last in the
triumphant synthesis of genius. The commotion which the
Wolfian theory has stirred up in the literary world is largely due
to the wide range of ideas which it affected. Yet it was itself
but a part of that general movement which, toward the close of
the last century, became conspicuous in its effects on every field
of human inquiry. Everywhere the shackles of authority were
thrown off, and, in place of blindly accepting the testimony of
the past, men turned to investigate for themselves. A new
principle of research was everywhere acknowledged, a new
method was created, and science, natural and historical, entered
upon that astonishing career of discovery whose rich promise
for the future we have but begun to anticipate.'
To the impetus given by Wolf, and to the new-born spirit of
science which he carried into the sphere of philology, we owe
among other valuable results the beginnings of a more critical
inquiry into the records of the ancient Hebrew religion. Indeed,
the author of  the " Prolegomena" himself  clearly foresaw
the influence which his book was destined to exert on Hebrew
1 In a letter given in Korte's "Leben und Studien F. A Wolf's."
i., p. 307.
2 Scientific pursuits are distinguished from others, not by the
material, but by the method of knowledge. The mere collection of
data, however multiplied in detail, however abstruse the subjects to
which they may refer, does not of itself deserve the name of science.
The term properly applies only when phenomena are placed in causal
relation, and the laws which govern their development are traced.
Measured by this standard, every attempt to explain the growth of
human thought and institutions, and to elucidate the laws which have
acted in the process of their evolution, has a just claim to be classed
under the head of scientific inquiry.
I84 
APPENDIX.
studies. In a letter, from which we have already quoted above,
he says: " The demonstration that the Pentateuch is made up
of unequal portions, that these are the products of different centuries, and that they were put together shortly after the time of
Solomon, may, ere long, be confidently expected. I should myself be willing to undertake such an argument without fear, for
nowhere do we find any ancient witness to guarantee the authorship of the Pentateuch to Moses himself." I
The prediction embodied in these words soon came true. A
host of competent scholars took up the study of the Hebrew
Bible, and, profiting by Wolf's example and suggestions, applied to its elucidation the same careful methods, the same
scrupulous honesty of interpretation, that had proved so successful in the realm of classical philology. Theologians by profession, they set aside their predilections, and placed the ascertainment of the truth above all other interests. They believed
in the indestructible vitality of religion, and were willing to admit the full light of criticism upon the scriptural page, confident
that any loss would be temporary only, the gain permanent. In
the course of their researches they arrived, among others, at the
following imnportant conclusions:
That the editor of the Pentateuch had admitted into his volume several accounts touching the main facts of early Hebrew
history; that these accounts are often mutually at variance;
that minute analysis and careful comparison alone can lead to
an approximately true estimate of their comparative value; and,
lastly, that the transmnission of historical information had in no
wise been the object of the Hebrew writers. The history of
their people served, it is true, to illustrate certain of their doctrines concerning the divine government of the world, and
especially the peculiar relations of the Deity to the chosen race;
but it was employed much in the sense of a moral tale, being
designed, not to convey facts, but to enforce lessons. Had the
acceptance of any particular scheme of Hebrew history been
deemed essential to the integrity of religious belief, the Bible,
they argued, would certainly not have included discrepant
accounts of that history in its pages. In the light of this new
I Letter in Ko6rte's "Leben und Studien F. A. Wolf',," i., p. 309.
i85 
APPENDIX.
insight, it seemed advisable to draw a distinction between the
biblical narrative proper and the doctrines which it was designed
to illustrate. The latter belong to the province of faith, and
their treatment may be left to the expounders of faith. The
former is a department of general history, and in dealing with
it we are at liberty to apply the same canons of criticism that
obtain in every other department, without fearing to trespass
upon sacred ground. It is our purpose in the following pages
to present some of the more interesting results that have been
reached in the study of the Pentateuch, so far as they illustrate
the evolution of religious ideas among the Hebrews. We shall
begin by summarizing a few instances of discrepant testimony
to introduce our subject, and, in particular, to show how little
the ordinary purposes of history have been considered in the
composition of the biblical writings; how little the bare transmission of facts was an object with the sacred authors.'
The Scriptures open with two divergent accounts of the creation. In Genesis i., the work of creation proceeds in two grand
movements, including the formation of inanimate and animate Nature respectively2 On the first day a diffused light is spread out
over chaos. Then are made the firmament, the dry earth, the
green herbs, and fruit-bearing trees; on the fourth day the great
luminaries are called into being; on the fifth, the fishes and
birds of the air; on the sixth, the beasts of the field; and, lastly,
crowning all, man, his Maker's masterpiece. The human species enters at once upon its existence as a fair.  " Male and
female did he create them." In the second chapter the same
methodical arrangement, the same deliberate progress from the
lower to the higher forms of being, is not observed. Man, his
interests and responsibilities, stand in the foreground of the
picture. The trees of the field are not made until after Adam;
and, subsequently to them, the cattle and beasts. Moreover,
man is a solitary being. A comparison between his lonely
condition and the dual existence of the remainder of the animal
1IMany of the following examples are familiarly known. A few,
however, are drawn from recent investigations. Compare, especially,
Kuenen, "The Religion of Israel."
2 Tuch's "Genesis," p. 3, second edition, Halle, I871.
I86 
APPENDIX.
world leads the Deity to determine upon the creation of woman.
A profound slumber then falls upon Adam, a rib is taken from
his side, and from it Eve is fashioned.' We may observe that the
name Jehovah, as appertaining to the Deity, is employed in the
second chapter, while it is scrupulously avoided in the first.
The recognition of this distinction has led to further discoveries
of far-reaching importance, but too complicated in their nature
to be here detailed. The conflicting statements of the two accounts, which we have just indicated, have induced scholars to
regard them as the work of different writers. In Genesis iv. we
learn that in the days of Enoch, Adam's grandson, men began
to call on the name of Jehovah; in Exodus vi., on the contrary,
that the name Jehovah was first revealed to Moses, being unknown even to the patriarchs.
Gen. xvi., Hagar is driven from her home by the jealousy of
her mistress; escapes into the desert; beholds a vision of God
at a well in a wilderness. Gen. xxi., the flight of Hagar is related a second time. The general scheme of the narrative is
the same as above; but there are important divergencies of
detail. As narrated in chapter xvi., the escape took place immediately before the birth of Ishmael. Fifteen years elapsed,'
and Ishmael, now approaching the years of maturity, is once
more driven forth from the house of Abraham. But, to our
surprise, in chapter xxi. the lad is described as a mere infant;
he is carried on his mother's shoulders, and laid away, like a
helpless babe. under some bushes by the wayside. It appears
that we have before us two accounts touching the same event,
agreeing in the main incidents of the escape, but showing a dis agreement of fifteen years as to the date of its occurrence. The
narratives are distinguished as above by the employment of dif
I For an account of the close analogy between the biblical narration and the Persian story of Meshja and Meshjane, their temptation
and fall, vide ibid. p. 40. It is of special importance to note that
reference to the account of Genesis ii. is made only in the later literature of the Hebrews, ibid., p. 42.
2 Gen. xvii. 25. In quoting from the Old Testament, we follow
the order of the Hebrew text.
187 
APPENDIX.
ferent names of the Deity: Jehovah in the one instance, Elohim
in the other.
Gen. xxxii., Jacob at the fords of Jabbok, after wrestling dur ing the night with a divine being, receives the name of Israel.
Gen. xxxv., without reference to the previous account, the name
Israel is conferred upon Jacob at a different place and under
different circumstances.
Gen. xlix., the dispersion of the Levites among the tribes is
characterized as a punishment and a curse. They are to be for ever homeless and fugitive. Deuteronomy xxxiii. and elsewhere,
it is described as a blessing. The Levites have been scattered
as good seed over the land. They are apostles, commissioned
to propagate Jehovah's law.
Passing on to the second book of the Pentateuch, we pause
before the account of the Revelation on Mount Sinai, beyond a
doubt the most important event of Israel's ancient history.
Exodus xxiv. 2, Moses alone is to approach the divine presence.
Exod. xix. 24, Aaron is to accompany him. Exod. xxiv. 13,
Aaron is to remain below and Joshua is to go in his stead.
Again, Exod. xxiii. 20, instant death will overtake him who
beholds God. Exod. xxiv. 9-I I, Moses, Aaron, two of his sons,
and seventy elders of Israel "ascended, and they saw the God
of Israel... Also, they saw God, and did eat and drink."
Once more, Exod. xxiv. 4-7, Moses himself writes down the
words of revelation in a book of covenant. Exod. xxiv. I2, not
Moses but God writes them; and, elsewhere, "Two tables of
stone inscribed by the finger of God."
Exod. xx. enjoins the observance of the sabbath-day as a
memorial of the repose of the Maker of heaven and earth on the
sabbath of creation. Deut. v., the fourth commandment is enjoined because of the redemption of Israel from Egyptian bondage. Exod. xxxiv., a new version of the decalogue, differing in
most respects from the one commonly received, is promulgated.'
The first commandment is to worship no strange god; the second, to make no graven images; the third, to observe the feast
I Compare  De  Wette's  " Einleitung  in  das alte Testament"
(Schrader's edition), p. 286, note 53.
I88 
APPENDIX.
of unleavened bread; the fourth, to deliver the first-born unto
Jehovah; the fifth, to observe the sabbath, etc.
In Exod. xx. we read that the guilt of the fathers will be
avenged upon the children down even to the third and fourth
generation; in Deut. xxiv., the children shall not die for their
fathers. Every one for his own sin shall die.
In Deut. xxv. the marrying of a deceased brother's wife is
under certain conditions enjoined as a duty. In Levit. xviii. it
is unconditionally prohibited as a crime.
Exod. xxxiii., Moses removes the tabernacle beyond the camp.
Numn. ii., the tabernacle rests in the very heart of the camp, with
all the tribes of Israel grouped round about it, according to their
standards and divisions.
Num. xvi., the sons of Korah, the leader of the great Levitical sedition, perish with their father.  Num. xxvi., the sons of
Korah do not perish.'
Of the forty years which the Israelites are said to have dwelt
in the desert, not more than two are covered by the events of the
narrative.   The  remainder are wrapped  in dense obscurity.
There is, however, a significant fact which deserves mention in
this connection. The death of Aaron marks, as it were, the
close of Israel's journey. Now, while in Num. xxxiii. the death
of the high-priest is described as occurring in the fortieth year,
in Deut. x. it is actually referred to the second year of the Exodus.2
A brief digression beyond the borders of the Pentateuch will
Num. xxvi. II. Indeed, had the sons of Korah and every human being related to him perished, as Num. xvi. avers, how could we
account for the fact that Korah's descendants filled high offices in the
Temple at Jerusalem later on? The celebrated singer, Heman, himself was a lineal descendant of Korah. To the descendants of Korah
also are ascribed the following Psalms: Ps. xlii., xliv.-xlix., lxxxiv.,
lxxxv., lxxxvii., lxxxviii.
2 In connection with this subject it is of interest to compare Goethle's argument in the " Westo6stlichler Divan" on the duration of the
desert journey. Here, as in so many other instances, the intuitive
perception of the great poet anticipated the tardy results of subsequent investigation.
189 
APPENDIX.
show that the conflict of testimony which we have thus far noticed, affecting as it does some of the leading events of ancient
Hebrew history, does not diminish as we proceed in the narrative. In I Samuel vii. it is said that the Philistines ceased to
harass the land of Israel all the days of Samuel. Immediately
thereupon we read of new Philistine incursions more direful
than ever in their consequences.' The popular proverb, "Is
Saul among the prophets?" is variously explained, I Sam. x. and
xix. Two discrepant accounts are given of Saul's rejection from
the kingdom, I Sam. xiii. and xv.; of David's introduction to
Saul, I Sam. xvi. and xvii. The charming story of David's encounter with the giant Goliath told in I Sam. xvii. is contradicted
in 2 Sam. xxi. 19, where, not David, but some person otherwise
unknown to fame, is reported to have slain the giant Goliath,
and also the time, place, and attendant circumstances, are differently related.2
It thus appears that the compiler of the Pentateuch has admitted a variety of views, not only on the ancient history of his
people, but also on the general subject of religion and morals,
into his work; and that the discordant opinions of diverse authors and of diverse stages of human progress are reflected in
its pages. It is the monument of a grand religious movement
extending over many centuries of gradual development. It is
the image of a nation's struggles and growth. As contained in the
books of the Pentateuch, the Mosaic religion is a religious mosaic.
In the foregoing sketch we have observed how deep a mist
of uncertainty hangs over the earliest period, the golden age of
the history of the Hebrews. All is in a state of flux, and what
appeared compact and coherent at a distance yields to our touch
upon closer contact. To gain terra firma, let us turn to the
period which immediately succeeded the settlement of the Israelites in Palestine; a period in which the outline of historical
events begins to assume a more definite and tangible shape.
I Compare I Sam. vii. I3, and I Sam. xiii. i9.
g In I Chron. xx. 5, we read, "the brother of Goliath." The purpose of the change is clear, and accords well with the apologetical
tendencies of the author of Chronicles.  Vide De \Wette, "Einleitung," etc., p. 370. Geiger, " Urschrift."
Igo 
APPENDIX.
It was a dismal and sorrowful age. The bonds of social
order were loosened; the current conceptions of the Deity and
the rites of his worship were gross and often degrading. Mutual jealousies kindled the firebrand of war among the contending clans. Almost the whole tribe of Benjamin was extirpated.
