YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

THE

Bible of Humanity

JULES MICHELET,

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH

VINCENZO CALFA.

WITH A NEW AND COMPLETE INDEX.

NEW YORK:
J. W. BOUTON, 706 BROADWAY.
LONDON : B. QUARITCH, 15 PICCADILLY.
1877.

Copyright by
W. BOUTON, 1877.

John F. Trow & Son,
Printers and Stereotypeks,
205-213 East \2.th St.,
new yokk.

TO
CHEVALIER PIETRO CENTEMERI,
WHO, IN 1848 AND 1849,
FOUGHT FOR THE INDEPENDENCE
AND
RELIGIOUS LIBERTY OF ITALY,
€\)i% inrasluitira is iminkti
BY
HIS COUNTRYMAN AND FRIEND,
VINCENZO CALFA.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

PAGE
Preface  iii
IP art .first.
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN.
CHAPTER I.
INDIA.
The RSmayana  I
The Bible of goodness  2
The Ramayana dissimilar from the Iliad  3
Hidden mystery of the Hindoo soul  4
How Ancient India was recovered  5
Anquetil Duperron and the Indianists  5, 6
The Zend-Avesta and the Vedas  7
The Mahabharata.— The Shah-Nameh.— The Rig- Veda  7
Indian Art  8
Exhibition of 1851  9
Domestication of the elephant  13
Primitive family. — Primitive worship  15
Song of the dawn. — Monogamy. — The Lady  18
1 The lady unites in the sacrifice and joins in the anthem  21
Man creates the gods  22
Deep-rooted liberties of India  30
The Ramayana is an emancipation  32
Redemption of Nature  37
The animal rehabilitated, humanized  42
Infinite pardon  46
CHAPTER II.
PERSIA.
The Earth and the Tree of Life  48
Heroic toil. — Life and light in justice  49
To do justice to fire, to the earth, and to the animal  49

vi Table of Contents.
PAGE
To evoke water and to fertilize the earth  5°
The Tree of Life, H6ma  SI, 52
Man by the word produces and upholds the world  53
The combat of Good and Evil  53
Iran against Turan. — The dragon of Assyria  55
Labor, order, justice. — Regular distribution of waters  57
Fight of Ormuzd against Ahriman  57
All the good help Ormuzd in order to conquer and reconcile Ahriman. .. 58
The Winged Soul. — It ought to be the image of Law  61
Anxiety about the ultimate destiny of the soul  62
The sun sucks up the body ; the bird takes the soul  64
The soul is received by an angel ; its transfiguration  65, 66
The Eagle and the Serpent  67
Persia venerates the Eagle — -Assyria worships the Dragon  68
The emancipator of Persia  69
(Persia wishes to purify Asia with the sword of fire  70
The Shah Nameh  72
The strong woman  72
Worship of water-springs  72
Firdusi, the Homer of Persia  73
Family traditions perpetuated especially by woman  74
Conjugal love, mothers  75
The heroines of Firdusi  76
Life and misfortune of Firdusi  77~8o
CHAPTER III.
GREECE.
The intimate relation between India, Persia, and Greece  82
Greece saved the world at Salamis, and raised it up at the Renaissance 83
Education  ,  83
The true genius of Greece is transformation  83
Terra-Mater*.— Mother Earth.— Ceres  84
The holy Pelasgian Mystery, the Spirit of the Earth  .... 87
Horror of the effusion of blood. — Hindoo-like Grecian manners  87
The Maternal Passion  89
The ideal of a mother worthy of adoration  go
Festival of flowers. — Festival of laws  95, g6
Ceres creates the Commonwealth, and teaches Immortality  96, 97
The vanity of the Ionic gods  08
The strength of the human family  qg
Greece has no organized sacerdotal order  nq
Rank of the gods — Fire, Earth, Water, Air.  ioi
The gods grow from myth to myth  101,105
Life of Greece — lofty, brilliant, and pure  _ 106

Table of Contents. vii

PAGE

Similarity of domestic life in Greece and Persia  107
Woman equal with man  I0g
Invention of the Municipality  ion
Homer's Iliad  I10
The Odyssey  IIt
War a purely gymnastic exercise ; no slaves  m u2
Dorian invasion  II2
Lacedaanon   It .
Destiny — Moria — Nemesis  Ilz. tIc
Prometheus the savior of the Municipality  , , , nj
Education. —The child. — Hermes  uy
Athens fashions at once the citizen, the hero, the man  1 18, 1 19
Education of liberty, energy, happiness  1 20
Hermes, the amiable god of the public schools  121
The Panathenaea  I23
Homer's poems are wholesome food for nourishing, refining, andrenewing
the heart  123
The perfection of the Greek language  124
Apollo. — Light. — Harmony  125
Delphi. — Its elysium of statues  126
How Apollo was humanized, deified. . . . ,  128
The games at Delphi  130
War of the lyre against the Phrygian flute  131
Amphictyons  132
Supreme harmony of Greece in Apollo  133, 134
Hercules  134
Bacchus  1 35
Spartan girls  136
Hercules was for the lyre against the flute and Bacchus  137
Hercules, the workman, by labor transforms the earth  138
How much this myth is superior to the Homeric poems  139
Hercules a bastard, a cadet, a. slave. — The victim and the benefactor of
the world  140
He strangles hydras and lions, and gives peace to Greece by subduing
brigands and rivers  142
He establishes throughout the world the duty of hospitality  143
Jealousy of the gods  145
Bacchus arms the Centaurs against Hercules  146
The king Admetus  147
Hercules is compelled to go to the infernal regions, from which he brings
back Alkestis  148
His involuntary crimes  149
His death  150
He bequeathed an active and heroic type of Passion  151
1 Prometheus  152

viii Table of Contents.
PAGE
^Eschylus a soldier, a censor, and a prophet  I52
His hundred tragedies  '53
Michael Angelo and ^Eschylus  153
yEschylus, in the very midst of the supreme glory of Athens, was filled
with forebodings  154
The new art  155
Pheidias  156
Winckelman  156
Euripides and Sophocles  157
Reign of Bacchus  158, 159
Shakespeare and ^Eschylus  161
^Eschylus against the young gods, and the impending tyranny  162
Slaves and women at the Athenian theatres  163
The Areopagus  164
^Eschylus evokes the Liberator, namely Prometheus, the son of Jus
tice  165, 167
The Prometheus is not obscure  168
Living liberty is paramount in ^Eschylus' dramas  1 70
Prometheus is the true prophet of the Stoic and the Jurisconsult  1 70
Death of iEschylus  171
Greece perished neither by war, nor slavery, nor corrupt personal morality,
but by the decay of social morality, the loneliness of woman —
Sappho for instance, and by the enervating invasion of the gods of
the East  172-178

|3art Qtcanti.
CHILDREN OF THE TWILIGHT, OF THE NIGHT,
AND OF THE LIGHT REFLECTING AGAINST
THE DARKNESS.
CHAPTER I.
EGYPT. — DEATH.

PAGE

Egypt, an immense mortuary monument. — the river of life  179 180
Egypt, a grand harmony, which has been copied by all nations  181
Goodness of Isis.— The family at the altar  I82) 183
Osiris  184, 185
Death of Osiris. — Grief of Isis. — A true and ever-recurring history  186
Love stronger than death. — Osiris resuscitated for Isis's sake.  187
Exclusive, individual love, which clings to the remains of the beloved one 187

Table of Contents. ix.
PAGE
Isis adopts and suckles Anubis, the ferocious murderer of her husband 188
Anubis creates the arts. — Pie welcomes, reassures, and guides the soul at
the moment it leaves the body  189
The lot of the Egyptian — Incessant toil  190, 191
The Pyramids  191
Rameses  191
Egyptian symbolism  192
The god Thoth  192
The Middle Ages have narrowed and perverted the mind.  193
The Egyptian's dread of evil spirits  193, 194
The tree moans and weeps. — The Egyptian trusts it with his heart  195
Legend of the living tree  196
Satou's history. — A novel of the time of Moses  196

CHAPTER II.
SYRIA. — PHRYGIA. — ENERVATION.
The Syrians, Assyrians, and Arabians in Egyptian paintings  198
The ideal of Syria — the female fish  199
Astart^ and Moloch ; prostitution, mutilation  200
Parthenogenesis  201
Semiramis, Lot, and Myrrha. — The legend of incest  201
Burials at all times have been the occasion of the saddest follies  202
Birth and death of Adonis  203
The gardens of Adonis  204
Resurrection of Adonis  204
Extraordinary influence of Adonis; disappearance of manhood  205
Hospitality of Babylon  206-208
The \io\-Mother  209
The priests of Mylitta ; her popes ; her mendicants, who were the Ca
puchins of antiquity  209-211

CHAPTER III.
BACCHUS-SABAZIUS. — HIS INCARNATION. — THE TYRANT.
Invasion of the Eastern gods  212
The lascivious Baalpeor of Syria  213
Bacchus Zagreus and his Passion  214, 215
He enters Eleusis and becomes a mediator  215, 216
Plato's mediator of love  216
Bacchus, a conqueror ; the god of tyrants and of slaves  219
Feminine and Bacchanalian orgies  220, 221

x Table of Contents.
CHAPTER IV.
THE INCARNATION OF SABAZIUS. — MILITARY ORGIES. PAGE
Philip, king of Macedon  222
Albania  223
Olympias pretends to have conceived Alexander the Great by the serpent
Sabazius  224
The appearance and character of Alexander were of a barbarian  225
Alexander's expedition had been planned before he was born  226-228
He imitates Achilles  230
He demands divine honors  230, 23 1
Resistance of Callisthenes  232
Alexander's return from India ; the orgies of the new Bacchus.  232, 233
Alexander's heritage  234, 235
The magians organize the monarchical ceremony, which has since been
imitated  235, 236
CHAPTER V.
THE JEW. — THE SERVANT.
The Jewish Bible  237
Judea, Syria, Phoenicia, and Carthage  238
The Jew invited and hospitably admitted the stranger  240
Character of the Jew. — He is a peace-loving man, and a man of business 241
His is the glory of having immortalized the sighs of the slave  242, 243
The songs of night  243
The Book of Job  244
The spirit of the desert  245
Jehovah  246
The two religions of the Bible. — Elohim and Jehovah  246, 247
Efforts of the prophets to purify these two worships  247, 248
The Jew believes that he is the chosen of God, and that God will for
give him everything  249, 250
The manly appearance of the Law hides the feminine tenet of Grace .... 250
Jeremiah and Ezekiel deny the justice of visiting the iniquity of the
fathers upon the children  251, 252
The Jews in Chaldea.. — Maxims of craft and selfishness  252 253
Esdras. — The Great Synagogue  253
Impossible massacres related in the Bible  254
Various merits of the Jew. — He is the best slave ; he rises through the
feeling of his inward liberty (note)  254, 251;
The Pharisees  2zc
The Word  256
Worship of the alphabet strangely mingled with mysticism  257
The Schoolmen and the Rabbis  z„ 2rg

Table of Contents. xi
CHAPTER VI.
THE WORLD-WOMAN. PAGE
The Song of Songs  259-261
Its character of Syrian passion, and of Jewish eagerness and delicacy 261, 262
Omnipotence of the young woman possessed with the seven spirits 263-268
The Syrian woman fit for business as well as pleasure  268, 269
Timid prudence of man. — General enervation  270
Apparition of the Novel. — Jewish novels  270, 271
Esther (the Book of) embodies the general history of Jewish, Syrian,
Graco-Phcenician women scattered at that time everywhere . . . 272, 273
They were hired and sold  273, 274
Their affection for the gods of the East  274
Roman ladies  274, 275
The gods of death invade Rome  275
CHAPTER VII.
THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN WOMAN AND THE STOIC : LAW AND GRACE.
The old Italian genius.. — Destruction of Carthage  277
Lucretius and Virgil  278
Rome and Greece  ,  279
Diogenes  280
' Glorification of labor  280, 281
Stoicism. — Scope of jurisprudence  281-283
Jurisprudence found the world used up and enervated  283-288
Philo, the contemporary of Jesus  289
CHAPTER VIII.
TRIUMPH OF WOMAN.
Christianity born of Mary  291
Woman was a priest till the year 369  291
How Jesus was born of Mary  292
The gospel of Mary is the first of all gospels  v  293, 294
Contest between the Temple and the Synagogue. — The Rabbi  295, 296
Jesus taught nothing but himself  296
Three women began the legend  297
Life of Mary according to the primitive gospel  298-300
/The women who surrounded Jesus. — The Magdalene  301
The women who surrounded Saint Paul. — Thelda, Lydia, Chloe, Phoe
be   302"3°4
Epistle to the Romans. — The Marseilles Hymn of the Gospel of
Grace  3°5> 3°6

xii Table of Contents. PAGE
Phoebe carries it to Rome, to Nero's household  306, 307
Doctrine of absolute obedience  308
Double character of Nero  308
Struggle of Phcebe against the Stoic and the Jurists  309, 310
Power of woman as a priestess during four hundred years  311, 312

CHAPTER IX.
PERIOD OF UNIVERSAL WEAKNESS. — MIDDLE AGES.
Expectation of death. — Inertia  313, 314
The empire open to the barbarians  315, 316
The empire opposes Mithras to Jesus  317, 318
Literary enervation. — Hermas  318, 319
Hatred of nature  321
Disparagement of the head of the family  321, 322
The Gospel of the Carpenter  322-324
[Predestination and pre-eternal damnation — Middle Ages  325-328
CONCLUSION.
No more criticism of the Middle Ages, but for the present let us forget
then*  329-33l
We must march toward the future and imbibe the human sense  330
The deep Faith is established. — Science and Conscience have embraced
each other  331
How to fortify one's self in the new path  332

LIFE AND WORKS OF MICHELET.

JULES Michelet, the celebrated French historian, was
born at Paris, on the 2 ist of August, 1798. His father
was a printer, and had his printing-office in the chapel of
an abandoned monastery. One of his uncles, Narcissus
Michelet, was in 1867 the oldest typographer. The early
youth of the future historian was full of hardships : he had
to struggle against the straitened circumstances that had
fallen upon his family, already half ruined under the Con
sulate. He became a compositor in order to aid his
father, while at the same time he began, in the best way
he could, his literary studies, under the guidance of an old
bookseller, who had formerly been a schoolmaster. It was
proposed to his father to obtain work for the young man
at the Imperial printing-office ; but Michelet's father re
fused, and devoted his last resources to educate his son
at the Lyceum of Charlemagne. Young Michelet made
gratifying progress under the tuition of Villemain and
Victor Leclerc, and was chosen an assistant to a professor
ofthe University, after a brilliant competition (1821), and
was afterward elected to the professorship of history at
Rollin College, where he taught till 1826.
His first works : Chronological Table of Modern History
(1825), Synchronical Table of Modern History (1827),
though they are only elementary, show the tendencies of
the historian, and establish his place in the school which
regards history first of all as a course of philosophical
training. Michelet, in 1827, was appointed Master of the
debating society at the Normal School. He declared his
views more emphatically in his Introduction to Universal

xiv Life and Works of Michelet.
History (1831), in his translation of the Selected Works of
Vico (1835), in his Roman History, The Republic (1839),
and especially in his Origin of French Law (1837). This
last work shows him to be master ofthe subject, endowed
with rare faculties and possessed with vast knowledge.
The Origin of French Law, written in a sober, concise,
and vigorous style — which was his first manner of writing
— pointed out what interest it is possible to give to appar
ently the driest subjects, and what glimpses of light may
be thrown upon the obscurest chaos of ancient institu
tions. All the past is, as it were, revivified in his pages,
which are full of inspiration.
After the revolution of 1830, his professors, Villemain
and Guizot, having been raised to power, Michelet was
appointed Chief of the Historical Section at the record-
offices, and afterward Assistant Professor of the course of
history by Guizot at the Faculty of Letters. In 1838 he
succeeded Daunau in the Professorship of History and
Morals at the College of France, and began his celebrated
lectures, to which the younger students eagerly flocked.
This professorship was the foremost platform for the ad
vocacy of democratic ideas, and the vivacity with which
Michelet attacked the Jesuits, and denounced their under
hand practices and encroachments, contributed not a little
to win for him the most lively sympathies. Three great
books were the result of this teaching. They are the sum
ming up of it under different points of view : The Jesuits,
written conjointly with Edgar Quinet (1843) > Priests,
Women and Families (1844), The People (1845). The
clergy were powerful enough to silence the professor.
The lectures were suspended, and Michelet's public career
was momentarily broken. The revolution of 1848 was at
hand, and, after the events of February, the choice was
given Michelet to be reinstated in his professorship. He
declined, and even refused an election as Representative
(which honor was offered him), in order that he might
devote himself exclusively to study.

Life and Works of Michelet. xv
Michelet, in 1833, first laid the corner-stone of the
great memorial, to which he consecrated the best part of
his life — I mean his History of France (1833-1867). This
work, often interrupted by other undertakings, taken up
again heartily, conceived at first on a comprehensive plan,
and in its continuation dealt with in large episodic pieces
— which are only connected together by the thread of
facts, so as to exhibit the culminant point of each epoch
— this work, I say, contains the entire writer and thinker,
with various modifications which his manner of judging
and his style have undergone.
The first six volumes (1 833-1 846) are a model of be
witching narrative ; facts are interwoven, deducted, and
set off with that magic style of which Michelet is the
supreme master. The geographic description of France,
at the beginning of the second volume, is a masterpiece.
Geography — an arid science — becomes in his hands as in
teresting as a masterly painting ; the enumeration of re
gions, of bays, of rivers, of mountains, is transformed into
a succession of charming and magnificent landscapes.
As to events and persons, Michelet gives to history a
new form. " Augustin Thierry," he says, "has styled his
tory a narrative ; Guizot defines it an analysis, and I call
it a resurrection." Men, facts, manners — everything,
indeed, revives under his hand, the smallest details of
character or costumes are studied thoroughly, though
often sketched at one bold stroke ; and carry the reader
into the very scene where those personages acted, and
make him live in their life and share their passions.
Michelet first of all touches the heart : his way of con
vincing is by the emotions. The painstaking annalist
lays open before the reader the facts, places in juxtapo
sition the testimony, compares one view with another,
and gives a clue that enables him to distinguish truth
from falsehood. Michelet, on the contrary, keeps the
hard work to himself alone. When he has once compre
hended a fact and a personage, he throws upon them

xvi Life and Works of Michelet.
a vivid gleam of the same light in which he saw things
and men in his fervent imagination and ever-quick sen
sibility. Notwithstanding the success Michelet had obtained in
the first part of his History of France, he interrupted it
when he reached the reign of Louis XI. He left it alone
for so long a time that people thought that he would
never finish it — for he let himself be led away by other
works capable in themselves of absorbing the activity of
a life-time. The first of these intervening works I refer
to was the History of the French Revolution (1847-
1853, 7 vols, in 8vo.). The great epopee of the revolution
had then for the first time a poet worthy of it. Lamartine,
in his Girondins, had only written an episode of it, with
insufficient historical research, and the book of Thiers,
though remarkable from several points of view, was far
from giving the proper conspicuousness to the characters
of that unique era. Louis Blanc has afterwards more
carefully analyzed the same facts and the same char
acters, throwing on them new light ; but although the
divergencies of opinion occasioned many sharp polemics
between the two historians, and although Louis Blanc has
pointed out several inaccuracies in Michelet's work, yet
the latter continues to be a powerful, sincere history ; it
has cleared the ground which a partisan spirit had ob
structed with absurd legends, and above all things it
vibrates with a communicative emotion.
After this great effort Michelet wrote some works of
lesser importance : Democratic Legends of the North
(1854), a series of studies on Poland and Russia ; the Pro
secution of the Templars — a simple collection of the Latin
manuscript documents of that mysterious affair — (1851, 2
vols.). Michelet had published the first volume of it in
1841, and had promised to elucidate the second with an
introduction ; but he did not keep his word, although ten
years elapsed before publishing the second volume. He
doubtless thought that he had not yet examined deeply

Life and Works of Michelet. xvii
enough into that mystery. He then again took up his
History of France. The second part was issued without
interruption in twelve years (1855-1867), under different
titles : Renaissance ; Reformation ; Wars of Religion ;
The League atid Henry IV. ; Henry IV. and Richelieu ;
Richelieu and the Fronde ; Louis XIV. and the Revoca
tion of the Edict of Nantes ; Louis XIV. and the Duke
of Burgundy ; The Regence y Louis XV.; Louis XV
and Louis XVI. Although these volumes exhibit the
sequel of history without a break of continuity, their
very manner of publication and their titles show the
method of the writer, who, taking hold of a culminant
point of an epoch, or rather considering its predominant
physiognomy, works around it until he makes every part
luminous. In this way he embodies the whole Renais-V
sance in Michael Angelo, as he had embodied the whole
French Revolution in Danton. To this second part of his
history, rather than to the first, must be applied the wordj
" resurrection." " Men and facts are so vividly pictured;
in his inflamed imagination," H. Taine says, " that the j
writer at last believes them to be real ; he views them [
alive, he speaks to them, and hears their answers ; the
dialogue and the drama are brought into history on every
side. The circumscribed frame of the narrative is broken ;
apostrophes, exclamations, dithyrambs, curses, personal
confidences throng together ; history becomes a poem,
and even when he keeps within the limits of a pure narra
tive, his vivid imagination is not slackened. The images
are so lively, the manner so rapid, the quick invention so
happy and so wild that the objects appear to be born
again with all their colors, motions, and forms, and pass
before our eyes as a phantasmagoria of Hminous pictures.
The flame of his imagination animates his style, and ele
vates it even to passion. Michelet writes as Delacroix
paints, venturing on the harshest tones, searching in the
slums for passionate expressions, borrowing, from medicine
and the popular idioms, details and words which strike and

xviii Life and Works of Michelet.
frighten, and clothing the whole with splendid metaphors,
which put a purple tinge on all the stains he has unveiled."
Michelet, on account of his sensibility, possesses above
all the faculty of suffering and rejoicing in contact with
the past, and he communicates full well this emotion to
the reader. Under his guidance there is no more analysis,
no more doubt, no more circumspection ; the reader is
led on. Some critics have wished to oppose this manner
— to them very strange — of writing history. Indeed his
method disturbs positive minds that like to place their
foot deliberately and only on solid ground ; they have
asked themselves if they had to believe those inductions,
those hypotheses, those physiological analyses which are
so new, and those portraits outlined at two strokes of a
pencil, those characters conjectured from a phrase of a
chronicler, a portrait or an engraving ; those conclusions
which disconcert, those insights which had escaped all
other historians, and which all at once set at naught every
received opinion. There is, indeed, something con
fusing in this kind of divining of the historian. H.
Taine says : "Must we believe Michelet? As forme,
after making the experiment, I say, Yes. In studying the
records of an epoch which he has studied, one feels a
sensation like his, and finds, after all, that his conclusions
of divinatory lyricism are nearly as exact as those of the
painstaking analysis and slow generalization. But this
verification has power only with those who have made
it, and so far only as they have gone."
The mannerism of Michelet has, in his last works,
undergone a new transformation ; a decided feminine in
fluence is felt in it. Having failed to find in his first mar
riage all the happiness of which his tender soul dreamed,
he had some years afterwards formed a purely intellectual
connection with a young French school-teacher (Miss
Mialaret, daughter of Toussaint Louverture's secretary),
who was engaged in the remotest part of Poland as a
governess. Having become a widower, he married her,

Life and Works of Michelet. xix
and after this second marriage, the books of the illustrious
historian seem to have been written under the influence
of an uninterrupted honey-moon. We are indebted to
this influence for The Women of the Revolution (1854) — a
work containing detached sketches of his great history ;
The Bird {18 $6) ; The Insect (1853) ; Love(iSS9) ; Woman
(i860); The Sea (1861). Each of these books is some
what peculiar, and full of an exaltation which is at times
unhealthy, but the magic of their style is matchless.
On the whole, Michelet always held fast to his system
of psychological studies, and carried into science, phys
iology and natural history, the same method he had
formerly applied to history. He sought after the soul of
birds as he had previously done for the soul of facts ;
relating their sufferings with the same emotion with which
he had unfolded those ofthe people.
Wis Bible of Humanity is a large epic in prose. The";
artist-historian, in the manner of inspired men and proph
ets, sings the evolution of mankind. There is no doubt
that he throws brilliant glimpses of light on the long
course of events and periods which he unfolds; but at the
same time he carries away the reader with such rapid
flights of imagination, as almost to make him giddy.
At length Michelet again took up his great history. In
uniting, through the volume of Louis XVI. , his History of
France to his History of the French Revolution, he had
run the whole cycle of French annals, as he had at first
outlined it in his mind. He wished to continue his work
up to our own time, and so began the History of the
XlXth Century, of which only a few volumes have been
published (1872-1873, 3 vols, in 8vo.). The title of the
first volume is The Directory, Origin of the Bonapartes /
the two other volumes deal with the Consulate, and the
first part of the Empire.
The personality of Michelet stands forth pre-eminently
in the works he wrote in .his old age ; his style is as pic
turesque and brilliant as ever, and his manner is as origi-

xx Life and Works of Michelet.
nal. Some of his faults as a writer, however, are more
prominent, and the boldness ofhis statements, as well as
the fierce onslaught upon acquired beliefs, cannot fail to
offend many a reader.
Even after what Lanfrey had written on Napoleon,
Michelet has been able to show the world a Bonaparte
still unknown, by exhibiting the uncle through the nephew.
Never was a hero so completely overthrown.
Michelet is one of the most sympathetic characters of
our time. Standing aloof from parties, for he has never
followed any into the arena of active politics, he is never
theless one of the bravest champions of democracy. He
has accomplished more for it than if he had served it in
the world of political life, since he has served it so well in
the field of thought, by unfolding its history and giving
due prominency to the legitimacy of its aspirations. At
the time of the second empire he sided with the moderate
opposition, but his warfare was alway9 bitter, such as his
tory itself wages against despotism ; he applied to that
time the same divinatory proceedings which he so well
made use of in such a masterly way as to the past ; and
seeing clearly the approaching end of that detested gov
ernment, he entreated active men to become organized in
advance, and think of what they ought to do on the mor
row of its falling to pieces. His letter of August, 1869 —
a year before the overthrow of the second empire — is the
voice of a prophet. He was an implacable adversary of
the war of 1870, and he immediately published at Flor
ence (where he was at that time) a patriotic appeal to the
brotherhood of nations, which cannot be understood.
The title of this book is France before Europe (1870).
(Pierre Larousse's Large Universal Dictionary, 1874.)
Besides the works above mentioned, Michelet wrote The
Memoirs of Luther (1835)/ The Sorceress (1862)/ The
Mountain ; and Our Children (1869) — a plea for compul
sory education. His green old age gave hope that he might
write several good books yet, or at least finish his History

Life and Works of Michelet. xxi
of the XlXth Century, which would have been the crown
ing of the edifice. But it was not to be, and although his
energy never failed, his heart-disease gained ground day
by day. He died on the Isle of Hyeres on the 9th of
February, 1874, and was buried in its little cemetery, but
after a short time his remains were transferred to Paris.
Michelet was a great historian and put his heart in what he
wrote. He was also a thoroughly upright man, and inured
to the buffets of fortune. What he wrote about himself,
in an address to his readers prefixed to the first volume of
his last work {History of the XlXth Century), gives the
best idea of the man and his works. Here are his immor
tal words : " I manifested my sympathies for Germany, and
in general for all Europe, at the College of France. I was
there surrounded by those young men who liked me, and
I spread there the Round Table, to which all nations,
asking of me the food of life, came and sat down. As
long as Ccesar ruled I did not think of returning there,
but I devoted myself to complete the memorial I owed
to France."
When, after the fall of Napoleon III., he claimed his
professorship, not so much on his own account as for the
honor of the College of France, the professors of which
hold their positions for life, according to its charter, and
also according to the decisions of many a Secretary of
State, Jules Simon, then Minister of Education, answered
him that the place was regularly occupied by another
incumbent. But such was not the case, and Michelet ex
posed the true state of things.
His books for public instruction, and even his Abridg
ment of Modern History, were proscribed, notwithstand- -
ing that they had been previously approved by the Uni
versity. Michelet, in speaking of this injustice toward him,
says : " So much do they fear even the impartial books
which ought to take the place of those employed under
the empire. But it is not a complaint I am making. I
was suspended in 1847 by the Ministry of Guizot; I was
2,

xxii Life and Works of Michelet.
expelled from my professorship, without pension or com
pensation, after the coup d'etat of the 2d of December,
185 1 ; the Communists set my house on fire, and the Ver
sailles Government turned me out again from my profes
sorship. But I make no complaint. I have had all I
wanted. Rulers and parties have agreed to reward me,
by publishing, in the best way that they were able, that I
am an independent man. I have deserved such a testi
monial. I never forsook my principles. Though I am
deprived of my professor's chair, yet I have my platform.
It is of sufficient height. I can survey from it the tem
pests, the winds of revolutions, by which the world is now
being shaken and overturned. The last judgment is there
— the final conviction, the sentence, the great sword
about to fall on the neck of kings and of nations — the
revolutions themselves ! "

PREFACE.

Mankind have incessantly deposited their thoughts in a com
mon Bible. Every great people writes there its peculiar records.
These records are very clear, but different in form, and in a
very free handwriting ; here in the form of great poems and his
torical accounts ; there in the form of pyramids and statues. A
god sometimes, or a city, express much more than books, and,
without a word uttered, they express the very soul. Hercules
is a verse. Athens is a poem as much and more than the Iliad,
and the high genius of Greece is entirely in Pallas.
It happens frequently that they have forgotten to write the
most profound verse, the life which they lived, through which
they acted, and in which they breathed. Who aspires to say,
" My heart has beaten to-day ? " They acted like heroes. It is
our duty to write their life, to find out their soul, their magnani
mous heart, which the coming generations will feed upon.
Our century is a happy one. Through the electric telegraph
it tunes the soul of the earth united in its present. By the means
of history and the concordance of times, it gives the world a fra
ternal feeling, and the joy of knowing that the past and the
present life is at one, of the same spirit.
All this is new and of this century. The means were wanting
till now. These means — sciences, languages, travels, discoveries
of every kind — culminated in the present all together. All at
once what was impossible has become easy. We have been
enabled to pierce through the abyss of space and time, and see
skies beyond the skies, and stars beyond the stars. On the
other hand, from century to century, going always backward, we
have become acquainted with the prodigious antiquity of Egypt
in its dynasties, of India in its gods and its successive and super
posed languages.
This enlargement, in which we might have expected to meet
with more discrepancy, has, on the contrary, led to more and

xxiv Preface.
more harmony. The stars, the very metallic composition of
which has been revealed to us by the spectrum, seem to differ
little from our earth and solar system. The historical ages,
to which languages have enabled us to reiiscend, differ very
little from modern times in the great moral things. Especially
in the home and the affections of the heart, as in the elementary
ideas of labor, of right, and of justice, the remotest antiquity is
repeated in us. The primeval India of the Vedas, the Iran of the
Avesta, which might be called the Dawn of the World, are by
far nearer to us, in the so strong, so simple, so affective types
they have left us of the family and creative labor, than the
sterility and asceticism of the Middle Ages.
There are no negations in this book of mine. It is but the
living thread, the universal woof which our forefathers have
woven with their thoughts and their hearts. We are continuing
it in a way unknown to us, and our soul to-morrow will be there.
It is not, as it could be imagined, a history of religions. Such a"
history cannot be isolated and written separately. This book
passes altogether over classifications. The general thread of the
life which man pursues is woven with twenty united threads which
cannot be isolated but by tearing them down. The links of love, ,
of family, of right, of art, of industry, are incessantly mingled \
with that of religion. Moral activity includes religion, but is not ;
included in it. Religion is a cause, but it is much more an effect. |
It is frequently an arena where true life is acted. *, Frequently]
it is a vehicle, an instrument of active energies.
When faith creates the heart, it is because the heart itself has
already created faith.
My book originates in broad sunlight, among our forefathers,
the sons of light, the Aryas, Indians, Persians, Greeks, of whom
the Romans, Celtes, and Germans have been inferior branches.*
* This book is infinitely simple. A first attempt of this kind must con
tain only what is very clear, and pass over, ist, phases of savage life ; 2d,
the semi-civilized world, China, etc. ; 3d, the nations which have left little
record and the age of which is yet in discussion ; 4th, the abstract doctrines,
which have never been popular, even among enlightened societies. Philoso
phers are much spoken of, but their books, even in Greece, were little read.
With great pertinency Aristotle laughed at that foolish Alexander, who com
plained that his Metaphysics had been published. It remained as it had been
unedited, and was for a very long time forgotten.