Abimelech slew seventy princes upon one stone. Lust and
treachery ran riot. A wilder deed has never been chronicled in
the annals of mankind than that related in chapter xix. of Judges,
nor ever has a terrible deed been more terribly avenged. Now,
looking backward, we ask, Is it to be believed that in the fourteenth century B. C. not only the leader of Israel, but also
their elders, their priests, nay, large numbers of the very populace, shared in the most exalted, the most spiritual conceptions
of God, and nourished the most refined sentiments in regard
to human relationships, while immediately thereupon, and centuries thereafter, violence and bloodshed, and idolatry, do not
cease from the records? It has been argued, indeed, that the
worship of idols was but a re/afse from the purity of a preceding age; and that, though the tradition of the Mosaic time
may have been lost in the succeeding period among the people
at large, it was still preserved in the circle of a select few, the
judges, King David, and others. These, it is believed, continued
to remain faithful disciples of the great lawgiver. But these
very men, the judges-King David himself-all fall immeasurably below the standard that is set up in the Pentateuch. If
they were esteemed the true representatives of the national religion in their day, if the very points in which they transgressed
the provisions of the Mosaic code are distinguished by the approval of God and man, we are forced to conclude that that
standard-by which they stand condemned-did not yet exist;
that, in the days of David, the laws of Moses, as we now have
them, were as yet unwritten and unknown. Let us illustrate
this important point by a few examples taken from the records.
Gideon no sooner returns from victory than he makes a golden
idol and sets it up for worship. Jephthah slays his daughter as
an offering of thanksgiving to Jehovah. In the Pentateuch the
adoration of images is branded as the gravest of offences.
David keeps household gods in his own home (Sam. xix).  In
I9I 
APPENDIX.
the Pentateuch, on its opening page, God is proclaimed as a
pure spirit, maker of heaven and earth. In the eyes of David
(I Sam, xxvi. I9), the sway of Jehovah does not extend beyond
the borders of Palestine.' In the Pentateuch the ark of the
covenant is described as the treasury of all that is brightest and
best in the worship of the one God. None but the consecrated
priest dare approach it, and even he only under circumstances
calculated to inspire peculiar veneration and awe. In 2 Sam.
vi., David abandons the ark to the keeping of a heathen Phil istine. In an early age of culture, when fear and terror in the
presence of superior force entered largely into the religious
conceptions of the Hebrews, the taking of the census was
deemed an act of grave transgression. It appeared a vaunting
of one's strength; it seemed to indicate a defiant attitude toward
the loftier power of the Deity, which he would certainly visit
with condign punishment. At a later period the priesthood
found it in their interest to override these scruples, and the taking of the census became an affair of habitual occurrence. In
the last chapter of Samuel the more primitive view still predominated. Seventy thousand Israelites are miserably slain to atone
for King David's presumption in commanding a census of the
people. In the fourth book of Moses, on the other hand, the
numbering of the people not only proceeds without the slightest
evil resulting therefrom, but at the express command of God
himself.
In the book of Deuteronomy the service of Jehovah is said
to consist mainly in the practice of righteousness, in works of
kindness toward our fellows, in sincere and holy love toward the
Deity, who is represented as the merciful father of all his human
children Second Sam. xxi., a famine comes upon the land of Israel. The anger of Jehovah is kindled against the people. To
appease him, David offers sacrifice-human sacrifice. The seven
sons of Saul are slain, and their bodies kept exposed on the hill,
"in sight of Jehovah," and the horrid offering is accelled, and
the divine wrath is thereby pacified.2 Truly, in the age of
1 Banishment being described as a transfer of allegiance to strange
gods.
2 It is important to note that the seven sons of Saul were sacrificed
192 
APPENDIX.
David, the Hebrews were far, far removed from the high state
of culture in which the ideal conception of religion that pervades
Deuteronomy became possible. And long after, when centuries
had gone by and the kingdom of Judah was already approaching its dissolution, the direful practices of David's reign still survived, and the root of idolatry had not been plucked from the
heart of the people. Still do we hear of human sacrifice perpetrated in the midst of Jerusalem, and steeds and chariots
dedicated to the sun-god, and images of the Phallus, and all the
abominations of sensual worship, filled the very Temple of
Jehovah.
But in the meantime a new force had entered the current
of Hebrew history. The conviction that one God, and he an
all-just, almighty being, ruled the destinies of Israel, began to
take root. In the eighth century B. C. authentic records prove
that monotheism, as a form of religious belief, obtained, at least
among the more illustrious members of the prophetic order.
We have elsewhere attempted to trace the causes which led to
the rise of monotheism at this particular epoch, and can do no
more than briefly allude to them here.
When the mountaineers of Southern Palestine, after cen turies of protracted struggles, had secured the safe possession
of individual homes, the endearments of domestic life were in vested with a sanctity in their eyes never before known. The
attachment of the Hebrew toward his offspring was intensified;
his devotion to the wife of his bosom became purer and more
enduring. Now, the prevailing forms of Semitic religion out raged these feelings at every point. The gods of the surround ing nations were gods of pleasure and of pain; and in their
worship the stern practices of fanatic asceticism alternated with
the wildest orgies of sensual enjoyment. The worship of Baal
Moloch demanded the sacrifice of children; that of the lasciv
in the beginning of the barley-harvest. This circumstance seems to
throw light on the primitive mode of celebrating the Passover.  That
the rite of human sacrifice was originally connected with this festival
is generally acknowledged. Vide, e. g., Exod. xiii., 2. By such
offerings it was intended, no doubt, to secure the favor of the god
during the continuance of the harvest.
9
I93 
APPENDIX.
ious Baaltis insulted the modesty of woman. The nobler spirits
among the Hebrews rebelled against both these demands. And,
as the latter were put forth in the name of the dominant religion,
the inevitable conclusion followed that that religion itself must be
radically wrong. The spirit of opposition thus awakened was
aroused into powerful activity when, in the days of Ahab, the
queen, supported by an influential priesthood, determined to in troduce the forms of Phoenician religion in Israel by measures of
force. The royal edicts were resisted, but for a while the rule
of the stronger prevailed. The leaders of the opposition were
compelled to flee, and, avoiding the habitations of men, to take
refuge in wild and solitary places. Thus the rupture was
widened into schism, and persecution inflamed the zeal and
kindled the energies of that new order of men of whom Elijah
is the well-known type.
Through their agency the emotional nature of the Semitic
race now found expression in a form of religious worship loftier
by far than any that had ever arisen among men. If Baal was
the embodiment of Semitic asceticism and Baaltis the type of
sensual orgiastic passion, the national God of Israel now became
the type of a nobler emotion, the guardian of domestic purity,
the source of sanctity, the ideal Father. It is indeed the image
of a just patriarch that fills the mind and wings the fancy of the
eldest prophets, when they describe the nature of Jehovah, their
God. Jehovah is the husband of the people. Israel shall be his
true and loyal spouse. The children of Israel are his children.
Unchastity and irreligion are synonymous terms. And thus, if
we err not, the peculiar feature of I-lebrew character, their faithful attachment to kith and kin, the strength and purity of their
domestic affections, serves to explain the peculiar character, the
origin and development of the Hebrew religion. And because
the essential elements of the new religion were moral elements
it could not tolerate the Nature-worship of the heathens; and
the way was prepared for the gradual ascendency of the purely
spiritual in religion, which after ages of gradual progress constituted the last, the lasting triumph of prophecy.
After ages of development! For we are not to suppose that,
in the centuries succeeding Hosea, the doctrines of the prophetic
I94 
APPENDIX.
schools had become in any sense the property of the people at
large.  " The powers that be" were arrayed against them, and
the annals of the kings are replete with evidence of their sufferings. It was in the late reign of Josiah that they at last received
not only the countenance of the reigning monarch, but also a
decisive influence upon the direction of affairs. In that reign a
scroll was found in the temple imbued with the doctrine of the
unity of God, and breathing the vigorous spirit of the prophets.
In it was emphasized the heart's religion in preference to the
empty ceremonial of priestly worship. The allegiance of the
people was directed toward the God who had elected them from
among the nations of the earth, and dire disaster was predicted
in case of disobedience. When brought to the king and read in
his presence, he was powerfully affected, and determined, if possible, to stem the tide of impending ruin by such salutary measures of reform as the injunctions of the newly-found Scripture
seemed most urgently to call for. The concurrence of many
critics has identified this scroll, written and published at or
about the time when the youthful Josiah succeeded to the throne
of his ancestors, with Deuteronomy, the fifth of the books of
Moses. It differs materially from the more recent writings of
the Pentateuch. The family of Aaron are not yet exclusively
endowed with the priesthood. The priests are all Levites, the
Levites all priests.  There are, moreover, other vital differences,
into which the limits of this article do not permit us to enter.'
The date of the composition of Deuteronomy is thus referred to
the closing decades of the seventh century B. C.'
The princes who succeeded Josiah fell back into the old
course, and quite undid the work which had begun with such
fair promise. Indeed, little permanent good was to be hoped
for in so disordered a condition of political affairs, and from the
degenerate rulers who then swayed the heln of state. The for
1 E.g., the rebellion of Korah is unknown to the author of Deuteronomy.
2 The language of Deuteronomy attests its late origin. Sixty-six
phrases of Deuteronomy recur in the writings of Jeremiah. Vide
Zunz, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Jforgenldndischen Gesellschaft, xxviii.,
p. 670.
I95 
APPENDIX.
tunes of the kingdom of Judah were swiftly declining, and, not
fully a quarter of a century after the pious Josiah had breathed
his last, Nebuchadnezzar burned the Temple of Jerusalem, and
carried its inhabitants captive to Babylon.
Heretofore, with but a brief, brilliant interlude, idolatry had
been the court religion of Judah. Early training, long usage,
the example of revered ancestors, had endeared its forms and
symbols to the affections of the people. Resistance to the in novating prophets was natural; men being then, as ever, loath
to abandon the sacred usages which had come down to them
from the distant generations of the past. But, in the long y)ears
of the captivity, a profound change came over the spirit of the
Hebrew people;" by Babel's streams they sat and wept;" by
Babel's streams they recalled the memories of their native land,
that land which they had lost. It was then that the voices of
Jehovah's messengers, which had so earnestly warned them of
the approaching doom, recurred to their startled recollection.
They remembered the message; they beheld its fulfillment; the
testimony of the prophets had been confirmed by events; the
one God to whom they testified had revealed his omnipotence in
history; and with ready assent the exiles promised allegiance
to his commandments in the future. The love of country, the
dread of further chastisement, the dear hope of restoration, combined to win them to the purer worship of their God, and, in the
crucible of Babylon, the national religion was purged of the last
dregs of heathendom.
With the permission of Cyrus, the Jews returned to Palestine
and the Temple at Jerusalem was rebuilt. The question now
arose in what forms the ceremonial of the new sanctuary should
be conducted. The time-honored festivals, the solemn and joyful convocations, the sacrifices and purifications of the olden
time, were all more or less infected with the taint of paganism.
Prophecy would have none of them-prophecy, free child of
genius, contemned sacrifice, denounced the priesthood, even the
temple and its ritual; 1 proclaimed humbleness and loving-kindness as the true service in which Jehovah takes delight. There
was formalism on the one hand, idealism on the other. As is
1 Jeremiah vii. 4; Isaiah lxvi. I; Micah vi. 6.
i96 
APPENDIX.
usual in such cases, when the time had arrived for turning theory
into practice, it was found necessary to effect a compromise. As
Christianity in later days adopted the yule-tree into its system,
and lit the lamps of the heathen festival of the 25th of December
in honor of the nativity of its founder, so the leaders of the Jews,
in the fifth century before our era, adopted the feasts and usages
of an ancient Nature-worship, breathed into them a new spirit,
informed them with a loftier meaning, and made them tokens,
symbols of the eternal God. The old foes were thus reconciled;
priesthood and prophecy joined hands, and were thenceforth
united. As an offspring of this union, we behold a new code of
laws and prescriptions, whose marked and inharmonious features
at once betray the dual nature of its progenitors.  "A  rough
preliminary draft, as it were," of this code, is preserved in the
book of Ezekiel, composed probably about the middle of the fifth
century. In its finished and final shape, it forms the bulk of a
still later work-of Leviticus, namely the third of the books of
the Pentateuch: of all the discoveries of criticism none more
noteworthy, none we are permitted to consider more assured.
What lends additional certainty to the result is the circumstance
that it was reached independently by two of the most esteemed
scholars of our day, the one a Professor of Theology  in the
University of Leyden,' the other a veteran of thought, whose
brow is wreathed by the ripe honors of more than fourscore
years.2 Let us briefly advert to the line of argument by which
this astonishing conclusion was reached:
The author of the book of Ezekiel was a priest, and one con fessedly loyal to the sanctuary of Jerusalem. Now, had the laws
of the Levitical code, which minutely describe the ritual of that
sanctuary, existed, or been regarded as authoritative in his day,
he could not, would not have disregarded, much less contra dicted, their provisions. He does this, and, be it remarked, in
points of capital importance. In chapter xlv. of Ezekiel are
mentioned the great festivals, with the sacrifices appropriate to
each; but the feast of Pentecost, commanded in Leviticus, is
entirely omitted; also that of the eighth day of tabernacles.
The second of the daily burnt-offerings, upon which the legis
2 The venerable Dr. Zunz, of Berlin.
197
I Prof. A. Kuenen. 
APPENDIX.
lator of the fourth book of Moses dwells with such marked
emphasis, is not commanded. The order of sacrifices appointed
in Ezekiel is at variance with that in the more recent code.