Preface. xxv
Their high genius consists in having from the very first created
the type of things essential and vital to humanity.
The primeval India of the Vedas gives us the family in that
natural purity and incomparable nobleness which no age has
surpassed. Persia gives us the lesson of heroic labor, in that greatness,
strength, and creative virtue which our own century, though
powerful, might envy.
Greece, besides her arts, possessed the greatest of them all,
the art of making man. Wonderful power, enormously fruitful,
which lords it over, and sets at nought all that has been done
afterward. If man had not had betimes these three causes of life — breath
ing, circulation, and assimilation — he certainly could not have
subsisted. If, from the most ancient time, man had not possessed his
great social instruments — home, labor, education — he could not
have endured. Society, and even the individual, would have
perished. Therefore its natural types have existed betimes and in a
wonderful and incomparable beauty.
Here we have purity, strength, light, innocence. The whole
is infancy, but there is nothing greater than this.
Come, girls and boys, take boldly the Bibles of light. Every
thing is there wholesome and very pure.
The purest of those Bibles, the Avesta, is a ray of sunshine.
Homer, Aeschylus, together with the great heroic myths, are
full of young life — the vigorous sap of March, the effulgent azure
of April.
The dawn is in the Vedas. In the Rdmayana — excepting five
or six pages of silly, modern interpolation— there is a delightful
evening, where all the infancies, the maternities of Nature,
spirits, flowers, trees, and beasts sport together and bewitch the
heart. The gloomy genius of the south, through Memphis, Carthage,
Tyre, and Judea, quite naturally contrasted, and set itself against
the Trinity of light. Egpyt in its monuments, Judea in its
Scriptures, have written down their Bibles, which are gloomy and
of profound meaning.

xxvi Preface.
The sons of light had opened life gloriously and made it fruit
ful. But the sons of Egypt and Judea walked in death. Death
and love commingled together work deeply in the worships of
Syria, which have been diffused everywhere.
This group of nations is undoubtedly the secondary side, the
small half of mankind. Their influence, however, has been great
through commerce and the art of writing, through Carthage and
Phoenicia, through the Arabian conquest, and still more through
the strange conquest which the Jewish Bible has made of so
many nations.
This venerated book, in which mankind long sought their re
ligious life, is valuable for historical information rather than for
edification. It bears evidently, as might be expected, the marks
of many centuries of the different conditions of the Jewish
nation, as well as of the various states of mind that inspired it.
It is assumed to be dogmatic ; but it cannot be so, because it is
very incoherent. The religious and moral principle fluctuates
infinitely from Elohim to Jehova. The fatal effects of the fall,
the arbitrary election, etc., which are to be found in it on every
page, are in violent disagreement with the beautiful chapters of
Jeremiah and Ezekiel, who promulgated the Right as we under
stand it at the present time. In its morality there is the same
discord. To be sure, the great heart of Isaiah is far, very far
from the equivocal skill, and the petty prudence of the so-called
books of Solomon. The Bible is strong for and against polygamy
and slavery.
The variety and the elasticity of this book has been neverthe
less of much use, when the father of a family — a severe Israelite
or a staunch Protestant— read certain chosen fragments and
expounded them to his family, pervading them with an inspi
ration which is not always in the text. Who would put this
text in the hands of a boy ? What woman, without casting her
eyes down, will dare say she has read it throughout ? It often
presents all at once the unveiled impurity of Syria, and many a
time the exquisitely calculated and relished sensuality of gloomy
and subtle minds which have gone through everything.
The day in which our kindred Bibles have appeared in the
literary world, it has been better observed how much the Jewish
Bible belongs to another race. It has a value which will always

Preface. xxvii
remain ; but it is dark and full of cumbrous ambiguity — beautiful
but unsafe, like the night.
Jerusalem cannot remain, as in the ancient maps, just in the
midst — an immense point between Europe, scarcely visible, and
Asia Minor — eclipsing all the world beside.
Humanity cannot sit down forever in that landscape of ashes
to admire the trees " which formerly may have been there." Hu
manity cannot stay like the thirsty camel, that, after a day of
travelling, they lead to a dry torrent, and say, " Drink, camel,
this has been a stream. If you wish to have a sea, hard by there
is the Dead Sea, and on its shores there are salt and pebbles for
pasturage." Coming back from the immense shades of India and the
Ramayana, returning from the Tree of Life, where the Avesta,
the Shah-Nameh presented me four rivers, the waters of Para
dise, — here, I confess, that I am thirsty. I appreciate the desert ;
I appreciate Nazareth and the small lakes of Galilea. But,
to speak frankly, I am thirsty. I could drink them off at a
draught. Allow rather, allow that mankind, free in their greatness, may
go everywhere. Let them drink where their forefathers drank.
With their enormous works, their task extended in every direc
tion, their wants of Titan, they have need of much air, much
water, and much sky ; nay, the whole sky, all space and light,
the infinity of horizons — the earth for promised land, and the
world for Jerusalem.
October 16, 1864.

Part first.
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN.

-:o:-

CHAPTER I.
INDIA.
The Ramayana.
The year 1863 will always be to me dear and blessed,
for in it I was privileged to read, for the first time, the
great sacred poem of India — the divine RAMAYANA.
" When this poem was first sung, Brahma himself was
ravished with it. Gods, geniuses — all beings, from birds
to serpents — men and holy anchorites— exclaimed : 'Oh,
the sweet poem which we would always gladly hear !
Oh, enrapturing song ! How it imitates nature ! How
clearly we see this long history ! It lives under our very
eyes." "Happy he who reads this book entire! Happy he
who has read but the half of it ! It makes the Brahman
wise, the soldier brave, the merchant rich. If, by chance,
a slave (Pariah) hears it, he becomes ennobled. He who
reads the Ramayana is absolved from all his sins."
This last expression is no delusion of the fancy. This
great stream of poetry sweeps away our abiding sin ; the
dregs, the bitter leaven, which time brings and leaves in us,
it washes away, and thus makes us pure. Whoever feels
his heart dry, let him drink of the Ramayana. Whoever
has lost what was dear to him, and is plunged in sorrow,
let him draw from it the sweet comforts and sympathies

2 Bible of Humanity.
of nature. Whoever has labored too much and wished
too much, let him drink from this cup a deep draught of
life and youth.
Man cannot always work. Every year he must rest,
take breath, and renew himself at the great living springs
which preserve their eternal freshness. But where are
these to be found except at the cradle of our race — on the
sacred summits whence descend on one side the Indus and
the Ganges, and on the other the torrents of Persia, the
rivers of Paradise ?
Everything is narrow in the West. Greece is so small
that I am stifled in it ; Judea is so dry that I pant in it.
Let me glance at the side of high Asia, towards the deep
Orient. There I have my immense poem, as vast as the
Indian Sea, blessed and adorned by the sun — a book of
divine harmony, where nothing jars. A calm peace per
vades it, and even in the midst of the battles described in
it, we perceive an infinite sweetness, a boundless brother
hood, which extends to every living thing ; an ocean with
out bottom or shore, full of love, pity, and clemency. I
have found that for which I was looking — the Bible of
goodness. Receive me then, great poem ! Let me plunge
in thee, O sea of milk !
It is only quite recently that the whole of this poem has
been translated. It had always been judged by an iso
lated part or an interpolated episode directly contrary to
its general spirit. Now that it has appeared in all its
truth and grandeur, it is easy to see that, whoever was its
last compiler, it is the outgrowth of India— the product of
its ages. During perhaps two thousand years the Hindoos
gave utterance to the Ramayana in the different songs and
recitals which constitute this epic ; and for the last two
thousand years they have enacted it in the popular dramas,
which were, and are still represented at the great national
festivals. It is not a mere poem. It is a kind of Bible which,
with the sacred traditions, contains nature, society, the

India. 3
arts, the Indian scenery, vegetation, animals, and the
changes of the year in the peculiar enchantments of the
different seasons. We cannot judge such a book as we
would of the Iliad. It has never undergone those expur
gations and corrections to which the Homeric poems have
been subjected by the great critics of Greece, the great
est of the world. It has had no Aristarchus. It comes
to us unaltered. We see this in its numerous repetitions,
and in some of its descriptions, which recur two or three
times, and even oftener. We see this also in the many
additions which have been made to it at sundry times.
Here we meet with facts of such antiquity as to reach back
to the cradle of India, and again with things comparative
ly modern and of such delicate sweetness and fine melody
as would seem to be Italian.
It has not been arranged with that skill which charac
terizes the literary works of the West. No one has taken
such trouble with it. Every one has relied on the unity
which such an immense diversity receives from a vague
harmony in which the shades, the colors, and even the
opposite tunes are blended. It is like the forest and the
mountain which it describes. Under gigantic trees there
is a superabundant life, which springs up from smaller
trees and from an infinitude of shrubs and humbler plants,
which those wood-giants permit to exist under them, and
over which they pour down their showers of blossoms ;
and these great vegetable amphitheatres are full of life.
On high soar and flutter birds of a hundred kinds and
colors ; apes swing from the intermediate branches, and
now and then the mild-eyed gazelle is seen beneath. Is
this totality a chaos ? By no means. The agreeing diver
sities deck themselves with a commingling charm. At
evening, when the sun extinguishes his overwhelming
light in the Ganges, when the noises of life are silent, the
skirt of the forest exhibits all this animation, so diverse
and yet so well blended, in the peace of the sweetest
twilight, in which all things love each other and sing

4 Bible of Humanity.
together. A common melody emerges. This is the
Ramayana.
Such is the first impression. Nothing so great, nothing
so sweet. A glorious ray ofthe all-pervading* goodness
gilds and illuminates the poem. All its actors are loving
and tender, and in the modern parts of the poem they dis
play a feminine saintliness. It is nothing but love, friend
ship, mutual regard, prayers to the gods, veneration to
the Brahmans, the saints and the anchorites. In this last
particular especially, the poem is inexhaustible. This
veneration recurs in it every instant. The whole poem is
tinted with a coloring eminently Brahmanical. Our Hindoo
scholars have been so greatly misled by this appearance
that they at first believed the author or the authors of it
to have certainly been Brahmans, as were those of the
other great Indian epic, the Mdhdbharata. And yet, by
a strange inadvertency, not one of them has discovered
that, in the main, the two poems are in perfect contrast.
Look at this enormous mountain covered with forests.
Do you see nothing in it ? Look then at that blue point
on the ocean where the water seems so deep. Do you
see nothing there ?
At that very spot, at the depth perhaps of a hundred
thousand fathoms, there is a pearl of such extraordinary
brilliancy that I see it through that depth of water ; and
under the enormous mass of that mountain there shines a
strange eye — a certain mysterious thing, which, were it
not for its peculiar glowing, we would take for a dia
mond in which the lightning flashed. This is the soul
of India, a secret, hidden soul, and in it there is a talis
man which India herself wishes not to see too much.
If you venture to question her about it you will receive
no other answer than a silent smile.
I must, then, speak for her. But it is necessary first to
prepare my western reader who is so distant from all this.
* This is the meaning of the Sanscrit word Vishnu.

India. 5
I could not make myself understood if at the start I did
not explain how India recovered at the close of the last
century, when her ancient worship and forgotten arts
were first made known to Europe, suffered her Sacred
Books, which no one had been allowed to read, to be
opened to the world — those books which contain her
primitive thoughts, simple and naked, and thus throw a
profound light on all her developments.
How Ancient India ze/as recovered.
To the last century belongs the glory of recovering the
ethical system of Asia, the sacred philosophy of the East,
the existence of which had so long been denied and
buried in oblivion. For two thousand years Europe had
reviled her old mother. One-half of mankind contemptu
ously spat upon the other half.
In order to bring to light Ancient India, so long buried
under error and slander, it was useless to ask the advice
of her enemies. It was necessary to go among her own
people, and to study her books and her laws.
At the period to which we refer, criticism began to
inquire whether indeed the whole wisdom of man was
confined to Europe alone, and even dared to attribute a
part of it to fruitful and venerable Asia. This question
ing was a manifestation of a degree of faith in the general
kinship of mankind, in the unity of the soul and reason,
which indeed are identical, whatever the diverse disguise-
ments of manners and times.
While Europe was debating, a young man named
Anquetil Duperron, eighteen years of age, who was study
ing Oriental languages at the Bibliotheque of Paris, re
solved to go to the East and bring from thence the prim
eval books of Persia and India. He was poor and had not
the means to make so long and expensive a journey in an
enterprise which so many wealthy Englishmen had under
taken without any result. But he bound himself by an
oath to accomplish it, and he did.

6 Bible of Humanity.
An executive officer of the Government, to whom he
was recommended, approved of his project and made him
fair promises. But that was all. Relying, therefore,
upon himself, he enlisted as a soldier in a company of
recruits for India. On the seventh of November, 1754, he
left Paris, with six or seven others, behind a bad drummer
and an old invalid sergeant. It is interesting to read in
the first volume of his works the strange Iliad which re
lates all that he encountered, endured, and overcame.
At that time India was divided among thirty Asiatic
and European nations. It was by no means the same
India that Jacquemont found it at a later day, under the
administration of the English. At every step Anquetil
met with obstacles. He was four hundred leagues from
the city where he hoped to find the books and their in
terpreters, when the means of advancing failed him. He
was told that the whole country was densely wooded, and
full of tigers and wild elephants. But he proceeded on his
journey ; and even when his guides were alarmed and for
sook him, he continued on, the tigers withdrawing, and
the elephants respecting him as he passed by. He
pressed forward through the forests and reached his place
of destination. But though unmolested by the ferocious
beasts, this vanquisher of monsters was assailed by
the diseases of the climate ; and, what was still more to
be dreaded, the women conspired against the daring
youth whose heroic soul was concealed beneath a charm
ing countenance. The European Creoles, the bayaderes,
and the sultanas — all this lustful Asia — endeavored to
turn him from his aspirations. They beckoned him from
their terraces, but he closed his eyes to their invitations.
His bayadere, his sultana, was the undecipherable old
book. In order to understand it, he must win over and
bribe the Parsees who sought to deceive him. For ten
years he pursued them, pressed them closely, and finally
wrested from them what they knew. But their knowl
edge was defective, and he enlightened them and taught

India. 7
them. And thus the Persian Zend-Avesta and an epitome
ofthe Indian Vedas were translated.
Everybody knows with what glowing interest the savans
of Europe carried on what our hero had conjectured.
The whole East is now revealed. Volney and Sacy
opened up Syria and Arabia. Champollion, standing by
the Sphinx, the mysterious Egypt, construed her inscrip
tions, and showed that she was a civilized empire sixty
centuries before Jesus Christ. Eugene Burnouf estab
lished the consanguinity of the two ancestors of Asia —
the two branches of the Aryas, the Indo-Persians of
Bactriana ; and the Parsee scholars who had been edu
cated in the College of France quoted in the most remote
regions of Hindostan this Western Magician against their
Anglican disputant.
Then from the depths of the earth was seen ascending a
Colossus, five hundred times higher than the Pyramids —
monument full of life and vigor — the gigantic flower of
India — the divine Ramayana.*
The Mahabharata, the poetical encyclopedia of the
Brahmans, the expurgated translations of the books of
Zoroaster, and the splendid heroic history of Persia — the
Shah-Nameh — came next. It was known that behind
Persia, behind the Brahmanic India, there was extant a
book of the remotest antiquity, of the first pastoral age —
an age which preceded the agricultural. This book, the
Rig- Veda, a collection of hymns and prayers, enables
us to follow the shepherds of -that early period in their
religious aspirations — the first soarings of the human mind
towards heaven and light. In 1833 Rosen published a

* It does not become one as ignorant as myself to distribute the glory of
this achievement, which belongs respectively to France, England, and Ger
many, or to indicate the proportion of praise that is due to the founders of
Indian lore — to the schools of Paris, Calcutta, and London — to Sir William
Jones," Colebrook, Wilson, Miiller, Lassen, Schlegel, Chezy — to the three
Burnoufs, etc. Some writers have dealt with this subject, and others will yet
unfold it better than I can.

8 Bible of Humanity.
specimen of it. It can now be read in the Sanscrit, Ger
man, English, and French. In this very year 1863, a pro
found and able critic, who is also a Burnouf, has expounded
its true meaning, and shown its scope.
In consequence of all this research we can now see the
perfect agreement between Asia and Europe — the most re
mote age and the present era. It has taught us that man,
in all ages, thought, felt, and loved in the same way ; and
therefore there is but one humanity — a single heart only.
A great harmony has been established through all space
and time. Let the silly irony of sceptics, teachers of
doubt, who hold that truth varies according to latitude,
be forever silenced. The feeble voice of sophists expires
in the immense concert of human brotherhood,
Indian Art.
Whatever the English may do to make it appear that
the Indian Bible is more modern than the Jewish, it must
be admitted that primeval India was the original cradle,
the matrix of the world, the principal and dominant
source of races, of ideas, and of languages for Greece,
Rome, and modern Europe, and that the Semitic move
ment — the Jewish-Arabian influence — though very con
siderable, is nevertheless secondary.
But if the English were constrained to admit her re
nowned antiquity, yet they affirmed that India was dead
and buried forever in her Elephantina grottos, her Vedas
and her Ramayana, like Egypt in her pyramids. They
regarded the country, as large as all Europe, and her
population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls,
as insignificant, and even contemptuously declared that
this numerous people were made up from the refuse of a
worn-out nation.
Haughty England, that considered India as a land fit to
be cultivated only for the purpose of enriching her rapa
cious rulers, together with the indignities heaped upon
her people by both protestants and catholics, and the in-

India. g
difference of all Europe, made it appear that the Indian
soul was really dead. Was not the very race dried up ?
What is the feeble Hindoo, with his delicate, feminine hand,
compared with the blond European, nourished, surfeited
with strong meat and drink, and doubling his force of race,
with that half-drunken rage which the devourers of meat
and blood always exhibit ?
The English do not hesitate to boast that they have
killed India. The wise and humane H. Russell thought so,
said so. They have oppressed her with taxes and pro
hibitory tariffs,* and discouraged her arts as far as it was
possible. In the more humane markets of Java and
Bassora the products of Indian art find a ready sale,
and it is solely because of this high estimate of the east
ern merchants that her arts exist.
The specimens of Indian art exhibited in England in
185 1 surprised and confounded the English people ; and
when Mr. Royle, a conscientious Englishman, explained
these marvels of enchantment, the jury could not award
them a prize, because the prizes were only to be given on
" the progress of fifteen years," while these productions
of India were the work of an eternal art, alien to every
fashion, and more ancient than our arts, which are old
at their beginning.
In order to secure a fair specimen of Indian art for the
Exhibition, a prize of twelve and a half dollars was offered,
and was carried off by Hubioula, a common weaver of
Golconda, who produced a piece of muslin, which threw
into the shade all English textile fabrics, and which was
so fine that it could be put through a small ring, and so
light that three hundred yards of it weighed less than two
pounds. It was a genuine gauze, like that with which Ber-
nardin de Saint Pierre clothed his Virginia, like those in
* The production of cotton, which was forced upon India in 1863, will be of
no more advantage to her people than was the forced cultivation of opium
and indigo, which have been and are the despair of Bengal ; and some of the
English governors have loyally tried to remedy this grievance.

10 Bible of Humanity.
which Aureng Zeb wrapped the corpse of his beloved
daughter when he laid her in the white marble mausoleum
of Aurungabad. But neither the endeavors of Mr. Royle,
nor the acknowledgment of the French that they were
treated"better than the Orientals, could induce England to
give her Indian subjects any other reward than these bar
ren words : " For the charm and beauty of the invention,
and the distinctness, variety, commingling and happy
blending of colors, there is nothing to be compared to it.
What alesson for European manufacturers ! " *
Oriental art is by far the most brilliant and the least
costly. The cheapness of labor is excessive ; I had almost
said deplorable. The workman lives on a trifle. A hand
ful of rice satisfies him for a day. And then the mildness
of the climate, the admirable air and light, the ethereal
food which is taken through the eyes, and the singular
beauty and harmony of all nature, develop and refine the
perceptions and make the senses acute. This is notice
able even in all the animals, and especially in the elephant,
who, though huge and shapeless in bulk and rough in
exterior, is a voluptuous connoisseur of perfumes, selecting
the most fragrant herbs and showing his preference for
the orange-tree, which he first smells, and then eats its
flowers, its leaves, and its wood. Here man acquires an
exquisite fineness of perception and feeling. Nature
makes him a colorist and endows him with special privi
leges as her own child. He lives with her, and all that he
does is charming. He combines the most diverse strains,
and commingles the dullest hues in such a manner as to
produce the sweetest and most exquisite effect.
The sky does everything for the Oriental. A quarter
of an hour before sunrise and a quarter of an hour after
sunset he enjoys that supreme privilege, the perfect vision
* Report of the Juries, II., 1858. This has been admirably repeated, over
and over again, by our French Juries, Messrs. Delaborde, Charles Dupin,
and especially by Mr. Albert de Beaumont. Revue des Deux Mondes,
October 15, 1861, ),xxv., 924.

India. 1 1
of light, which is then divine with its peculiar transfigura
tions and inward revealings, with its tenderness and
glory in which his soul is swallowed up — lost in the bound
less ocean of a mysterious Friendship.*
In the midst of this ineffable mildness the humble, feeble,
half-nourished, and wretched-looking being conceives the
idea of the wonderful Indian shawl. As the profound
poet Valmiki beheld his great poem, the Rdmayana,
gathered, as it were, in the hollow of his hand, so this
poetic weaver perceives the whole design that he would
execute, and begins his great artistic work which some
times is continued through a century. His son or his
nephew, with the same soul, hereditary and identical, and
with the like delicate hand, will follow the same line of
thought and carry it on until completed.
In the execution of strange and exquisite jeWelryt and in
the fanciful ornamentation of furniture and arms, the hand
ofthe workman is unique. Some ofthe latest Princes of
India sent to the Exhibition referred to, arms which had
been worn by their ancestors, and therefore so peculiarly
dear to them, as well as of such great value, that we can
scarcely understand how they consented to entrust them
to others. Another of those Rajahs sent a bedstead of
ivory, possibly of his own workmanship, as he super
scribed his name on it, which was sculptured and carved
with infinite ingenuity and delicacy — an exquisite, chaste,
or virgin-like piece of furniture, full of love, it seems, and
of dreams. Are these objects things ? They seem to be
almost human, and to be possessed with the ancient soul

* In the Rig-Veda, the "Friend," Mitra, does not designate thp sun, but
the effulgence which precedes and follows it.
f The jewelry of India, according to Mr. Delaborde, has not the trifling
lightness of the Genoa or Paris filigree ; and her sculptures, so light and airy
(as on the Abbas' and other monuments), do not concentrate the attention on
one point, nor seek to make an impression by exaggerated reliefs or conspicu
ous contrasts of light and shade, but entice you to the contemplation of the
whole, as if a lace of marble were stretched over it.

12 Bible of Humanity.
of India, as well as with that of the artist who made them,
and the Princes who used them.
But these sumptuous productions of rare artists do not
indicate the genius of the race so fully as do the inferior
arts and the more simple handiwork. Without expense
or noise the Hindoos, with apparent ease, produce works
that appear to us very difficult. With a little clay for a
crucible, and for bellows a couple of the strong, elastic
leaves peculiar to the country, a single man in the forest
will, in a few hours, turn the crude ore into iron, and
again, with the addition of swallow wort, turn the iron into
steel, which, when carried by caravans as far as the
Euphrates, is called Damascus Steel.
It has been observed by many thatthe peculiar chemical
insight of this people has enabled them not only to ex
tract the most vivid colors, but also the corresponding
grade of mordant, which fixes and makes these colors
eternal. The Indian spinster,* with her native instinct
and no other machine than her spindle and her delicate
hands, will obtain a thread of incredible fineness, with
which the most intricate and beautiful designs are exe
cuted. Some one has said : " Instead of sending to Cashmere
some hideous designs of shawls, which would corrupt the
Indian taste, let us send our pattern-drawers to India to
contemplate its brilliant nature and to imbibe its pure
light." But it would be necessary that these designers
should also catch the soul and the profound harmony of
India, for between the great calmness of the patient soul
of the Hindoo and the subduing mildness of the nature
that surrounds him, there is such a complete agreement
that the man and the nature can scarcely realize that each
is distinct from the other. Nor is this the effect of quie
tude simply, as some believe, but of that singular faculty,
peculiar to the race, of seeing life at the bottom of every
?Charles Dupin: Exhibition of 1851, i., 462.

India. 1 3
thing, and the soul in every living body. The herb is not
simply an herb, nor the tree only a tree, but both herb
and tree are the vehicles for the circulation of the divine
spirit ; and the animal is not all animal, but a soul that
has been or will be a man. Without this faith they could
never have accomplished the first and most necessary of
all arts in the earliest times, the art of taming and human
izing the most important and useful servants, without which
man could not have long existed. Without the dog and
the elephant man would have been at the mercy of the
lion and the tiger. The books of Persia and India relate
in a grateful manner how the dog was the first preserver
of man, and how the men of those days formed friend
ships and entered into alliances with the very strong and
large dogs which could strangle the lion. And, in the
Mdhdbhdrata it is narrated that the hero of that poem
declined the reward of heaven unless he could enter para
dise with his dog.
In lower India and in hot climates where the dog was
lacking in strength, or was easily alarmed and fled from
the tiger, men invoked the protection of the elephant ;
but this was a more difficult alliance, for though the ele
phant becomes gentle in maturity, it is brutal, irascible,
and capricious in youth, and terrible in its gluttony, and
in its amusements, and therefore was scarcely less formid
able than the tiger. And when we consider that to train
a horse, which is so small compared to the elephant, a bit
and spurs of steel, and reins and bridles are needed, it
must have seemed an almost hopeless undertaking to curb
and restrain by force this living mountain, this mighty
Colossus. They succeeded, however, and nothing could have been
greater or more beautiful. It was a moral victory. They
treated the elephant as if he were a man, a wise man, a
Brahman,* and he was influenced by it and behaved accord-
* Yudishtra, the Pandu.

14 Bible of Humanity.
ingly. To-day the treatment is similar ; the elephant has
two servants to look after him, to remind him of his
duties and to warn him if he deviates from Brahmanical
decorum. The cornac sits on his neck, scratches his ears,
guides him, and rules him by the voice, teaching him how
to behave himself; while the other servant walks beside
him and teaches him the same lesson with a firm tone and
equal tenderness of manner.
At present some writers speak very lightly about all
that. The elephant has not only been disparaged but
has greatly degenerated.* He has known servitude and
has felt the power of man. But in earlier times he was
fierce and indomitable, and to have made him teachable
and tractable must have required great boldness, calmness,
affection, and sincere faith. Then they religiously be
lieved what they said to him, and fulfilled their treaties
with him. They respected the soul of the dead in the
body ofthe living; for, according to the doctrines of their
holy sages, the spirit of some departed one lived in this
commanding and speechless form.
When they saw him in the morning, at the hour in which
the tiger leaves his ambush of night, coming deliberately
out of the dense jungle and going majestically to drink of
the waters of the Ganges, empurpled by the dawn, they
confidently believed that he, too, hailing the opening day,
became impregnated by Vishnu, the All- Pervading, the
good Sun, and while immersing in this great Soul, incar
nated in himself a divine ray.

* And yet the judicious traveller, Mr. Fouche d'Obsonville, a cool-headed
man and free from romantic tendencies, says that he saw in India an elephant,
who had been wounded in a. battle, go daily to the hospital to have his
wound dressed. In that climate there is great danger from wounds festering,
and to prevent this they are seared with hot irons. This was the treatment
which the elephant voluntarily came daily to receive, and though the pain was
so great as to cause him to groan terribly, he never manifested any violence
towards the surgeon, but seemed to understand that this severe treatment was
for his good, and that his tormentor was his friend.

India. 1 5
The Primeval Indian Family. — The First Worship.
We live on light, and our legitimate ancestors are the
Aryans, the people of light, who on the one hand have
spread over India, and on the other over Persia, Greece,
and Rome, and have imparted their ideas, language, arts,
and gods along a brilliant track like a long vista of stars.
Happy and fruitful genius which nothing has been able to
dim, and which still conducts the world in its course by
the brightness of its milky- way !
In the origin of civilization no miracles are to be wit
nessed and but little of the wonderful. A peculiar pre
cocity of good sense and sagacity were the essential ele
ments in the beginning of human history. Those who
imagine that at the start man acted absurdly and was
governed by wild imaginations, do not realize that the
pressing realities of life in those times required the utmost
discretion, and that if man had not acted sagaciously he
would have perished.
In the venerable Genesis of the Aryans, in the Hymns of
the Rig- Veda, unquestionably the earliest records of the
world,* there is stated that two persons, a man and a
woman, join with one accord in an outburst of thanksgiv
ing to the morning light, and sing together a hymn to
Agni — (Ignis — the Fire).
"Thanks to the light of the rising day, to the dawn
longed for, which puts an end to the anxieties and the
terrors ofthe night.
" Thanks to the hearth, to Agni, the good companion,

* Handed down through long generations from mouth to mouth, those
Hymns may have undergone some changes in language and form, but not in
meaning, and they tell us ofthe earliest conditions of pastoral life, antedating
all other histories. The earliest records of Egypt contain nothing but rituals
and inscriptions ; while the Genesis of the Jews, compiled from traditions,
though partly ancient, has many modern indications, as for example, it alludes
to angels (Persans), and coin, and prostitution, and many other ideas which
were evidently brought from the captivity.

1 6 Bible of Humanity.
who makes the winter cheerful and the house smile ;
Agni the fosterer ; Agni the sweet witness of the interior
life." This hymn of gratitude was just ; for fire was every
thing, and without it life would have been uncertain, mis
erable, and destitute. The light ofthe fire at night drives
away the wild beasts, the wanderers in the dark. Neither
hyenas nor jackals like the glimmering of the hearth, and
even the lion slinks away growling. But the fires of the
morning, and especially the brightness of the dawn, dis
perse these short-sighted ferocious animals, who dread tho
Sun. In our modern cities, well lighted with gas, where the
houses are secured and protected, there is no sense of
danger; but what traveller, however bold, who has been
obliged to spend a night in some lonely spot of a danger
ous country, will not confess that he was pleased to see
the dawn of day ? In those early ages, when men had no
arms but the club, and the thick, short sword (such as may
be seen on Assyrian monuments), with which to defend
themselves against wild animals, and often encountered
the lion face to face, there was a feeling of insecurity and
dread of beasts of prey. This was the case even in ancient
Greece, where were many lions, notwithstanding the cold
of its winters ; and much more so in Bactriana and Sog-
diana where the Aryans lived. There the lion and the
tiger were more numerous and much larger than they are
at present. It was no uncommon event in those days for
the family, men and animals, to be aroused in the night by
the faithful watch dog, who heard at a distance the fearful
mewing of these monstrous cats (the lion and the tiger).
The cow would tremble with fear, and the ass would prick
up his ears to catch the approaching or receding sound.
According to the Rig- Veda, the ass was the first to dis
cover the departure of the lion and to go out into the morn
ing air and salute the dawn ; and till it had been seen and
consulted none of the family ventured abroad. The large

India. 1 7
dog, loved and caressed, now led the way and was fol
lowed by the men and domestic animals, and next by the
women and little children, all happy and gay ; even the
plants looked then new and beautiful. The birds drew their
heads from under their wings and began to sing on the
boughs as though delighted with life, and all the people
with grateful hearts united their voices in ascriptions of
praise to Light, singing thanks for the enjoyment of
another day.
And now we, their remote children, after the lapse of
thousands of years, are scarcely less moved in reading
of those venerated infancies of mankind — those striking
experiences of our ancestors in the simple and ingenuous
confessions of their terrors by night and their joys and
thanksgivings in the morning.
When at night the wolf springs at the throat of the deer
going to drink, man says : " Anxiety has taken possession
of me. Come then, come light, and restore to things their
forms. Light up the sinister paleness I see yonder," and
then adds these words of profound meaning : " The dawn
of the morning alone makes us self-reliant." {Aurora
fecerunt mentes conscias!)*
That the religion of the Hearth had its origin in the
North, and not in the South, is apparent from the lan
guage and customs that prevail in the rigid climate of the
Asiatic uplands, where the people express the desire to
live "a hundred winters," and lavish the most tender
caresses upon the fire, the good companion Agni, and
where they also speak with great consideration of the
sheep of Candahar, on account of its warm and delicate
wool. In one of their nuptial hymns the woman choosing
her husband is represented as saying, with graceful inno-
r
* This is Rosen's translation, though Wilson is more complete, and I use
it more frequently, sometimes comparing him with Langlois. I am persuaded,
however, that only Emile Burnouf s recent work recognizes fully the character
of the Rig- Veda, and yet I could wish that he were more particular in fixing
the dates that separate what belongs to Agni from what belongs to Indra, etc.
2

1 8 Bible of Humanity.
cence : " I come to thee in my weakness. Be considerate
of me, and I will always be Roma Sa, the mild sheep of
Candahar, the silky sheep which comes to warm thee."*
The life of woman among that pastoral people is not
servile, as it is among hunters or warriors. She is so
necessary in all their domestic arts that she is absolutely
the equal of man, and is called, with great propriety, the
Dam— the mistress of the house— a word more ancient
than the Sanskrit of the Brahmans or even of the Vedas,
and which comes from an extinct language, f And then
in the last part of the beautiful ritual of their marriage
ceremony there occurs this significant passage, which is
only applicable to the women of the North, who retain
their energies till a late period of life : " May she have
ten children, and her husband be the eleventh ! " An
admirable sentence, full of beauty and meaning ! An
outburst of joy drawn from the prophetic heart ! The
idea is the same as that I expressed in another book : that
woman, first the child of her husband, later becomes his
sister, and finally his mother.:}:
Such is woman in the North ; but centuries afterward
we find her in Lower India, married at eight or ten years
of age — a mere child whom the husband has to form, and
whose place as assistant at the sacrifice is usurped by a
young anchorite, a novice, a disciple. How totally unlike
to the primeval life of Upper Asia, where woman is a per
son and married at maturity, § and becomes the Dam or
Lady, the mistress of the house, the coadjutor of domestic
worship, and shares equally with man in the pontificate.
There she knows Agni " in his three forms, in his three
languages, and in his three aliments ; " and knows the
male and female fuel which are his father and mother.
She also makes for him the sacred butter and his favo-

* Emile Burnouf, 136, 240. f Ibidem, 191. XL' Amour.
% At present in her fifteenth or sixteenth year. See Elphinston, Perrik,
etc.

India. I g
rite spirituous liquor, the S6ma.* The saying prevails in
India to the present day that, "As black coffee is rich in
ideas though poor in love, so Sdma is the friend of joy
and of generation." In the sacred cake, the S6ma, and
in all that makes life cheerful and sanctifies it, there is a
presentiment of what woman will be in the future— the
magician Queen, the bewitching Circes, and the powerful
Medea (without her crimes).
In the hymns of invocation they remind the fire, in
a thousand ways, of his profound relations to woman.
" Everything is ready, dear Agni. We have decked thine
altar as a spouse her beloved. Dear Agni, thou dost re
pose as the child in her mother's womb."
They had divined that there were male and female
plants, but not knowing how to distinguish between them,
they supposed, in their lively and graceful imagination, that
the female plant was the one which inclined towards or ten
derly entwined the other, and willingly lived in its shade.
These plants are the parents of fire. In the mother
they scoop a little hollow, in which they cause the father
to turn briskly. \ A patient process. Some of the more
* It is said that Soma is the very flesh of the sacrifice ; hence its botanical
name : Sarco-Stemma Viminalis, the flesh plant. (Aphylla asclepias acida.
See Roxburgh, Flora Indica.)
Under the name of S6ma, and, in Persia, H6ma, the flesh plant is the Host
of Asia, as the consecrated wafer is the Host in Europe, and to complete
the resemblance it is represented as undergoing suffering. (See Stevenson,
Sdma-veda, and Lan&lois. Academy of Inscriptions, XIX., 329.) Soma
fell from the ethereal expanse, a seed of heaven, and grew on a solitary and
quiet hill. It consecrates itself to martyrdom, submitting to grinding, and,
with barley and butter, to fermentation, and then it allies itself to and espouses
the fire, Aditi, the ground of the hearth, the womb of the world. Nourishing
victim! rewarding men and gods, then wrapping itself in vapor and soaring
to heaven. All things are renewed. The stars shine brighter. Indra com
bats the tempests more successfully. The waters flow more freely, and the
earth yields more abundantly.
f Ad. Kuhn. Origin of Fire, 1859; Baudry, Revue Germanique, April
15 and 30, and May 15, 1861. A remarkable example of the fruitful aid
which philology affords in ascending the prehistorical ages. Nothing more
luminous or ingenious than the work in which Mr. Baudry has enlarged.

20 Bible of Humanity.
savage tribes depend entirely upon chance for their fire,
as when the lightning strikes and fires the forest. The
impetuous races of hot countries extract it from pebbles
by violence, but many of the sparks that leap from the
flint are lost and leave no trace behind except astonish
ment and obscurity.*
But to return to our subject : By this friction man ob
tained first a little smoke, and then a scarcely visible flame
appeared, which would have vanished at once, had not
woman come to its aid. She welcomed the new-born in
fant, nourished it with leaves, and preserved its life.
The hymns also testify to the extreme fear which people
felt in very ancient times of allowing fires to be extin
guished, and thus of not being able to preserve the savior
of life. Woman alone is the preserver of this fire. It is
to her as a very little child which she loves and nourishes
with butter, while it, in grateful acknowledgment, con
tinues to burn.t
fathomed, and sometimes corrected, the researches of Mr. Kuhn. It is the
foundation of an important book on the capital question of primitive origins.
Vico had first divined that the fire of lightning was, at the beginning, an ob
ject of religious worship. The solar fire was worshipped afterwards. This
worship was natural and by no means absurd, and science in these days ac
knowledges it. M. Renan, in a remarkable letter to the great chemist Ber-
thelot, says : "You have demonstrated to me, in a manner to silence all my
objections, that the life of our planet has its source in the sun — that every
force is a transformation of the sun — that the plant, which nourishes our
hearths is a storehouse of heat from the sun — that the engine is propelled by
the effect of the sun which slumbers in the subterranean recesses of the coal
mines — that the horse derives his strength from the vegetables produced by the
sun — and all the rest of the work on our planet may be resolved into the
evaporation of water, which is the direct work of the sun. Before religion
placed God in the absolute, only one worship was reasonable and scientific 
the worship of the sun." — Revue des Deux Mondes, t. xlvii., p. 766, Oct. 15,
1863. * This is strikingly illustrated by the two great races of the world : the Indo-
European, patient and methodic, has left its prolific trail of light ; the Semitic
has darted some brilliant flashes which have troubled the soul, and too fre
quently have darkened the night.
f The hymn tells us in a most charming manner, and with infinite delicacy,
that "the young mother is kind to her frail child, and does not show it but

India. 2 1
As soon as it is strong enough to eat, they feed it with
barley and the sacred cake. To this substantial food they
add the liquid aliment. Man takes from the hand of the
woman the wine of Asia — the Soma which she has pre
pared — and throws it into Agni. And now the fire blazes
and sparkles, and as it mounts upward becomes bluish.
The home smiles and rejoices. Divine mystery! The
most obscure parts of the dwelling share in the festival,
and long after are reddened by the fantastical reflections
of the flames.
But at the very instant of the first sparkle and lively
ascension of the flame, a voice ascends from two united
hearts, giving utterance to words full of love and tender
ness. Short and artless outburst, followed by deep si
lence, but what was said can never be abolished. It is a
holy hymn which we may read forever, and which after
six thousand years is as fresh as when first uttered.
At the same moment in which, without prearrange-
ment, with one heart they utter this word which will
never perish, they look upon each other in this divine
glimpse of flame and see themselves to be divine. (He
Deva, and She Devi.)*
In this extreme simplicity, which might be called
childish, appears the true sacrament of harmonious love,
the high idea of marriage. "The mortal has made the
immortal. . . We have generated Agni. The ten
brothers (the ten fingers), entwined in prayer, have inau
gurated his birth and have proclaimed him our male
child." The great characteristic of this race, the foremost in the
world is, that, while it adores, it is conscious that it has
'made the gods. In the most enthusiastic hymn the ad
mired phenomenon, which appears under divine features,
even hides it from the father. Presently it grows up and stirs. How intelli
gent it appears, and how lively its movements ! but let us be vigilant, for, of
itself, it aspires to rest."— Rig- Veda, Wilson, III., 233 ; Ibid., 35 ; Ibid., p. 2.
* Em. Burnouf, 191-2.

22 Bible of Humanity.
is at the same time so well described, followed and
analyzed, that we can easily find its birth and progressive
life. Still more, all these passages in which the names of
the gods appear stand out in a transparent language,
and the names are really nothing but appellations.* (The
Strong, the Brilliant, the Pervading, etc.)
Then, no superstition ! If the god forgot himself, if he
became a tyrant, or would have darkened the imagination
with servile terrors, the mind, armed with such a language
as to remind him of his origin, would have demanded :
" Who created thee ? I am thy creator."
Noble worship, of a high and mighty conception, which
in giving all preserves all. The blessed and beloved gods
do not emancipate themselves from man their creator, but
remain in the circle of general life. If man needs them,
they need him ; they hear him and come at his call. Man's
morning praise evokes and allures the sun. It is a power
ful charm, and the sun obeys it. When man kindles Agni
on the brink- of the river, on the sacred confluent; when
the hand of woman has spread around him a carpet of
herbs, the gods come promptly in response to the hymn,
and take their seats in a friendly manner, partake of the
sacred butter and the sparkling Soma. The gods gave
the fruitful rains which have made the meadows green
again, and man gives them the best he has. The sky
nourishes the earth and the earth the sky.
Is it to be said that on account of this mutual depen
dence the gods are less revered ? They are really loved
the more. In this benign religion of love without terror,
the gods mingle freely in the actions of human life, elevat
ing them and making them divine. The tender spouse,
while preparing for man the sacred bread which at evening
* MAX Muller, 557. All this is still fluid in the Vedas. In the
Homeric Greece these adjectives become substantives, and are personal. All is
already petrified. This judicious reflection of Max Muller ought to have led
him to see more clearly the vast antiquity of a people whose worship is evi
dently of the first religious period.

India. 23
restores him, is assisted by Agni, who also acknowledges
all her efforts to please him. " Agni is the lover of girls
and the husband of women." He sanctifies and makes
glorious the happy moment of generation.
Whether Agni burns in man, or shines on the hearth, or
darts his beams from the sky, making the great spouse
fruitful, he is forever the same. Man feels him in the
lively warmth of Soma which elevates his spirits, in the
inventive flame from which the winged hymn takes its
flight, and in love, as well as in the sun.
Some people will not fail to say: "All this is pure
naturalism and without any moral bearing." This is a
familiar objection made of old. The awakening of 'con
science, a divine fruit, blossoms from every religion.
In very ancient hymns Agni is recognized as the repre
sentative of purity which man must imitate, putting aside
every physical and moral taint. If man does not yet
know clearly what a moral taint is, he is restless, neverthe
less and interrogates Agni as follows : " What is that with
which thou dost reproach me ? What is my fault, and
why dost thou speak of it to the water (Varouna), and
the light (Mitra) ? " etc. ; and thus his troubled soul
enumerates all the forces of nature before which this
pure and blameless Agni accuses him.
These tendencies towards purification gave rise to the
reformation of Zoroaster. The agricultural tribes, of
austere character, held to the heroic dogma of work,
which purifies, to the invisible Agni, the organizer of the
world. The shepherd tribes, more imaginative, extended and
enlarged the visible Agni to the sky, the sun, the clouds,
and to everything visible,* and always celebrated and
* In proportion as they observed that heat was in that element or in that
form of life, the divine names were multiplied, but not the gods. There is no
mistake about this. The hymns express this, and notice in clear terms the
monotheistic simplicity which pervades all this variety. " Agni, thou art
born Varouna (water, air), and thou dost become Mitra (the sweet glim-

24 Bible of Humanity.
worshipped him under his primitive name, which also
became Indra, the god of the tempests which water and
renew the meadows.
This flight of imagination coincides, it would seem,
with the changes of abode and climate, and with the
migration of the shepherd tribes, who descended towards
the East and' the South. When a man passes Caboul he
is struck with astonishment to see all of a sudden in all its
newness and immensity the Indian landscape, and I do not
doubt that it was in this place that the transformation of
Agni into the powerful Indra took place. It is less the
sun in itself than the god, conqueror of the clouds. This
country, abounding in large but unequal rivers which
sometimes become torrents, is subject to severe drouths
followed by great hurricanes. Its climate is one of com
bats, of contrasts, and of atmospheric war. To wage this
war man generously gave to Indra a bow and a chariot
and horses. The chariot, as it rolls, mutters. Indra,
vanquisher and fertilizer, comes near to the panting earth
and makes love to her by the darts of his thunderbolts ;
and then seeing over the mountain the black dragon of
the envious cloud which holds and refuses water, pierces
the monster with his arrows, and compels him to dis
charge the rain from his lacerated sides.
Innocent ornamentation — very translucent, and but
slightly charged with either myths or symbols. The faith
ful preservation of the word, the song, the sacred and holy
hymn of their ancestors, was their only art. This people
pursued its way for about ten centuries, singing from
Bactriana to the Indus, and afterward to the Ganges.
mering which precedes and follows the sun). Thou art Indra, the son of
strength.. Thou art Aryaman in thy relations to girls, for thou dost make
husband and wife of one spirit." — Rig-Veda, Wilson, III., 237. Thus they
had large liberty, but those who used these names did not by any means see
in them persons. Religion pursued her way lightly. It helped, but neither
curbed, nor entangled the mind with low terrors. It had some of the
serenity and nobility of that smile which was subsequently manifested in
Greece.

India. 25
At every step a song, and the totality of all their songs
is the Rig- Veda.
The boundary was the entrance of Hindostan. These
travellers found themselves in the presence of three Infi
nites, either one of which was sufficient to strongly stir up
their mind.
On the south there was the Infinity of the sea — a large
river whose shores were unseen, a beautiful mirror every
evening burnished by the flaming sun when it plunged
in its waters.
On the north a circle of giants, all the peaks of the
Himalaya, raised up from thirty mountains, bearing all
climates and all vegetables, and crowned with bright
snows over a black brow of dark trees. Immense jungles
full of tigers and serpents spread themselves at its base.
The Ganges, lined with its colossal forests, flows majes
tically towards the East ; a whole living world drinks of
its waters.
At last, and this the most terrible, the burning attrac
tion of the Hindostanic furnace, the caresses and invita
tion of a nature too charming, and of the yellow race,*
mild and defenceless, of from one to two hundred millions
of slaves, who so loved and admired the white race that it
might have perished in their embraces.
The resistance of the Aryans, this great victory of the
soul, is one of the most remarkable moral events which
has ever occurred on earth, and was only maintained
behind the barrier of castes, which in that climate were
readily formed on the very rational basis of psychology
and of natural history.
First. There was the horror of a blood diet, the idea
that meat produces dullness and tends to defilement, ren
ders unclean and offensive, and that the blood-eater
seemed to have the odor of a corpse. And meat is unneces-

* The yellow race, which easily becomes very black. See Vivien de
Saint-Martin's Geographical Researches, i860.

26 Bible of Humanity.
sary in that country, because the fruits of the earth are
there ripened and cooked by the powerful sun, and con
tain admirable juices, which are both substantial and
nutritious. Second. There was the natural terror to be appre
hended from the love of an inferior, the formidable
absorption by the yellow woman (sweet, charming, and
submissive,* as is seen in China) and by the black woman,
the most tender, caressing, and loving. If these Aryans
had not resisted, they would certainly have become extinct.
By the animal diet they would have become a drove of
gross, sleepy, and excitable beings like the Europeans
who now live there ; and by intermarriage with slaves and
inferior women they would have lost the gifts of their race,
especially the inventive power and the brilliant spark that
shines in the Vedas.
The yellow woman, with her slanting eyes and the grace
fulness of a cat, her inferior and yet artful mind, would
have reduced the Hindoo to the level of the Mongol, de
graded the race of profound thinkers to the lower level of
the Chinese workman, and extinguished the genius that
produced the high arts which have changed the whole world.
Even more. In such a climate, with such inter-com
mingling, the small number of the Aryans would probably
have melted away as a drop of wax in a brazier. India
appears like a dream, in which everything is fleeting —
flows and disappears — is transformed and then reappears
under quite another form. Terrible play of nature, which
jests with life and death ! The effort by which the human
genius withstood this was not less terrible. By an im
mense imaginative power and a harsh legislation, which
may appear tyrannical, the Aryans created a new nature of
invention and force, in order to intimidate, exorcise, and
disarm the other.
* Strongly inclined to polygamy. We see this marvelously illustrated in
Yu-Kiao-Li — Two Female Cousins. Translated by Stanislas Julien. Chap.
1 6, vol. 2, p. 195. 1863.

India. 27
The sober-minded, the thinkers, the haughty guardians
of the Indian genius, constituted themselves an isolated
people by the absolute abstinence from meat and spiritu
ous liquors. This is the origin of the elevated and meri
torious title of Brahman. Even the caste of the'warriors,
who use meat sparingly, cannot taste fermented liquors
without undergoing cruel purifications. At last, by a very
beautiful effort, the Brahmanical legislation tried to main
tain in love and marriage the high idea of the Vedas, the
monogamic purity, confining marriage to their own
women, who are haughty and disapprove of the life of the
harem. She is free. Marriage is not a traffic (as among many
other peoples). The sale of woman is a crime, and an
object of horror according to the laws of Manu.
The true formula of marriage, which no society can
ever surpass, is found and established :
" Man is not man except as he is triple, that is, man,
woman, child.* According to the Vedas — the law and
the sacred ordinances — and in accordance with the popular
feelings, the wife is the half of the husband' s body , sharing
equally in all his acts, pure and impure." And so much
so that every good work of either is of equal advantage
to the other. The holy man has the happiness of saving,
by his holiness, her whom he loves. \
The equality of the two sexes, difficult and impractica
ble for this race and in this climate, is nevertheless rec
ognized in heaven and manifested in the temple. It beams
from the altar. Everywhere the wives of the gods are
seated beside them.
The mother ! In India this sacred name is so strongly
imbedded in the heart of man, that it appears to make him
lose sight of all religious hierarchy. And although he is
the Pontiff of the family, and alone offers the prayers of
* Manu, tr. by Loiseleur, IX., 45, p. 322.
\ Digest, III., 458; Manu, IX., 22, p. 319. The woman, even of an in
ferior caste, is saved by the virtue of her husband.

28 Bible of Humanity.
the household, he is, notwithstanding, beneath woman :
" the mother is worth more than a thousand fathers ; the
field is worth more than the seed." *
The law seeks to follow out such an ideal in constituting
the woman the companion of her husband. It gives her
the household royalty. " Woman is the home. An
abode in which there is no woman cannot be called a
home." Nor is this an unmeaning saying. The law gives
her the control of the receipts and the expenses. Enor
mous and decisive concession ! However little energy
woman may possess, if she make use of it, she, by this
alone, becomes the equal of her husband and the mistress
of the house, as much as she was under the Vedas.
But does nature permit India, this great prophetess, to
accomplish all that she teaches to mankind ? No. The
tyranny of the climate does not allow the reality to equal
this dream of perfection. Woman is marriageable in her
eighth year. " A man of thirty may marry a girl of
twelve, and a man of twenty-four, a girl of eight."
(Manu). This law will ultimately change everything.
Whatever equality the law may accord to the husband
and wife, this young wife can only be as a little child to
her husband, f
* Manu, IX., 52, p. 324, says: that the earth (woman) is worth more than
the seed (man). The Hindoo Digest, III., 504, abounds in such passages as
this : "A mother is worth more than a thousand fathers."
f I will in another part of the present work speak of Polygamy, Polyandry,
the M&h&bh&rata, etc. It will be enough to say here that Polygamy is the
result of certain social causes, and not of the climate. It appears that in
India monogamy is satisfactory. The wedding is a frigid affair. In the cere
mony, and on the very evening of marriage, the husband feigns to start as a
pilgrim and return to a life of asceticism and penance. His friends prevail on
him to return to his wife, and compel him to be happy. This husband is no
longer a young man, for, in this peculiar climate, the man marries late in life,
as he is prevented, especially if a Brahman, by a long series of examinations,
trials, and penances, and above all, by religious dreams. The husband is
therefore infinitely far from the child that is given to him, and the child, not
understanding him, looks upon him inquiringly. [Digest, II., 1,35.) She
is to him as much a pupil as a wife, and the law authorizes him to chastise

India. 29
I am not writing the history of India, and therefore I
will not relate how the Brahmanic law, which was at first
her safety, became, little by little, her scourge. This is not
peculiar to India or her laws, but is the common history
of all religions. We find it in Persia and Egypt.
Religion, at first springing from a vital cause, and al
most always indicating the sincere longings of the heart,
formulates itself in laws, and establishes a priesthood.
This law gradually becomes overcharged with harsh pre
scriptions, and the priesthood becomes tyrannical and
sterile. It is like those greenish islets in the seas of
the south, which by degrees become encumbered with
corals and shells, then disappear under their growth, and
finally become nothing but calcareous masses, on which
nothing can germinate.
In India no historical work, but two very solemn legends
explain to us the struggle between the Brahmans and the
warriors. The former conquered at first, and if we can
credit them, they owed their victory to a valiant Brahman
— Parasu Rama — Rama with the hatchet (one of the in
carnations of Vishnu), who made a terrible slaughter of the
warriors. These latter, while they submitted to the spirit-
her when necessary, " as a little pupil." (Manu, VIII., 199, p. 296.) This,
however, does not prevent the law from saying, with charming contradiction
(the law doubtless having in mind the adult woman), " Do not strike your
wife, with even a flower, though she has committed a hundred faults."
[Digest, II., 209.) These laws are embarrassing. On one side there is sym
pathy for the wife, and on the other there is fear of her, for the little silent
girl, who demands nothing, does not appear less formidable in the eye of the
law. The law feels that the woman has an infinite absorption of threatening
power, conspiring unconsciously with that of the climate. The law is evident
ly troubled for the conservation of the helpless man, and so provides that he
is to live a portion of the time isolated from his wife, and not to love her
more than twice a month, if he aims at perfection. It would exempt him from
taking a second wife, but the first wife soon ceases to be a woman, and the
mortality of children is terrible, so that it becomes necessary to take another
wife. But there is no cause for fear, for as soon as the perpetuity of the family
is assured, the indulgent law permits him to leave everything and to become
an anchorite among the roots of some Indian fig-tree.

30 Bible of Humanity.
ual authority of their conquerors, were no less powerful,
and continued to be the Kings and Rajahs of the country.
Their bards or court poets (such as may yet "be found
among the Siks and other tribes) opposed to the Brah
mans a rival legend, stating that one or two thousand
years after the Brahminical Rama, Vishnu incarnated him
self in a warrior who was also called Rama, and who was
the son of a King. This Rama, belonging to the war
rior caste, but of a mild and peaceful disposition, is the
complete idea of India— the hero of the Ramayana*
The Profound Liberties of India.
That which makes the Ramayana a wonder, in spite of
its innumerable additions, is its interior soul, equipoised
between two souls, its sweet contradiction, the charm of a
free mind partly obscured. It is the timid Liberty ador
ingly veiled in Grace. It shows itself. It hides itself. It
asks pardon for existence.
Under the powerful law of Manu, during the Brahmanic
reign, when the domineering Caste had laid hold of
the whole life in infinite detail, and filled the earth with
thirty thousand gods, nature still existed. Nature pro
tests in a low voice, and exhibits herself in love, in pity,
and in boundless tenderness towards the weak and the
humble ; not by palpable appearances nor by strong
flashes of light, but by ineffable glimmerings. It is a
delicious lamp which shines through alabaster. It is the

* We can never praise sufficiently the beautiful Italian translation of M.
Gorresio, who, under the supervision of Burnouf, has likewise edited the
original text. But why do not people praise the excellent French translation
of M. Fauche ? He is, of all Orientalists, the man who has made the great
est sacrifice to science. Poor and in the depths of solitude, finding no pub
lisher, he has printed -with his own hands, and published at his own expense,
the nine volumes of this great poem. He is now engaged in translating the
Mahabharata — a still greater undertaking. But what of it ? He lives out
of our times — is more active, and no less a Hindoo than if he were a Brah
man or a Rishi.

India. % i
divine, the chaste charm of the pearl at the bottom of
the sea.
It was not always thus. The live opposition of the
Castes began, on the contrary, as soon as they came into
existence in the remotest antiquity. Witness that peculiar
song (was it the first satire of the world ?) in which the
people daringly parodied the teachings of the Brahmans.*
Witness the traditions according to which ancient Indra,
the conqueror and the scoffer, the mirthful god of nature,
who sends the rain and fine weather, overtakes and rails
outrageously at the difficult chastity of the holy ancho
rites. Witness, above all, the legend of the Rajah Vicva-
mitra — a boastful history which from age to age has
pursued and threatened the Brahminical authority. This
king, celebrated as a writer of Hymns of the Vedas, re
nowned for his hundred sons, and for his generous adop
tion of the inferior tribes, took a fancy to become a
Brahman, but was rejected and underwent the most se
vere mortifications and self-tortures for a thousand years,
acquiring by this means such merits and such formidable
power that he could annihilate the whole world, earth and
heaven, men and gods, by a single frown. The gods,
affrighted, came down to his hermitage, and, surrounding
him, besought him to spare the world, and secured his
promise that it should exist. It is to be noticed that
this terrible saint never dies. He is always dangerous.
He lived at the time of the Vedas. Some thousands of
years afterward he reappears in the Ramayana. He
is the most profound and intimate embodiment of the
Indian soul. This soul makes and can destroy, creates
and can annihilate. It reminds all the gods that it created
them, and can with a frown blot them out. It has the
power but will not exercise it. Entirely free, it has a
most tender regard for the gods and would be horrified if
they were injured. It loves them especially, because,
* It is the song of the frogs, who preach and teach. Max Muller, page
494-

32 Bible of Humanity.
through their cloudy and sublime existence, it has a
glimpse of itself.
It is the enormous privilege and the unique royalty of
this Indo-Grecian race to see where the other races do not
see, to penetrate worlds of ideas and dogmas, and the
deep strata of gods, piled upon each other. And all this
without effort, without criticism, and without malignity ;
by the simple exercise of a wonderful vision, by the sim
ple force of a look, by no means ironical, but terribly clear,
as through a hundred lenses placed one over the other.
This transparency is the peculiar grace of the Rama
yana. From the beginning the author prostrates himself
and remains on his knees out of regard to Brahmanism,
but sees perfectly through it. In his first songs he ascribes
all that can be imagined of veneration and tenderness (and
is evidently sincere) to the high and sacred Caste. But
at the same time he unfolds a new revelation, a new ideal
of holiness : the god-warrior, incarnated, not in the
Brahmanic Caste, but in a Chatrya* (a warrior).
And that which he says, and which I have already
quoted in the second page of this volume, is no less
strong : that the Ramayana addresses itself not only to the
Brahman and the warrior, but also to the merchant (Vesya),
which is a very numerous Caste, and which, according
to the etymology ofthe word, originally meant the people.
He does not dare to speak of the Sudras, but what he
adds is stronger than if he had mentioned them. He
leaves them out, but he says : " If a slave hears this poem
sung, he is ennobled." Now the slave is far beneath the
Sudra, who is of the fourth Caste. The slave is out of all
Castes, out of the Indian world ; and if this outcast may
be ennobled and share in the benediction of the Rama
yana, no one is beyond the reach of divine mercy. All
* This is something analogous to the revolution which St. Louis introduced
among Christians ; when people saw a layman, a warrior, a king — the most
powerful King of Europe — -becoming the ideal of holiness, they exclaimed :
"O holy layman, whose works the priests ought to imitate !"

India. 2,Z
may be saved. The salvation is extended to all. After
the ancient Rama of the Brahmans (the Rama with the
Hatchet) and of the severe law, came the Rama of the
warriors, clement and merciful, the universal Savior, the
Rama of Grace.
The groundwork of the poem is very simple. It is the
story of the old King Dacaratha and of his admirable, ac
complished, and adorable son Rama. Being worn out, the
king is on the point of consecrating his son and abdicat
ing the throne. But a favorite woman, a mother-in-law,
prevailed upon the aged man to grant her whatever gift
she should demand, and asked the exile of R&ma and the
crowning of her own son. This son declined the crown,
but R&ma, out of respect to his father's promise, insists
on his accepting, and then goes into exile. Accompanied
by his wife and a younger brother, Rama started for the
solitudes. Admirable occasion for the poet ! Love and
friendship in the desert ! A sublime and delicious hermi
tage in this Indian paradise !
" From the first moment that I saw the marvels of this
magnificent mountain — the holy mount Tchitrakouta — I
care not for my exile, my lost crown, or this solitary life.
Let my years be spent here with thee, my dear Sita, and
with my young brother, Laksmana, and I am satisfied.
" Behold those sublime crests of the mountain which
reach up into the sky and dazzle with brightness ! Some
in masses of silver, some in purple and opal, others in
emerald green, and this one like a diamond sparkling with
light. " The great forests are peopled with thousands of birds,
apes, and leopards. Cedars, sandalwood, ebony, lotus,
and banana trees, make shades embalmed with flowers
and opulent with fruits. Everywhere springs, brooks, and
murmuring cascades. The whole mountain seems to be a
gigantic elephant intoxicated with love.
" Child with the candid smile, look yonder at the sweet
Mandakini — the river of limpid waters, with its cranes and
3

34 Bible of Humanity.
its swans— shaded by the red lotus, the blue nenuphar, by
its children of flower trees and fruit trees, and studded
with beautiful islands. O how delightful the sight of that
flock of gazelles, coming one after another to the bank of
the river to slake their thirst !
" Look at these trees at the base of the mountain,
which under the wind so modestly bend, and pour down
a shower of flowers. Some of these flowers perfuming
the ground, and others here and there floating on the
waters. Look at the red goose mounting in happiness to
the sky, and with a cheerful song saluting the morning.
" It is the hour in which the pious Rishis plunge be
neath the sacred waves. Come then thou with me. This
is the holiest of rivers. Tell me, my dear, are not this
river and this mountain worth the empire and the opulent
cities, and all that we have renounced ? Thou and my
beloved brother, ye are my delight ! "
All that Rama says here about this beautiful landscape
is characteristic of the entire poem. In its incomparable
richness the poem is worthy of that India which it sur
rounds, and magnificently adorns. The process seems to
be that of the charming art of the country, the sovereign
art of the Cashmere, the persevering industry of the con
tinued web in which successive ages have put their work
and their love.
At first it is an exquisite sacred shawl, or scarf for
Vichnou, in which the marvellous birth of R&ma, his city,
his marriage, and his beautiful Siti, form the warp of the
poem. Around this warp all nature, mountains, forests, rivers,
Indian landscapes, the seasons of the year, all the good
friends of man, animals, and vegetables, are woven as if
into a charming carpet.
This carpet, however grand, enlarges itself and compre
hends arts, trades, palaces, towns, kiosks, bazars, and
harems. It then becomes like a tent, a marvellous pavilion,
in which the whole world may be sheltered.