Ezekiel nowhere mentions the ark of the covenant. According
to him, the new year begins on the tenth of the seventh month,
while the festival of the trumpets, ordained in Leviticus for the
first of that month (the present new year of the Jews), is no where referred to. We are not to suppose, however, that the
festivals, the ark, etc., did not yet exist in the time of Ezekiel.
They existed, no doubt, but were still too intimately associated
with pagan customs and superstitions to receive or merit the
countenance of a prophetic writer. In Leviticus the process of
assimilation above described had reached its climax. The new
meaning had been successfully engrafted upon the rites and
symbols of the olden time; and they were thenceforth freely
employed. The legislation of the Levitical code exhibits the
familiar features which in every instance mark the ascendency
or consolidation of the hierarchical order. The lines of grada tion and distinction between the members of the order among
themselves are precisely drawn and strictly adhered to. The
prerogatives of the whole order as against the people are fenced
about with stringent laws. The revenues of the order are
l,Trgely increased.   In the older code of Deuteronomy, the
annual tithes were set apart for a festival occasion, and given
over to the enjoyment of the people. In the new code, the hierarchy claims the tithes for its own use. New taxes are invented. The best portions of the sacrificial animal are reserved
for the banquets of the Temple. The first-born of men and
cattle belong to the priesthood, and must be ransomed by the
payment of a sum of money.   In no period prior to the fifth
century B. C. was the hierarchy powerful enough to design such
laws. At that time, however, when in the absence of a temporal
sovereign they, with the high-priest at their head, were the acknowledged rulers of the state, they were both prepared to conceive and able to carry them into effect. The language of Leviticus contributes not a little to betray its late origin.' The
1 To mention only a single instance, ha Shem (meaning the name,
i. e. the ineffable name of God) was not employed until a very late
I98 
APPENDIX.
authorship of Moses attributed to the Levitical code is symbolical.  The name of Moses is utterly unknown to the elder firofh.
ets. In all their manifold writings it does not occur a single
time, though they make frequent reference to the past. There
can now be little doubt that the composition of the bulk of Leviticus, and of considerable portions of the books of Numbers,
Exodus, and even parts of Genesis, belongs to the epoch of the
second Temple, and that the date of these writings may be
approximately fixed at about one thousand years after the time
of Moses.  As to the story of Israel's desert wanderings, it rests
upon ancient traditions whose character it is not our present
business to investigate. It was successively worked up in various schools of priests and prophets, and this accounts for the
host of discrepancies it contains, some of which have been noticed in the beginning of this essay. It was finally amplified by
the inventive genius of the second-Temple priesthood, who succeeded in heightening the sanctity of their own institutions by
tracing them back to a revered, heroic person, who had lived in
the dim days of remote antiquity.
In the preceding pages we have indicated the more important phases of that conflict which ended in the establishment of
monotheism, a conflict whose traces, though sometimes barely
legible, are still preserved in our records. We saw in the first instance that the Mosaic age is shrouded in uncertainty. We pointed
out that pure monotheism was unknown in the time of the early
kings. We briefly referred to the rise of monotheism. Finally,
we endeavored to show how the prophetic idea had been successively expressed in various codes, each corresponding to a certain stage in the great process of evolution.  From what we
have said, it follows that the prophetic ideal of religion is the
root and core of all that is valuable in the Hebrew Bible. The
laws, rites, and observances, in which it found a temporary and
changeful expression, may lose their vitality; it will always con tinue to exert its high influence. It was not the work of one
man, nor of a single age, but was reached in the long course of
period in the history of the Jews, when the fear of taking the name
of the Lord in vain induced men to avoid, if possible, mentioning it
at all. We find ha Shem in the above sense in Lev. xxiv. II.
I99 
APPENDIX.
generations on generations, evolved amid error and vice, slowly,
and against all the odds of time. It has been said that the
Bible is opposed to the theory of evolution. The Bible itself is
a prominent example of evolution in history. It is not homogeneous in all its parts. There are portions filled with tales of
human error and fallibility. These are the incipient stages of
an early age-the dark and dread beginnings. There are others
thrilling with noblest emotion, freighted with eternal truths,
breathing celestial music. These are the triumph and the fruition of a later day. It is thus by discriminating between what
is essentially excellent and what is comparatively valueless that
we shall best reconcile the discordant claims of reason and of
faith. The Bible was never designed to convey scientific information, nor was it intended to serve as a text-book of history.
In its ethical teachings lies its true significance. On them it
may fairly rest its claims to the immortal reverence of mankind.
There was a time in the olden days of Greece when it was
demanded that the poems of Homer should be removed from
the schools, lest the minds of the young might be poisoned by
the weeds of superstitious belief. Plato, the poet-philosopher,
it was who urged this demand. That time is past. The tales
of the gods and heroes have long since ceased to entice our
credulity. The story of Achilles's wrath and the wanderings of
the sage Ulysses are not believed as history, but the beauty and
freshness and the golden poetry of the Homeric epic have a
reality all their own, and are a delight and a glory now, as they
have ever been before. The Bible also is a classical book. It
is the classical book of noble ethical sentiment. In it the mortal
fear, the overflowing hope, the quivering longings of the human
soul toward the better and the best, have found their first, their
freshest, their fittest utterance. In this respect it can never be
superseded.
To Greek philosophy we owe the evolution of the logical
categories; to Hebrew prophecy, the pure canon of moral
principle and action. That this result was the outcome of a
long process of suffering and struggle cannot diminish its value
in our estimation. When we compare the degrading offices of
the Hebrew religion in the days of the judges with the lofty
200 
APPENDIX.
aspirations of the second Isaiah, when we remember the utter
abyss of moral abasement from which the nobler spirits of the
Hebrews rose to the free heights of prophecy, our confidence
in the divine possibilities of the human soul is reinvigorated, our
emulation is kindled, and from the great things already accomplished we gather the cheering promise of the greater things
that are yet to come. It is in this moral incentive that the
practical value of the evolutionary theory chiefly lies.'
1 Most aptly has this thought been expressed in the lines with
which Goethe welcomed the appearance of F. A. Wolf's "Prolegomena:"
"Erst die Gesundheit des Mannes, der, endlich vom Namen Homeros
Kihn uns befreiend, uns auch fiihrt in die vollere Bahn.
Denn wer wagte mit Go6ttern den Kampf? und wer mit dem Einen? Doch Homeride zt seyn, auch nur als letzter, ist scho6n."
The Elegy of Hermann und Dorothea
20I 
II.
REFORMED JUDAISM.
THE Jews are justly called a peculiar people. During the
past three thousand years they have lived apart from their fellow-men, in a state of voluntary or enforced isolation. The
laws of the Pentateuch directed them to avoid contact with
heathens. Christianity in turn shunned and execrated them.
Proud and sensitive by nature, subjected to every species of
humiliation and contempt, they retired upon themselves, and
continued to be what the seer from Aram had described them
in the olden time, " A people that dwells in solitude." I It followed that, in the progress of time, idiosyncrasies of character
were developed, and habits of thinking and feeling grew up
amongst them, which could not but contribute to alienate them
still more from the surrounding world. They felt that they were
not understood. They were too shy to open their confidence to
their oppressors. They remained an enigma. At widle intervals books appeared purporting to give an account of the Jews
and their sacred customs. But these attempts were, in the
main, dictated by no just or generous motive. Their authors,
narrow bigots or renegades from Judaism, ransacked the vast
literature of the Hebrew people for such scattered fragments
as might be used to their discredit, and exhibited these as samples of Jewish manners and Jewish religion. The image thus
presented, it is needless to say, was extremely untrustworthy.
And yet the writings of these partial judges have remained almost the only sources from which even many modern writers
are accustomed to draw their information. The historian is yet
to come who will dispel the dense mists of prejudice that have
gathered about Jewish history, and reveal the inward life of this
1 Numbers xxiii. 9. 
APPENDIX.
wonderful people, whose perennial freshness has been preserved
through so many centuries of the most severe trials and persecution. In one respect, indeed, let us hasten to add, the popular judgment concerning the Jews has never been deceived.
The intense conservatism in religion for which they have become
proverbial is fully confirmed by facts. There exists no other
race of men that has approved its fidelity to religious conviction
for an equal period, under equal difficulties, and amid equal
temptations. Antiochus, Titus, Firuz, Reccared, Edward I. of
England, Philip Augustus of France, Ferdinand of Spain, exhausted the resources of tyranny in vain to shake their constancy.
Their power of resistance rose with the occasion that called it
forth; and their fervid loyalty to the faith transmitted to them
by the fathers never appeared to greater advantage than when
it cost them their peace, their happiness, and their life to main tain it. Since the close of the last century, however, a great
change has apparently come over the Jewish people. Not only
have they abandoned their former attitude of reserve and
mingled freely with their fellow-citizens of whatever creed, not
only have they taken a leading part in the great political revo lutions that swept over Europe, but the passion for change, so
characteristic of the age in which we live, has extended even to
their time-honored religion; and a movement aiming at nothing
less than the complete reformation of Judaism has arisen, and
rapidly acquired the largest dimensions. The very fact that such
a movement should exist among such a people is rightly inter preted as a sign of the times deserving of careful and candid
consideration; and great interest has accordingly been mani fested of late on the subject of Jewish Reform. In a series of
articles we shall undertake to give a brief sketch of the origin
and bearings of the movement. But before addressing our selves to this task it will be necessary to review a few of the
main causes that have enabled the Jews to perdure in history,
and to consider the motives that impelled them to resist change
so long, if we would properly appreciate the process of trans formation that is even now taking place among them.   Among
the efficient forces that conduced to the preservation of the Jew ish people we rank highest:
203 
APPENDIX.
THE PURITY OF THEIR DOMESTIC RELATIONS.
The sacredness of the family tie is the condition both of the
physical soundness and the moral vigor of nations. The family
is the miniature commonwealth, upon whose integrity the safety
of the larger commonwealth depends. It is the seedplot of all
morality. In the child's intercourse with its parents the senti ment of reverence is instilled-the essence of all piety, all ideal  ism; also the habit of obedience to rightful authority, which
forms so invaluable a feature in the character of the loyal citizen.
In the companionship of brothers deference to the rights of
equals is practically inculcated, without which no community
could exist. The relations between brother and sister give birth
to the sentiment of chivalry,-regarcl for the rights of the
weaker,-and this forms the basis of magnanimity, and every
generous and tender quality that graces humanity. Reverence
for superiors, respect for equals, regard for inferiors,-these
form the supreme trinity of the virtues. Whatever is great and
good in the institutions and usages of mankind is an application
of sentiments that have drawn their first nourishment from the
soil of the family. The family is the school of duties. But it
has this distinguishing excellency, that among those who are
linked together by the strong ties of affection duty is founded on
love. On this account it becomes typical of the perfect morality
in all the relations of life, and we express the noblest longings
of the human heart when we speak of a time to come in which
all mankind will be united "as one family."  Now the preeminence of the Jews in point of domestic purity will hardly be disputed. "IIn this respect they stand out like a bold promontory
in the hi;.story of the past, singular and unapproached," said the
philosopher Trendelenburg.1 According to the provisions of the
Mosaic Code, the crime of adultery is punished with death. The
most minute directions are given touching the dress of the
priests and the common people, in order to check the pruriency
of fancy. The scale of forbidden marriages is widely extended
Vide the essay on the Origin of Monotheism in Jahrbuch des
Vereins fir Wissenschaftliche Pa/dagogik, Vol. IX. I877, by the author
of this article.
204 
APPENDIX.
with the same end in view. Almost the entire tribe of Benjamin
is extirpated to atone for an outrage upon feminine virtue committed( within its borders. The undutiful son is stoned to death
in the presence of the whole people. That husband and wife
shall become "as one flesh," is a conception which we find
only among the Jews. Among them the picture of the true
housewife which is unrolled to us in Proverbs had its original,the picture of her who unites all womanly grace and gentleness,
in whose environment dwell comfort and beauty, "whose husband and sons rise up to praise her." The marriage tie was
held so sacred that it was freely used by the prophets to describe the relations between the Deity and the chosen people.
Jehovah is called the husband of the people. Israel shall be his
true and loyal spouse. The children of Israel are his children.
The worship of false gods was designated by the Hebrew word
that signifies conjugal infidelity. This feature of Jewish life re mained equally prominent in later times. In the age of the
Talmud marriage was called Hillula,-a song of praise! The
most holy day of the year, the tenth of the seventh month, a day
of fasting and the atonement of sins, was deemed a proper
occasion to collect the young people for the purpose of choosing
husbands and wives. On that day the maidens of Jerusalem,
arrayed in pure white, went out into the vineyards that covered
the slopes of the neighboring hills, dancing as they went, and
singing as the bands of youth came up to meet them from the
valleys.  "Youth, raise now  thine eyes," sang the beautiful
among them, " and regard her whom thou choosest." Look not
to beauty," sang the well-born, " but rather to ancient lineage
and high descent." Lastly, those who were neither beautiful
nor well born took up the strain, and thus they sang: " Treach  erous is grace, and beauty deceitful; the woman that fears God
alone shall be praised." The appropriateness of such proceed  ings on the Atonement day was justified by the remark that
marriage is itself an act of spiritual purification. The high value
attached to the institution of the family is further illustrated by
many tender legends of the Talmud which we cannot here stop
to recount. A separate gate, it is said, was reserved in Solo  mon's Temple for the use of bridegrooms, before which they
205 
APPENDIX.
received the felicitations of the assembled people. The marriage
celebration was essentially a festival of religion. Seven days it
lasted. The Talmudic law, usually so unbending in its exac tions, relaxed its austerity in favor of these auspicious occasions,
and recommended to all to rejoice with the joyful. On the Sab bath of the marriage-week, the young husband was received
with peculiar honors in the synagogue, and the liturgy of the
medieval Jews is crowded with hymns composed in honor of
these solemn receptions. If a whole congregation thus united
to magnify and sanctify the erection of a new home, the continued preservation of its sanctity might safely be left to the jealous watchfulness of its inmates. Cases of sensual excess or of
unfilial conduct have been extremely infrequent among the Jews,
down to modern times. However mean the outward appearance
of their homes might be, the moral atmosphere that pervaded
them was rarely contaminated. If the question be asked, how
it came about that so feeble a people could resist the malevolence of its foes; that a nation, deprived of any visible rallyingpoint, with no political or religious centre to cement their union,
had not long since been wiped out from the earth's surface, we
answer that the hearth was their rallying-point and the centre
of their union. There the scattered atoms gained consistency
sufficient to withstand the pressure of the world. Thither they
could come to recreate their torn and lacerated spirits. There
was the well-spring of their power.
THE SCHOOLS.
If the Jewish people were preserved in moral vigor by the
influence of their domestic life, the care they bestowed on the
education of the young kept them intellectually fresh. Schools
were erected in every town and country district. It was forbidden a Jew to reside in cities where no provision had been made for
the instruction of children. Teachers were called the guardians
of cities. The destruction of Jerusalem was attributed to the
fact that the schools had been suffered to fall into neglect.
Synagogues were often used for purposes of primary instruction.
"A sage is greater than a prophet," said the proverb.  To increase in knowledge, at least in a certain kind of knowledge, was
206 
APPENDIX.
a part of the Jew's religion. According to the theory of th.
Rabbies the revelation of God to man is fully embodied in the
books of the Old Testament, especially in the books of the Pentateuch, commonly called the Tora,-the Law. They contain,
either by direct statement or by implication, whatever it is necessary for men to know. They anticipate all future legislation.
Though apparently scanty in substance, they are replete with
suggestions of profound and inexhaustible wisdom. To penetrate the hidden meanings of "the Law" became, on this account, the primaryv obligation of the devout; and ignorance was
not only despised on its own account, but was, in addition,
branded as a sign of deficient piety. The ordinances of the
Jewish sages are all ostensibly deduced from the words of the
Sacred Law. Without such sanction no enactment of any later
lawgiver, however salutary in itself, could aspire to general recognition. The civil and criminal law, the principles of science,
sanitary and police regulations, even the rules of courtesy and
decorum; are alike rested on scriptural authority. The entire
Talmud may be roughly described as an extended commentary
on the Mosaic Law.' The authors of the Talmud led a studious
life, and relied in great measure upon the habit of study to preserve the vitality of their faith. Among the sayings of the sages'
we read such as these.  Jose ben Joeser says: "Let thy house
be the resort of the wise, and let the dust of their feet cover thee,
and drink in thirstily their words." Joshua ben Perachia says:
"Get thee an instructor, gain a companion [for thy studies], and
judge all men upon the presumption of their innocence." Hillel
says: "Who gains not in knowledge loses....  Say not,
' When I am at leisure I will study';'t is likely thou wilt never
be at leisure.... He who increases flesh increases corrup tion; he who increases worldly goods increases care; he who
increases servants increases theft; but he who increases in the
knowledge of the Law increases life." Jochanan ben Sakkai
says: " If thou art wise in the knowledge of the Law, take not
credit to thyself, for to this end wast thou created." After the
1 For a concise but comprehensive account of the origin of the
Talmud, vide the art. Talmiud in Johnson's Encyclopedia.
I Collected in the Tract Abothl (Fathers).
207 
APPENDIX.
destruction of the Temple by Titus, academies sacred to the study
of the Law were erected in different cities of Palestine, and similar institutions flourished on the banks of the Euphrates. In the
eleventh century the chief seats of Jewish learning were transplanted to the West; and since that time the European Jews
have excelled their brethren of the East in all the elements of
mental culture. In the course of their manifold wanderings the
Jews carried their libraries everywhere with them. Wherever a
synagogue arose, a school for young children and a high school
for youths were connected with it. In the dark night of the
ghetto the flame of knowledge was never quenched. While the
nations of Europe were still sunk in barbarism the Jews zealously
devoted them,selves to the pursuit of medicine, mathematics, and
dialectics, and the love of learning became an hereditary quality
in their midst. The efforts of many generations have contributed
to keep their intellectual faculties bright; and, unlike most oppressed races, they have emerged from a long epoch of systematic persecution well fitted to attack the problems of the present
with fresh interest and undiminished capacity.
THE DEMOCRATIC ORGANIZATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE.
The spirit of monotheism is essentially democratic both in
politics and religion. There is to be but one king, and he the
spiritual Lord in heaven. All the people are equal before him.
When the Hebrews clamorously demanded a king the prophet
charged them with treason against their proper ruler. The
prophet and priest were hostile powers; and their antagonism
was clearly felt, and sometimes energetically expressed. The
Lord takes no delight in the slaughter of animals. The bloody
sacrifices are an offence to Him. What He requikes is purity
of heart, righteous judgment, and care for the widow and the
fatherless. The idea of priestly mediation-of mediation in any
shape-was repugnant to the Jews. "The whole people are
priests," it was said. When the sanctuary at Jerusalem had
been laid in ashes, anything resembling a hierarchical caste was
no longer tolerated among them. The Law and the Science of
the Law were open to all; and each one was expected, according to the measure of his capacity, to draw dir-ctly from the
2o8 
APPENDIX.
fountain-head of faith. The autonomy of the congregations was
strictly guarded. Entire uniformity in the ritual was never
achieved.1 The public lector of prayers was called " the delegate of the congregation." The Rabbies (the word means
Masters, in the sense of teachers) were men distinguished for
superior erudition and the blamelessness of their lives, and these
qualities formed their only title to distinction.2 Their duties differed radically from those of the Catholic priest or the Protestant
clergyman. They never took upon themselves the care of souls.
Their office was to instruct the young, and in general to regulate
the practice of religion according to the principles and precedents
laid down in the sacred traditions of their people. The several
congregations were independent of each other. There were no
general synods or councils, no graded hierarchy culminating in
a spiritual head, no oligarchy of ministers and elders; but rather
a federation of small communities, each being a sovereign unit,
and connected with the others solely by the ties of a common
faith, common sympathies, and common sufferings. Any ten
men were competent to form themselves into a congregation,
and to discharge all the duties of religion. The fact that this
was so proved of the utmost consequence in preserving the integrity of Judaism. The Jews were parcelled out over the whole
earth. The body of the people was again and again divided.
But in every case the barest handful that remained sufficed to
become the nucleus of new organizations.  Had the system of
Judaism required any one central organ, a blow aimed against
this would doubtless have proved fatal to the whole. But by
the wise provisions of the federative system the vital power
seems to have been equally disseminated over the entire community. Like the worm that is trodden under foot, to which
Israel so often likens itself in the Hebrew prayers, the divided
members lived a new life of their own, and though apparently
crushed beneath the heel of their oppressors, they ever rose
again in indestructible vitality.
1 Vide Zunz Die Ritus.
a Many of them supported themselves by following some humble
calling, refusing to receive remuneration for their teachings, on the
principle that the Law "should not be miade a spade Lo dig withi."
209 
APPENDIX.
THE INFLUENCE OF PEIRSECUTION.
In surveying the history of the Jewish people we find a
strange blending of nationalism and cosmopolitism illustrated
in their actions and beliefs. They proudly styled themselves
the elect people of God, they looked down with a certain con tempt upon the Gentile nations, yet they conceived themselves
chosen, not on their own account, but for the world's sake, in
order to spread the knowledge of the true God among men.
Theyrepudiated heathenism, and regarded Trinitarianism as an
aberration. In contradistinction to these their mission was to
protect the purity of the monotheistic religion until in the millennial age all nations would gather about their " holy Mount."
They considered their own continued existence as a people foreordained in the Divine scheme,r because they believed themselves divinely commissioned to bring about the eternal happiness of the human race. The centripetal and centrifugal forces
of character were thus evenly balanced, and this circumstance
contributed not a little to enliven their courage in the face of
long-continued adversity. When the independence of Greece
was lost, the Greeks ceased to exist as a nation. But the loss
of the Temple and the fatherland gave barely more than a passing shock to the national consciousness of the Jews. Easily
they acclimatized themselves in every quarter of the globe. The
fact of their dispersion was cited by Christianity as a sign of
their rejection by God. They themselves regarded it as a part
of their mission to be scattered as seed over the whole earth.
That they should suffer was necessary, they being the Messianic
people! Their prayers were filled with lamentations and the
recital of their cruel woes.   But they invariably ended with
words of promise and confidence in the ultimate fulfillment of
Israel's hope. Thus in the very depths of their degradation
they were supported by a sense of the grandeur of their destinies, and by the proud consciousness that their sufferings were
"Let it not seem strange to you that we should regain our former condition, even though only a single one of us were left, as it is
written,'Fear not, thou worm, Jacob!'"-JUDA HA-LEVI, in the
book Cusari (twelfth century), iii. II.
210 
APPENDIX.
the price paid for the world's spiritual redemption.   In the
earlier half of the Middle Ages the Jews were still permitted to
enjoy a certain measure of liberty. In Spain, France and Germany they lived on amicable terms with their neighbors, they
engaged in trade and manufacture, and were allowed to possess
landed property. In the tenth and eleventh centuries a great
part of the city of Paris was owned by Jews. But at the time
of the Crusades a terrible change in the aspect of their affairs
took place. The principles embodied in the canonical law had
by this time entered into the practice of the European nations.
Fanaticism was rampant. The banks of the Rhine and the Moselle became the theatre of the most pitiless persecution. Among
the Crusaders the cry was raised, "We  go to Palestine to slay
the unbelievers; why not begin with the infidel Jews in our own
midst?"  Worms, Spires, Mayence, Strassburg, Basle, Regensburg, Breslau, witnessed the slaughter of their Jewish inhabitants.
Toward the close of the thirteenth century one hundred thousand
Jews perished at the hands of Rindfleisch, and the murderous
hordes of whom he was the leader. To add fuel to the passions
of the populace the most absurd accusations were brought forward against them, and their religion was made odious by connecting it with charges of grave moral obliquity. Jewish physicians being in great request, especially at the court of kings, it
was given out that with fiendish malice they were wont to pro cure the death of their Christian patients.1 They were accused
of killing Christian children, and using the blood of Christians in
celebrating the Passover festival, and this monstrous falsehood
was repeated until no one doubted its substantial truth. Let it
be remembered that this charge was originally preferred, in a
somewhat different shape, against the Christians themselves. It
floated down, as such rumors will, from age to age, until, its
authorship being forgotten, it was finally used as a convenient
handle against the hated Jews. In this manner the Easter-tide
which was to announce the triumph of a religion of love became
to the Jews a season of terror and mortal agony, and the Easter
dawn was often reddened with the flames that rose from Jewish
homes. It is impossible to calculate the number of lives that
Thus in the case of Charles the B'ald, and others.
2I I 
APPENDIX.
have been lost in consequence of this single accusation. It has
lived on even into the present century.' In the fourteenth cen tury the Black Death devastated the Continent of Europe. Soon
the opinion gained ground that the Jews were responsible for
the ravages of the plague. It was claimed that the Rabbi of
Toledo had sent out a venomous mixture concocted of conse crated wafers and the blood of Christian hearts to the various
congregations, with orders to poison the wells. The Pope him self undertook to plead for their innocency, but even papal bulls
were powerless to stay the popular madness. In Dekkendorf a
church was built in honor of the massacre of the Jews of that
town, and the spot thus consecrated has remained a favorite re sort of pilgrims down to modern times. The preaching friars
of the Franciscan and Dominican orders were particularly active
in fanning the embers of bigotry whenever they threatened to
die down. In England, France and Spain the horrors enacted
in Germany were repeated on a scale of similar magnitude. The
tragic fate of the Jews of York, the fury of the Pastoureaux, the
miserable scenes that accompanied the exodus of the Jews from
Spain are familiar facts of history. In Poland, in the seventeenth
century, the uprising of the Cossacks under the chieftainship of
Chmielnicki became once more the signal of destruction. It is
estimated that in ten years (I648-I658) upwards of two hundred
and fifty thousand Jews perished.2 Even when the lives of the
Jews were spared, their condition was so extremely wretched
that death might often have seemed the preferable alternative.
The theory propounded by the Church and acted out by the
temporal rulers of the Middle Ages is expressed in the words of
I In the year I840 it was simultaneously renewed in Rhenish
Prussia, on the Isle of Rhodos, and in the city of Damascus. In that
city the most respected members of the Jewish community were arrested, with the assistance of the Prench Consul, Ratti Menton, and
underwent cruel torture. The intense excitement caused throughout
Europe at the time is, doubtless, still fresh in the memory of many
who will read these pages. The utter falsity of the charge was at
last exposed, thanks to the efforts of the Austrian Consul Merlato
and the energetic action of Lord Palmerston.
2 Graetz, Gesch. der Juden, X. p. 78.
2I2 
APPENDIX.
Innocent III., "Quos propria culpa submisit perpetua: servituti,
quum Dominum crucifixerint-pietas Christiana receptet et sustineat cohabitationem illorum." 