India. 35
Suspended from the immense forests and the peaks of
the Himalaya, it shades the whole of India, from the
Indus to Bengal, and from Benares to Ceylon, without
obscuring the sky, for that very tent is the sky of India.
But let us rest here. This book is not a literary history.
It pursues only the great moral results.
In Rama are reunited the twofold ideals of the two great
Castes. On one side he attains the highest point of
Brahmanic virtue, and on the other he adds to it the
highest devotion of the warrior, who, for the sake of
others, hazards not only himself, but sometimes those
whom he loves more than himself. In the defence of the
frail, of solitary anchorites, who are troubled by wicked
spirits, he sacrifices more than his life — his love, his charm
ing, faithful, and devoted wife, Slta. The complete man,
this Brahman warrior, is then still nearer to God than is
the Brahman who simply prays, but does not make any
personal sacrifice.
Rama follows the exact ideal of the Khatrya, the high
ideal ofthe chivalry, to win and to pardon — to wait until
the wounded enemy recovers — to give and never to receive.
In reading this poem we are almost persuaded that
we are reading the Shah Nameh or our Celto-Germanic
poems. This peaceful warrior is the very opposite to the
irritable character which the poet attributes to even the
holiest ofthe Brahmans, who, for slight causes or involun
tary offences, hurl the terrible anathema, which dooms a
man to be bound, bewitched, and sometimes to be trans
formed into a monster. Referring to the remark " not to
receive anything whatever," the poem with its uniform
sweetness, but with a winning art, makes, through Rama,
an indirect satire on the Brahmans, who always received
and frequently exacted. From this we perceive that in
the future will appear the mendicant Brahman, the glutton,
and the buffoon of the court, who will become the subject
of satire in the Indian drama. (See Sakuntald.)
The Ramayana was evidently composed to be sung

36 Bible of Humanity.
at the tables and in the courts of the Rajahs, where the
Brahmans had only a secondary rank, and hence the re
citals of innumerable combats, monstrously exaggerated,
which are the great blemish of this poem. But in com
pensation we find in it a generous grandeur, outbursts of a
frank nature, and heroic imprudences, of which a priestly
book would never be guilty.
In a maternal transport, the mother of Rama, indignant
because ofthe exile of her son, says to the King : " Re
member, O mighty King, this celebrated and powerful
couplet : ' Brahma one day declared that he had weighed
in his scale truth against a thousand sacrifices, and that
truth outweighed the sacrifices.' " Slta also, led away
by her grief and her desire to follow Rama, pronounced
this potent sentence, which overthrows the very founda
tions of the Brahmanic edifice : " A father, a mother, or
a son, in this world and in the next, eats only the fruits
of his own works ; a father is neither rewarded nor
punished for his son ; neither is the son for his father.
Each one by his own actions brings on himself the good
or the evil," etc.
Who is this little girl, this bold-spirited child ? Let
us try to comprehend her.
The great King Vicvamitra, one of the ancestors of
Rama, and author of many sublime hymns, notwithstand
ing his great piety, seems to have paid but little heed to
the barrier of Castes. Fifty of his hundred sons were
born of Dasyas, captives, and yellow women, on whom he
had bestowed his favors. Hence it would appear that
this high type of Priest-King embraced in his immense
heart all Castes and all conditions.
The Ramayana does not state with sufficient clearness
whence comes the wife of Rama, the lovely Stta. Now
she is the daughter of a king, and now she is born of the
furrow (which is the meaning of Stta). It may be that
Rama took her from among the natives — a woman who was
the daughter of a king and a captive maiden — after the

India. 3 7
example of his illustrious ancestor ; or possibly she may
have belonged to the gentle Chinese race, so much
esteemed in the harem, whose winning grace and lustrous
drooping eye troubles the saints, and even the demons,
with whom, perhaps, the Chinese women have some rela
tionship. But beyond the human Castes, there is still another
Caste — a prodigious Caste — very humble, and very
numerous. This is the poor animal world, which is to be
saved and elevated. This is the triumph of India, of
Rama and of the Ramayana.
The Redemption of Nature.
One is never saved alone. Man does not deserve his
salvation but by the salvation of all. The animal has also
its rights before God. "The animal! Mysterious! Im
mense world of dreams and silent griefs ! Without lan
guage, too many visible signs express these griefs. All
nature protests against the barbarity of man who disowns,
degrades, and tortures his inferior brother."
This sentence which I wrote in 1848 has frequently re
curred to me. In the month of October of the year
1863, near a lonely sea, in the last hours of night, while
the winds and the waves were silent, I heard the humble
voice of our domestic animals. These voices of captivity
in faint and plaintive tones, came to me from the lowest
parts of the house, from the depths of obscurity, and
filled me with melancholy. Impression, serious and posi
tive and not of vague sensibility. The more advanced
we become in life, the more we appreciate the full signi
ficance of its realities, the more clearly do we understand
the serious and simple things, which in the ardor of life
we overlook.
Life, death, the daily destruction involved in animal
food, are hard and bitter problems which rise up before
me. Miserable contradiction ! The feeble nature of the
North, with her poverty of vegetation, could not restore

3 8 Bible of Human ity.
our energies, and fit us for labor, which is our first duty,
without animal food ! death ! forgetfulness of mercy !
Let us hope that in another world we will be spared from
the degrading and cruel fatalities of this.
In India piety has produced the effects of wisdom. It
has made the conservation and salvation of all beings a
religious duty, and has been rewarded. It has secured to
her an eternal youth. Notwithstanding all her disasters,
the respected, cherished, multiplied, and superabundant
animal life, has given to India the renewals of an inex
haustible fertility.
No one can evade death either for himself or for others.
But mercy demands at least that none of these short-lived
creatures should die without having lived, and loved, and
transmitted through love its little soul, and performed
that sweet duty which the tenderness of God imposes, " to
have had the divine moment."
Hence the beautiful and really pious beginning of the
Ramayana is this exquisite outburst of Valmiki upon the
death of a poor heron, in which utterance he weeps : " O,
hunter, may thy soul never be glorified in all the lives to
come, for thou hast stricken that bird in the sacred moment
oflove!" His moanings are measured by the ebb and flow of his
heart ; and this is poetry. The wonderful poem begins.
This immense river of harmony, of light, and of divine
joy, the largest that ever flowed, has its origin in this
little source — a sigh and a tear.
True benediction of genius. While in the West the
most dry and sterile minds are proud in the presence of
inferior nature, the Indian genius, the richest and most
prolific, knows neither the little nor the great, but gene
rously embraces the whole as a universal brotherhood, as if
all possessed but one soul.
You may cry " superstition ! — that this excessive good
ness towards animals comes from the dogma of the trans
migration of souls." It is _ ust the contrary. It is because

India.

39

this race, of acute sensibility and penetrating, feels and
loves the soul even in the forms of the inferior, in the
feeble and simple, that it has created the doctrine of trans
migration. It is not faith that makes the heart, but the
heart that makes faith.*
Whatever may be its heart or faith, India cannot alto
gether escape from this contradiction of the world.
The vegetarian Brahman remains feeble and needs a
warrior to protect him. The warrior has not the strength,
but in partaking of a little animal food acquires it, to
gether with the passions which it engenders. Hence the
fall and evil. Hence the catastrophe which makes the
plot of the Ramayana. This poem had its origin in
mercy and its drama in the oblivion of mercy. Woman,
the most tender-hearted of beings, is tempted and drawn
away from her natural goodness by, I know not what bad
dream, earnest wish, or fondling desire. It is not greedi
ness. The Indian EVE does not molest the fruit on any
of the trees of Paradise. Her paradise is love, and she
covets nothing else. She is nothing but sweetness and
timid innocence. t Nevertheless, by an utmost unaccount-
* A new criticism, stronger and more serious, is now offered. Religions, so.
profoundly studied at present, have been subordinated to the genius that
made them, to the soul which created them, and to the moral condition of
which they are the fruit. We must first locate the race with its proper apti
tudes, its surroundings, and' its natural inclinations ; then we may study it in
the fabrication of its gods, who in their turn influence the race. This is the
natural course. These gods are effects and causes. But it is essential to first
prove that they are effects, the offspring of the human soul ; if on the
other hand we admit that they came down from heaven and suffer them to
domineer over us, they oppress, absorb, and darken history. Such is the
modern method, most clearly and decidedly. It has recently given its princi
ples and its examples.
f When RSma began the war in the forests against the Spirits that troubled
the anchorites, she humbly gave him this peaceful advice : " Rama, I have
been informed that in former times an holy anchorite received in gift a sword.
Walking with it, the sword suddenly changed his inclinations and gave him a
taste for blood. From this time he began to kill incessantly." RSma, in the
name of duty, put aside this excess of prudence. He was not in the least
intoxicated with the sword, nor excited for blood.

40 Bible of Humanity.
able change, she becomes bewildered and for a moment is
cruel. Seeing a brilliant and lovely gazelle passing with
hair shining like gold, she exclaimed, "I will have it, I
will have it."
What is the matter with her ? What caprice ? It is
not a taste for blood. Can it be the splendor of this
soft savage fur with which she desires to make her sweet
countenance still more charming ? No, for in such a
climate an adornment like this would be oppressive. She
thinks of something else, and half says it : "I wish I
could sit on it. I feel that it would not be right. But I
desire it. It is one of those desires which will be grati
fied at any cost." She covets the gazelle for the purpose
of making of its skin in the wild cave, her bed, her couch
of love.
She is, however, too pure and too simple not to feel
and confess the reproach which her heart bestows upon
her. She confesses and afterwards overcomes it, and then
wishes to deceive herself. She says : " If it would only
allow itself to be captured, it would serve for our amuse
ment." She says this, but does not believe it. We may
readily imagine that the animal would flee, and only under
the fatal dart would yield, with its life, to be the object of
this sensual desire.
The worst is that this desire is shared. Rama is trou
bled, and for the first time in this immense poem he suf
fers an angry word to escape him, and says to his brother,
who wishes to prevent him from killing the animal : " Kings
can kill with their darts the inhabitants of the woods, for
the sake of their flesh or for amusement. Everything in
the forest belongs to the king."
He hides under this harshness his condescension to his
beloved, and starts, leaving her to the care of his brother,
who is commanded not to forsake her.
For a long time the gazelle eluded him, and caused him
to wander to a great distance. Sita, thinking that she
heard his voice, crying for help, exclaimed : " Great God !

India. 41
my husband is in danger ; " and compelled the young
brother to leave her and go to his rescue. Another sin,
and yet still of love. Alas ! its punishment is too great.
She is alone, and feels insecure and weak on account of
her twofold sin and her fatal delusion. The roebuck was
the demon, the formidable Ravana, the king of evil spirits,
and the voice heard was his. He came to her under
the semblance of a Brahman — a holy anchorite. He flat
tered her a-nd tried to entice her, and finally carried her
to an inaccessible island guarded by the ocean.
The despair of Rama was unbounded. The brightness
of his wisdom was obscured. He could no longer see
clearly. He experienced all the griefs of man, and was
overwhelmed with the bitter doubts which come in such
moments. "Alas," he says, "of what avail is it that I
have always done my duty ! " He had no knowledge
whatever ofhis divine parentage, and did not in his ex
tremity exclaim : " My Father, why hast thou forsaken
me ? " The passion of this young god would have been
deprived of its merit, had he been conscious that he was
divine or of divine origin. In the poem great pains are
taken to conceal from him this too consoling mystery. It
leaves him a man, ignorant ofhis destiny, uncertain ofthe
fate of his Sita, and unable to decide what to do in the
dark horror of this shipwreck, without one glimmering
beam in the horizon.
The season of deluging rains had begun, and the range
of wild mountains among which Rama has taken refuge
are overspread with dense clouds. The earth and the sky
weep. The torrents come down with vehemence. The
winds moan. All the elements sympathize with the grief
of Rama. In their mournful compassion he feels still
more deserted. Where are the parents, the court, and
the subjects of this son of a king ? His brother has gone
in quest of assistance ; but the more lonely and desolate
his situation, the more sympathetic and compassionate is
nature towards him. All our friends, the animals, that

42 Bible of Humanity.
anciently were less disdained, are his friends and approach
him without diffidence, and hasten to offer him their ser
vices. A holy insurrection of all living creatures is begun
in behalf of him who was so good. Great and sublime
alliance ! It is one of those elements of faith which man
found in his heart in the first ages of life.*
Rama cheerfully accords to these worthy auxiliaries the
glory of fighting for him ; although, armed with divine
powers, he could doubtless alone have vanquished all his
enemies. But it gave them delight to manifest for him
their zeal, and under him to wage this holy war. It was
so glorious a boon to be the soldiers of Rama in this holy
crusade, that they felt themselves by it both honored and
elevated. No Brahman nor holy Rishi in the lonely depths of the
forest, by prayer or mortification, or by the deep absorp
tion, which makes them equal to the very gods, could
have secured the merits which these simple animals de
served by their zeal for Rama, and for the cause of good
ness, mercy, and justice. Accordingly in the Ramayana
the army is open to all. All creatures are enlisted, the
most fierce and savage, the enormous bears and the gigan
tic apes. All can speak, and they display great intelli
gence. All are transformed in heart, love, and faith, and
rush towards the south. Faith removes mountains, and
subdues and defies the seas. When all this wild multitude,
at the extremity of Hindustan, sees the threatening waves
which separate it from Ceylon, it indignantly uproots the
rocks and the forests and hurls them in heaps into the sea,
making an enormous bridge, over which the great army
* India and Persia believe in it. The Shah Namek, which in modern
form gives so many ancient traditions, exhibits to us exactly the same picture
as the Ramayana. In the terrible contest in which its hero is going to engage
against the evil spirits, all the animals are on his side, and without fighting or
diminishing the splendor of his victory, they paralyze the enemy by their terrific
cries, hisses, and roars. The enemy feels himself vanquished beforehand by
this solemn unanimity of nature, and by her high maledictions, anathemas,
and condemnations.

India. 43
passes with barbarous pomp ; while from below the as
tounded and vanquished Indian Ocean looks on. All this
is history in a dramatic form. We are now sure that
Ceylon was once connected with the Continent.
This battle of the good animals fighting for man is like
wise historical. It is what really took place and what is
constantly occurring. In that country, especially, man
could not have existed without them.
And now let it be observed that the most creditable
position is given to the cow, the good nurse of man,
beloved and honored, which furnished the most whole
some nourishment, intermediate between the insufficient
vegetables and the horrifying animal food — the milk and
butter, which for a long period was the holy host, and
which alone, in the great journey from Bactriana to India,
sustained that primitive people. In the midst of so many
ruins and desolations, man has lived and will continue to live
by means of this prolific nurse, which incessantly restores
to him the earth.
But many other animals, less beloved and less familiar,
have served man and still serve him in the twenty different
wars, which are continually waging in the forests of Hin
dustan. Those gigantic forests are peopled at every stage
of their enormous heights with combatants. At their
roots the rubbish, which accumulates and ferments, pro
creates two most terrible and murderous scourges in the
form of putrid emanation and vindictive insects. Here no
life could have been possible without two benefactors
which are to-day too lightly esteemed. The serpent, a
hunter of insects, pursues them and catches these vermin
where the bird cannot reach them ; and the purifying vul
ture, the great wrestler with death, forbids death to show
himself, and unceasingly transforms death, and makes life
from death. It is an indefatigable agent of the divine
circulation. A little higher than the roots, among the
inferior trees and wild vines which adorn this floral cathe
dral, death is everywhere. The lion and the tiger are

44 Bible of Humanity.
ambushed. It was man's good fortune that in the higher
regions of these vegetable products he found another aux
iliary to aid him. The orang-outang, inoffensive and fru-
givorous, but of incalculable strength, who playfully twists
a piece of iron in his fingers, wages against these ani
mals an incessant warfare. He arms himself with a branch
of a tree made into a club, and associates himself with
others. In groups of three or four they attack and kill the
elephant (stronger than the lion or the tiger), which would
deprive them of the fruits of the trees and the sugar-cane.
The orang-outang is really the Hercules that can fight and
defeat monsters. Endowed with great agility, alternating
from air to earth, balancing from the boughs of the trees,
and flying by daring jumps, he has great advantage over all
the beasts below. When the tiger with an immense bound
springs upon the man or dog, the enormous ape, watching
it from above, leaps like lightning on its head and crushes
it. This formidable being, when not provoked, has nothing
hostile in him. In the first songs of the Ramayana,
we see the orang-outangs passing in troops (as apes do
to-day) under the leadership of their chief or king. At
the sight of them, Sita, is alarmed, but Rama beckons to
the chief, and they turn away peacefully on the other
side. We must not judge of the orang-outang from what
we see of him to-day. No being more than the ape has
been scared and perverted by the harshness of man. At
present we are horrified by his convulsions and his nerv
ousness. He looks as if half mad and epileptic. But in
the remote times, when man lived with him on terms of
familiarity, this imitative being was calm and grave, after
the style of the Hindoos, and became a sedate and docile
servant. Woman especially exercised much power over
him, and she could make him the most submissive of
slaves, if she began to domesticate him while he was yet
young. One thing which charms us in the Ramayana is that
even what is fictitious is at the same time true to nature.

India. 45
The apes that fight for Rama are no less true to their
characteristics, because he is. so holy a chief.* They are
genuine quadrumane, gluttons, trifling, capricious, incon
stant, libertines, and not over respectful to the limitations
of Brahmanic interdictions, or the degrees of consan
guinity. They are easily annoyed and tranquillized, and
pass from excessive dejection to high elevation of spirits,
and are comical, charming, amiable, and without malig
nity. Hanuman, the favorite, the ape-hero of the Ramayana,
most admired on account of his broad shoulders, in his
devotion for R&ma, carries off great mountains on his
back. Born of the air, conceived of the wind, and some
what vain, he desired and dared the impossible ; and he
is reminded by his strong lower jaw, which is defaced,
that he had the madness, while still young, to attempt to
mount to the sun, but having fallen, he and all his race
have been marked with this deformity. Thus in this
poem a slight but loving and sympathetic smile is every
where interwoven with the great, the holy, and the
divine. We are not to imagine that in this country of light, the
King of' the Demons, Ravana, had the slightest trace of
the grotesque and vile Devil with tail and horns, the
ugly creation of the Middle Ages. He is much more the
Demon by virtue of his noble and royal beauty, by his
genius, by his science, and by his grandeur. He reads
the Vedas. Lanka, his colossal and delightful city, far
surpasses the Babylons and the Ninevehs. He has a
wonderful harem, unenclosed and unguarded. All volup
tuousness abounds in it. It is his immense attractions,
and his numerous votaries and friends, which make him
so dangerous. He is ardently worshipped. He blazes in
the refulgence of art and the splendors of nature. Beyond
* We do not find in this poem, as in the awkward legends of the middle
ages, false animals converted, devoted crows, and penitent lions which be
seech for a benediction.

46 Bible of Humanity.
all this, he possesses the formidable power of creating by
magic an adverse and deceptive nature, and also ethereal
and charming beings, endowed with mischievous faculties,
which they can exercise at will.
Rama brings against all this marvellous power only
simple creatures, rude, wild beings ; nothing but strength
of heart, goodness, and right. And this will give him the
victory, and will protect his unfortunate Sita, even in the
Palace of Ravana. By her calm courage and heroic re
sistance she elevates herself to the level of the primitive
Indian woman, the noble spouse of the era of the Vedas,
who has been lost to the world for the last one or two
thousand years.
Through all these tragical events, Hanuman, the ape-
hero, is both amusing and interesting. His great heart,
and his mild virtues, mixed with a little of the ludicrous,
excite at once to laughter and weeping. It is he who is
the real Achilles and the Ulysses of this war. He ven
tured alone into that terrible Lanka, and the dreaded
harem, and into the presence of Sita, whom he comforted
by his tender respect. He did more than any one else
towards her liberation. After this achievement, Rama
honored and crowned him. An important event which is
destined to change nature now occurs.
In the presence of the two armies ; in the presence of
men and gods, Rama and Hanuman embrace each other !
Let no man again speak of Castes. Indeed, the poem
henceforth carefully avoids their mention, but in reality
the barrier is removed and will never more exist. The
Caste of Beasts is suppressed. How then could any
human Caste exist ? The most debased of men can now
say : " Hanuman has made me free." Thus is exploded
the narrow heaven of the Brahmanic religion.* All social

* If additions have been made to the Rdmayana since the reformation of
Buddhism, the general outlines, and especially the groundwork of the poem,
most certainly antedate that reformation ; and I have not the slightest doubt

India. /tj
distinctions are at an end. The whole world embraces
amid great rejoicings. In this great day of Grace, can
there exist any wicked or any damned ? No. The sin
ner was a negative being, an absurdity, a misconception.
He has made expiation ; he has been pardoned. The
monster was nothing but a covering under which a poor
soul was imprisoned by a fatal enchantment. This
stricken soul is delivered and instantly mounts upward; is
happy, and, in amazement, renders thanksgiving.
that this poem contributed largely to the abolition of Castes, emancipating
four hundred millions of men, and founding the largest church on earth.

48 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER II.
PERSIA.
The Earth and the Tree of Life.
THERE are no Castes among the Persians. In respect
to religion all are equal.* All are considered and called
pure. Each is the pontiff of his house and prays for his
family. They have no temples, no ceremonies, no wor
ship, except prayer and exhortation. They have no
mythology, no imaginative poetry. All is literal, positive,
grave, and strong. It is energy in holiness.
Notice a precocious vigor of wisdom and good sense.
The fire is no more a god, but a symbol, the benevolent
spirit ofthe hearth. The animal is not glorified, but be
loved and well and magnanimously treated, according to
its rank in the house and the nature of its soul.
The law, simple and thoroughly human (above all the
laws), which Persia has left, which has never been sur
passed, which will live forever, and which will always be
the path to the future, is : heroic husbandry , the courageous
struggle of Good against Evil, the life of pure light in labor
and injustice. Hence a code for man and toiler — not for
* This refers to primitive Persia. Although the texts are confused, we are
enabled to distinguish three ages — the patriarchal ; that in which the priest
appears ; and lastly, that in which the Medo-Chaldean Magianism was en
grafted over Persia. The Magians were not properly a Caste but a tribe.
Magianism was not completely organized until after the conquest of Babylon.
The Greeks did not know Persia until this late and very confused period. I
take the Avesta solely in that which is most ancient. I adhere very closely
to the opinion of Burnouf in his Yacna, and in his Researches which correct
Anquetil. His pregnant conversations have confirmed me. I do not think
that I have anywhere varied from his opinions.
The recent German works of Messrs. Hang, Spiegel, etc. , have been admir
ably summed up by Michel Nicolas. Revue Germanique, vols. VII. and VIII.

Persia. 40
the idler, Brahman or Monk — not abstinence and revery,
but active energy, all comprised in this : " Be pure to be
strong." ' ' Be strong to be creative."
At midnight, the fire growing dim becomes anxious,
and awaking the head of the family, says : " Arise, put
on your clothes, wash your hands, bring the wood to
make me bright, or the evil spirits will glide in and ex
tinguish me."
He arises, puts on his vestments, and revives the fire
with its nourishment. The house is made resplendent.
The prowlers, spirits of darkness, wandering in the dis
guise of jackals and adders, will do well to depart. The
bright spirit of the hearthstone is vigilant, and its host,
close beside it, is already anticipating the dawn of day,
and meditating on the work of the morning. The pure,
the irreproachable fire guards him, his house, and his
soul, so that he may indulge only in wise, vigorous, and
generous thoughts. What are these thoughts ? They
are briefly :
" Render to all their rights."
' ' Give to the fire and the earth their natural nourish
ment." " Deal justly with the tree, the bull, and the horse."
" Be not ungrateful to the dog, and take care that the
cow does not low against thee."
The earth has a right to the seed. Neglected, it curses ;
fertilized, it thanks. It says to the man who cultivates it
thoroughly : " May thy fields yield all that is good to eat ;
may thy numerous villages abound in all good." To the
man who neglects it, it says : " May the pure food be far
from thee, and the demon torment thee. May thy fields
for nourishment give thee great terrors."
" All honor and homage to the earth ! the earth, the holy
female which supports the man ! It exacts good works.
Homage to the springs of Ardvi-sura which make the pure
females conceive and bring forth ! " *
* Yacna, Ixiv.

50 Bible of Humanity.
The first of good works is to quench the thirst of the
earth, to come to its aid, to cause it to bring forth life and
freshness unceasingly. This is a kind of creation. Persia
is not, like Egypt, a gift of the Nile.* Its torrents pass
away rapidly and leave it dry. The earth dries and cracks
open. It is necessary to search for water with diligence
and earnestness. It must be evoked from the most obscure
depths of the mountain and brought to light. This is
the absorbing thought of man, and the paradise of his
dreams : to behold the water gushing from the rocks
and rising from the sterile sand, and see it fresh and
limpid, coursing and warbling and murmuring.
And now he says : " I pray and invoke all the waters.
Come forth ye bubbling springs from the depths of the
earth ! Ye beautiful nourishing canals ! Ye soft and
limpid waters, sweetly flowing, which renew the tree and
purify the desire. Be good and flow gently for us ! "
The day has dawned. Man arises, and with the iron
(the short sword, or rather strong dagger, such as may be
seen on Persian monuments), before the rising of the
friendly sun, opens and rakes the earth, and makes in it
the wholesome wound. In this deep furrow he scatters
the seed.
All the pure are on the side of man. The eagle and the
hawk greet him with their first cry at the break of day.
The dog follows and escorts him. The horse neighs with
joy. The strong bull with willing heart draws the plough.
The earth smokes from moisture ; its animating breath is
the pledge of its fruitfulness. All are in accord. All are
conscious that man is just and that he labors for their
good. Man is the common conscience. He feels that he is
engaged in elevated work which invigorates the body, and,

* Rains are neither heavy nor frequent. There are but few navigable rivers.
Deserts of salt. A few trees, or rather bushes. Malcolm, Hist, of the
Persians, vol. I., p. 45.

Persia. 5 1
by the co-operation of the forces of nature, nourishes his
soul. He says most positively, and not without grandeur,
in the language of good sense, strong and rugged, which
goes to the point: "He who eats listens better to the
sacred word. He who does not eat has no strength for
pure works. He who is famished cannot have robust
children nor can he be a valiant laborer. Such as it is,
this world exists by nourishment."
Elevated by his effective, persevering work, his courage
increases in the presence of the rising sun, and he says to
himself: "Dress and sow! He who sows with purity
fulfills all the law ! He who gives to the earth vigorous
seed is as much ennobled as if he had made ten thousand
sacrifices." The earth responds : " Yes ! " but in its own language.
Its answer is in the golden grain of the year. Be patient
and give it time, and it will respond more and more with
new, rich, and hardy plants, continually increasing. Al
ready as high as man, next season they will be taller.
Look at that tree in the midst of the field. Rich, abun
dant, and grateful, it tenders to man its branches and its
foliage, it offers him a delightful and longed-for shade at
noon-day, a tutelary protection from the scorching sky,
shelter and subsistence without fear. But the sun begins
to descend ; and man, before renewing his toil, turns to
his benefactor and says: "Hail, tree of life! You
came from the earth ; but whence came I ? From my
father. But whence the first father ? " This is a profound
question, which engages his thoughts as he follows the
plough in the afternoon, and which he answers by the two
forces with which he is acquainted — the force of youth in
the tree which is daily renewed, and the force of action,
the toil of his companion, the ox. Why may not the
vigorous man come from the ox or the tree ? Inasmuch
as the tree lives so long, why may it not be the life of
former times, and the life that is to come ? The tree is
Immortality.

52 Bible of Humanity.
Its sacred name is Homa. Not the fleeting Soma of
India, the plant fallen from the firmament, which sparkles
in the fire, mounts joyously to the sky, and nourishes the
gods. Homa, the robust, solid, firmly-rooted in the earth,
is the immortal Tree of Life, the strong. In order that
man may also be strong, he must eat its apples of gold.
Or, grinding them, he expresses the powerful juice, " the
liquid which places the soul in the good path." Do not
imagine that this is mere allegory. It is repeatedly said
in the law that Homa is eaten, desires to be eaten, and
inclines his branches that men may partake of his golden
fruit.* The heroes of Persia were the first who ground Homa
with their glorious hands and made it ferment. After this,
it foamed, was restless, became audible, spoke, and would
have made the stones speak. It is the Word itself.
Supreme miracle among a grave and silent people,
whose Cyclopean language, unformed, and spare of
words, is, if we dare say it, an idiom of the dumb.t The
workman, who all day long toils in the field after the oxen,
is weary and has need of rest at evening, and requires but
few words. The Hindoo, in his fluent language has pol
ished the Sanskrit, but the silent Persian, out of respect,
has preserved the old Zend. If this dumb speaks, it is
H6ma that speaks in him.
Word and light are two identical words in the primitive
sacred language, f This is not without reason. Light
is, so to speak, the voice of nature, and the word, in
its turn, is the light of the mind. The universe hears
and answers. An eternal dialogue is kept up between
nature and the soul. If the soul did not translate and
make luminous the voice of nature, nature would re-
* Eugene Burnouf : Researches, page 231. <8vo, 1850.)
f This language, the Zend, singularly harsh, seems to sound like flint, and
its written characters look like daggers, heads of arrows, wedges and nails.
Hence the name — Cuneiform.
% Burnouf : Yacna, 214.

Persia.