By the crucifixion of Jesus the Jews had forfeited for themselves and their posterity the right to exist in Christian states.
They lived on sufferance merely.  In the feudal system there
was no room for them. They were aliens, were regarded as the
property of the Emperor, and he was free to deal with them as
suited his convenience. Hence the name serve camnere -servants of the imperial chamber-was applied to them. They
could be sold, purchased, given away at pleasure. Charles IV.
presented " the persons and property of his Jews" to the city
of Worms. In a schedule of toll-dues dating from the year I1398
we read: " a horse pays two shillings, a Jew six shillings, an ox
two heller." 2 They were compelled to wear a badge of shame
upon their garments; 3 were confined to narrow and filthy quarters,-ghelto, juderia,-debarred from all honorable  employments. The schools and universities were closed against them.
The guilds shut them out from the various trades. To gain
the means of subsistence nothing remained for them but to engage in the petty traffic of the peddler or the disreputable business of the money-lender. They had absolutely no choice in
the matter. The laws of Moses certainly discountenance the
lending of money  at interest.   The  authorities of the Talmud severely condemn the practice of usury, and refuse to
admit the testimony of usurers in courts of law.4 But all scruples on the part of the Jews had now to be set aside. Gold
they must have, and in abundance. It was the only means of
buying their peace. The taxes levied by the imperial chamber
1 Cassel, art. yuden, p. 83, in Ersch und Gruber; vide also p. 85,
"ad perpetuam Judaici sceleris ultionem eisdem Judais induxerit
perpetuam servitutem."
2 Ibid, p. 9I.
3 The signum circulars was borrowed from Islam. It has been
ingeniously conjectured that the circular form was selected in contradistinction to the sign of the crescent. Ibid, p. 75.
4 Mishna Sanhedrin, III. 3.
213 
APPENDIX.
were enormous.' The cities, the baronial lords, in whose territory they took refuge, constantly imposed new burdens as the
price of toleration. The Jews have often been held up to contempt for their avarice and rapacity. The reproach is unjust. It
reminds one of the ancient Philistines, who, having shorn the
Hebrew of his strength and blinded him, called him with jeers
from his prison-houtse to exhibit him to the popular gaze and to
make sport of his infirmity.
Under these circumstances the conservatism of the Jews in
matters of religion can no longer astonish us. Rejected by the
world, they lived in a world of their own. They had inherited
from their ancestors an extended code of ceremonial observances,
dietary laws, and minute and manifold directions for the conduct of life. In these they beheld the bulwark of their religion,
the common bond that united the scattered members of their
race. The Jew of Persia or Palestine could come among his
German brethren, and hear the same prayers expressed in the
same language, and recognize the same customs as were current
among his co-religionists in the East.  The passwords of the
faith were everywhere understood. To preserve complete
unanimity with respect to religious usage was a measure dictatedl by the commanding instinct of self-preservation. The
Jews of all countries were furthermore united by the common
yearnings with which they looked back to the past, and their
common hope of ultimate restoration to the heritage of the
promised land.2 However prolonged their abode in the land of
the stranger might be, they never regarded it otherwise than in
the light of a temporary sojourn, and Palestine remained their
true fatherland. "If I forget thee, Jerusalem, wither my right
1 A general tax paid in recognition of the Emperor's protection;
the Temple tax claimed by the Holy Roman Emperor in his capacity
as the successor of Vespasian; the so-called aurum  coronarium, or
coronation tax, by virtue of which every new emperor, upon his accession to the throne, could confiscate the third part of the property
of the Jews. Besides these, extraordinary levies were frequent.
2 On the eve of the 9th of the fifth month it was customary at
Jerusalem to announce the number of years that had elapsed since the
fall of the Temple. Zunz, Die Ritus, p. 84.
214 
APPENDIX.
hand," was sung as plaintively on the banks of the Danube and
the Rhine as it had resounded of old by Babel's streams. The
Jewish people walked through history as in a dream, their eyes
fixed on Zion's vanished glories.  Empires fell; wars devastated
the earth; new manners, new modes of life, arose around them.
What was all this toil and turmoil of the nations to them!
They were not admitted to the fellowship of mankind, they preserved their iron stability, they alone remained changeless. So
long as the world maintained its hostile attitude toward them,
there was little likelihood that they would abandon their timehonored traditions. But toward the close of the last century
the first tokens of political, social, and spiritual regeneration
began to appear among the despondent people of the Hebrews.
The spirit of the Reformation, which had slumbered so long,
awoke to new vitality. The voice of love rebuked the selfishness of creeds; Philosophy in the person of Kant emphasized
the duties of man to man; Poetry sent its warm breath
through the German land, and with its sweet strains instilled
broad, humanitarian doctrine into the hearts of men. Lessing
celebrated the virtues of his friend, Moses Mendclelssohn, in
"Nathan the Wise," and in the parable of the rings showed
how the true religion is to be sought and found. The Royal
Academy at Berlin nominated the same Mendelssohn for membership in its body. Jewish scholars were received with distinction in the Austrian and Prussian capitals. Eminent states men and writers began to exert themselves to remove the foul
blot that had so long stained the conduct of the Christian states
in their dealings with the Jews. In France the great Revolution
was rapidly sweeping away the accumulated wrongs of centu ries. When the emancipation of the Jews came up for discus sion in the Convention, the ablest speakers rose in their behalf.
The Abbe  Gregoire exclaimed:,A  new century is about to
open. May its portals be wreathed with the palm of humanity!"
Mirabeau lent his mighty eloquence to their cause. " I will not
speak of tolerance," he said; "the freedom of conscience is a
right so sacred that even the name of tolerance involves a species
of tyranny." 1  On the 28th September, I79I, the National Con
I Vide the account of the debates in the official Moniteur.
215 
APPENDIX.
vention decreed the equality of the Israelites of France with
their Christian fellow-citizens. The waves of the Revolution,
however, overflowed the borders of France, and the agitation
they caused was quickly communicated to all Germany. Wher ever the armies of the Republic penetrated, the gates of the
ghettos were thrown open, and in the name of Fraternity, Lib erty and Equality were announced to their inhabitants. When
Napoleonic misrule at last exasperated Germany into resistance,
the seeds which French influence had sown had already taken
firm root in the German soil. On the Iith March, I812, Frederick William III. issued his famous edict, removing the main
disabilities from which the Jews of his dominions had suffered,
granting them the rights and imposing upon them the honorable
duties of citizenship.  They were no longer to be classed as
foreigners. The state claimed them as its children, and exacted
of them the same sacrifices as all its sons were called upon to
bring in the troublous times that soon followed. With what eager
alacrity the Jews responded to the king's call the records of the
German wars for independence anmply testify. On the battlefields of Leipzig and Waterloo they stood side by side with their
Christian brethren. Many sons and fathers of Jewish households yielded their lives in the country's defence. In the blood
of the fallen the new covenant of equal justice was sealed for all
time to come. However prejudice might still dog their footsteps, however shamefully the government  might violate its
solemn pledges to the Jewish soldiers on their return from the
wars, the Jews of Germany had now gained what they could no
more lose. They felt that the land for which they had adventured their all, in whose behalf they had lost so much, was indeed their fatherland.  For the first time, after many, many
centuries, thc fugitives had gained a home, a country. They
awoke as from a long sleep. They found the world greatly
changed around them; vast problems engaging the attention of
thinkers, science and philosophy everywhere shedding new light
upon the path of mankind. They were eager to approve themselves worthy and loyal citizens, eager to join in the general work
of progress. They dwelt no more with anxious preference on
the past. The present and the future demanded their exertions,
216 
APPENDIX.
and the motives that had so long compelled their exclusion from
the fellowship of the Gentiles were gradually disappearing. As
their religion was mainly retrospective in character and exclusive
in tendency, great changes were needed to bring it into harmony with the altered condition of affairs. These changes
were accordingly attempted, and their history is the history of
Jewish Reform.
217 
III.
REFORMED JUDAISM.
REFORMED Judaism originated in Germany; its leading rep resentatives have invariably been Germans. The history of
Germany during the past one hundred years is the background
upon which our account of the movement must be projected.
The Jews of Germany had waited long and patiently for de liverance. At last, toward the close of the eighteenth century
it came, and one whom they delight to call their "Second
Moses" arose to lead them into the promised land of freedom.
This was Moses Mendelssohn. IIis distinguished merits as a
writer on philosophy and esthetics we need not here pause to
dilate upon, but shall proceed at once to consider him in his relations to the political, social, and religious emancipation of his
people. In each of these different directions his example and
influence upon others served to initiate a series of salutary
changes, and he may thus appropriately be termed the father of
the Reform movement in its widest acceptation.  It was Mendelssohn who, in I78I, inspired Christian Wilhelm  Dohm to
publish his book "On the Civil Amelioration of the Jews," a
work in which an earnest plea for their enfranchisement was for
the first time put forth. The author points to the thrift and frugality that mark the Jewish race, their temperate habits and love
of peace, and exposes the folly of debarring so valuable a class
of the population from the rights of the citizen. He appeals to
the wisdom of the government to redeem the errors and injustice
of the past; he defends the Jews against the absurd charges
w-hich were still repeated to their discredit, and strenuously insists that liberty and humane treatment would not only accrue
to their own advantage, but would ultimately redound to the
honor and lasting welfare of the state. Dohm's book created a
profound impression, and though it failed to produce immediate 
APPENDIX.
results, materially aided the cause of emancipation at a later
period.
Again Mendelssohn was the first to break through the social
restraints that obstructed the intercourse of Jews and Christians,
and thus triumphed over a form of prejudice which is commonly
the last to yield. His fame as a writer greatly assisted him in
this respect. The grace and freshness of his style, the apparent
ease with which he divested the stern problems of philosophy of
their harsher aspects, had won him many and sincere admirers.
His " Phedlon" was eagerly read by thousands, whom the writings of Leibnitz and Kant had repelled. On the afternoon of
the Jewish Sabbath he was accustomed to assemble many of the
choice spirits of the Prussian capital, among whom we may mention Lessing, Nikolai, and Gleim, in his home. The conversation turned upon the gravest and loftiest topics that can occupy
the human soul. The host himself skilfully guided the stream
of discussion, and the waves of thought flowed easily along in
that placid, restful motion which is adapted to speculative themes.
The spirit that of old had hallowed the shades of Academe presided over these gatherings. Mendelssohn emulated the plastic
idealism of Plato and the divine hilarity of Socrates. The singular modesty, the truthfulness and quiet dignity that adorned
his character were reflected upon the people from whom he had
sprung, and produced a salutary change in their favor in the
sentiments of the better classes.
But it is as the author of a profound revolution in the Jewish
religion that Mendelssohn attracts our especial interest. Not,
indeed, that he himself ever assumed the character of a religious
reformer. He was, on the contrary, sincerely devoted to the orthodox form of Judaism, and even had a change appeared to him
feasible or desirable, he would in all probability have declined
the responsibility of publicly advocating it. His was the contemplative spirit which instinctively shrinks from the rude contact of reality. He had neither the aggressive temper nor the
bold self-confidence that stamp the leader of parties. And yet,
without intending it, he gave the first impulse to Jewish Reform,
whose subsequent progress, could he have foreseen it, he would
assuredly have been the first to deprecate.
2iQ 
APPENDIX.
THE BIBLE.
The condition of the Jews at the close of the last century was
in many respects unlike that of any other race that has ever been
led from a state of subjection to one of acknowledged equality.
Long oppression had not, on the whole, either blunted their in tellects or debased their morals. If they were ignorant in mod ern science and literature, they were deeply versed in their own
ancient literature, and this species of learning was not the privilege
of a single class, but the common property of the whole people.
What they lacked was system. In the rambling debates of
the Talmud the true principles of logical sequence are but too
often slighted, and the student is encouraged to value the subtle
play of dialectics on its own account, without regard to any
ultimate gain in positive and useful knowledge. Impatience of
orderly arrangement being allowed to develop into a habit, became contagious. It impressed itself equally on the thought,
the manners, the language  of the Jews, and contributed not a
little to alienate from them the sympathies of the refined. Such,
however, was the preponderating influence of the Talmud that
it not only engrossed the attention of the Jewish youth to the
exclusion of secular knowledge, but even perverted the exegesis
of the Bible and caused the study of Scripture to be comparatively neglected. To weaken the controlling influence of the
Talmud became the first needful measure of Reform, and to
accomplish this it was necessary to give back to the Bible its
proper place in the education of the young. It was an event,
therefore, of no mean significance when Mendelssohn, in conjunction with a few friends, determined to prepare a German
translation of the Pentateuch, and thus, by presenting the teachings of Scripture in the garb of a modern tongue, to render their
true meaning apparent to every reflecting mind. The work was
finished in I783. It holds a like relation to the Jewish Reform
movement that Luther's translation held to the great Protestant
movement of the sixteenth century. It was greeted with a storm
of abuse upon its appearance, and was loudly execrated by the
1 The German Jews spoke a mixed dialect of German and Hebrew,
which has been likened to the so-called Pennsylvania Dutch.
220 
APPENDIX.
orthodox as the beginning of larger and far-reaching innovations.