53

main in obscurity, uncomprehended, and as if it did not
exist. H6ma, the word-light, is the supporter of existence.
It unceasingly invokes it. It names, one after another,
all the beings, to assure them of life. Each name is a
charm to awake and arouse that which would fall asleep
and return to nothing.
Such faith is very elevating to man. When the chief
of a family, arising in the depth of night, while his wife
and children are sleeping, pronounces before the fire the
words which vivify the world, this is truly great. What
will be the importance, the holiness of the man, who feels
himself so necessary to universal existence ! In the silence
of midnight, and all alone, he feels himself in harmony
with all the families of the pure, who at this hour also pro
nounce the same word of life.
There were no castes, no magians, no kings, then in
Persia. The father of each house was the Mage and
King. He was still more, the conservator of beings, the
Savior of all life. The extraordinary power which India
accords to a Rishi, to the great King Vievamitra, in
Persia resides in all, even in the lowest laborer. He who
in the morning, with his hand on the plough, makes the
earth productive, at night, through the Word, still creates,
begets the world, the uncertain life of which is suspended
on his prayer.
The Combat of Good and Evil. — The Final Restoration
to Holiness.
The husbandman is an anxious being, a mind without
rest, a soul in pain. The shepherd has time for singing
to the clouds the fantastical victories of Indra. He has
time to observe in the skies of Chaldea the long journeys
ofthe stars. But the Persian agriculturist must, night
and day, watch, work, and fight. Battle against the earth.
It is hard and obstinate, and does not yield at one stroke.
It sells to labor that which we think it gives. Battle

54 Bible of Humanity.
against the waters. The delightful waters, so much
desired, frequently come down violently, laying waste and
carrying everything away. Sometimes they are suddenly
exhausted ; drunk up by the sun. It is necessary in
this climate to protect these daughters of night, (evoked
from the earth,) from the light, and shelter them in hidden
canals. A subterranean circulation of infinite work, which
makes the laborer a miner and a constructor.
When all this is done, nothing is accomplished. The
feeble wheat of tender green, the delicate child shoots up.
It escapes from the protecting womb, betrays itself, and
sees itself in the midst of enemies. A hundred robust
and evil plants are there, and will choke it, unless the
paternal hand comes to wage war against them. A
hundred devouring beasts come, monsters which man can
not repel. What are these ? They are neither lions nor
tigers, but peaceable flocks.
It is the shepherd, especially, who is an abomination to
the laborers. It is against him that the field is guarded.
The gloomy laborer, with his poniard marks out the
protective boundary. He excavates a ditch, and planting
its borders, there grows up a hedge. He fixes the boun
dary, and puts down stakes and stones. But this is the
least that he does. He encloses his field with his word
and his malediction. Woe to him who trespasses !
Eternal war ! we find it everywhere. It is this which
constituted the divorce between the Hindoo of the Vedas
and the Persian, the shepherd and the agricultural Aryan.
The shepherd thinks the appropriation of land odious and
unjust. He laughs at landmarks and ditches. His animals
shrewdly make it their sport to leap over them. The
goats injure the hedge. The cow thoughtlessly passes
through it. The gentle sheep, in looking innocently for
its little food, nibbles the sprouting wheat to its roots ; this
sacred wheat — this dear hope in which the soul of the
husbandman is absorbed. It is necessary to protect this
wheat. Day by day the agriculturist becomes more and

Persia. 55
more dreamy and gloomy; and in these mischievous
animals, that destroy more than they eat, he thinks he
sees and denounces the agents of evil spirits, the army
of wickedness, " of nonsensical caprice," the perverse
games of magic*
The Hindoos departed towards the East. But from the
North quite a different neighbor appeared, the frightful
Tartar shepherd, an unorganized chaos of Mongols, Cen
taur Demons, whose little horses of diabolical instinct,
make of every field a pasture. It is the accursed empire of
Turan, eternal enemy of Iran (Persia). These black sor
cerers (see the Shah Nameh) go and come like the bat, or
the night-insect which spoils and disappears. On the
other hand there comes again and again from the mud of
the Euphrates, to sleep on Iran the impure Assyrian dragon,
steady and stupid, the monstrous reptile, which Babylon
adored,+ and which the Persians say lived on human flesh
only. These cruel strifes, which continued through long cen
turies, for thousands of years, gave to this people great
positiveness and a peculiar poetic character.
They elevated themselves to their sovereign conception,
the constant contest between the two worlds. On the

* The movable Indra of the shepherds, who plays on high with the storms ,
the warrior-god whose smile is the lightning, who, in order to give freshness
to the meadows, hurls down the waters which crush the ripening wheat, seems
to the agriculturist a cruel magician. He makes of him the demon Andra
[Andra-inanyas], for whom he does not hesitate to create a hell. The Dae
vas, whom the Hindoos revere as gods, likewise become demons. The Persians
call themselves Vi-Daevas (enemies of the Daevas). To the illusions of these
Daevas, who are scoffing spirits, this derisive response is given (which appears
to be a popular song) : " When the field produces, the Daevas hiss [and feign
to laugn). When the plants bud, they cough. When the straw is tall, they
weep. When the harvests are gathered, they take to flight. ... In the
houses filled with the sheaves, the Daevas are severely scourged." {Under
the scourge which beats out the wheat ? )
\ Daniel (apocryphal) : " There was a great dragon which they of Babylon
worshipped." The Avesta records this ascendancy as the dominion of Bobak,
or rather "the serpent Dahoka, in the reign of Bawri," or Babylon. — Ed.

56 Bible of Humanity.
one hand, the holy reign of Iran, the world of Good, the
garden of the tree of life, the Paradise (garden) ; and on
the other, the vague, barbarian world of Evil and of un
just caprice. Everything appeared peopled with contrary
spirits. Between the rough plains of the North, in which
the demons hiss, and the desert of sand in the South,
in which the demons breathe forth fire. Persia, with good
reason, decided that she was the blessed land of works, of
order, and of Justice. Nor is this justice an idle word, a
mere play of the fancy. It was a firm purpose, a deter
mination to be just. Men sometimes have such moments.
A celebrated writer (Montesquieu) says that there once
came to him a quick outburst of conscience, a strong and
decided desire "to be an honest man." It is precisely
such a moment that Persia represents in human nature :
the determination to be just.
Just to himself in the first place, in opposition to the
vice peculiar to the laborer, the sordid economy ; just in
the house towards the humblest and most defenceless ser
vant, the animal, for example. " The three pure complain
ofthe unjust man who takes no care of them. The plant
denounces him: ' Be without children, thou who givest
me not the thing which delights me ' (water). The horse
says : ' Do not expect that I will love thee and be thy
friend when thou dost mount me, thou who dost not give
me the nourishment and the vigor to appear with honor
in the assembly of the tribe ! ' The cow says : ' Be thou
accursed who dost not render me happy, who dost not
wish me to be fat except for thy wife and thy children.' "*
But these three servants belong to his own house. How
much more difficult to be just away from home ! To be
just in his own vicinity, with wrangling neighbors, about
land-marks, etc. Consider that the life of Persia depended
upon invisible boundaries of waters that ran under the
earth. How numerous the interests to be respected ! All
* Anquetil, Avesta, Vol. I., part 2, with corrections of Eugene Bur
nouf. Researches, p. 106. (8vo, 1850.)

Persia.

57

are miserly and solicitous of water that is so rare. It is
easy to divert the water, and the temptation to do so is
strong. The regular distribution of the water is a proof
of great honesty. We are struck with admiration when
we learn from Herodotus that at that time there was an
immense system, comprising forty thousand canals, run
ning in all directions under the ground. Marvellous and
venerable performance of toil, meritorious life, morality,
and justice.
How good is justice, and how rich is its nature ! It
overflows in humanity like a superabundant spring. Grace
is begotten of Law. In this Persia, which appears so ex
clusive, in which the ties of consanguinity, the purity of
blood, and the pride of family and of tribe seem to be so
strong,* the foreigner was not regarded with hostility as
was the case in Rome. The erring girl, though unknown,
who is brought back, is protected and guaranteed. " Thou
shalt seek for her origin, her father, and if he cannot be
found, thou must report to the chief of the Canton. You
nourish and regard as sacred the bitch which watches the
house, and will you not nourish this girl, who is surren
dered to you ? "t
Yes, this was unquestionably the garden of justice, in
which flourished the Tree of Life. Men heartily unite in
the defence of this sacred world, in the great combat of
Good, which protected this paradise.
The army of Good, formed in the image of Persia,
divided into tribes, marched under the leadership of seven
Spirits, seven chiefs, the luminous Amshapands, whose
names are those of seven virtues : Science, or the wise
teacher (Ormuzd), % Goodness, Purity, Valor, liberal Gen-

* So strong was this feeling that consanguinity was most desired in mar
riage. The Persians married not only sisters, but daughters and even
mothers — Ed.
f Anquetil : Avesta, II. , 394.
1 According to Eugene Burnouf, Ormuzd, Ahura Mazda, does not mean the
wise king, as Anquetil believed ; nor the wise Living, as Mr. Bopp believes,

58 Bible of Humanity.
tleness, and the Geniuses of Life — producers and vivi-
fiers. The izeds or yazatas, inferior geniuses, the ferouers or
fravastus (winged souls, guardian spirits) of the just,
even of the good and pure animals, form the immense
army of Good. Opposed is the world of serpents,
wolves, jackals, and scorpions.
Let us look at the battle in the grand and faithful pic
ture which Edgar Quinet, following the text itself, gives
of it.*
All beings take part in it. At the extremity of the
universe, the sacred dog which watches the multitude of
worlds, terrifies with his fearful bark the detested jackal ;
the hawk, with his piercing eye, the sentinel of the morn
ing, has uttered his cry and fluttered his wings. He
sharpens his beak for the fierce battle. The horse erects
himself and paws the Impure with his feet.
The stars in the sky are divided into two hostile bands.
But the bird with feet of gold spreads his wings over the
holy kingdom of Iran. In the desert of Cobi the mon
strous serpents with two feet, griffins, centaurs, which
dart the devouring simoom, snort and hiss in vain.
The struggle goes on in the very depth of all beings.
Each has its spirit, its angel. A luminous soul sparkles
in the diamond. The flower has its guardian angel.
Everything, even to the dagger, has its ruling spirit — the
blade lives. All fight, pursue, strike, drive off, and
wound each other with anathemas and magical incanta
tions. In the heights above, the Deva, with bodies of
brass, and the Darwands, with the folds of serpents, fight
the white Ferouers, the Amshapands, with wings of gold.
but the wise teacher. No one can pass grammatically from the Sanskrit
Asura (living) to the Zend Ahura. Yacna, 77, 81. An important remark,
which entirely changes the idea which had been formed of the first of the seven
spirits. * Quinet : Genius of Religions. This luminous volume formulates in
burning sentences the profound intimacy between religion and nature.

Persia. rg
The shock of their armor resounds and re-echoes. Won
derful spectacle, but by no means confused. It steadily
becomes more and more clear and orderly. The army of
Good becomes more cautious and united.
The first of the seven Amshapands, from moment to
moment becomes more and more conspicuous, dazzling,
and refulgent. All light centres in him. Night, van
quished and constantly diminishing, and more and more
hotly pressed, flies with Ahriman. Happy religion of
Hope ! Not of inactivity, not of idle expectation, nor
of sleepy asceticism, but the heroic faith of valiant hope
which creates that which it expects and wills, and which,
through labor and virtue, daily diminishes Ahriman, en
larges Ormuzd, conquers and merits the unity of God.
To achieve a divine victory, to make God a conqueror,
a unique achievement ! Oh ! beautiful deed ! The highest
of which the soul ever dreamed, and the most efficacious
to make man grow in holiness. To say to every furrow :
"I unite myself to the great Workman! I extend the
field of Good. I circumscribe the field of Death, of
Evil, of Sterility." To say to the tree planted: "Be
thou in a hundred years the glory of Ormuzd and the
shelter of unknown men ! " To say to the springs of the
mountain, evoked or directed: "Go! may you carry
life from my fields to yonder tribes, who, not knowing
whence they come, will say: 'This is the stream of Par
adise ! ' " Behold something grand and divine, a high
society with God, a beautiful alliance, a noble conquest.
. . . The other retreats, vanquished, disconcerted.
Ahriman is soon nothing but a black cloud, empty smoke,
a wretched fog, nay, less, a mere gray speck in the horizon.
Worth prize of Work ! In the idle Middle Ages, Satan
constantly grows. A dwarf at first, so small at the intro
duction of the Gospel that he hid himself in the swine ;
in the year lOOO he becomes great, and in the thirteenth
and fourteenth centuries he was so large that he wrapped
the world in darkness, and held it under his black shadow.

60 Bible of Humanity.
Neither fire nor the sword has been able to subdue him.
As to the friends of Zoroaster it is precisely the contrary.
The Gheber, the Parsees, resigned laborers, have, through
all their evils, believed more and more, that Ahriman,
tottering, would soon fade and vanish, absorbed in
Ormuzd. From the first, Ormuzd indicated that he was the true
king of the world, the future conqueror, the only God.
How ? By his great goodness. He began the war with
the intention of saving the enemy. He prayed Ahriman
to be good and to love the good, and to have pity on
himself. Afterward his indefatigable Grace summoned
him every moment to reform himself, to convert himself,
to work out his salvation, to attend to his happiness.
Jean Reynaud, a man certainly indulgent toward the
Church, frankly confesses that from Persia to the Church
of the Middle Ages there has been a strange and terrible
progress, but it has been in the inverse order. The idea
of an endless Hell ! Of a God whose vengeance is never
gratified ! Of a God who imprudently selected for his
executioner the very person who would most abuse his
office, the foul spirit, the Perverse one, who gloats in
tortures, and finds in them execrahle amusement ! As
tounding conception, suited to make man cruel, exces
sively fond of crime, and which we may call the teaching
of crime.
When we reflect how much man is an imitative being, we
should carefully consider the Divine prototype, which we
offer to him, and which he will certainly follow. A good
and merciful God makes men gentle and magnanimous.
If they fight, they know that it is for the good of their
enemy. This wicked, who will soon be wicked no longer, is
less hated from this day ; and will be the good of to-mor
row. That the war continues is only a secondary con
sideration ; the great, the essential, is the suppression of
hatred and the subduing of hearts.
Many great spirits of our day have felt this, and, without

Persia. 61
delay, have rallied to this faith, which is evidently the
true, and is immutable and will endure. "I maintain,"
says Quinet, "that there is not at present an idea more
living." Every manly heart will rally to it. All at
morning and evening, without hesitating, will repeat the
most ancient hymns ofthe Yagna (30, 31, 47), on the con
version of Ahriman, and ofthe ultimate unity.
" Ormuzd, grant me the grace, the joy of seeing him,
who makes the evil, be brought to comprehend the purity
of the heart. Grant that I may see the great chief of the
Darwands, loving nothing but holiness, and forever speak
ing the Word among the converted demons ! "
The Winged Soul.
" I offer prayer, honor, homage, to pure Law ! Hom
age to the Mount of Ormuzd ! (from which descend the
waters over the earth). Homage to the good spirits, and
to the souls of my family ! Homage to my own soul ! "
Who thinks to pay homage to his own soul, to adorn it,
to embellish it, in himself, and for himself, in the interior
tribunal ? Who thinks of making it such that it will be the
image of law, so at one with law that it can do no wrong,
nothing except what the law authorizes ? This great,
austere idea constitutes the foundation of the whole social
structure of Persia.
No pride. It is the natural relation of Liberty and
of Justice.
Persia pursues it through twenty different paths. She
draws from it her entire system of morals. Let us quote
a few sentences at random.
Zoroaster, in his sublime familiarity with Ormuzd, asks
him: "When does the empire ofthe demons flourish?
When do they prosper and grow great ? " " It is when
thou doest evil."
Evil is not only the criminal act, but everything that
mars the original integrity of the soul : indecency or
license (even in justifiable pleasures), violent and angry

62 Bible of Humanity.
words, etc. Profound idea ! Among the grievous sins
which man always confesses with shame, there is the sin
of chagrin. To be sad beyond a certain measure, to per
mit the soul to fall from its position of firmness and dignity,
is to injure the state of sovereign beauty in which it must
at last soar aloft, a virgin with wings of gold. (Fravashi.)*
The more elevated this idea of the soul, the greater
our wonder, anger, almost indignation, that this heroic
virgin, which we carry in ourselves' should become weak,
depressed, and abandoned to sickness and death. Since
the personality appears so forcible, hence the gloomy
storm of questions arises which trouble the heart. Death ?
— What is it ? What signifies this departure which a man
makes in spite of himself? Is it a journey ? Is it a fault,
a sin, a punishment? If a punishment, what? What
must a man suffer ? Will the poor soul in the underworld
find that which it had here ? What will its nourishment
and its dress be ? The cold especially troubles it. Over
the high plateaus of Persia, there are heavy frosts in the
month of August. + The trouble is profound ; the com
passion, the affliction profound. In the festivals of the
dead, which occur at the end of the year, during ten
nights the dead are heard speaking among themselves,
and asking for food and clothing, and to be remembered
by the living.
India, in the time of the Vedas, was less embarrassed.
What was the wish of the dead, who, from the leisure of
shepherd-life, passed into the leisure of the Eternal? It was
to make an immense, free, and uncumbered journey into
heaven and over the earth ; he would know the moun
tains and "the variety of plants ; " he would know the
depth ofthe great waves, measure the clouds, and take a
trip round the Sun. It is the same Sun (Surya), father of
* Feminine word which we awkwardly translate, in the masculine,
Ferouer. f " The 17th of August," says Malcolm, "there was an inch of ice in my
tent."

Persia. 63
life, who also produces the measure of life, Yama, or
death — in fact, no death at all— Yama is the law of exist
ence. Nothing of gloom in this. This traveller may be
evoked by his relatives, from the great empire of Yama,
and occasionally return to see his home.
In Persia it is entirely different. Death is a positive
evil. It is by no means a journey voluntarily undertaken.
It is a defeat, a route, a cruel victory of Ahriman. The
dead person is one vanquished by a stroke of the wicked
one, who seeks to consign his victim to night and dark
ness, away beyond the kingdom of light.
This perfidious being, who hates life and labor, is the
inventor of idleness, sleep, winter, and death. But man
will not yield to him. He does not think himself defeated.
On the contrary, the human soul, under the gnawing of
grief, becomes grander, creates and expands itself into a
kingdom of glorious light beyond the grave, duplicating
the empire of Ormuzd. Behold thy victory, O execrable
One! What word is most frequently uttered by the dying man
near his last gasp ? " Light ! more light ! "
This eager desire is realized, obeyed. How hard, how
cruel against nature, if the answer to this utterance were
to consign him to the dungeon of the sepulchre and the
black horror of night ! It is that that was feared. Death,
in its utmost, is regarded as less severe than is the exclu
sion from light.
It is not necessary that the living should here hypocriti
cally say, "It is for his honor that we bury him, that we
hide him in darkness." No, no ; those who truly love are
not so impatient as to tear themselves thus cruelly from
their beloved. Love cannot believe in death : it ever
doubts, even after the lapse of time, and says : "If it
were false f " The ancient Persians did not hide the body
of the beloved one, nor banish him from the day. The
living did not abandon the dead, but the dead left the
living. However much altered and changed the form, the

64 Bible of Humanity.
family fearlessly accepted the most disagreeable conse
quences, providing they could but still see their beloved.
The dead person was placed before the sun, on an ele
vated stone, beyond the reach of the beasts. His dog,*
his inseparable guardian, which while living always fol
lowed him, remained beside the body to watch it. There
this soldier of Ormuzd, this man of light, who always lived
on light, continued in its presence at his post, with his
face uncovered, assured and confiding.
During two or three days, his relative^, in tears, sur
rounded him, to observe and watch. All things go on
according to the ritual of nature. The sun adopts the
dead. With his powerful rays redoubled in the mirror
of the marble, he draws and attracts him up to him
self. A process that leaves less than a useless cover, a
shadow so light, that the children, the widow, the most
wounded hearts, are quite confident that he is no longer
there. Where then is he ? Above. The sun has drunk the
body. The bird of the sky has taken the soul. The bird
was his friend. Through all his labors on earth the bird
followed him, clearing the furrow. It followed his flock,
warned him of the weather, and predicted the storm. It
is the augur, the prophet, the counsellor of man.
In the long, monotonous work, it pleases him with its
airy movements. Around the laborer, steady at work, it
is as a light spirit, another self, more free, who comes,
goes, flies, and chatters. It would not be astonishing if,
on the day of the funeral, it came near the dead. And if
at that moment a luminous ray gilded the bird as it was
remounting, and transfigured it in the sky, his friends
exclaimed : " The soul has gone ! "
Do you know what death is ? To the survivors, it is an
education, a positive initiation. Man receives from it the
* The only sacred animal, which, at its death, was honored with funeral
ceremonies, as it were a man.

Persia. 65
sovereign charge, the solemn impression which he pre
serves through all his life. At this moment the heart is
broken, without strength, without nerve, without consist
ence, like passive metal, softened by the fire, on which an
impression is to be made. Death, the heavy coining in
strument, falls and strikes. This wretched heart is stamped
forever. Great and terrible difference, whether it is the death of
bravery which is stamped upon him and gives him its
noble image — or the death of terrors, the death of servile
fears, fear of night, fear of evil demons, and fear of being
buried alive. Alas ! how pale and debilitated the man
returns from such a funeral ! Made fit only to die like a
coward and to live like a slave ! Fit subject for a tyrant !
The vampires which know how to absorb the soul at
the moment of its passage when disarmed, are superior
teachers of cowardice, able practitioners at delivering to
tyrants the men from whom all heart has been robbed.
The travelling soul of the Hindoo started with buoyancy
and without terror, and left no sorrow behind, and more
than one person would have accompanied it merely
out of curiosity. The courageous Persian, who recoiled
not, who still braved Ahriman, and was calm before
the sun, confided in the light (having always lived the
worshipper of light), did not, on his departure, leave to
his relatives and friends, the pitiable legacy of apprehen
sion and servility.
They knew what takes place after death. During three
days the unsettled soul, guarded by good spirits, and pro
tected from the assaults of the bad, hovers around the
body. After the third night it makes a pilgrimage.
Encouraged by the brightness of the sun, led by spirits to
the summit of the mountain Albordj, it sees before it the
great crossing, the pointed bridge of Tchinevat. The for
midable dog which watches the flocks of heaven does
not oppose its passage. A charming, smiling figure, a
beautiful girl of light, " vigorous as a youth of fifteen,
S

66 Bible of Humanity.
tall, excellent, winged, pure as the purest thing on earth,"
guards the bridge.*
"Who art thou? Beautiful! Never have I beheld
such splendor." "Why, friend, I am thy very life, thy
pure thought, thy pure converse, thy pure and holy
activity. I was beautiful. Thou madest me very beauti
ful. Behold me, therefore, radiant, glorified before
Ormuzd." The soul admires, is agitated and hesitates, but she
throws her arms around her neck and tenderly carries her
away and places her on a golden throne. They are al
ready as one. The soul is reunited with itself. It has
found its true self, its true soul — not fleeting, not in misery
and illusion — but beautiful, steadfast, and true — above all,
free, winged, and floating in the beams of light, soaring
with the flight of the eagle, or penetrating the three
worlds or paradises with the lightning-like flight of the
hawk. To be just to Persia we must notice the sublime aus
terity with which this great conception of the winged soul,
of the angel is maintained. This angel has nothing of the
weakness, of the fantastical arbitrariness, which the bas
tard ages have more recently mixed with it. It is not the
* R~horda,h-Avesta, Fragment 22, Spiegel's: "In that wind comes to
meet him his own law [the nous of Plato], in the figure of a maiden, one
beautiful, shining, with shining arms; one powerful, well-grown, slender,
with large breasts, praiseworthy body ; one noble, with brilliant face, one of
fifteen years, as fair in her growth as the fairest creatures.
"Then to her speaks this soul of the pure man, asking, ' What maiden' art
thou whom I have seen here, O fairest of maidens in body ? '
" Then replies to him his own law : ' I am, O youth, thy good thoughts,
words, and works, thy good law, the own law of thine own body ; which
would be in reference to thee like in greatness, goodness, and beauty, sweet
smelling, victorious, harmless, as thou appearest to me. Thou art like me,
O, well-speaking, well-thinking, well-acting youth, devoted to the good law,
so in greatness, goodness, and beauty, as I appear to thee. Thou hast made
the pleasant yet more pleasant to me, the fair yet fairer, the desirable yet
more desirable, the one sitting in a high place to be sitting in a yet higher
place in these paradises." — Ed.

Persia. 67
blonde son of Grace, a Gabriel, a deserved confidant, with
whom we make bargains, whom we may hope to soften,
and whose peculiar indulgence can dispense with your
justice. The winged virgin, which is the angel of Persia,
is justice itself, is the law which thou hast made to thyself ,
the exact expression of thy works.
Great poetry ! but of profound reason ! The more it
is severe and wise, the more is it also probable.* It is for
this life on earth the noblest emancipation. In its pres
ence man finds himself highly elated and lifted up. He
feels as if wings were growing out of him. All the lower
world appears as a beginning. Innumerable worlds, and
a far-reaching view opens before him into the infinite of
heaven. Man occasionally gets such a glimpse, but it is
so bright that it causes his eyelids to close. Obscurity is
made by the vividness of the light. Man remains dumb.
Is he rejoicing or sad ?
The Eagle and the Serpent.
If anything in any country attracts the attention of the
laborer over his furrow, and arrests his plough, it is the
sublime and fantastic spectacle in the heavens which out
lines the strife of the bird and the serpent ; a savage con
flict in which both are frequently wounded. It is not
without experiencing the tooth and venom that the eagle,
crane, or stork, captures the dangerous reptile. Man
mentally takes part with them in the combat. The strug
gle is uncertain. Sometimes the bird appears to falter at
the vigorous blows of its convulsed antagonist. The
sharp, pointed, violent zig-zags which the lightning traces
in the clouds describe the contortions of the black serpent
in the sky. But the bird does not let go its hold of its
captive. They mount into the air. They are scarcely
* The strong, touching, penetrating book on this subject is the Immor
tality, by Dumesnil, the product of a situation full of death, full of life.
Life overflows in it. It is more than a book, for he wrote it for his own
comfort, pro remedio aninus.

68 Bible of Humanity.
distinguishable. The eagle carries away its prey into the
profound depths of heaven and disappears in the light.
The bird most appropriately appertains to Persia. It
hails the return of the day. It looks and longs for it as
much as the serpent avoids it. Persia venerates the bird,
and aspires to its free and elevated life. In the eagle,
she recognizes herself; while in the serpent she personifies
and denounces her foes, both of Turan and of Assyria*
Although the mytht is often a spontaneous product of
the soul, quite independent of history, we are disposed to
believe that, among the Persians, who were far less imagi
native than the Greek or the Hindoo, there was for it a
basis in history. The Persians say that there came to
them from the West, probably from Assyria, a scourge,
the invasion of the monster Zohak, having on his shoul
ders serpents famishing for human flesh. This haughty
Persia, this eagle, became the slave of the serpent, and
endured a servitude more cruel than that of Judea. The
Assyrians, according to Daniel, worshipped the living
dragon, concealed in the lowest part of the temple.
By the Euphrates, the Ganges, the Nile, and still more
in Guinea, boiling with humid heat, in the countries which
insects at times make uninhabitable, the serpent is the
friend of man. These insects are so terrible that the
chamois and the elephant flee before them from one
extremity of Africa to the other. The hunter of insects
is blessed. It brings peace and fertility. It is subtle,
prudent, and wise. But to understand what it says, the
fine, delicate ear of woman is necessary. The negroes of
Guinea, who have not changed any more than Africa her-

* In the Khordah- Avesta, the Assyrian power is personified as " the snake
Dahaka, with three jaws or heads, in the region of Bawri," or Babylonia.
The Medes and Armenians also commemorate it under the names of Dahaka
or Deiokes, and of As-dahaka or Astyages. Turan or Tartary appears to
have been signified by "the great Serpent," which devastated Aryana-vaeja.
Avesta, Fargard i. — Ed.
¦(¦'The Aryan migrations, indicated in the first Fargard of the Avesta.

Persia. 69
self for the last ten thousand years, or longer, annually
commemorate the marriage of the woman and the serpent.
The maiden given or consecrated to the serpent becomes
extravagantly attached to 'it and utters oracles. Thus
came a whole world of fables in Greece, in Judea, and
everywhere, about the seductions of the serpent, its
amours, which occasionally afforded a view of the future,
and opened its mysteries, sometimes resulting in the be
getting of a divine son.* The conception is altogether
different in dry, elevated countries, such as the high plains
of Persia, where insects are less numerous. Here the ser
pent is the adversary, and excites dread and horror, even
when it cowers down in winter in a corner of the stable,
utterly defenceless. Its wave-like motions, its spiral coil-
ings, its strange changes of skin, its cold scales, everything
is repulsive. Among the animals it is the treacherous
one ; to-day torpid, to-morrow hissing and furious. It
frightens beyond its real power of hurting. Its form is
imagined in everything which causes terror. In the cloud
— the serpent of fire — which, hurled from on high, dashes
to pieces and kills. In the torrent — the foaming dragon —
which, unexpected, launched by the storm, rushes from
the mountain and devastates with incredible swiftness the
fields, the gardens, and the flocks.
We can form some idea of the horror which Persia had
for the crawling god, and her mortal disgust for the ob
scene fables of the ^Ethiopian j* world, the impurities of
Assyria under the corrupting power and the fascinations
of the serpent. The abhorrence was rendered complete
by the exaction of a tribute of children for the insatiable
Babylonish monster to devour. Among this simple, agri
cultural people, the strong man who delivered them was a
* V. Collected Texts, by Schwartz. Ursprung der Mythologie.
f .(Ethiopia anciently embraced the whole country occupied by the Hamitic
race. India, Beluchistan, Caramania, Susiana, Arabia, Syria, Asia Minor, as
well as Northern Africa, were comprised in its boundaries; everywhere, the
serpent was worshipped. — Ed.

70 Bible of Humanity.
smith. His coarse leather apron became the glorious ban
ner of emancipation. The dragon crushed on the anvil
by the powerful iron hammer writhed and writhed again ;
its sharp tail, its hideous head, its scattered joints were
never re-united.*
Assyria is divided ; she has two heads, Nineveh and
Babylon ; while Persia, on the contrary, becomes more
firmly bound together. The tribes of Persia are a people
of fire, a conflagration in march, who wish to purify every
thing, and to subdue everything to the light. We feel
this new spirit in a prayer to H6ma, a very blast of
trumpets, which sounds a religious conquest, a purifying,
puritan, iconoclastic propaganda, in which all the people
are soon involved.
" Golden H6ma, give me energy and victory. Grant
that I may go courageously ; that I may march over the
countries, triumphing over the hateful, and striking down
the cruel. Grant that I may conquer the fury of all, of
men, of devas, of deaf demons, of murderous animals, of
wolves with four legs, and of the army of terrible troops
which run and fly/' \
The world is changed. Persia is strong. She is going
to overflow. The peaceful, the pure, have taken the sword
for the defence. They have identified themselves with
war. The first Amshaspand has become Ormuzd, the
King of Heaven, against Ahriman, the King of Darkness.
The peaceful have elected a King of the Earth, who rallies
the tribes ; and seems the great Ferouer of Persia, her
brilliant soul. This winged soul flies to war ; is about to
* Persia for three or four thousand years commemorated her smith in songs.
She made work honorable, and was not ashamed of it. In her great poem
of national tradition, Gustasp, her hero, who is going to see the Empire of
Rome, finds himself without resources. In this Babylon of the West, what
would Roland have done ? What would Achilles and Ajax have done ? Gus
tasp is not embarrassed. He offers himself to a smith. But his strength is
too great. With his first stroke he splits the anvil in twain.
f Eug. Burnouf: Asiatic Journal, August, 1845. Vol. 4, 148; Re
searches, 241.