Its author might sincerely protest his entire innocency of the
radical designs imputed to him, but subsequent events have
proved the keener insight of his opponents. The influence of
the new translation was twofold. In the first place it facilitated
a more correct understanding of the doctrine, the literature
and language of Scripture; secondly,-and this is worthy of
special retnark,-it served the purpose of a text-book of the
German for the great mass of the Jews, who were at that time
unable to read a book written in the vernacular, and thus became the means of opening to them the treasure-house of modern thought.' In the very year in which Mendelssohn's work
appeared we notice among the younger generation a general
revival of interest in the Hebrew, the mother-tongue of their
race. Two students of the University of Konigsberg began the
issue of a periodical devoted to the culture of the Hebrew, which
was widely read and attracted great attention. Poems, original
essays, Hebrew versions of modern writings, appeared in its
columns; the style of the Prophets and of the Psalmists was
emulated, the works of the ancient masters of the language
served as models, and in the aspect of the noble forms employed
in the diction of the biblical authors the aesthetic sense of the
modern Jews revived. We are inclined to doubt whether the
Hebrew Bible, considered merely with a view to its esthetic
value, is even yet fully appreciated. The extravagance of religious credulity and the violent extreme of scepticism have alike
tended to obscure its proper merits. The one accustomed to
behold in the "holy book" a message from the Creator to hiss
creatures shrinks, as a rule, from applying to the work of a
Divine author the critical standard of human composition. The
sceptics on the other hand, impatient of the exorbitant claims
which are urged for the sacred writings of the Jews, and resent ing the sway which they still exercise over the human reason,
are hardly in a proper frame of mind to estimate justly its in trinsic and imperishable excellences. And yet, setting aside all
questions of the supernatural origin of the Bible, and regarding
1 The German of Mendelssohn's translation was written in
Hebrew letters.
221 
APPENDIX.
only the style in which its thoughts are conveyed, how incom  parably valuable does it still remain! It would be difficult to
calculate the extent to which many of our standard authors are
indebted for the grandest passages of their works to their early
familiarity with the biblical style. Those who are able to read
the text in the original become aware of even subtler beauties
that escape in the process of translation.  Purity of diction,
power of striking antithesis, simple and yet sublime imagery, a
marvellous facility in the expression of complex states of feeling.
and those the deepest of which the human soul is capable, are
but a few of the obvious features that distinguish the golden age
of Hebrew literature. Never perhaps has the symbolism of
nature been used with such supreme effect to express the un speakable emotions that are deep down in the heart of man.
Such music as that which swells through the pages of Isaiah's
prophecies cannot be forgotten; such ringing, rhythmic
periods, in which the eloquence of conviction bursts forth into
the rounded fulness of perfect oratory, can never fail to touch
and to inspire. We know of no nobler pattern on which the
modern orator could mould his style. And thus, too, the ex quisite poetry of the Song of Songs, the idyl of the Book of
Ruth, the weird pathos of Jeremiah's lament, the grand descriptions of Job, will ever be counted among the masterpieces
of human genius. Whatever we may think of the doctrines
of the Bible, it is safe to predict that the book will live long
after the myths that surround its origin shall have been dispelled; nay, all the more, when it shall cease to be worshipperl
as a fetish will men appreciate its abiding claims to their reverence, and it will continue to hold its honored place in the libraries of the nations. The refining influence of the study of the
Bible soon became evident among the contemporaries of Mendelssohn. But in another way also his translation tended to
their improvement. We have said that it became the means of
acquainting them with the language of the land. A wide field
of knowledge, embracing the rich results of modern science,
philosophy,  and  art, was  thus laid  open to their industry.
Eagerly they availed themselves of the proffered opportunity;
schools were erected, in which the elements of liberal culture
222 
APPENDIX.
were imparted to the young, and ere long we find a new generation of the Jews engaging in honorable competition with their
Christian brethren for the prize of learning and the rewards of
literary distinction. It was at this time that Kant's " Critique
of Pure Reason" appeared, a work which marks a new epoch
in the world's thought. Its profound reasoning and technical
style made it difficult of comprehension to all but the initiated.
Three Jewish scholars —Dr. Herz, Salomon Maimon, and BenDavid-undertook the task of popularizing its main results, and
were among the first to call attention to the transcendent importance of the new system. Plainly new vital energy was coursing
through the veins of the Jewish people.
SOCIAL STANDING.
But at this very time, while they were rapidly assimilating
the best results of modern culture and winning the respect and
confidence of the learned, the Jews of Germanywere still laboring under an odious system of special laws, and beheld themselves excluded from the common rights of citizenship. The
manly effort of Dohm in their behalf had as yet availed nothing;
the voice of bigotry was still supreme in the councils of the sovereign.  And yet they felt themselves to be the equals of those
whom the law unjustly ranked their superiors, and longed to see
the barriers done away that still divided them from their fellowmen. Many of their number had amassed fortunes, and expended their wealth with commendable prudence and generosity.
They supported needy students, founded libraries, extended
their knowledge, and refined their tastes. Even the Jewish
maidens followed the general impulse toward self-culture that
was setting with such force in the Jewish community. In particular the works of Schiller and Goethe, as they successively
appeared at this period, inflamed their enthusiasm, and none
were more zealous than they in spreading the fame and influence
of the new school of German literature. Still they were taught
to consider themselves an inferior class, and were despised as
such. The position of equality which the narrowness of the
laws denied them they were resolved to achieve by the weight ol
character and the force of spiritual attractions. Henrietta de
223 
APPENDIX.
Leminos, a young girl of singular beauty and attainments, had at
this time become the wife of Dr. Herz, of whom we have casu ally spoken above in his connection with Kant. She is described
as tall, graceful, possessing a face in which the features of Hel lenic and Oriental beauty were blended in exquisite harmony;
while the sobriquet of the " Tragic Muse," by which she be came known, denoted the majestic nobleness of her presence.
Under the guidance of competent masters she had acquired
considerable proficiency in many of the modern and ancient lan guages, and to a mind stored with various knowledge was added
the mellow charm of a most sweet and loving disposition. At tracted by her fame and captivated by her genius, the most emi nent men of the day sought the privilege of her society.  The
art of conversation, which had till then received but little attention in the Prussian capital, was for the first time cultivated in
the salon of Henrietta Herz. Sparkling wit and profound philosophy were alike encouraged. Statesmen high in the service
of their country sought the amenities of these delightful gatherings. Alexander and Wilhelm von Humboldt, Gentz, Schleiermacher, Friedrich von Schlegel, Mirabeau, Dorothea, the daughter of Mendelssohn, Rahel, afterwards wife of Varnhagen von
Ense, were among the intimates of her circle. Christians and
Jews met here on terms of mutual deference, and forgot for a
while the paltry distinctions which still kept them asunder in
the world without.   And  yet these distinctions, senseless in
themselves, were full of ominous meaning to those who felt their
burden. Young men eager for advancement in life found their
religion an insuperable obstacle in their way. The professions,
the army, the offices of the government, were closed against
them. On the threshold of every higher career they were rudely
repulsed, unless they embraced the base alternative of changing,
their creed to satisfy their ambition. Under these circumstances
that fidelity to the faith of the fathers which had so long marke(l
the conduct of the Jews began seriously to waver, and in many
instances gave way. Not, indeed, that the new converts became
true and loyal Christians. On the contrary, they considered the
rite of baptism a mere hollow form, and left it to the state,
which had insisted upon their conformance, to justify the deep
224 
APPENDIX.
disgrace that was thus brought upon the Christian sacraments.
Moreover, a certain laxity in the interpretation of dogma had at
this time become widely prevalent, which greatly assisted them
in setting their conscience at ease. Rationalism had stripped
the positive religions of much of their substance and individuality. To none of them was an absolute value allowed. They
were regarded as forms in which a principle higher than all
forms had found an imperfect and temporary expression. Even
the influence of Schleiermacher tended rather to obliterate than
to define the outlines of the contending creeds. Schleiermacher,
the author of a Protestant revival in Germany, spoke the language of Pantheism, and his opinIions are deeply suffused with
the spirit of Pantheistic teachings. He defines religion to be
the sense of dependence on the Infinite, the Universal. To the
fact that different men in different ages have been variously
affected by the conception of the Infinite he ascribes the origin
of the different creeds. Theological dogmas, according to him,
cannot claim to be true in the sense of scientific or philosophical
propositions. They approach the truth only in so far as they
typically express certain emotional processes of our soul, and
those dogmas are nearest the truth which typify emotions of the
most noble and exalted character. Allowing Christianity to Ibe
what its learned expounders had defined it, intelligent Jews
could hardly find it difficult to assume the Christian name.
It is estimated that in the course of three decades full one
half of the Jewish community of Berlin were nominally Christianized.
How thoroughly conventional, at the same time, the use of
the term Christian had become may be judged from a letter addressed by David Friedlander, a friend of Mendlelssohn's, to
Councillor Teller of the Consistory, in which he offered, on behalf of himself and some co-religionists, to accept Christianity
in case they might be permitted to omit the observance of the
Christian festivals, to reject the doctrine of the Trinity, of the
divinity of Jesus, and, in fact, whatever is commonly regarded
as essentially and specifically Christian. it is true the reply of
the Councillor was not encouraging.
I o*
225 
APPENDIX.
PARIS, THE NEW JERUSALEM.
While the very existence of Judaism was thus threatened in
Germany, it seemed about to regain its pristine vigor in France.
More than seventeen centuries had elapsed since the Sanhedrin,
the High Court of Jerusalem, had passed out of existence.
Quite unexpectedly it was recalled to momentary life by the
caprice of the great Corsican, who then ruled the destinies of
the world. In the year I8o6 Napoleon convened a parliament
of Jewish Notables at Paris in order to definitely settle the rela tions of French Israelites to the state. Soon after an imperial
decree convoked the grand Sanhedrin for the purpose of ratify ing the decisions of the Notables. The glories of Jerusalem
were to be renewed in "modern Babylon" on the Seine.  On
February 9, I807, the Sanhedrin met in the Hotel de Ville. Care
was taken to invest its sittings with due solemnity; the seats of
the members were arranged in crescent shape about the platform of the presiding officers, as had been customary at Jerusalem; the president was saluted with the title of Nassi (Prince),
as in the olden time; the ancient titles and forms were copied
with scrupulous exactness. Two-thirds of the members were
Rabbis, the remainder laymen. The opening of the Sanhedrin
attracted universal attention, but its proceedings were void of
interest. In fact, its sole task was to lend the authority of an
ancient tribunal to the action of the Notables, and this having
been accomplished it was adjourned after a brief session. In
connection with these conventions of the years I8o6 and I807 it
behooves us to mention the creation of a new constitution for
the French synagogue elaborated by the joint efforts of the imperial Commissioners and the Notables. The form of government adopted was moulded on the pattern of the secular power.
A system of consistories was organized throughout France, culminating in a central consistory at Paris with a Grand-Rabbin
at its head. The officers of the consistories were treated as
officers of the state, the charge of their maintenance was in part
defrayed at the public expense, and, in the course of time, they
were placed on a footing of almost complete equality with the
dignitaries of the Christian churches. The union of the teach
226 
APPENDIX.
ers of Judaism in a species of graded hierarchy, dependient upon
temporal rulers for their support, was as have have been expected, fruitful of evil results. If it is true that the supremacy
of the church over the state disturbs the peace of nations and
endangers the very existence of governments, it is equally certain that no religion can long continue to maintain its purity
when the church becomes the subservient vassal of the state.
Whatever the apparent gain in stability may be, it is more than
counterbalanced by the loss of spontaneity and sincerity. Hypocrisy flourishes, the liberty of conscience is abridged, and a
spirit of base time-serving eventually prepares the downfall of
institutions whose perfect safety is consistent only with perfect
freedom.
The French Synagogue, as we have indicated, presents a
case in point. During the past seventy years it has stagnated.
No single luminous thought lights up its dreary record, no single
whole-souled effort to appropriate the larger truths of our time
dignifies its annals. In the history of the Reform movement it
merits no further mention.
THE LITURGY.
Returning to Germany we behold the leading Jews at last
awakened to the necessity of energetic measures to check the
wide-spread disaffection that was thinning out their ranks.
Hitherto the liturgy of the synagogue had not been affected by
the growing tendency to change. An attempt in this direction
was initiated by Israel Jacobsohn, the financial agent of the Duke
of Brunswick, a man of wealth, culture, and generous disposition.
He was shocked by the scenes of disorder, the utter lack of decorum, that disgraced the public worship; he was resolved as far
as in his power lay to correct the abuses which had been allowed
to grow up unrestrained in the gloomy period of mediaeval persecution, and to win back to the faith those whose affections hadl
been estranged by the barbarous form in which it appeared to
view. He erected at his own expense, and dedicated on July I7,
i8io, in the town of Seesen, a new temple,f at the same time in
1 The term Temple has since been used by the Reformers in con:radistinction to the orthodox Synagogue.
227 
APPENDIX.
troducing certain radical modifications into the service which we
shall presently take occasion to consider.
Being appointed to the Presidency of the Consistory of Cas  sel, during the reign of Jerome Bonaparte, he took advantage of
his official position to urge his innovations upon the congrega  tions under his charge. In 1815 he transplanted the " new fash  ion in religion" to Berlin, and in I818 assisted in founding the
temple at Hamburg, which soon became one of the leading
strongholds of Reform. A provisional service on the same plan
was likewise instituted at Leipsic,l during the period of the an nual fair, and tidings of the reform were thus rapidly transmitted
to distant parts of Germany. The main changes introduced by
Jacobsohn, and copied by others, may be briefly summed up as
follows: The introduction of regular weekly sermons, which had
not previously been customary; of prayers in the vernacular by
the side of the Hebrew; of choir singing with organ accompani ment, and the confirmation of young children. These innova tions implied a revolution in the character of the public worship.