Persia. 71
march over the countries and purify Asia with the sword
of fire.
The impious Babylon, with her dragon-god, cannot
stop her. She hastens towards Egypt, and falls plump
upon the blacks of Africa, sworn enemies of light. She
menaces the pale West. To arrest her furious career will
require no less than Salamis.
" History," says Quinet, "has put itself in march."
We feel it on the bas-reliefs of Persepolis, in which the
Persian conquerors appear in long files. We hear the
noise of their tread. But this review is speechless. They
pass, and have uttered nothing. The history of this people
of light remains obscure to us.
Their monument, the Avesta, a simple collection of
prayers, and a ritual, is as a heap of the remains of a great
shipwreck. Suppose that a book like the breviary, mass, and ves
pers, inverted, survived the extinction of Christianity, with
the confused mixture (Jewish, Greek, Roman, Christian)
of religions, of different societies which offer such compila
tions, — it would not be a bad resemblance of the Avesta.
The magianism of the Medes and Chaldeans confuses
utterly at every instant the true spirit of the primitive
Iran. The Avesta, however, still contains the principal
stream. The remainder is accessory. The Jews, disciples
of Persia, the Greeks, her enemies, offer us but subsidiary
information. The Greeks see in Persia only a confused
Chaldean mixture, frequently attributing to her either the
glory or the shame, the science, or the corruption, of
Babylon, her adversary.
Had Babylon swallowed Persia? Was she drowned,
lost in the immensity of that conquest ? Conquered in
her turn, humiKated by the strong Greek genius, and by
Alexander the Great, had she abjured and abandoned
herself? We might have believed this, were it not that
under the Sassanides she was found again immovable in

72 Bible of Humanity.
her faith, more Zoroastic than ever. The fall of the Sassa
nides and the successive conquests made no change in her
belief, and could not. She maintained under each empire
the holy Soul and the identity of Asia ; preserving herself
not only in her ascendancy over her sons, the poor and
honest Ghebers or Parsees, but especially, and still more
in her indirect ascendancy over the Mussulmans, her con
querors, and over the innumerable tribes, the Sultans and
the Dynasties of every race which passed over her. Dur
ing their short stay, however, the barbarians had abundant
time to render homage to this superior soul, to know its
tradition, to become imbued with it, and to embody it.
The Turkomans from the North, the Arabians from the
South, left their recitals and their legends on the threshold
of Persia, as the reverential pilgrim deposits his shoes at
the entrance of the mosque. They enter, take the great
antique soul, its songs, and its poems. They sing nothing
but the Shah Nameh.
The Shah Nameh. — The Strong Woman.
The holy soul of Persia, under all the floods of barbari
ans, had preserved itself in the earth as living water, which
flows fresh and pure in the obscure depths of forgotten
canals. Towards the year one thousand (after Christ)
there made his appearance one who was imbued with the
ancient spirit and worship of the sacred fountains. All
were reopened to him, rich as ever, murmuring, eloquent
of antique things which had been considered lost.
It is not from caprice nor by accident that I have drawn
this comparison ofthe waters. It is really because these
very waters, which made the country, made the poet also.
They were the first inspiration of Firdusi.
The waters which hide and show themselves, lose and
find themselves, which, sometimes obscure and nocturnal,
come again to light, and say in murmurs : " Here we are" —
are certainly not persons, but they have the appearance of
souls — souls which were or will be, which await organiza-

Persia.

73

tion' and prepare it. A country entirely engrossed by
them, in their evokation, in their distribution, in their de
partures, in their returns, was by this alone led to dream
of the soul, of its births and re-births, and to hope in im
mortality. Firdusi was born a Mussulman. His father owned a
field near a stream and a dry canal. The child went daily
alone to meditate by the old canal. This ruin of ancient
Persia was eloquent in its silence. The old canal was for
merly the life of the country. The water, abandoned to its
caprices, now exhausted and now overflowing, was often
the scourge of the country. The ancient Paradise of Asia,
the garden of the tree of life, whence flowed the rivers of
heaven, health, freshness, fertility ; this Persia, what had
she become ? The contrast was very great. In a very
small canton there remained twelve thousand aqueducts,*
abandoned and dilapidated, to glorify the ancient period
and condemn the present. Sluggishness and pride made
the conquerors despise the sacred arts of the Zoroastrian
times. Everything was becoming desert, salt, sands,
pestiferous marshes. As is the earth, such is man. The
condition of the family is that of the country. It was
languishing, desolated, and sterile in the miserable harems
of the Mussulmans.
The genius of the place spoke ; the soul of the country
awakened in the child. In the true spirit of a Gheber, a
feeling altogether Zoroastrian, he said to the canal :
" When I shall be a man, I will make a dam in the river,
and a dyke, and then thou wilt no longer be thirsty."
More and more attached to Persia, he listened, collected,
and wrote out its ancient traditions without being intimi
dated by the execrations which Mohammed had hurled
against Fire-Worship. From his sixteenth year he began
to sing them, scan them, and consecrate them in poetic
measures. Out of peculiar respect, which poets so rarely
* Malcolm, p. 6.

74 Bible of Humanity.
feel, he continued faithful to the old narrations, which
came to him out of the depths of centuries. The transla
tor, Mr. Molh, in his beautiful introduction to the Shah
Nameh, remarks that Firdusi by no means floated in the
hazard ofthe fancy. " Even his faults," he says, " prove
that he followed a marked path, from which he would
not deviate." This was of advantage to the poem. His
persons are not simply transparent shadows. They have
a character singularly real. Whoever has read his Gustasp
and his Rustam, for instance, has seen them face to face,
and can draw their pictures.
Who could have believed that this immense and powerful
work would come down through so many misfortunes, from
the waves of barbarisms, active and violent, which have
passed over the ancient world ? How on a bed so troubled
will roll this renewed river of ancient days ? Can it be
other than corrupted, surcharged with varied elements
either coarse or subtle ? (Another mark of barbarism.)
No matter ! How noble this river ! How high its source,
and how impetuous ! How grandly it flows, and with
what a sublime purpose !
There is a mystery underlying this, which has not been
explained. How this Mussulman, this member of the
conquering race, found at the hearth of- the Parsees such
astounding confidence that they gave to him their heart,
and disclosed the tradition of their country ? It must have
been the powerful attraction of the heart of the poet, the
child-man, to whom they could refuse nothing. Imbued
with the spirit of ancient Persia, for sixty years he glori
fied her soul, and this soul, thus enchanted, came to him.
It happened, by singular good fortune, that everywhere
under the conquerors, the chiefs of the native families had
held, with the patriarchal life, the precious deposit of the
ancient past. Even a special name, as a historical priest
hood, was assigned to them. They were called history
cultivators. At the hearth in the evening, with closed
doors, Persia came back, the ancient shadows, the naive

Persia. 75
but sublime dialogues of Ormuzd and Zoroaster, the ex
ploits of Yima or Jemshid, of Gustasp and of Isfendiar,
the apron of the smith who was of old the savior of the
country. The mothers especially perpetuated the tradi
tions. Woman is tradition itself.* More learned in
Persia than elsewhere, she exercised very great influence
in the land. At the hearth she was the queen and mis
tress, and to her son she was as the living God. The son
was never permitted to sit in the presence of his mother.
The queen-mothers, Amestres, Parisatis, appear to have
reigned under their sons. In the Avesta, as we have seen,
the Angel of the Law is a woman. The soul of the just
is expressed by the feminine word Fravaschi. The ideal
of purity is not only the infant girl, and the virgin, but the
chaste and faithful spouse. t
* In Western Asia and Europe the Great Mother was worshipped at the
Thesmophonia as the institutor of civil society. — Ed.
f This is in antagonism to the doctrine of the Jew and the Mussulman.
Woman, among the Jews, was the cause of the apostasy, and does not recover
from it. The Arabian woman (see Burkhardt, etc.), adventurous and
romantic, descended from bad to worse, each husband being permitted to
divorce her by the gift of a camel. The Persian maid and wife, on the con
trary, are the objects of religious respect. " I pray to, I honor the holy soul
of the girls who are marriageable ; of the girl of prudence, of the girl of
desire (pure desire), of the holy girl who does good, of the girl of light." The
betrothed maiden, that at least who is no longer regarded as a child, must
be consulted and consent to the marriage. If after marriage she remains
sterile, she can authorize and introduce another wife. ' The spouse must be
gentle ; every morning she must offer herself to her husband, and repeat nine
times, " What dost thou wish ? " (Anquetil, Avesta, II., 561.) Thehusband
must not neglect her, and every nine days, at least, must render to her his
duties.2 The Persian contracts marriage without hesitation, and respects
its obligations. He believes that if marriage is holy, all that relates to it is
holy. The chaste and faithful spouse is devoted to him, and ardently renders

1 This explains the story in the Hebrew scriptures, of Sarai, in the book of Genesis, who
having no children gave Hagar, the Egyptian, her maid, to Abram to be his wife : of Rachel,
who gave her maid Bilhah to Jacob ; and doubtless of Elkanah, the father of Samuel, who
had two wives, "Peninnah who had children, and Anna who had no children." Much of
the bigamy that is now practised in the East is for a like motive — to rear children by the
prolific spouse, to overcome the reproach of the barrenness of the other. The Hebrew story
was doubtless inspired by the Persian custom. — Ed.
3 The laws of Solon contained the same provision. — Ed.

y6 Bible of Humanity.
Firdusi does not even allude to the Moslem women who
are bought, sold, and made captives. He pictures only
the Persian women. The heroines in his book, faithful to
the true traditions, have an antique dignity and grandeur.
If they sin, it is not through weakness. They are very
austere and valiant, bold in initiative, and of heroic
fidelity. One of them, instead of being carried away,
carries off her sleeping lover. They fight by the side of
their husbands, and brave every peril. We already see
among them the Briinhilda of the Niebelungen, the ideal
of the strong virgin who subdues man, and who, on the
night of marriage, binds and enchains her husband. But
all this is lofty and pure. There is no corrupt ambiguity,
no ridiculous, obscene plot, as that which the Minnesingers
have put in their famous Night. But that which is far
more beautiful than this rude ideal of strength is the con
jugal heroism, of which Firdusi delighted to multiply the
models. He greatly admired the daughter of the Empe
ror of Roum, who was persecuted by her father, because
she had married the hero Gustasp, whose sufferings and
glorious poverty she shared. He also admired the daugh
ter of Afrasiah, King' of Turan, the great enemy of
her duty, and, thus doing, preserves her supreme virginity of soul. "A ma
gician, arriving with seventy thousand men, said he would 'destroy the town
if no one could answer his questions. A Persian presented himself.
" Tell me what a woman loves."
" That which delights her — the love of her marriage duty."
"Thou liest! that which she loves most is to be the mistress of the house
and to have beautiful clothing."
" I do not lie. If you doubt, ask your wife."
The infidel, who had married a Persian woman, presumed that she would
not dare speak the truth. He commanded her to be conducted to him, and
interrogated her. She remained silent ; but finally, constrained to speak,
fearing that the town would be destroyed, and that she would go to hell, she
asked for a veil, covered herself, and spoke thus :
" It is true that a woman loves dress, and to be the mistress of the house,
but without the union of love with her husband, all this good is nothing but
evil." The magician, indignant at her courageous freedom, slew her. Her soul
ascends to heaven, saying — "I am pure, most pure!"

Persia. jj
Persia, who having taken for her husband a young Persian
hero, defended him, nourished him, saved him. When
the cruel Afrasiah, in order to prolong his sufferings,
sealed him, alive, under a stone, she begged food for his
support. Noble image of devotion, which no history, no
poetry, has ever surpassed ! He was at length released.
His glorious spouse accompanied him to Persia. She
triumphs, is worshipped, carried in the heart of the
people. A political accident favored Firdusi. An intelligent
chief, Mahmoud the Gaznevide, having become the ruler ol
Persia, thought that, in order to enfranchise himself from
the Calif of Bagdad, it was necessary to make an appeal
to local patriotism. He made a strange coup d'etat.
Although a Mahommedan, he proscribed the dialect of
Mahommed, forbad the use of the Arabic language, and
adopted the beautiful Persian, mingled with so many an
cient words. He founded a new empire on the idea of
this renaissance, expecting that through this language the
people would revive their remembrances of their heroes.
But in order to give to this language its rhythm and the
popular charm, an inspired poet was necessary. At this
juncture Firdusi was found. The monarch's enthusiasm
for the poet knew no bounds. He named him " the poet
of Paradise." * He wished to load him with gold. Firdusi
refused, not wishing to be paid till he had completed the
poem ; so that he could erect the dike, retire to his canal,
and, having become old, could see his native fields fer
tilized anew with fresh waters.
Mahmoud lodged him in his own palace, and caused a
kiosk to be erected for him in his gardens, into which no
one could enter except Alyar, the favorite of the Sultan.
On the walls of this pavilion were painted the battles and
the heroes which the poet was to render immortal. Fir
dusi in his solitude had not only the nightingales, but also
* This is the meaning of Firdusi.

78 Bible of Humanity.
a young musician, a literary friend, whose graces as well
as his lute, awakened his genius.
In the course of this long labor things changed strangely.
Mahmoud, having nothing now to fear from the West,
invaded India and despoiled the pagodas of their treas
ures. Rapacious and fanatical, he broke optfn statues
of idols filled with diamonds. On account of his re
actionary movement the envious took advantage of him.
A thousand slanders were circulated. One day he was
described as a schismatic, another day as a Gheber, and
finally as an atheist. Although master of the palace, his
subjects were forgetting his rank, and even neglecting to
supply his commonest wants.
Firdusi, now upward of sixty years of age, had lost his
son of thirty-seven, to whom he had looked for support.
His work and life pressed him heavily. His poem was
far from completion. He had almost reached the trying
and delicate part of his poem, the epoch in which the
hero Gustasp received from Zoroaster the ancient worship,
adopted it, and imposed it on the whole earth. What
could the poet do? Would he confess his respect for this
worship ? Would he stand by Gustasp and Ancient Persia
at the moment when his master, the dreadful Mahmoud,
was becoming again a zealous Mussulman ? Severe moral
struggle ! He felt his restraint. His kiosk, his beautiful
gardens, what were they but the iron cage of the poor
dog in the vicinity of the lion? Hear his story: "The
gloom was black as jet. The night was without stars, in
an air which seemed to be of rust. I felt on every side
Ahriman. At every sigh he heaved, I saw him as a fright
ful negro, blowing over blackened coals. Black was the
garden ; the brook, the sky, were immovable. Not a
bird, not a beast. No word either good or bad. Neither
height, nor depth, nothing distinct. My heart, little by
little, was closing. I arose and descended into the gar
den, where my friend came and found me. I asked him
for a lamp. He brought it, with wax-candles, oranges, and

Persia. jg
pomegranates, wine and the shining goblet. He drank
and played the lute. An angel charmed me, soothed me,
and made the night into day.
" He said, ' Drink ! I will read an history.'
" ' Yes,' I replied. ' My dear friend, slim as the cypress !
and sweet-looking as the moon ! Relate to me the good
and the evil which fills heaven with contradictions.'
" 'Hear, then! This history, which thou wilt put in
lines, is taken from the old Pehlvi book.' "
Wine, the liquor hated by the Arabian apostle, but
blessed by the Persians, now reinvigorates his heart. I
think this song is the best in the Shah Nameh. He assures
us in vain that he has taken it from the old Gheber poet
Dakiki, his predecessor. He vainly maintains that this
song is not worth a farthing. No one believes him. He,
himself, having finished it, lets drop this sentence of pro
found joy :
" Behold the world and its revolutions. The empire is
without a representative. It wavers ; he who holds it is
weary of it. . . . Do not sow evil ; as much as possible
avoid it. Pray to the Lord, the only God, to permit thee
to live on earth long enough to finish this book in thy
beautiful language. After its completion, let thy mortal
body return to dust, and let the eloquent soul go to the
holy Paradise ! "
The bigoted Mussulmans rejected Firdusi. The Parsees
boldly took him for one of themselves. Mahmoud,
indisposed, devout through avarice, allowed himself to be
advised to perfidy, and sought to pay in silver pieces
what he had agreed to pay in gold. Firdusi, when in the
bath, saw the favorite A'fyar approaching with sixty thou
sand pieces of silver. Without complaining he gave a
third part to the messenger, another third to the bath
tender, and the remainder to the slave who brought him
drink. At this Mahmoud was so enraged that he wished
to crush him by the elephants. Firdusi mollified his
anger, but resolved to fly. Poor, after so many years of

80 Bible of Humanity.
profitless labor, with the staff of a traveller, the garb of a
Dervish, he set out alone. No one accompanied him, or
came to bid him farewell. He left to Alyar a sealed
paper, to be opened after twenty days, by which time
Firdusi expected to be beyond the territory of the Gaz-
uevide monarch. The paper was found to contain a dar
ing satire, in which the poet said to Mahmoud :
" Son of a slave, hast thou forgotten that I also have
a sword which pierces, which can wound and shed blood ?
These lines which I leave to thee will be thy portion in
all coming centuries, while I will give shelter and safety
to a hundred men more worthy than thyself."
Nevertheless, it was a serious affair to have such an
enemy, who pursued him, claimed him, and demanded
that he be delivered to him. Under this terror the unfor
tunate man wandered in disguise. He was eighty-three
years old when Mahmoud, near death and the judgment,
desired to atone and make reparation. He sent to
Firdusi the promised gold. Its bearer entered through
one gate into the town in which Firdusi had just died,
while his funeral cortege was passing out of another. It
was proffered to his daughter, who nobly refused it. His
sister accepted it, but only to fulfil the vow of his infancy,
to execute his will, build the dike which he had promised
to the old canal, and which was to bestow upon the canton
new life and fertility.
Is this a digression ? A thoughtless reader would be
tempted to say so. But it is quite the contrary ; it is the
basis of the subject ; it is its soul. This soul of Persia,
primarily evoked by the mystery of the waters which
created the country, returns obstinately three thousand
years after Zoroaster, and contrary to all expectation, the
. soul revives the Mussulman's spirit and floods it with its
abounding goodness and its rich inspiration.
The torrent of legends in the heroic Sagas had always
flowed through the popular voice, but was covered and
darkened by magianism. Ceremonies and purifications

Persia. 81
were held in higher estimation than the history of heroes.
The conquest and obliteration of magianism were neces
sary in order that the Mussulmans themselves, in their
sterility, should, search under the ruins for the hundred
thousand disappeared canals of the heroic life, and that a
genius should reunite them in this immense river of poetry
which carries them into eternity.
6

82 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER III.
GREECE.
The Intimate Relation between India, Persia, and Greece.
The three Hearths of light, India, Persia, Greece, shone
separately, without reciprocal reflection, without com
mingling, almost without knowing each other. This was
necessary, in order that each should freely accomplish its
mission, and impart what it contained.
The beautiful mystery of their intimate relation, opened
by the Vedas in the mystery of dogma, is simple. Here
it is formulated for the first time in all that is essential.
The Veda of the Vedas, the Indian secret, is this : " Man
is the oldest of gods. The hymn originated everything.
The word created the world."
" The word supports it," says Persia. " Man watches,
and his word continually evokes and perpetuates the flame
of life."
" Fire carried off from Heaven itself, and in spite of
Zeus," adds the bold Greece. "This torch of life which
we in running pass to each other, was lighted by a genius
and given to man in order that he might produce art ;
make himself a creator, a hero, a god. Hard work !
No matter. Though in Prometheus a prisoner bound,
in Hercules he mounts to Heaven." Behold the real
identity of the three brothers, their common soul, veiled
in the former two, and blazing in the third.
Whatever was the interior unity, it was essential to the
freedom of mankind that it should not be perceived till a
later period, so that Asia, already old (500 B.C.), should
not stifle Greece, and that Persia, transmuted by the Chal
dean intermixture, should not impose on Greece her confu-

Greece. 83
sion. It had come to her in the impure cortege of Babylon,
of the Phoenician Moloch, ofthe foul Ana'itis, whose infa
mous altar Artaxerxes everywhere erected near the Altar
of Fire.
The great event in this world, incomparably, is the
victory of Salamis, the eternal victory of Europe over
Asia. This was an event of immense consequence, before
which everything disappears. We read of it over and
over again without satiety. Platea, Marathon, Salamis,
always delight and draw out the same outburst of joy ;
not without cause. It is our birth.
" Our minds become exalted," as says the Cid. It is the
epoch ofthe birth ofthe European mind, or rather of the
human mind in its sovereign liberty, and in its strength of
invention and criticism. Spiritual savior of the world : its
victory over Asia assured the light by which Asia herself
was illuminated.
Greece, so small, has done more than all the empires.
With her immortal works, she has given the art which
makes them, especially the art of creation, of education,
which makes men.
She is the Instructress of Peoples. This is her great
name. Such was the strength of life in her that, two thousand
years after the long age of lead, a light shadow, a distant
reflex of Greece, was enough to produce the renaissance.
What was left ? A mere nothing. This trifle threw into
the shade, subordinated, and eclipsed everything.
This little was necessary. Some scattered fragments,
some worm-eaten sheets, some trunks of statues are
excavated from the earth. Humanity shudders. With
both hands humanity embraces the marble torso. Hu
manity has again found herself. This is more than any
work ; it is the heart, the strength, the power which
comes back ; it is the boldness and the liberty, the free
inventive energy.
The true' genius of Greece is transformation, education.

84 Bible of Humanity.
It is the magician, the great master of metamorphoses.
Mankind surrounds and laughs. " It is a sport," say the
people ; " an enchantment. It is an amusement of the
eyes." Afterwards, they gradually perceive that this
cycle of varied forms, in which men and gods appear, is a
profound education.
Nothing is hidden. All is luminous. Nothing takes
place behind the scenes, in the gloomy crypt. Every
thing is done in the open air, before the sun, in the broad
light of the palestra. This beautiful genius is neither ava
ricious nor jealous. The doors are wide open. Approach
and contemplate. Humanity will perceive how humanity
forms itself.
How came about the generation and the education of
the gods in the thousand years of poetry which are con
densed in Homer ? It is the heroic work of Ionia. We
can see through its transparent progress.
How, through the long centuries of the Dorian gymnas
tics, have the games and the festivals made living gods,
types of strength and beauty, the races of Hercules and
Apollo ? We see it, we know it, we assist at it.
How the immense effort of statuary creation, the delicate
art of immortalizing the beautiful, wrestled with time and
envious death ? We can study it notwithstanding the
greatness of our losses.
How, finally, from the double analysis of the drama
and of philosophy, the struggles of the moral man were
illuminated, till that sublime moment in which, freed from
the dogma, came forth the flower of the world and its
true fruit, the justice from which Rome takes its point of
departure ? It is the most luminous history which human
genius has left behind.
Terra-Mater — De-Meter or Ceres.
Homer is so brilliant that he interrupts the view of the
long past behind him. He enshrouds it in darkness by
the intense brightness of his light, as a dazzling portico of

Greece. 8 *\
Parian marble, glittering under the sun, prevents the sight
ofthe immense temple, the ancient sanctuary, of which it
conceals the entrance.
If we start with Homer, as the primitive Greece, Greece
would remain an inexplicable miracle. It would, like
Pallas, Athene, come out in entire panoply, sword in hand.
It would be full-grown and matured at birth, prepared to
fight, with an adventurous spirit. Things never begin in
this way. ^Eschylus, the profound iEschylus, very justly
calls the Homeric divinities the "young gods." One of
these young gods, the god with the arrows of gold, who
spreads death in the Grecian camp, the Dorian god Apollo,
makes all the plot of the Iliad.
Birth requires a soft cradle. Nothing comes from war.
Peace and culture, the agricultural family, these are fruit
ful. Everything is born of earth, of woman. Thus
Greece was born at the breast of Ceres, or Demeter, An
cient Deity, who rarely appears in the poet, but very
frequently in tradition, and is the real life of the people.
She was originally nothing but the earth, Terra-Mater,
De-Meter,* the good mother, and nurse, so naturally
worshipped by grateful humanity. The Pelasgi, first in
habitants of Greece, honored De-Meter in grottos before
temples were erected. This rude and primitive worship
was maintained in ancient Arcadia, which believed itself
to be even older than the moon (Pro-Seleni),i and which,
enclosed by mountains and forests, remained the wild
sanctuary ofthe ancient religions. Centuries passed in vain ;
* Some writers are fond of deriving the name De-meter, from Ge, the Earth,
and meter, or mother. It is possible, however, that this is not a correct
etymology. The letter g is hardly transmutable into d, in any language.
De-meter, also written Deo, is more probably from the Pelasgian, and akin
to the Sanskrit Deva-matr, or Goddess-Mother, a title of Maha Lakshmi, or
the Great Mother of gods and created beings. — Ed.
f This is probably another false etymology. It is more likely that the
Proseleni were the older race, who occupied Greece, as well as India, before
the Seleni or Lunar tribes, the Ionians, who worshipped the younger and
female deities. — Ed.

86 Bible of Humanity.
the Homers and the Pheidias made everything radiant
with art ; but Arcadia held to its primitive gods up to the
end of Greece. Pausanias tells us that many frequently
journeyed to visit a shapeless image in which barbaric
genius had boldly undertaken for the first time to express
the complex personality of the earth. It was black, like
the prolific soil, and supported all kinds of wild animals.
In each hand it held the symbols of water and air, in the
form of a dove and dolphin. The whole was crowned with
the head ofthe horse,* the most noble animal produced on
earth. Discordant and coarse image which gave only the
exterior. The genius of Greece was not satisfied with it,
and, wishing to express the interior of the earth, its
mystery, its maternity, gave to it a daughter. This
daughter is, itself, the earth, seen under a different aspect ;
it is the earth in its gloomy and fruitful depths, filled with
springs and volcanoes. Silent abyss in which descends all
life, fatal kingdom to which all must go. It is the true
black Ceres, the Sovereign, the imperious, the Despoina
(lady, or our lady), Persephone or Proserpina. t
She appears as aged as her mother. In this same Ar
cadia there was a sacred enclosure, where temples were
erected at a later day, which contained an image of Des
poina, and near it, a Titan (son of Ouranos and Gaia), one
of those geniuses of the earth who represent its unknown
forces. Was he the father of Despoina? Very probably.
Long after, when imperial Zeus or Jupiter was born, and
when Despoina was made his daughter, this Titan became
subordinated, and was simply the nurse and protector of
the goddess.
Ceres and Proserpina, the ruler of the earth above and
* The mare, or hippa, whose head surmounted the statue at Phigalea, was a
symbol suggested by the fact that the name was a pun on that of Hippa, the
ancient goddess, mother of all, identical with Ceres and Ghilo. — Ed.
f The Despoina was the offspring of Ceres by Poseidon, the god of the
Hamitic or Ethiopian world. If she is to be regarded as identical with Pros
erpina, the myth must be a variant of the Grecian one, which makes the
latter the daughter of Zeus. — Ed.

Greece. 87
goddess of the earth below, were very generally revered.
Without the first, it would be impossible for men to exist,
and sooner or later all are received by the latter into her
gloomy kingdom. War and invasion, which respect
nothing, paused before their altars. They were the guar
dians of peace. They had sanctuaries everywhere in
Pelasgian Dodona, in mysterious Samothracea, where they
took for their coadjutor the geniuses of fire, in volcanic
Sicily, and especially in the narrow pass of Thermopylae,
where the gate to Greece could be opened and closed.
From Eleusis, they ruled over Attica. The Arcadian gave
to Proserpina the name of Soteira, Virgin of Salvation.
Affecting worship, and of very singular conception !
It is marvellous to comprehend what Greece found in it.
No poem, no statue, no monument, is so creditable to
Greece as her wonderful perseverance in searching out
and fathoming this holy mystery of the Spirit of the
Earth, penetrating it from myth to myth by a progressive
creation of deities or geniuses, and by a series of fables,
all of them very wise and profoundly true. The charming
Ionian genius united to it the solemnity of the more
ancient race, the Pelasgians, who were also the parents of
ancient Italy. Hence was evolved a religion full of peace
and humanity, allied alike to Estia, Vesta, the pure genius
of the hearth, and to the wise Themis, who, indeed, seems
to be no other than Ceres herself. Both at Thebes and
Athens Ceres brought men together, and made the laws.
No culture can exist without order. Justice is born from
the furrow.
The little we know of this primitive Greece indicates
gentle manners, more nearly allied to the original Hindoos,
to the humane genius of the Vedas, than to the warrior
age depicted in the Iliad. The most ancient traditions
which remain of Greece relate to the profound horror
inspired by the effusion of blood, especially in human
sacrifices, which were detested as a peculiarity of barba
rians, and severely punished. Lykaon was changed into

88 Bible of Humanity.
a wolf* because he had immolated men. Tantalus was
tormented in the underworld with intense thirst that
nothing quenched.
That which is Hindoo-like, and even appears Brahmin-
ical, is their scruples against the killing of animals. Their
very ancient ceremonies are a perpetual witness of the
struggle which troubled the simple souls, who, having a
horror for blood, were nevertheless condemned by their
climate and work to nourish themselves with animal food.
In order to immolate a victim they tried to persuade them
selves that the animal was guilty. A bull, for example,
ate a sacred cake on the altar ; this sacrilege drew down
the vengeance of heaven ; it was necessary to punish the
animal. No one would otherwise have had the heart to
kill this ancient servant, this companion of husbandry.
They called a stranger, who struck and fled. A solemn
inquest was made over the animal, the blood of which had
been shed. All who had taken the least part in the
slaughter were cited to judgment ; the man who had
offered the weapon to the sacrificer, the man who had
whetted it, the women who had brought water for its
sharpening, all were called to account. They accused one
another, and endeavored to place the blame on each other.
At last all the guilt was imputed to the knife, which, not
being able to defend itself, was condemned and thrown
into the sea. They then made to the bull all the amends
in their power. They raised it, stuffed it with straw, and
put it before the plough, where it seemed to live again and
take once more the honor of the work of agriculture.
This peaceful people was incessantly exposed to ene
mies from the sea and the islands. The pirates of Asia
and Phoenicia made frequent invasions for the purpose of
kidnapping children and women. Cruel kidnapping !
These poor creatures, unexpectedly carried off and sold
in Asia, were never found again. From the remotest
* Another symbol suggested by a pun. Lykos is the Greek term for wolf ;
but Lykaon was a name of Zeus, as Pythias was of Apollo. — Ed.