The Jewish people had been wont to regard themselves indi vidually and collectively, as soldiers in the army of their God,
commissioned to wage warfare against every species of false
religion. A spirit of martial discipline, as it were, pervaded their
ranks. The repetition of prayers and benedictions by day and
night in the privacy of domestic life, on the public square and by
the roadside, was a species of drill intended to keep alive in them
the consciousness of their mission, and to prepare them for the
emergencies of actual conflict. Thrice a day they mustered in
their synagogues, and renewed their oath of allegiance in the
presence of their spiritual king. The term Jewish Church,
though in frequent use, is a misnomer based upon false analogy.
The difference between the synagogue and the church is as
clearly marked as that between Judaism and Christianity themselves. The sentimental element, using the word in its nobler
signification, which is distinctive of the latter, is almost entirely
lacking in the former. Both make it their aim to elevate the
moral life in man, but while Judaism acts through the will upon
1 Dr. Zunz was appointed preacher, and the composer Meyerbeer
directed the musical services.
228 
APPENDIX.
the affections, Christianity places the affections in the foreground
and seeks by their means to persuade and captivate the will.
It cannot be denied that the Reformers had in some measure
modified the traditional character of Jewish worship. The purely
emotional element acquired a prominence which it had never had
before, the very word employed to designate the purpose of the
temple service-" Erbauung," edification-was foreign to the
ancient vocabulary of Judaism. In another direction, too, they
transgressed the limits prescribed by time-honored usage. We
have referred above to the ceremony of confirmation, which has
since been generally adopted by congregations of the Reform
school. On some festival or Sabbath-the Feast of Weeks, celebrated about Whitsuntide, being commonly preferred-boys and
girls of thirteen or fourteen are assembled in the temple, where,
after having undergone an examination in the chief tenets of their
religion, they are required to repeat aloud a confession of faith.
The ceremony usually attracts a large congregation, and is one
of the few institutions introduced by the Reformers that have
strongly seized upon the populai heart.
The natural concern of parents for the welfare of their offspring lends a solemnn interest to the occasion. At an age when
the child's character begins to assume definite outlines, when the
reason unfolds, and the perils and temptations that attend every
pilgrim on the valley road of life, approach near, an instinctive
prompting of the human heart leads us to forecast the future of
sons and daughters, and to embrace with joy whatever means
are placed at our disposal to guard them against aberration and
misfortune. To utilize the impressiveness of a great public
gathering. the sympathetic presence of parents and friends, the
earnest monitions of a wise and revered teacher, in order to con firm them in every virtuous endeavor and high resolve, is there fore fit and proper.' The propriety of exacting a formal confes
1 It deserves to be noted that the ceremony of confirmation among
the Jews took its origin in the schools of Seesen, Frankfort-on-theMain, etc. Indeed, the first Reformed congregations were formed
by natural accretion about these schools. The influence of schools in
giving character and stability to new religious movements is a subject
of sufficient importance to deserve separate treatment.
229 
APPENDIX.
sion of faith, however, has been hotly disputed both by the orthodox and the more advanced liberals. It is urged that Judaism
is a practical, rather than a dogmatical religion. Even the existence of a God is rather presupposed as a fact than asserted as
a matter of belief. Apart from this it is claimed that a child at
thirteen can hardly be prepared to comprehend the fundamental
questions of religion, much less to express convictions on problems so grave and difficult. The age of reflection and consequently of doubt is yet to come, nor can any child on the day of
its confirmation answer for its convictions ten years thereafter.
The progress of the Reform movement was thus of a character to awaken distrust and fierce contention at every step. The
conservative party were enraged at what they considered unwarrantable encroachments upon the traditions of an  immemorial past. The radicals were dissatisfied with the lack of
substance and vitality in the teachings of the Reformers, the
shallow moralizing tone of their preachers, the superficial views
of Judaism which they scattered among the multitude.
It may indeed be asked how could better things have been
expected at that time. The great facts of Jewish history were
not yet clearly known, the philosophy of Judaism was proportionately vague and uncertain. No Jewish author had ever undertaken to write out the annals of his people; chaotic confusion
reigned in their chronicles.  To know what Judaism might be it
seemed necessary to ascertain in the first instance what it had
been; the past would prove the index of the future. Untoward
events that happened at this period gave a powerful impulse to
historical research, and led to fruitful investigations in the domain of Judaism.
"HEP-HEP."
The great battles of 1813 and I815, in which the German
people regained their independence, effected a marvellous change
il the spirits and sentiments of the nation.
Accustomed for a long time to endure in silence the insults
and arrogance of a foreign despot, they had learned to despair
of themselves; a deadly lethargy held their energies in bondage
and in the fairy visions of poetry and the daring dreams of met
230 
APPENDIX.
aphysical speculation they sought consolation for the pains and
burdens of reality. The victories of Leipsic and Waterloo completely altered the tone of their feelings. It is a not uncommon
fact that individuals usually the reverse of self-asserting exhibit,
on occasions, an overweening self-consciousness, which is all
the more pointed and aggressive because of their secret and
habitual self-distrust. We note with curious interest the recurrence of the same obnoxious trait in the life of a great nation.
The novel sense of power intoxicated them, the German mind
for the moment lost its poise; Romanticism flourished, the violence of the Middle Ages was mistaken for manhood, and held
up to the emulation of the present generation. Whatever was
German was therefore esteemed good; whatever was foreign was
therefore despised, or at best ignored.
The Jews were made to feel the sharp sting of this feverish
vanity; their Asiatic origin was cast up against them, though it
might have been supposed that a residence of fifteen centuries
had given them some claim to dwell at peace with the children
of the soil. In the year I8i9 the assassination of Kotzebue
added fresh fuel to the fervor of Teutonic passion. In August
of that year a professor of Wurzbutrg, who had written in defence of the Jews, was publicly insulted by the students. A
tumult ensued, the cry " Hep-Hep " 1 arose on every side, and
" Death to the Jews" was the watchword.   On the next day the
magistrate ordered them to leave Wurzburg, and four hundred
in number they were driven beyond the city's limits.  Similar
excesses occurred in Frankfort-on-the-Main, Meiningen, Carlsruhe, and elsewhere. Inflamnmatory pamphlets contributed to
increase the excitement.
Grattenauer, Riihs, Fries, had written to good effect. All
the old falsehoods were revived, the fable of the use of Christian
blood at Passover among the rest. It seemed as though the
genius of chivalry which the Romantic school had invoked had
returned with its grim attendant train to renew the orgies of
l Hep-Hep" has been explained as an abbreviation of the words
"Hierosolyma est perdita" (Jerusalem is perished).  Probably it is
no more than one of those meaningless exclamations which are not
infrequent in college jargon.
231 
APPENDIX.
mediaeval persecution in the full light of the nineteenth century.
In November appeared the  "Judenspiegel," by Hundt-Radowsky. In this the author argues that the murder of a Jew is
neither criminal nor sinful. In order to avoid unnecessary
bloodshed however, he proposes a more peaceful means of ridding the German people of " these vermin." His propositions,
couched in plain language and delivered in sober earnest, are
simply these: the men to be castrated, and sold as slaves to the
East Indies; the women-but the pen refuses to record the
fiendish suggestion. It is mortifying to reflect that this infamous
publication was widely circulated and eagerly read.1
THE SCIENCE OF JUDAISM.
The sole reply which these occurrences elicited from the intelligent members of the Jewish community was a more strenuous effort on their part to complete the work of inward purification, and renewed zeal in the study of their historic past. They
trusted that the image of Judaism, if presented in its proper
light, would remove the odium which rested upon their people,
and would furthermore become their sure guide in the work of
reconstructing the religion of their ancestors.
Late in the year  181  9 a " Society for the Culture and Science ~
of the Jews" was founded at Berlin. Its object was twofold:
first to promote a more effective prosecution of the "Science of
Judaism";  secondly, to elevate the moral tone of the people,
to counteract their prevailing bias toward commerce, and to encourage them in the pursuits of agriculture, the trades, and such
of the professions as they had access to.
The science of Judaism embraces the departments of history,
philosophy, and philology, the last being of special importance,
since it presents the key to the correct understanding of the two
former. The means adopted to secure these objects were chiefly
three,-a scientific institute, a journal whose columns were enriched by many contributions of enduring value, and a school in
Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, X. p. 36I.
2 Throughout this article we use the word "science" in the sense
of the German 1Tissenschzft.
232 
APPENDIX.
which instruction was imparted gratis to poor students and artisans. Among the members of the society we mention Edward
Gans, the President, afterwards Professor of Jurisprudence at
the University of Berlin; the eminent critic, Dr. Zunz; the poet,
Heinrich Heine; 1 Moser; the noble Wholwill; and others.
Unfortunately, the public mind was not yet prepared to appreciate the labors of these men; the society languished for
want of support, and after a few years its formal organization
was dissolved. But in the brief term of its existence it had accomplished its main object; the science of Judaism was securely
established, and it could safely be left to the industry of a few
gifted individuals to cultivate and propagate it. The ten years
following the " Hep-Hep" excitement witnessed a series of literary achievements whose importance it would be difficult to
overrate. Zunz and Rappoport, the pioneers of the new science,
discovered the thread by which they were enabled to push their
way through the labyrinth of Jewish literature. Profound erudition, critical acumen, and a subtle insight amounting almost
to intuition, are displayed in their writings. A band of worthy
disciples followed their lead. The chain of tradition, which had
seemed hopelessly tangled, was unravelled; many of its missing
links were ingeniously supplied, and the sequence of events, on
the whole, satisfactorily determined. The dimness and vagueness that had hung over the history of the Jews was giving way,
and the leading figures in the procession of past generations
assumed clear and distinct outlines. At this time Jost was employed in wirting the first connected history of his people which
had ever emanated from Jewish sources.
SCIENTIFIC THEOLOGY.
While scholars were thus busy preparing the way for a new
theory of Judaism based on the facts of its history, no efforts
were made to press the needful work of practical reform. Indeed, the hostile attitude of the temporal rulers discouraged any
Heine was for some time an instructor infi the society's school.
For an account of the Czltur- Verein, and of the poet's cordial interest
in its success, vide Strodtmann, " Heine's I,eben und Werkc," p. 237.
233 
APPENDIX.
such undertaking. The influence of Metternich swayed the
councils of the German princes. The King of Prussia had
broken the promise of constitutional government which he had
given to his people in the hour of need. The power of the
Triple Alliance was prepared to crush out the faintest stirrings
of political or religious liberty wherever they appeared.
In 1830, however, the revolution in France swept away a
second time the throne of the Bourbons, and changed the face
of affairs. The courage of the liberal party revived everywhere;
the bonds of despotism were relaxed; a spirit of resistance tc
oppression arose, and grew in intensity from year to year, until
it at last found vent in the convulsions of i848. The Jews felt
the prophetic promise of a better order of things, and roused(
themselves to renewed exertions.
We have indicated in a previous article that the cause of
political and of religious emancipation, so far at least as Germany was concerned, advanced in parallel lines. In I83i Gabriel Riesser addressed a manifesto to the German people on the
position of the Jews among themn.' It was a clear and forcible
presentment of the case. The style is dignified, free from the
taint of undue self-assertion, and equally free from misplaced
modesty. He did not petition for a favor; he demanded a right.
Hle disdained all measures of compromise; he dared to treat the
question as one of national importance; he asked for simple
justice, and would be content with nothing less. The German
people rewarded his manliness with their confidence,2 and under
his able leadership the struggle for emancipation was finally
brought to a triumphant close.
In I835 Abraham Geiger, then Rabbi of Wiesbaden, began the
publication of a " Scientific Journal for Jewish Theology," and
with the appearance of this periodical the Reform movement
entered into its present phase. It was the purpose of Geiger
and his coadjutors to prosecute the work of religious renovation
on the basis of the science of Judaism. This is the distinguish   1 Ueber die Stellung der Bekenner des Mosaischen Glaubens an
die Deutschen aller Confessionen. Riesser's Works, II.
Ile was elected Vice-President of the first German Parliament
that met in the Pauls-Kirche in Fratnkfoit.
234 
APPENDIX.
ing feature of the modern school of Jewish Reform. But, beforc we proceed to sketch the principles of these "scientific
theologians," let us rapidly advert to the brief series of events
that mark the outward development of the new school.
Around the standard which Geiger had unfurled a body of
earnest men soon collected, who agreed with him in the main
in desiring to reconcile science and life (Wissenschaf/t und
Leben). They were mostly young men, fresh from the universities, profoundly versed in Hebrew and rabbinic lore, zealous
lovers of their religion, equipped with the elements of ancient
and modern culture, and anxious to harmonize the conflicting
claims of both in their private lives and public station. Many
of them underwent severe privations for their convictions' sake.
They were distrusted by the various governments, without whose
sanction no Jewish clergyman could enter upon his functions,
and were made to feel, in common with other Liberals, the displeasure which their measures, moderate though they were, had
provoked in high quarters. They were subjected to numberless
petty annoyances, and even downright force was employed to
check their growing popularity. With the accession of Frederick William IV., the Ultramontanes and the party of retrogression in the Protestant Church completely gained the ascendant.
Covered by the shield of royal favor they offered the most
audacious insults to the conscience and common-sense of the
people, the right of free speech was impaired, the press was
shackled, while the most abject superstitions were openly encouraged. The holy coat of Jesus, exhibited at the cathedral of
Treves, attracted hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, and the
fame of the miraculous cures it had effected was diligently spread.
But the very violence of the extremists provoked a determined
opposition among the intelligent classes. National unity and
individual liberty were loudly demanded, a German Catholic
party was formed with the avowed object of reorganizing Cath olicism on the basis of the modern State. Free religious con gregations began to crop up here and there, which, though fee ble as yet in their organization, were properly regarded as sig nificant of the spirit of the times. On the waves of the turning
tide the young Rabbis were carried along. They, too, were
235 
APPENDIX.
ardent patriots; they too, were eager to see their religion wedded to the progressive tendencies of the age. The sympathies
of the most enlightened of their brethren were cheerfully extended to them, and high hopes were founded on their success.
In I844 they were sufficiently strong to meet in convention.
Disclaiming the functions of a religious synod, they assumed the
character of a scientific body, assembled to promote the objects
of truth in their special department. The discussions were indeed intended to secure harmony of sentiment and action, but
the resolutions adopted were binding neither upon the members
themselves nor upon the congregations they represented. Three
times these conventions were repeated at Brunswick, Frankfort,
and Breslau.
In I845 a new congregation was formed, called " The Reform Association of Berlin," which was recruited from the extreme left wing of the liberal Jewish party. This congregation
became noted for the introduction of a Sunday service, a measure which eventually compelled them to entirely abandon the
Jewish Sabbath. Samuel Holdheim, the ablest exponent of
radical Judaism, was selected to be their preacher.
Thus far had the Reform movement proceeded, when, in
I848, the incidents of a great political revolution crowded every
other issue into comparative insignificance. The fall of Metternich before the intrigues of the camarilla and the fury of a popular uprising, the humiliation of the king of Prussia, the convocation of the national parliament, the Baden insurrection,-these
were the events that absorbed the interest of the public. Political incompetency on the part of the leaders precipitated the
catastrophe of the revolution, and the hopes of the German
people were again doomed to disappointment. Soon the reaction set in, a dreary period of stagnation followed, and the efforts
of the friends of freedom were paralyzed.
The Jewish Reformers were stricken down by the general
reverse that had overtaken the liberal party, nor have they since
ueen able to recover from its stunning effects. Two revolutions,
those of 1830 and I848, mark the growth and the decline of
"scientific reform." Within the past thirty years a number of
prominent reformers have been called to this country, and to
them is due the spread of the movement in the United States.
236 
APPENDIX.
The difficulties which confronted them here were of the most
formidable kind. The great bulk of the Jewish emigration to
the United States were originally drawn from the village congregations of the Fatherland, and were by no means fair specimens of the intelligence and culture of the Jewish race. While
they displayed the qualities of energy, perseverance, and thrift,
and soon acquired wealth and influence in the commercial world,
few only were fitted to appreciate a movement so thoroughly
intellectual in its bearings as that which the reformers came to
propagate amongst them. The mere externals of reform were
readily adopted, but its spiritual essence escaped them. Accordingly, the development of Reformed Judaism on American
soil presents no novel or striking features for our consideration,
and it may appropriately be treated as a mere offshoot of the
German stock.
PRINCIPLES.
Ever since the appearance of Geiger's "Scientific Journal,"
Jewish philology and Jewish theology have been inseparably connected. To attempt a detailed account of the latter would involve
the necessity of frequent reference to the former, an attempt in
which we can hardly assume the reader's interest would bear us
out. Unwilling to test his patience by such a course, we shall
content ourselves with stating the main principles of Reformed
Judaism, and briefly indicating the successive steps by which it
advanced to its present positions.
The one great fact which the Science of Judaism has indisputably established was the fact of evolution in the sphere of the
Jewish religion. Each generation had legislated for itself. The
authorities of the Middle Ages had introduced changes in the
ritual; the Talmud itself, that corner-stone of orthodoxy, was a
stupendous innovation on the simplicity of Bible rthe eligion.1
Applying the theory of evolution to their own case, the modern
1 The theory of an Oral Law, delivered to Moses on Sinai and
handed down from generation to generation, until it was finally embodied in the ordinance of the Talmudical academies, is a palpable
fiction, invented by the Talmudists in order to lend to their own decisions the sanction of Divine authorship.
237 
APPENDIX.
Rabbis assumed on their part the right to institute whatever
changes the exigencies of the age had rendered imperative. The
very fact of change, it is true, presupposes the existence of a sub stratum that remains unchangeable. What that substratum in
the case of Judaism is claimed to be, we shall presently discover.
The measures of the Reformers were in the main dictated by the
sentiment of patriotism and the desire to remove the barriers that
interposed between them and their fellow-men. They would
cease to be a "state within the state," cease to separate themselves from the fellowship of the Gentiles. Hence the leading
proposition upon which Reformed Judaism is founded. The
7ewish feojhle have ceased to be a national unit, and will exist
hereafler as a confederation of religious societies.
If the Jews have ceased to be a nation, then the Reformers
must abandon the idea of a national restoration. They did so.
If they have ceased to be a nation, they must give up the hope
of a personal Messiah who should lead them back to the promised land. They did so. If they desired no longer to dwell in
seclusion they must abolish the dietary laws, which forbid them
to taste of the food of Christians, though commanded by the
Talmud and founded apparently on the authority of Moses.
This, too, they were willing to do. Other changes were inspired
by the philosophic teachings of the day, and were undertaken
with equal readiness. Thus the doctrine of resurrection in the
flesh was set aside. The fabric of ceremonial observances had
been rudely shaken, and soon gave way altogether. Changes in
the ritual followed. The prayer-book reflected the gloomy spirit
of a people whose life was embittered by constant trials and dangers. Naturally they had turned to the past and the glories of
Zion; the pomp of the sacrifices, the advent of the Messiah, the
future restoration of the kingdom of David, were the themes on
which they loved to dwell. All this was no longer suited to the
temper of the modern Jews, and radical alterations became necessary. Many of the festivals and fast-days also were struck
from the calendar. One of the most distinctive customs of the
Jews, the so-called rite of Abraham's Covenant, was boldly
attacked, and though the abolition of this ancient practice is still
strenuously resisted, there is little doubt that it will ultimately go
238 
APPENDIX.
with the rest. Samuel Holdheim advocated the propriety of intermarriage between Jews and Christians.
The manner in which these conclusions were reached may be
described as follows. At first an attempt was made to found
each new measure of Reform on the authority of the Talmud.
The Talmud was attacked with its own weapons. The fallacy
of such a method becoming apparent, the authority of the Talmud was entirely set aside. A return to the Bible was next in
order. But even the laws of the Bible proved to be no longer
capable of fulfilment in their totality. A distinction was therefore drawn between the letter and the spirit of the Bible. The
letter is man's handiwork, the spirit alone ought to be regarded
as the Divine rule of faith.  The "spirit of the Bible" is the essence of Judaism, which cannot change. In the process of evolution it constantly assumes new forms, but remains substantially
the same. Nor could any motives of expediency, nor could even
the ardent desire of political emancipation have induced the Reformers to pursue the course they did, had they for one moment
believed it contrary to the substantial teachings of the Bible.
The spirit of the Bible is expressed in two fundamental propositions: the existence of one God, the author and governor of the
universe; and the Messianic mission of the people of Israel.
The former is no longer the exclusive property of Judaism, the
latter is distinctively its own; both together express the simple
creed of the Reformers.
PROSPECTS.
If now we cast a glance upon the present aspect of Reformed
Judaism we are confronted by a state of affairs that by no means
corresponds to the great anticipations which were connected with
the movement in its earlier stages. The ancient institutions have
been cleared away,-that was unavoidable; they had long been
tottering to their ruin,-but an adequate substitute for what was
taken has not been provided. The leaders have penetrated to
the foundations of their religion, but upon these bare foundations
they have erected what is at best a mere temporary structure in
capable of affording them permanent shelter and protection. The
temper of the Reform school has been critical. Its members were
239
IL 
APPENDIX.
admirably fitted to analyze and to dissect; their scholarship is unquestionably great; the stainless purity of their lives has elevated
the character of their people and entitled them to sincere respect.
But they lacked the constructive genius needed for the creation
of new institutions. In the year 1822 Wholwill declared that
" the Jews must raise themselves and their principle to the level
of science. Science is the one bond that alone can unite the whole
human race." The emphasis thus placed on science has continued to distinguish the Reform movement down to the present
day. In the sphere of religion, however, it is not sufficient to
apprehend the abstract truth of ideas with the help of intellect,
but it is necessary to array these ideas in concrete forms, in order
that they may warm the heart and stimulate the will.
We hold it erroneous to believe that the age of symbolism is
passed. The province of religion is to bring the human soul into
communion with the Infinite. In the lower religions the conception of the Infinite was meagre and insufficient and the symbols
in use proportionately gross. At the present day it is the ideal
of moral perfection that alone is capable of exciting our devotion
and kindling our enthusiasm. Now it is true that the material
symbolism of the churches and the synagogues, the venerabile,
the bread and wine, the scrolls of the Pentateuch tricked out in
fanciful vestments, fail to appeal to the sympathies of many educated men and women of our time; not, however, because they
are symbols, but because they are inadequate symbols, because
of an almost painful disparity between their earthy origin and the
vastness of the spiritual ideas which they are intended to suggest.
There is, on the other hand, a species of symbolism peculiarly
adapted to the needs of the present generation, and which, if
properly understood, might be employed to incalculable advantage in the interest of a revival of the religious sentiment. We
allude to the symbolism of association.
The tendency to associate the efforts of individuals in corporate action has never been more markedly displayed than in our
own day. So long as such associations confine themselves to
certain finite objects, they are mere social engines organized with
a view to utility and power, and with such we are not concerned.
The characteristic of symbols is their suggestiveness. They
240 
APPENDIX.
have a meaning in themselves, but they suggest illimitable meanings beyond their scope. Now a form of organization is not only
conceivable, but has actually been attempted, that fullly meets the
requirements of the symbolic character. The Christian Church
is designed to be such an organization. Not only does it propose
to unite its members and to satisfy their spiritual needs during
the term of their sojourn on earth, but it aspires to typify the
union of all saints under the sovereignty of Jesus, and thus to
give to the believer a presentiment of the felicity and perfection
of the higher world. In like manner the Hebrews have been
acquainted with the symbolism of association from a very early
period of their history. If they delight to style themselves the
chosen people, the meaning of that phrase, so often misunderstood, is purely symbolical.
Recognizing the fact that the majority of mankind are at no
time prepared to entertain the ideals of the few, they undertook
to work out among themselves a nobler conception of religion
and a loftier morality, trusting that the force of their example
would in the end bring about the universal adoption of their
faith and ethical code. In this sense the choice of Israel was interpreted by the Prophets. They believed that their selection by
the Deity imposed upon them heavier responsibilities, and regarded it in the light of an obligation rather than a privilege.
What the statue is to the ideal of beauty, awhole people resolved
to be in relation to the ideal of the good. The same conception
still dominates the thoughts of the Reformers, and is expressed by
them in their doctrine of Israel's messianic mission. They claim
that the Jews have been for the past three thousand years the
" Swiss guard of monotheism." They still believe themselves
to be the typical people, and their firm persuasion on this head
is the one strong feature of the Reformers' creed. If they will
use their world-wide association to illustrate anew the virtues
for which their race became renowned in the past,-and we refer
especially to the purity of the sexual relations among them, their
pious reverence for domestic ties,-they may still become, as
they aspire to do, exemplars of purity to be joyfully imitated by
others. If they will use it in the spirit of their ancient lawgiver
Leviticus xxv. 8.
II
241 
APPENDIX.
to tone down the harsh distinctions of wealth and poverty, to
establish juster relations between the strong and weak, in brief,
to harmonize the social antagonisms of modern life, they may
confer an inestimable benefit upon mankind. But the manner in which the symbolism of association might be applied to
invigorate the religious sentiment, and to expel the coldness of
the times by the fervor of a new enthusiasm, is a subject of too
vast dimensions to be thus summarily despatched, and we shall
hope to recur to it on some future occasion.'
The present condition of liberal Judaism is strongly akin to
that of liberal Christianity. The old is dead, the new has not
been born. It is hardly safe to predict what possible developments the future may yet have in store. As regards the Jews,
however, it is right to add that such changes as have taken
place in the constitution of their religion have not brought them
in any sense nearer to Christianity. On the contrary, since the
belief in a personal Messiah has been dropped, the hope of their
conversion has become more vague and visionary than ever.
Those whom the worship of the synagogue and the temple no
longer attracts either become wholly sceptical and indifferent, or,
as is often the case, transfer their allegiance to the new humani.tarian doctrine which is fast assuming the character of a religion
in the ardor it inspires and the strong spiritual union it cements.
For the great body of the Jews, however, the central doctrine of
Judaism remains unshaken, and doubtless, so long as Christianity exists, Judaism as a distinct creed will coexist with it. The
modern Jews, like their ancestors, believe that their mission is
not yet ended, and they await with patience the rising of some
new man of genius amongst them, who will combine the qualities of the popular leader with the attributes of the scholar, and
will give body and form to the ideas elaborated by the Reformers. As a religious society they desire to remain distinct. But
as citizens, they are eager to remove whatever distinctions still
hamper their intercourse with their neighbors of other creeds.
Never has the desire to return to Palestine and retrieve their
lost nationality been more foreign to their sentiments than at the
present day, though recent speculations have misled many to
1 In an article on the religious aspects of the social question.
242 
APPENDIX.
believe otherwise. They know they can no more return thither.
They would not if they could. They love the land of their birth;
they wish to join their labors with those of others in promoting
the progress of the entire human race. They have ceased to
regret the past, and desire nothing more earnestly than to live
in the present and for the future.
THE END.
243