Greece. 89
period up to the times of modern barbarism, the same
misfortunes, the same griefs, the same cries, have existed.
The poets and historians of all ages speak of this carrying
off. It is the abduction of lo, of Europa, of Hesione,
of Helen. Still more cruel was the terrible tribute of
children paid to the Minotaur. Homer has described the
silent grief of the father who, having lost his daughter,
mournfully follows the shore, where the bitter and out
rageous waves bound and laugh at his sorrow. What can
be said of the despair of a mother when the fatal boat
carries off her treasure, when the daughter in tears vainly
spreads her arms, flies, and disappears over the waves ?
These tragedies, and especially the uneasiness under
the expectations of such great misfortunes, contributed
more than anything else to sharpen the faculties of this
people, to give them so early that powerful sensitiveness
whence broke forth their great religious creation, the
legend of Ceres and Proserpina, the pathetic history of
the Maternal Passion. There was no need of fiction for
the design, or embellishment. All was nature and truth,
and this is what made it so enduring, so strong, so long-
continuing. Humanity still retains the impression, and
will preserve it forever.
The heart is impressed with the analogy which occasions
grief, at the annual sight of the flower which separates
and flies away from the plant, and is forever lost to its
mother. What will happen to this flower, this grain,
which has fled ? Where will the little one go ? The wind
blows and rudely carries it off. The passing bird picks it
up and departs. More frequently it seems as if it must
die ; swallowed up, it falls in the black and obscure soil in
which it is ignored, as if in the forgetfulness of the sep
ulchre ; and often man, for his own use, tortures it in
every way, drowns it, grinds it, pounds it, and inflicts
upon it a hundred tortures. Every people sings of this.
Every tribe of mankind, from India to Ireland, has related
in ballads the adventures and the miseries of this young

90 Bible of Humanity.
creature. These narratives are frequently playful. Greece
alone, which is regarded as so trifling, never laughed, but
wept instead.
The drama was formed before. That which truly be
longed to genius was the creation of Ceres, the idea of a
mother worthy of adoration, whose infinite goodness
makes still more sensible the cruel adventure. Afterward
came the conception of the divine heart of woman, ex
panded by grief, who became the universal nurse and took
all men for her children ; the whole of humanity is her
Proserpina. Conception infinitely pure, and the purest that ever
was ! The senses have nothing to do with it. The tender
Isis, who weeps for her Osiris, makes no mystery of her
ardent African love, of her poignant desire ; she weeps,
she searches, she calls her husband. As to Ceres, the
object worshipped and wept for was a daughter ; therefore
her legend will never undergo the ambiguity of those
more recent religions in which the mother weeps for a
son, and in which she, restored to youth by the arts, and
becoming younger than he, is frequently less mother than
spouse. Ceres is the earnest thought of all agricultural people.
Work makes serious. There is but little of delicate or
mystic refinement among a people who bear the burdens
of life. Nothing subtle, nothing false. Truth in her most
affecting aspect, the profound agreement of things which
sophistical and unspiritual ages have separated, the heart
and nature at one, the beauty of the infinite goodness, is
what simple men conceived and even expressed in the first
endeavor of the Grecian art. Long before the marbles of
^Egina, ominous image of combats, the worshipped head
of peaceful Ceres adorned the admirable medals of Sicily.*
* See those in the cabinet of medals (Paris), and also Trisor de numisma-
tique et de glyptique, the Medr.ls published by M. De Luynes. The Collec
tion Campana (Rome) had a very beautiful Cei es, which is supposed to be of
the time of Phidias. Alas, she has been carried off to Russia ! In Russia

Greece. o, i
Noble equipoise of simple rural, royal beauty. The rich
hair of her head mingled its gold with that of the grain in
the ear.
Amidst joy, tears, the alternatives of good, of evil, of
sun, of storm, she has one thing immovable— goodness.
She loves the plants, as well as the innocent flocks, the
gentle sheep, and especially children (malo-trophos, kou-
ro-trophos). She is to all mother and nurse. Pier swelling
breast is constantly eager to be suckled, even when she is
in tears. She is the love, honey, and milk of nature.
Hard contrast of destiny ! This genius of peace, Ceres,
was born in the midst of two contending powers. She
flourishes in places in which the action of elements is
more terrific, in the volcanic islands, in Sicily. However
chaste and pure she may be, she is the object of two
serious attractions. Goddess of fertility, she cannot ac
complish her work, except in receiving the dew of heaven,
and on the other hand the obscure influences of subterra
nean heats, of powerful breaths which are exhaled from
the earth. Zeus, as well as Pluto, assails her. She is a
woman ; the dark depths affright her. How can she,
being all love and life, decide to become the spouse of the
king of death ? She hesitates, but, in the meantime, she
cannot prevent the outpouring of the heaven in her bosom.
All that this poor innocent knows about it is that she will
have a little Ceres, who will bloom out of her, as the
flourishing plant has a daughter which is itself.
Her history is well known.* The young girl, in spring,
not far from the sea, was gathering flowers in the meadow
with her nymph companions. The first narcissus was in

this daughter of Greece and of Sicily, this mother of the arts, and of human
ity !
* This history is the legend which was everywhere represented in sacred
dramas. It is of superior antiquity, and perfectly distinct from that of the
Hymn to Ceres, attributed to Homer ; as well as of the Mysteries of Eleusis,
in which the poor Ceres, encroached upon by the worship of Bacchus, under
goes such sad alterations.

92 Bible of Humanity.
bloom. She earnestly desired this flower of the legends,
which, as is well known, was a child. She attempted with
both hands to tear it up and to carry it off, but the earth
opened. The black Pluto suddenly appeared with his
chariot and fiery steeds. She was carried away, the little
unfortunate one, in spite of her tears and cries. She was
so childish that she desired to retain her flowers. In vain.
The flowers overspread the earth, which became verdant
and flourishing.
In her forced flight everything seems to disappear
before her — earth, sea, and sky. In this we are reminded
of Sita (the daughter of the furrow), who was carried away
by the evil spirit Ravana ; but how superior and how
much more touching is the incident in Greece ! Sita had
no mother to weep for her.
Poor Ceres ! All the gods work against her. They
agreed among themselves to rend her heart. Jupiter con
sented to it. No one dared tell her what had become of
her daughter. She prayed, she addressed herself to all
nature. No augur ; even the birds were silent.
In despair, she tore off her head-band and released her
long tresses. She adopted the dress of mourning, the
blue mantle. She partook of no nourishment. She did
not wash her beautiful body. Distracted, carrying the
funeral torch, she rushed over the earth for nine days
and nights. She was finally exhausted, sick. Hekate
and the Sun finally took compassion and revealed all to
her. Irreparable misfortune ! She will never again return
to that unjust heaven. She will forever wander in misery
over this lower earth.
Bowed down by grief, she tottered like an old woman.
She seated herself at noon under an olive tree, not far
from a well. The women and girls who came to draw
water spoke to her with compassion. Four beautiful
maidens, daughters of the King, conducted her to their
mother. "Who are you?"

Greece. 93
" I am the seeker. Pifates carried me away. I fled.
Give me a child to nourish and bring up."
At this moment she darted out rays of such resplendent
benignity that the Queen was agitated, dazzled, moved to
tenderness, and placed her child in her arms, her cherished
and last child, the child of her old age, who came to her
twenty years after her daughters.
In the meantime the heart of the goddess had been so
oppressed by the gods that she could neither speak nor eat.
No prayer, no tenderness could prevail on her. A surprise
was necessary. A rural girl — bold, young, joyful, and lame
— caused the goddess by her playfulness for a moment to
forget her grief, and surprised her into a smile. She
accepted nourishment, neither wine nor meat, but flour
perfumed with mint, the future host of the mysteries.
Sweet communion of the benign goddess with humanity.
For ambrosia and nectar she took bread and water. Even
more, she adopted the child, who thus from this time had
two mothers, and became the son of earth and heaven.
We may presume that, favored by her divine breath,
he throve at her breast. Pervaded by her affluence, his
nature became changed. She desired to make him im
mortal. Fire and trial by fire alone can deify. In later
times Hercules arose to heaven from the pyre. Ceres,
who made the delicate plants germinate by heat, knew
well how to impart the heat to her child without pain or
peril. Every night she placed him on the hearth. Unfor
tunately the curious mother came to observe, was alarmed,
and cried out. "Alas, all is over ! Man will not be immor
tal. He must endure the evils and miseries of humanity."
Thus Ceres, who had lost her daughter, lost also her
adopted son. More desperate than ever, she again com
menced her wanderings with dishevelled hair. She ap
peared to be devoured with grief. Heaven oppressed her
heavily, and the earth was odious to her. The soil dried
up and became unproductive ; when its goddess suffers
can the earth be any other than a dreary desert ? Ceres

94 Bible of Humanity.
had renounced her useless divinity ; she wandered in the
dusty roads, and as a mendicant sat by the road-side. All
our necessities besieged her ; she sank under fatigue and
hunger. An old woman compassionately gave her a little
broth, which she swallowed greedily. To crown her
calamities, she was scoffed at. An unworthy boy jeered
and pointed the finger of derision at her, and mimicked
her greediness. Cruel ingratitude ! that man could laugh
at the kind nurse that alone supports human life. But
malice punishes itself. The boy dried up in his wicked
ness ; became a reptile, the slim, tapering lizzard, the dry
occupant of heaps of stones. A good lesson to make us
charitable. Child, never laugh at a supplicant. Who
knows that he is not a god ?
The earth suffered so much that heaven is touched and
alarmed. No harvests, no animals. The gods, without
sacrifices, are also famishing. They send down Iris,
Mercury, and all the messengers of heaven.
" No ; give me back my daughter."
It is necessary that Pluto should yield, at least for a
brief period. Her beloved daughter escaped from the
world of the dead, arrived in a chariot of fire, and em
braced her mother. Ceres was almost overcome from joy.
But how changed the daughter ! More beautiful than ever,
but so gloomy ! Injured beauty ! Frail beauty ! Death
and flowers ! Winter and Spring ! Behold the double
Proserpina, charming and formidable, who almost imposes
even on her mother.
"Ah, my daughter! art thou mine? Dost thou not
still belong to the under world ? Hast thou partaken of
anything there below, in the world of the dead ? "
Indeed, Pluto had not allowed her to depart until she
had taken a kernel of the mysterious fruit of fecundity, the
pomegranate, with its numerous grains.* In other words,

* The pomegranate, or rhoia, is a sexual symbol, suggested by the pun
upon the name of Rhea, the Great Mother, and also by the female eidolon upon

Greece.

95

she brought back the dark fecundation ofthe black empire,
to which she must return ; and thus, year after year, in the
autumn, she is again separated from her mother. She
falls into the depth of her night ; but Ceres, in the spring,
has the joy of again finding her, mingled with the sadness
ofthe expectation of her departure.
Behold life and its alternatives. Ceres bears all the
burden. Who will console her ? Work, the good which
she does to man. She has not been able to make of man
a god, as she desired, but she has made him a worker, a
Triptolemus, grinder of the soil with the plough, and of the
grain with the mill-stone — the just Triptolemus, the child
of husbandry, peaceful, economical, full of respect for the
work of others, and wise friend of order and law.
Beautiful history ! And so true ! Mingled with joy and
sadness, and particularly with wisdom and admirable
good sense ! It was interpreted in two popular festivals,
very simple, quite natural, and, at the time, without mys
tery or refinement.
In spring the Anthesphoria, the festival of flowers. The
beautiful Proserpina then returns to cover the earth with
vegetation; she brings back the enchantments of life. She
does not bring everything ; she leaves our beloved dead
behind. Our joy is not without tears, since they do not
return. We weave wreaths for them and for their tombs.
Smiling, but tenderly, woman crowns with flowers her aged
father, her little child. It is good that there are births, since
there are deaths. Grief commands love. This floral festival
was that of the human flower, the great day of the women
and of the serious joys of marriage. The very chaste
Ceres thus wished and ordained.
In the autumn, the Thesmophoria, festival of women,
the fruit. The goddess Nova, eating one, is said to have become pregnant of
Atys ; and at the Thesmophoria, where women were required to observe the
strictest continence, the pomegranate was interdicted. It was sacred to
Proserpina, because all who are begotten are denizens of the region of mor
tality ; Venus- Urania and Queen Kore are substantially the same. — Ed.

96 Bible of Humanity.
festival of laws. It was to women that the goddess had
entrusted her laws of order and humanity. Not without
reason. Who is so much interested in society as mothers,
who have so much at stake, the child ? Who so much as
they are stricken by anarchy and war ?
Autumn has a double character. For man, refreshed
and rested, who has but little more to do than to sow and
taste the new wine, it is gay and sometimes too joyous.
But women remembered that autumn is for Ceres the sad
moment, in which she sees her daughter descending into
the earth, and for this reason they rejected the attentions
of their husbands and abandoned them for several days.
Smiling at their own affected austerity, and at the com
plaints which this separation elicited, they went either to
the sea, to the gloomy promontory where the goddess was
worshipped, or to the celebrated temple of Eleusis, after
it was built. They conveyed in solemn procession the
laws of Ceres, laws of peace, which, on their return, they
easily made their eager husbands promise under oath to
obey from regard to the welfare of the child, whose advent
they so earnestly desired.
What are those powerful laws which have bound society
so firmly together ? Very simple, if we judge them by
those which have been preserved. They prescribed the
love of family, the horror of blood, and nothing more.
But this was of prodigious influence. In the spirit of Ceres
the family, enlarged, became the neighborhood, the tribes,
which, united, became the village; the united villages
became the commonwealth. No bloodshed of men or
animals. No offerings to the gods but fruits. If the ani
mal was spared, how much more man ! No war, eternal
peace. At least, a spirit of peace even in necessary war.
From this I can see the altar of compassion erected in
Athens. I see peace deified at the great festivals of
Olympia and Delphos, which united the States and made
them one people.
This respect for human life, considered precious to the

Greece. 97
gods, sacred and divine, certainly contributed more than
anything else to produce the conviction of immortality.
If the flower only dies to be born again, why should not
the human soul, this flower of the world, live again ?
Wheat, in its birth and in its eternal re-births, taught the
resurrection far better than any dogma. St. Paul, in his
epistles, many centuries afterward, makes use of no other
illustration than the lesson of Ceres.*
In this and in everything else Ceres was the great teacher.
Her worship, popular, enriched and dramatized in an im
posing manner, culminated in later days in the mysteries,
which, although attacked by Christians, were imitated by
them. Her benefactions have been immense. She gave a basis
of ardent love to the light, Ionian temper, which was very
fickle and changeable. She created the Athenian com
monwealth, and drew the outlines of the social system
which were peculiarly humane.
It is not the variable fancy, the imagination which could
engender life. To make a world it is absolutely necessary
that there be great love, great truth. The maternity of
Ceres, her pure love, which overflows with goodness, was
the cradle of Greece. Long before the Olympus of Homer
there were vast, silent centuries, which were incubating
the future. Powerful, fruitful hearth ! From this legend
of a mother, Greece received the flame which quickened
her as a mother also. In order to understand the ages in
which she enlightened the world, it is necessary to consider
"First Epistle to the Coxinthians, xv., 36-45 : "Fool, that which thou
sowest is not quickened except it die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest
not that body that shall be, but bare grain ; it may chance of wheat, or of some
other grain : but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to every seed
its own body. ... So also is the anastasis, or future life of the dead. It is
sown in the corruptible, and is raised in the incorruptible; it is sown in the
unhonored, and is raised in glory ; it is sown in weakness, and is raised in
power ; it is sown a physical body, and is raised a spiritual body " — /'. e., sown
under the physical and moral influences of earth-life, and lives again invested
with the divine qualities of the heavenly world. — Ed.

98 Bible of Humanity.
her, first as a child adopted by Ceres ; second, when she
took the torch from the hand of Ceres, or when, under
the care of Ceres, she gathered the flowers of Eleusis or
Enna.* The Vanity of the Ionic Gods. — The Strength of the
Human Family.
Science marches and light advances. The new faith is
confirmed in finding under the earth its substantial roots
in the remote antiquity. The memorable conflict which I
witnessed while still young, between liberty and theocracy,
the true and false erudition on the Greek origins, is finally
ended. Chief, living question, of eternal interest ! Was
this most brilliant people its own Prometheus, or was it
taught and moulded by a priesthood ? f Was.it the work of
a sacerdotal caste, or the spontaneous fruit of the human
mind ?
Thirty years of work have decided the question and
severed the knot forever. The results are so clear and
decided, that the enemy dare no longer breathe. From
below, in all details, from point to point the enemy is
beaten. From on high a great flash of sunlight, the
youthful philology, overwhelms him still more, bringing
out into full daylight the fact that in those ancient origins
there is no artifice of a sacerdotal caste, no complicated
symbolism, but the free action of good sense and of
nature. * Enna was denominated the amphalos of Sicily, as Delphi was of Greece.
Its importance as the seat of this myth is evidence that it pertained to Asia
and Phoenicia, rather than to Greece. — Ed.
f Mr. Guignaut, a truly learned man, who has demoted his life in the immense
work of translating, completing, and connecting Kreuzer's Symbolique, has
been among us, in this century, the true founder of the study of religions.
This beloved teacher was the guide of us all. The Renans, Maurys, and
all the eminent critics of this age have sprung from him. He opened the way
even to those who, like myself, incline toward the anti-symbolique, toward
Strauss, Lobeck, and believe with the latter that if Ceres is very ancient, the
Mysteries of Eleusis, and the Orgian myths are of recent origin. See
Lobf-CK, Aglaophanus, 1829, Koenigsberg.

Greece. 99
The venerable worship ofthe soul ofthe earth, of Ceres
and of Proserpina, affecting, but not without terror, which
showed in twenty different places the abyss closed, the
door of Pluto, would have created anywhere else than in
Greece a powerful sacerdotal order. It was twice at
tempted and failed. In the most ancient times this worship
was subordinated to the joyous elasticity of the Ionian
transformations, the fancy of strolling singers, who varied
the fables and the gods. Later, when the mysteries, aided
by the arts and by an ingenious system of worship, could
have taken strong hold of the people, the commonwealth
existed, incredulous and mirthful. ^Eschylus was banished,
Socrates was put to death, but sacerdotal rule could not
be established, and fell under the popular scorn.
The latest results of modern criticism are as follows :
First, Greece has received nothing, or almost nothing,
from a foreign priesthood. What she believed to be
Phoenician, Egyptian, is profoundly Grecian. In her ages
of strength and genius she delighted only in herself,
and scorned all triviality. This preserved her youth, the
perfect harmony which produced her fertility. When, at
length, the gloomy gods of Asia stealthily crept into her
bosom, she had accomplished her work, and was beginning
her decadence.
Second, at no period has Greece had a real and organized
Sacerdotal order* The vain supposition that she had
such a caste before her historical period is without proof
or probability. She has not been guided. It is for this
reason that she has marched forward erect, and with
wonderful equilibrium.
One of the most serious effects of priestcraft is to absorb
everything, and crystallize it into some form, to engross
* The book of Benj. Constant, frequently superficial, is strong on this
point, and deserves great attention. Its principal assertions are confirmed in
the learned work in which Mr. Alfred Maury has compiled all the recent
labors of Germany, arranging them in an excellent and new order, which
throws great light on them. History of tlie Greek Religions, 3 vols. (1857.)

ioo Bible of Humanity.
all life in one organ, one sense only. This is of infinite
advantage to the part. It gives you, for example, a
monstrous hand, while the arm is dry, the body consump
tive. This is what appeared so forcibly in Egypt, and
still more in Europe, during the middle ages, which had
some exquisite sense, or some gigantic organ, while the
whple was feeble, poor, sterile. In Greece, left to her
free genius, all the faculties of man — body and soul,
instinct and work, poetry, criticism, and philosophy —
everything grew up and flourished together.
Third, Greece, mother of fables, as she is very pleas
antly called, had two gifts at once — to make fables and to
give but little credit to them. Imaginative without, inter
nally reflective, she was but slightly the dupe of her own
imagination. No people exaggerated less. She could in
cessantly invent and relate marvels. Such things did not
disturb her mind. The miracle had but little hold on her.
A heaven, made and remade by the poets and the strolling
singers, her only theologians, did not inspire her with
sufficient confidence to induce her to fold her arms over
her breast, and wait for what was to come to her from on
high. She started from the idea that man is the brother
of the gods, born, as they were, of the Titans. Work, art,
and struggle, eternal gymnastics of soul and body, con
stitute the true life of man, which, in spite of the very
gods, and even despite their jealousy, make him a hero and
almost a god.
How, then, could this Olympus, made by accident, as it
seems, improvised by the blind, the singers of cross-roads,
of temples or of banquets, the Phemius, the Demodocus ;
how could it acquire any unity ? For different audiences
the muse was different. The fables, which were sung
about the temples at sacred solemnities, became warlike,
and possibly playful, in the palaces ofthe kings, as are some
of the songs of the Odyssey. Will not utter confusion
result from all this ?
By no means. Everything becomes gradually arranged.

Greece.

101

These singers are, at the bottom, of the same soul as the
people, and their life, manners, surroundings, differ but
little from theirs. Their art is the same, their process the
same. They speak to the same person, to Nature, whose
voice answers.
We see to-day, by the true etymologies, that these myth
ological creations in Greece, as in the India of the Vedas,
are at first simply elementary forces, Earth, Water, Air,
Fire. In the Grecian world, which alone personifies and
defines objects, the evocation of the poet brings forth
everywhere spirits, lively and active, like that of the
poet himself. It calls into action a number of beings,
which were believed to be things. The oaks were
compelled to open themselves, to set free the nymphs,
which they had long enclosed. And even the stone,
erected on the road-side, suggested the enigma of the
Sphinx. Innumerable voices, but not discordant. The great con
cert is divided in parties, in groups, in harmonious scales.
We have seen that of the earth. From Ceres, the vener
ated, formidable, chaste goddess, the people knew how
to draw out an immense world of amiable gods. Friend
of heat, parent of Fire (or Estia), she aspired to descend
into the Earth. To spare her this subterranean voyage,
they created for her a daughter, another Ceres. To spare
her the severe labor of tillage, an- inferior genius was born,
a rustic, male Ceres, the grinding Triptolemus. To defend
her kingdom, the field, the harvest, the boundaries, laws
and penalties were necessary. But would the good Ceres
punish ? This charge was given to Themis, the cold Ceres
ofthe law, whose sword was Theseus, legislator of Athens,
the valiant Ionian Hercules.
The gamut of Fire is no less rich — beginning with the
deformed Cabiri, proceeding to the Cyclops, thence to the
workman Vulcan, and culminating in Prometheus the
artist — while from night (Latona) radiated the splendors
of Phoebus, and from the charged, gloomy brow of Jupiter

102 Bible of Humanity.
springs forth the ether, the sublime brightness of Minerva,
of wisdom.
But all these gods astoundingly differ, if I dare say it,
in stability. A book could be written on their different
tempers : the Physiology of Olympus. Let us admit that
many will remain in the fog o<r even something less, being
merely adjectives, like the synonymes of Agni, from which
India made the names of God. Others, a little more firm,
as Max Muller well says, are already coagulated, of some
consistence, but still remain transparent, diaphanous ; we
see through them. Their father, the Ionic genius, does
not allow them even occasionally to act as persons, except
on the condition that they remain elements, which, as such,
are always subject to metamorphosis. In this condition
he can always dispose of them, vary them, enrich them
with new adventures, marry them, and draw heroes from
them. This mythological manipulation is very easy to follow
in the gamut of the gods of the Air, who were naturally
fluctuating, and furnished easy facilities for transformations.
The superior Air, the heaven, the father Zeus, Ju
piter, has necessarily the highest place, the throne of
nature. He causes rain, he produces everything. Suc
cessor of the old gods, of the Titans, he engenders the
family of the Hellenic gods. He rules, he has the thunder,
and terrifies the world. He rolls it with great noise, per
forming the functions, which Indra discharges in the Vedas.
As to the winds, he delegates his power to ^Eolus, a little
Jupiter, who keeps them confined in leathern bags in
obscure caverns.
If Jupiter is the great fertilizer below, it is because he
is also a celestial fecundity above. In Asia he would
have been a double-sexed god. In Greece they divide
him in two, and give him a consort, who is but the Air,
the female Air, Here or Juno. Air, troubled, agitated,
angry. This is not sufficient. In the sublime heights,
above the clouds, in the pure ether, we see quite another

Greece. 103
thing. Jupiter becomes triple. They create for him a
daughter, Pallas- Athene, who is produced out of him alone,
and not of his Juno. Afterward came the Dorians, who
compelled him to share his rule of the storm with the
young god Apollo, who was furnished with arrows, like
the Indra of the Vedas, to pierce the dragon of the clouds.
Thus from Zeus, or the Father Heaven, is made a whole
series of gods, not fortuitous nor in disorder, but well-
linked, progressive, harmonious, a beautiful gamut of
poetry. Zeus, doubled, tripled, quadrupled, nevertheless
maintains his supreme rank, and his noble representative
ness.* He is the father of all the young Olympians, and,
as toward the end all will recognize themselves in him,
will see that they are nothing but him alone, his superi
ority prepares for philosophers their future conception,
the unity of God.
Greece, in a peculiar instinct of moral progress, does
not allow her gods to rest and fall asleep. She fashions
them incessantly, from legend to legend, humanizes them,
educates them. We can follow her process from age to
age. The gods-natural in vain personify themselves ;
they grew pale. The gods-human started up, the gods-
moral increased. The gods-judicial, heroic redressers of
wrongs, whose triumph closes divine history, throw away
their robes at last, show the true hero, the wise man.
Of Hercules there is left the Stoical, that scholastic
philosophers very appropriately call the second Hercules.
It is the living stone, the firm rock of Right, on which
Rome soon enthroned her jurisprudence.
* The Grecians always speak grandiloquently of him, with an emphatic
grandeur, which is not by any means expressive of real respect. He is a god
of pomp and decoration. They pay him with ceremonies. As to the serious
ness, the reality, he is by no means on a plane with many gods, who appear to
be inferior. He is easily deceived. This King of Olympus, jocosely caught
by his wife, who lulled him to sleep on the Ida (Iliad), duped by Prometheus
(Hesiod), who, for his part of the victim, made him take the skin and the
bones, recalls something of the Charlemagne of the Four Sons Aymon, who
falls asleep on the throne and is scoffed at in his sleep.

104 Bible of Humanity.
This is the supreme and distant aim toward which we
walk blindly, but very surely : it is necessary to make the
Hero.
To say that the gods come down and incarnate them
selves, as they do in India, would avail but to lull human
activity to sleep. The important thing is to establish a
succession of gradations, a ladder on which we can ascend
and descend, and on which the man of strength and labor,
having developed that which God put in him, would mount
as on wings, and himself become divine. Neither the
language nor the Greek spirit allowed the poets to express
divine births except by divine loves. The more ethereal
among the gods, the aerial Jupiter, had the part of a great
lover. The popular minstrels did not spare him. While
they gave him the imposing figure and the dark eyebrows,
the threatening beard of the Father of the gods, they
launched him into a thousand youthful adventures. All
this playfully, and in a light, loquacious manner. Not
even one impassioned trait.
There was nothing more transparent than this in the
language. There is scarcely any possibility of being
mistaken. The physical meaning is always clear. The
translation only is obscure. It exaggerates the personality
of these elementary beings. " Zeus rained in the Force
{literally the name of Alcmene), and begot the Strong
{Alcides)." Zeus rained through the storm in the Earth
{Semele), which, thunderstruck, conceived Bacchus, or
the ardent wine. What more clear to those primitive
tribes, who led only an agricultural life ? * These fables
of the loves and of the divine generations appeared truly
scandalous when Euhemerus, and those like him explained
* In a small book, admirable for strength and good sense, Mr. Louis Minard
says very appropriately of this agricultural age, still very near to nature, which
had just made these symbols and which saw perfectly through them : "No
one took more offence at the thousand marriages of Zeus and Aphrodite than
one thinks to-day that the oxygen is debauched because it is united with all
bodies." L. Minard's Morals before Philosophers (i860), p. 104.

Greece.

105

them in the pretended history of the kings of time past,
when Ovid and other story tellers enlivened them with
witticisms of libertine freedom, when at last the enfeebled
minds ofthe decadence, a Plutarch for example, entirely
disregarded the primitive signification. In vain the Stoics,
by a just interpretation, which philology now confirms,
showed in these fables the mixture ofthe physical elements.
The Christians carefully avoided the consideration of their
merits ; they simply laid hold of these legends to attack
and denounce them.
In the times of Byzantium, when all elevated meaning
became dull, no one was keen enough to perceive the
double character of these antique fables, the clare-
obscure in which they floated between the dogma and
the tale. Dully and authoritatively they interrogate Greece :
" Dost thou believe ? Dost thou not believe ? " It seems
to us that they are like a schoolmaster scolding a child of
genius who has, as we have at that age, the gift of imagin
ing and half believing all he fancies. These old block
heads do not know that man begins thus. They overlook
the fact that between belief and unbelief there are infinite
gradations, innumerable intermediates.
With this inventive people, of a fluent and thoughtless
speech, so long as the gods had their true lives, their
ready mythological vegetation, the gods were too change
able to weigh heavily on their minds. In the places where
tradition located their divine adventures, in the vicinity of
an oracle or a temple, there was doubtless more credulity.
The popular minstrels eloquently related the marvels of
the temple to the enraptured traveller, who learned them
in verses in order the better to remember them, but not
without adding some poetical variations. These tales were
constantly transmitted with changes, each new minstrel
feeling the same right over the muse and the inspiration.
I have said elsewhere how much of liberty the interior
soul of India preserved against her dogmas, notwithstand
ing the appearances of a very strong sacerdotal yoke. But
5*

106 Bible of Humanity.
how much more this liberty existed in Greece, which had
no such yoke, and which made and remade herself inces
santly. She had no need whatever of severe criticism nor
of harsh irony in order to defend the moral significance
of the light eccentricities of the religious fable. It was
enough for her to have that which best preserves from
divine tyrants, the smile.
Greece had not that severe attitude, that solemnity,
which are the characteristic of some nations. But the
genius of motion, the inventive power, which was indefat
igable in her, a certain light vivacity, always wafted her
above vulgar and low things. A very pure air, not in the
least enervating ; the sublime ether of a blue sky, freely
circulates, and keeps life buoyant. That which domineers
there is not properly the scruple of conscience, the fear of
sin, the intention of flying from this or that. Her own
nature, a sap severely fresh for action, art or combat, the
innate flame of Pallas, keeps her in the heroic state.
This is wonderfully expressed in her beautiful traditions.
When Agamemnon set out for a long absence to conduct
the war against Troy, whom does he place near Clytem-
nestra ? Whom do we see sitting near her at meals, and
in the hours of relaxation ? A priest ? No. A singer,
whose noble measures will sustain her heart. Respectful
guardian, this minister of the chaste muses will battle
against the reveries, the effeminate languors in the woman.
He will talk to her of the sublime history of the past —
Antigone sacrificing her love and life to sisterly affection ;
Alcestes dying for her husband ; Orpheus following his
Eurydice down to the under world. As long as he sings,
the spouse is entirely absorbed in the remembrance of the
absent Agamemnon, so that the perfidious ^Egystus could
not succeed in leading her astray, till he had forcibly
carried off the lyrist. He expelled him to a desert island.
The queen, abandoned by the muses, was also abandoned
by virtue.
That which astonishes is, that certain things, in a south-

Greece. 107
em climate, remind us of the cold purity of the north.
The youngest daughter of Nestor bathes Telemachus.
Laertes, father of Ulysses, caused his daughter to be
brought up with his young slave Eumeus. The daughter
of the wise Centaur Cheiron, who yields in nothing to her
father, educates a young god and teaches him all the
mysteries of nature. We think that we are in Scandi
navia ; that we are reading the Nialsaga in which the
noble maiden has a warrior for her preceptor.
Greece exhibits the exact opposite of the middle ages.
In the latter, all literature, or nearly all, glorifies adultery ;
poems, fables, Christmas carols, everything celebrates
cuckolding. Of the two great Grecian poems, one pun
ishes adultery by the overthrow of Troy ; the other is the
heroic return of the husband, and the triumph of fidelity.
In vain the suitors besiege Penelope. In vain the Calypsos,
the Circes, gave themselves to Ulysses, and desired that
he should, with love, drink immortality. He preferred
his Ithaca, preferred Penelope and dying.
Horrible thing, which makes a father of the church
shudder : " Saturn devoured his children ! What an
example for the family!" Be assured, good man. He
swallows stones instead of children.
In reality the Greek family relation is very strong, and
no less pure. The history of CEdipus and others shows
plainly how much horror the Greek had of such unions as
they regarded suitable only to barbarians.
Before the Dorian invasion, those cruel wars, which
transformed the archaic world of Greece, the family was
altogether the holy association, which is seen in the Vedas
and in the Avesta. It had its normal and legitimate har
mony. When Philosophy, the sweet Socratic wisdom of
Xenophon,* logically investigates what is the true role of
* With great regret I deny myself the pleasure of citing the admirable chap
ter of Xenophon's Economy. We perfectly perceive that if war, public life,
constant danger, separated the Greek from his wife, and tore the family asun
der, the ideal of marriage was always the same. The heart was still the heart.

108 Bible of Humanity.
woman, it has nothing to do but simply to come back to
what the Odyssey describes.
In Homer the mistress of the house has half the govern
ment, all the interior cares, even those of hospitality.
She sits opposite to her husband, and is his equal at the
hearth. It is to her that the supplicant must first apply.
The amiable Nausicaa, who received the shipwrecked
Ulysses on the shore, recommended him to speak first to
her mother. This mother, the wise Arete, appears to all
a kind providence, and even to Alcinoiis, her husband,
who has long had an easy time of it, and, to use his daugh
ter's words, " drinks like an immortal." Arete supplied
his place ; by her prudence and peaceful disposition she
settled disputes, prevented litigation, and was the um
pire of the people.
The wife was much esteemed by both husband and son.
Laertes, says Homer, would have loved his beautiful and
wise slave, Euryclee, very much, but did not, "from fear
ofthe wrath of his wife." This wife, mother of Ulysses,
was tenderly loved on this account. There is nothing so
artlessly pathetic as the interview of this hero with the
spirit of his mother. He tearfully asked her the cause of
her death. Was it destiny ? Was it the arrows of Diana,
who by disease carries us off from life? " No, my son,
it was not Diana, it was not destiny — it was the remem
brance of thee, it was thy goodness which killed me. It
was the regret for a son who was so good to me."
It changes less than is supposed. There is nothing more charming than to read
in Xenophon the wise household royalty of the young mistress of the house,
who not only governs her male and female servants, but also knows how to
make them love her, and takes care of them in sickness (chap. vii. ). The
husband does not hesitate to say to her : "The sweetest charm will be when
thou, having become more perfect than myself, wilt make me thy servant.
Time does not affect it. Beauty increases by virtue." In order to deceive
us in this, and make us believe that woman (even in the Homeric times) was
dependent upon her son, the words of Telemachus to Penelope are quoted ;
but at this particular moment Telemachus is inspired by a god to speak with
such unusual authority. He needed to overawe the suitors with those stern
words, etc. Benj . Constant has explained this delicately and very judiciously.

Greece. 109
The Invention of the Municipality.
The first work was Olympus, the second was the
City. The latter, wonderful work of Grecian genius, new
then, unheard of, without example and without prece
dence. All the effort of man, heretofore, had made only
towns, a bringing together of tribes, aggregating villages,
uniting them for their security. Entire nations have col
lected themselves in the enormous towns of Asia. Those
prodigies, Babylon, Nineveh, Thebes with its hundred
gates, notwithstanding their splendor, their riches, are
nevertheless monstrous. To Greece alone belongs the
creation of the City, supreme harmony of Art which is
all the more natural for it, a pure, regular beauty never
excelled, subsisting by the side of formulas of reason
ing and of geometrical figures, which Greece has also
traced. Has the City of the Olympus prepared that of the earth ?
Yes, Olympus already inclined to the republic. The gods
are somewhat free ; they deliberate, they plead, they have
their Agora. Pluto, Neptune, in their subordinate king
doms, were independent. Nevertheless the monarchical
element predominates in Jupiter, the Agamemnon of the
gods. The Commonwealth beneath is quite different. It
bears but a light resemblance to the irregular government
of heaven. The republic on high is a childish work com
pared to the human republic. From this poor ideal there
is an immense stride before we arrive at last to the real
miracle, Athens ; to the all-powerful cosmos, living organ
ism, the most fertile that ever existed.
The work was neither altogether human, nor of spon
taneous calculation. Terrible necessities acted, helped,
compelled. Danger redoubled genius. Through the vio
lent crisis which, elsewhere, would have extinguished it,
this genius made, and fashioned itself, was its own Vulcan,
its industrious Prometheus, briefly Pallas- Athene , Athens.

no Bible of Humanity.
It is a long history, which I do but indicate.
I have said that all the Greek world, in its beautiful
equipoise of fancy and criticism, was born from a smile.
On one hand the gracious genius which made the gods of
Greece ; on the other hand the light irony, altogether in
stinctive and scarcely conscious, which however kept the
soul wonderfully serene, free from the fear of both gods
and destiny.
This smile appears on the marble of ^Egina, where peo
ple kill each other amidst bursts of laughter. "Is it acci
dental ? " some one may ask. " Is it the impotency of an
awkward art ? " The same expression is noticeable in twen
ty places in the Iliad. The blood flows in swelling waves,
but the heroes stop willingly to converse. There is great
wrath, no hatred. Achilles explains obligingly to Lycaon,
who asks for his life, why he will kill him. He had before
made him prisoner, but he had escaped, and he had found
him again. " Patroclus," he said, "is dead, and I also,
must I not die young ? " Then die, friend ! *
Here is a very primitive characteristic. Among many
modern, superadded things, the Iliad in general pre
serves its character of rugged youth. It is not the dawn
of Greece, but the morning. The air is keen. A strong
vigor is felt throughout. The earth is green and the sky
blue. A vernal breeze ruffles the hair of the heroes. They
struggle, they die, they kill. They have no hatred. They
scarcely weep. This is the lofty serenity of a haughty
era which hovers over death and life.
But do they know what death is ? We may question
it. It appears brilliant and almost triumphant. To ascend
the pyre with the purple and the armor of gold, to vanish
in glory, to leave the sun for the delightful light of the
Elysian Fields, where we can sport with heroes, is not
a great misfortune. Death, either given or received,
does not materially change the soul. While Judaism
* Iliad, xxi. , 'AA/ld tyikoq Q&ve %al <si>.

Greece. 1 1 1
promises long life to the children of God, Greece says :
"They, whom the gods love, die young." She who is
youth itself, wishes no other life than youth. She has
compassion only on Tithonus, old husband of Aurora,
old without remedy, who cannot die.
The Greeks continually quarrelled and came to blows
among themselves. But their combats were trifling.
With much good sense they respected the seasons of
labor and of sowing. They appeared in their strug
gles, in their surprises, in their ambushes, to aim, above
everything else, to make light of the enemy, and at
the glory of dexterity. Their most excellent achieve
ment was to carry off their enemy and ransom him. But
they did not care to make slaves ; they did not know
what to do with them. Their great simplicity of life, their
husbandry so little complicated, often confined to olive
trees and a little pasture, scarcely needed slaves. The
household slave, employed in the personal cares, appeared
intolerable. It would have been a punishment to them to
have forever in their homes the enemy, a gloomy and
silent figure, a permanent malediction. They made their
own children serve them.
The Locrians and the Phocians never had slaves. If a
Greek on the shores chanced to buy a child from pirates, it
became one ofthe family. Eumseus, in the Odyssey, sold
to the king Laertes, is brought up by him with his daugh
ter. He is like a brother to Ulysses. He waits for his
return for twenty years ; he weeps for him, and cannot be
consoled for his absence.
A most singular thing — which, however, is established
by the most positive testimony, that is, by the language it
self, and by a proverbial phrase — war created friendships.
The prisoner — led to the home of his conqueror, admitted
at his hearth, eating and drinking with him, his wife, and
children — was one of the household. He became what was
called his Doryxenos, the guest whom he had made with
his spear. Having paid his ransom and returned to his

112 Bible of Humanity.
own home, he entertained his former host, lodged and
fed him without exciting distrust, when his conqueror
visited the market towns or the national festivals of his
country. " The slave is an ugly man," says Aristotle. Slavery is
the ugliest of things. Such a monstrosity was for a long
time unknown in Greece, the country of beauty. It was
in perfect contrast with the fundamental principle of such
society, with its manners and its beliefs. How, in fact,
could slavery, "which is a form of death," as the juris
prudents well say, agree with a religion of life, which sees
in all force a divine life ? This joyous Hellenic religion,
which even in things inert feels a soul and a god, has
justly for its foundation the liberty of all beings.* Slavery,
which kills the soul while the body yet lives, is the oppo
site of such a dogma, its contrary and its negation. Greece,
by her mythology, emancipated the elements and enfran
chised even the stones. Was this to change man into a
stone ? She humanized the animal. Jupiter, in Homer,
has compassion on the horses of Achilles, and consoles
them. Solon made a law, based on the ancient religious
prohibition, which forbade the killing ofthe ox that plough
ed the earth. Athens erected a monument to the faithful
dog that died with his master. The Athenian slave was
almost a freeman, "and did not yield the walk to him,"
says Xenophon. The comical writers bear witness to this,
that the slave often mocked the freeman.
Greece would have remained, perhaps, in a certain state
of effeminacy if the Dorian invasions had not introduced a
decided contradiction. Sparta did not inflict even misery
on the vanquished, as the Thessalonians did the Pen-
estes. She did not apportion them by lottery to each indi
vidual, like the Clerotes of Crete. She kept them en masse,

* "Slavery is the negation of polytheism, which has for its basis the Auto
nomy of all beings." New, just, and profound observation of L. Menard,
Polytheism of Greece, p. 205.

Greece. 113
one body of people, but constantly degraded.* A thing
horribly dangerous, which held the conquerors themselves
in a strange condition of effort and tension, of war in time
of peace, under the necessity of watching under arms,
attentive to everything, and thus becoming terrible and
almost inhuman.
Laconia was a great manufactory, a people of indus
trious serfs who sold cloth, shoes, and furniture to all
Greece. It was a great farm of agricultural serfs, who
were contemptuously called Helotes or Heilotes, from the
name of a wretched little town which was destroyed. They
paid light taxes, so that, though workmen and laborers,
they were quite easy, and throve under the outrage and
ridicule of the others, who, through a special education,
remained a distinct race. The Helote did as he pleased : he
appeared almost like a freeman — free under the suspended
sword — free — less the soul. The hardest thing for these
unfortunates was that they were so much despised that
the Spartans did not fear even to arm them. Each Spar
tan at Platea brought with him five Helotes. Even the
children treated them disdainfully. Every year, at vaca
tion, they hunted them, watched them, and outraged or
killed those whom they met isolated.
Sparta, in this, as in all things, warred against nature.
Her Lycurgus was the great danger. Her famous institu
tions, so little understood by the Greeks, show, save a
little elegance, only the manners of the savage heroes of
North America, the morals of so many other barbarians.
From a distance this atrocious heroism of Sparta deceives.
She appears a sublime monster.
What shocks us the most is, that with a life so strained
and of rude appearance, she had neverthelss a heavy
* Pliny says: "The Lacedaemonians invented slavery." He means to say a
servitude, till then unheard of among Greeks. This word, besides, was taken
from the ancient Greek historian, Theopompus, whose words Atheneus
quotes, adding : " The gods punished the Chians, who first imitated this exam
ple of buying men to make them servants, when others served themselves."
8

114 Bible of Human ity.
Macchiavellianism, like an art of terror and of fatal torpor
to weaken the Grecian cities. This art, very simple at
the bottom, consisted in supporting in each city the
aristocratic party. The best {Aristoi), the honest people,
proud of the name of friends of Sparta, gradually stifled
the free local spirit. This contest existed more or less
secretly in each town. The people, driven to the wall,
elected a tyrant, against whom the wealthy invoked the
favor and the assistance of Lacedsemon, that magnani
mously interfered and established liberty. This is how she
gained one place after another. Scarcely possessing two-
fifths of Peloponnesus, she controlled it, and by degrees
the whole Hellenic world.
Now that Greece has accomplished her destiny, we can
judge of all this much better than she could herself. The
title of Sparta, that which was admired in her, was that
she was able to keep free from the arts. She expended
all her art to have no art. She declared that she knew
how to fight, not to speak. She scarcely condescended
to let drop a few rare oracles. She everywhere gave the
ascendency to inefficient, idle men — to the dumb and indo
lent party, made up of the ancient families, and of the
rich. She crushed the active crowd, the true Grecian
people, clamorous, unsteady, restless, if you will, unbear
able, but prodigiously inventive and productive.
Let us sum up. The contest was between war and
art. Two things go to make us believe that the art, the
Greek genius, would be fatally stifled. On one hand the
disheartening, the fatigue of the public spirit, when rolled
from crisis to crisis, between the factions, without being
able to advance. On the other hand, the terror of those
new forms of war, of those unheard of servitudes, the des
tiny of Messena and of Hela, the absorption of so many
other towns.
This was a heavy blow to the gods. The Moria, the
hard destiny which divides men, as, after the pillage of a

Greece. 115
/town, people share the captives, was the great deity.
Under other names, the Parcae and Nemesis were indignant
at the happiness of men. They appeared to have spread
a heaven of brass — the hard snare in which the most just,
wise, and skilful are caught. Any moment man may be
ruined. The free and happy citizen may to-morrow, with
all his possessions, women and children, bound under the
spear, be exposed in the markets of Sicily or of Asia. A
terrible belief prevailed, that the gods, far from being a
providence to man, were his jealous enemies, and watched
to surprise and crush him.* Hence an unexpected thing,
not quite natural to Greece, very strange, melancholy. It
is rare, exceptional. Nevertheless it may be seen in
Theognis, and in Hesiod. They have but little hope.
They fear much. Their wisdom is timid. Even in
housekeeping and domestic economy, Hesiod followed
the counsel of extreme caution.
There is much earnestness in the Odyssey. Centuries
separate it from the young smile ofthe Iliad. Through the
trials of Ulysses, his dangers, his wrecks, the unjust hatred
of Neptune, we always see the noble and helpful Minerva
hovering near, ready to assist the shipwrecked. Minerva
has disappeared in Hesiod, who expressly says that the
gods are jealous of man, intent on undervaluing him, on
punishing him for the least advantage he acquires, on re
covering from him all that through labor, through art, he
has been able to conquer.
In this poet, honest, of medium capacity, who aims in
all things to be moderate, we are surprised, almost afraid,
to find related the terrible legend of the great trial against
the gods, the legend of Prometheus.
The savior Prometheus was the municipality. The
more man is abandoned by Jupiter, the more he should
be to himself a vigorous providence. His Caucasus, not

* See all the reunited texts in Ncegelsbach, and the important Theses of
Mr. Tournier, Nemesis and the Jealousy of the Gods. (1863.)

1 1 6 Bible of Human ity.
of servitude, but of free energy, was the Acropolis of
Athens, where all the world on the sea-coast, and the
Ionian race, and the old tribes of Acheia, gradually
rallied. Athens, more threatened than any other city, hav
ing the enemy before her very port, on an island, made
wisdom apparent, smiling, but strong and terrible when
necessary, harmonizing all genius, peace, war — liberty
and law; weaving, like Pallas, all the arts of peace, while
the heroic flash darted from her powerful glance. The
city, leading the city, was her law to herself. All doing
everything ; each in turn magistrate, judge, soldier, pon
tiff, and mariner, for they manned their own galleys.
"Then, was there no special forces?" Do not believe
this. The soldiers were ^Eschylus, Socrates, Xenophon,
Thucydides, and I know not how many geniuses.
"But," says Rousseau, "this was painful; the slavery
of some made the liberty of others. " Of Greece, Rousseau
had read scarcely anything more that Plutarch, the Walter
Scott of antiquity. He had no idea of the vigor of Athens,
of her burning intensity of life. He imagined that the
masters did nothing, but lived like our Creoles. It is quite
the contrary. At Athens, the citizen reserved for himself
what required strength — the heavy armor, the violent
exercises ; and what is more astonishing, as we learn
from Thucydides, the very rough trade of oarsman ! The
Athenian rarely decided, and only in extreme cases, to
entrust to slaves the vessels of the Republic and the dan
gerous honor of rowing against the enemy.
This was the safety of Greece. Athens, by her vessels,
striking everywhere unexpectedly, tired out the heavy
Dorians. Pallas-Athene, from the summit of the Acropolis,
watched the fury of Mars, and, as in the Iliad, knew
well how to paralyze it. Athens had some allies very near
Sparta — Arcadians, Achaians, the small town of Argolides,
which formed, under Athens, a league, an amphictionary,
on a neighboring island. Here was erected an altar to

Greece. 117
Neptune for the Greeks of the islands, of whom Athens
gradually became the chief, for the common safety.
This saved Sparta herself. What would she have done,
flooded by Asia, without Themistocles and Salamis ?
Education. — The Child. — Hermes.
The human genius of Greece, and her charming facility,
the magnanimity of Athens, shone forth especially in two
things — the favor with which she welcomed the Dorian
gods, and her admiring friendliness towards her enemy,
Sparta. Athens invented ingenious fables in honor of those divini
ties — rude at first and half barbarous — the red Phoebus,
with his deadly bow, and Hercules, the dull hero of the
club. Minerva herself, who received Hercules at his
birth, saved him from Juno. Later she watched and de
fended the Heraclides who had taken refuge at the hearth
of Athens. Theseus, the friend of Hercules, was pro
tected by Apollo. The god of the day illuminated for
Theseus the gloomy windings of the labyrinth of Crete,
and saved the children whom the Minotaur would have
devoured. Those children went yearly to thank him at
Delos. In return, the Dorians, a little humanized, adopted the
ancient religions, and the cherished gods of Athens.
Sparta, in spite of her savage pride, adopted the Ceres
of Attica. Hercules caused himself to be initiated at
Eleusis by the goddess, and carried her mysteries to
Sparta, but not her peaceful spirit.
The blind prejudice of Tacitus against Germany, the
French Anglo-mania of the last century, appears to
meet in the strange infatuation of the great Utopians of
Athens for rude Sparta. When they speak of her they
are like children. The austere outside deceives them.
Those silent Spartans, with great beards, wrapped in their
miserable cloaks, coarsely nourished on black soup, keep
ing for themselves poverty, and leaving riches to the

1 1 8 Bible of Humanity.
serfs, appear to them wayward philosophers. They set
them up as models. Plato, in his long witticism which he
calls the Republic, copies and exaggerates even their ab
surdity. Xenophon borrows from them what he can for
the romantic education which he ascribes to his Cyrus.
The great Aristophanes praises Sparta and scoffs at
Athens. Aristotle, so earnest at moments, imitates them,
and, in so doing, he is no wiser than the others.
It is true that when Aristotle reached the point of settling
the high formula, decisive and true, of the commonwealth,
he was decidedly anti-Spartan. He says that the com
mune, even in its unity, must not be less multiple, not
composed of men of one kind, as in Sparta, but oi" in
dividuals specifically differing," as at Athens.* Differ
ences which allowed the play of the various forces, the
exchange of mutual services and benefits, the happy re
ciprocal action of all over all. Thus the State is for itself
and for the individual the most powerful education.
At the centre of motion we do not see the motion, we
scarcely feel more than the fatigue. Those thinkers, in
order to weave ingeniously the subtle thread of their long
deductions, required the calm and the silence, which the
agitated life of Athens scarcely afforded. They envied,
as a sojourn of peace, the apparent harmony of Sparta,
a contracted and terrible life, fixed in a deadly effort, in
which their genius would have been paralyzed and made
useless. In the false municipality, strictly one and monotonous,
in which all would bear resemblance to each, the citizen,
annihilated as a man, would live only for the State. The
hero, who is the rich, free expansion of human nature,
would appear there a monster, if perchance he could be
produced. At Sparta every one was a citizen. Not one was a hero
in the full sense of that term.
* Aristotle: Politics, vol. ii., p. 90. M. B. Saint-Hilaire's edition.

Greece. 1 1 n
Divine genius of Athens ! Her greatest citizens were
heroes. This beautiful peculiarity is seen in other places besides
Athens. In a less degree it is found in other towns. It
is the glory of the Greek world, and it constitutes its
joy. Strong through the Agora, the laws, the civil activity,
the soul felt itself great and elevated, in a harmony even
superior to the State : the Greek life. Through Homer,
the games and the festivals, through the initiative of the
divine educators (Hermes, Apollo, Hercules), the soul
soared higher than the atmosphere of the local country,
in the ether of liberty.
Hence it came about that Greece, except in rare
moments of trouble, had this beautiful attribute of human
energy — which the East, and still more so the mournful
middle ages, did not possess — the characteristic of the
strong : joy.
She had wings on her heels ; nimble, sure of herself;
through combats and unheard of labors, she was evidently
gay, and smiled with immortality.
Nothing endures. The State, this work of sublime art,
will pass away. The gods will also pass away. Make
man eternal.
Man is the principal of all. Before the social organiza
tion, he was. After it, he will be. A day will come when
nothing will be found of Sparta but briars ; of Athens but
a few broken marbles. The Grecian soul, the light of
Apollo, and the solidity of Hercules, will endure.
This soul feels and knows that it is divine ; it was
blessed at its birth, rocked by nymphs, and favored with
goddesses. The child, on parting its lips, found the milk
mingled with honey which a divine bee had deposited. He
was born pure. Pure the maternal bosom.* It is said
* The Greek woman, who can exercise the functions of the priesthood, is
not the unfaithful Eve, credulous to the serpent, and fatal to her children, to
whom she transmits the sin in the blood, and so ruins them all, except the

120 Bible of Humanity.
and repeated that Greece despised woman. It does not
so appear to me. She was associated with the sacerdotal
office. She was a Sibyl at Delphi, priestess at the great
Mysteries, and pontiff in Iphigenia.
This alone changed everything. The mother was pure ;
nature was good. Consequently education was possible,
a natural education, which for the infant was liberty
itself. The infant was started, the career was opened
to him, he was emboldened, he was launched. "Run.
... Go in the light. The gods call thee and smile on
thee." The East had no other education than its sacred disci
plines. The West had for its education the crushing of
the memory. It carried the anterior, heavy worlds, which
do not accord.
Greece had an education. An education living, active,
free, and not of routine. Education for herself, original,
springing from her genius, and adapted to her. Educa
tion, in my opinion, of infinite value, because it was light,
happy, and which, being life itself, was carried uncon
sciously, and without being burdensome. The robust per
son knew nothing of it. He marched with high head, he
went on serenely.
The insurmountable obstacle to the Oriental, priestly
education, was the miracle. Miracle and education are
deadly enemies. If a ready-made god, a living miracle,
can come from heaven, the art of making him is useless,
even rash and impious. What would such an education
be but a daring attempt to create by human means that
which only prayer could obtain from on high ? The idea,
that God may any day descend and untie all the knots of
earth, stupefies the Hindoo soul, whose activity becomes
extremely small and imperceptible number of the chosen. The fable of
Pandora has not at all the same bearing. Pandora does not corrupt genera
tions. The child is not impure before its birth, nor doomed beforehand.
Education will not be. like that of the middle ages, Punishment, a discipline
of severity, of whips, of tears, a preliminary hell.

Greece. 121
lost in fictions, and getting more and more childish,
wears itself out in the doting Christmas carols of the child
Chrishna. The infant-god extinguishes the infant-man.
On the contrary, Greece, not quite credulous of mira
cles, does not trust the gods ; in her imagination she pre
serves her good sense. If she allows Jupiter to descend
and create Hercules, it is on the condition that the hero
will make himself still more a hero. Far from helping him,
Jupiter is his obstacle — harsh, unjust toward him, submit
ting him to the tyrant Eurystheus.
From the archaic periods Greece occupied herself with
the child. But in her male ideal, she feared the tender
ness of the mother. For teacher and preceptor, Greece
gave a hero to the hero. Achilles had for teacher Cheiron
and Phcenix ; Apollo and Hercules are the pupils of Linus.
These gods themselves, together with Hermes, are the
teachers and the educators of Greece. They represent
the three periods — the child, the adolescent, and the
man. Happy outline, harmonious and gentle, which
leaves full scope to natures so diverse. The young soul,
with a free step, following the indicated path, from Hermes
to Apollo, from Apollo to Hercules, will attain through
Minerva the summit of wisdom.
Greece had had Hermes, the god of the ancient races,
for preceptor, educator. It was by a turn of dexterity
and genius that she, transforming the new gods, reconciled
them with Hermes, and confided the young men to their
care. Hermes guarded the infant.*
Hermes abandoned his solemnity, and was no longer
dreaded as he had been in Arcadia. He was the amiable
god ofthe public schools, of social intercourse, and of in
struction. He made himself exceedingly young, and
became as a boy of sixteen or eighteen years of age,
* In regard to Greek education, besides the high authorities of Plato,
Xenophon, Aristotle (Politics), there are numerous texts collated in Cramer's
History of Education, and especially in the Manual of F. Herman, vol. iii.,
2d Pt., p. 161. (Heid., 1852.)

122 Bible of Humanity.
nimble-footed, and winged. He was a delicate messenger,
but not of the effeminate elegance of Bathyllus, except
his beautiful hands. His hat and wand were winged; and
on the death of any person he flew with speed to the
under world to mitigate the severity of their reception by
Pluto. Yet he was always on the highway to direct
travellers, and was ever to be found at the door of the
Gymnasium. The youth, who had just left his mother and
nurse, was intimidated on his arrival at the Gymnasium.
Poor little one. It is the most momentous step of life.
Yes, the Fall of man is to leave woman, and for the first
time to approach a stranger. The charming young deity
knows just how to reassure him. He is motion, diversion,
language, and grace in the highest degree. The child is
perfectly captivated with him, and entirely forgets the
dull fireside, the fond mother, and the tender nurse. He
knows nothing but the Gymnasium ; he dreams of it and
of Hermes. It is his mother and his divinity.
This god asked him precisely what his age demanded,
what he loved, and would like to do. What ? Simply
two things : gymnastics and music — harmony arid action.
Liberty and amusement, exercise and the sun — such is
life. He browns and blooms. He soon obtains that
slender plumpness which is indicative of agility, and which
attracts the gaze of the gods themselves. It was delight
ful to heaven and earth. It was a holy work to exhibit
beauty to the sky. In thanksgiving for her victory of
Marathon, Athens ordered Sophocles, but fifteen years
of age, the most beautiful of the Grecians, to lead a choir
of boys, and to dance in the presence of the gods.
The finest thing at this age is the race. True moment
of masculine beauty ! Females of this age are awkward,
and, I had almost said, sluggish. While the boy, al
ready a conqueror, is at the goal and laughing, the girl is
still hesitating and getting ready.
Happy child ! Hermes desires to do still more for him,
and calls Castor to his aid. What prize will be given to

Greece. 123
this victor ? Can you conceive ? A tripod of gold ? To
him ? What would he do with it ? He blushes, he trem
bles, he is agitated in anticipation of what he is to receive.
Never again will his heart beat so quickly ; not even on
the day of his wedding, when the veiled maiden comes to
him. A marvellous being that Neptune drew from the
foam of the sea with a stroke of his trident, an animated
tempest, but manageable, terrible and mild, ardent,
darting fire from the nostrils and lightning from the feet
. . . behold that which is to be given to him. He does
not believe his own eyes. . . . When he is mounted on
horseback, he and the horse move with the same soul. The
heroic horse will go against the sword, although on the
whole he is wise. In his most animated movements he
exhibits moderation and judgment. He can follow with
the young girls in the pageantry of the festival of the
Panathencea. Have no fear for the girl and the boy. The
animal knows that the child he carries, although unsteady,
is his friend. In the head of this most spirited of animals
there is nevertheless an emanation of the moderation, and
of the wisdom of Athens.*
At this time it is well to be seated. It is noon. The cav
alier makes his repast on clear water and a few olives, and
with them lunches on the Iliad. Each person remembers a
portion of the epic, perhaps a canto of a thousand verses. f
Each person has his favorite canto, his favorite hero.
* See Xenophon, and a charming, exquisite book by Victor Cherbuliez,
On the Horse (Geneva, i860), in which he explains, in an admirable manner,
how the horse participated in the benignant education of the Athenians
(p. 127). In the harsh middle ages there was no horsemanship (p. 128). The
horse was treated like man. It was not trained, but used only as a drudge.
f This is the ordinary retentive power of moderate memories. It is so
in Servia to-day. This extraordinary poem, the Iliad, was written out as
soon as commercial relations were established with Egypt, when papyrus
could be obtained; between 600 and 500 years B.C. There never was so
instructive a poetry for the training of the energy of a people as that of
Greece. The glory of it belongs exclusively to man. Olympus is so insig
nificant in it, that, when Achilles withdrew from the combat, Jupiter, to

124 Bible of Humanity.
The fiery esteem Ajax ; the gentle, Hector; the affec
tionate, the friendship of Achilles and Patroclus. From
among these diversified characters they choose, they com
pare, they plead in behalf of this one or that one. Such
is the true Grecian spirit. Some begin to speak. Hermes
smiles. Behold those orators. The Gymnasium is an
agora. Thus, very early, the language, in those young mouths,
is formed and made pliant. True sons of Ulysses, they
are born sagacious and inquisitive, acute of hearing,
careful of good speaking, calculating. In their rivalries,
and even in their rage, they aim to speak well, as though
they were already thinking that eloquence is the queen of
commonwealths, the mighty arbiter of combats more
serious, to be decided to-morrow.
This finest of human languages, compared with which
all other languages are barbarous, is naturally so well
made that he who uses it correctly, and follows it strictly,
will, by it alone, attain his highest aims. Without speak
ing of its literary grace and melody, of its variety on all
the chords of the lyre, notice these essential points : its
counter-balance this hero, sent all the gods thither in one body. It never
refers to the most ancient of Grecian antiquity. ^Eschylus is so much more
pervaded with the spirit of the ancients, that he seems to be older than
Homer. It contains, however, many things that are old and of great value.
Also, many things that are modern, and drawn with an admirable delicacy,
as, for example, the coolness of the beautiful Helen, her indifference, when
she thinks that Paris, or Alexander, who has been her lover for the last ten
years, is about to be killed, and the thoughtlessness which makes her in
quisitive, and almost disposes her to return to the bed of Menelaus. There
are also additions, entirely different in character, very coarse and very lament
able, and evidently inserted for the purpose of making the court of tyrants
laugh, and for the amusement ofthe Pisistratides. In the xxi. canto of the
Iliad, the gods pommel each other in a vile manner, and are as grossly
insulted and reviled as in Aristophanes, but not with the same warmth,
spirit, and profound sense. These blemishes do not prevent the young
and strong Iliad, and especially the Odyssey, the poem of patience, the
admirable epopee of the isles, from being the most wholesome food for nour
ishing, refining, and renewing the heart. They are the inexhaustible sources
of eternal youth.

Greece.

125

power in deduction, analysis, and synthesis, and in expos
ing and facilitating every form of reasoning.
This language was a logic, a guide, as a teacher without
a teacher. In the Gymnasium, this language, refined and
easy, invited to discussion. But, on the other hand, its
remarkable clearness, simplified, elucidated the debates.
A perfect language makes the mind serene, harmonious,
peaceful ; dispels numerous prejudices of ignorance which
engender hatred and perpetuate discord. Hence the great
calmness, the charming docility, which we admire in the
youthful interlocutors of Plato and Xenophon. This
beautiful language was their Hermes, the amiable con
ciliator, and peacemaker.* Apollo. — Light. — Harmony.
The most glorious day to the Grecian, at the age in
which memory is strongly impressed with great things,
was when he could join the sacred procession, which
was sent to Delphi, and mingle in the crowd. This
crowd was the greatest spectacle in the world. Twelve
peoples at once, from all parts of Greece, even from
hostile towns, marched peacefully, crowned with the
laurel of Apollo ; and, singing hymns, ascended the holy
mountain ofthe god of harmony, of light, and of peace.
Delphi, as we know, was the omphalos, the centre of
the world. To assure himself of this, Jupiter one day dis
patched from the poles two eagles, which met each other
on the summits of Parnassus. All this country of rough
rocks, of precipices, of obscure grottos, inhabited by
spirits unknown to the earth, was, between the human
countries of Thessaly and Boetia — a separate world, a
savage sanctuary, which the gods had reserved for them
selves. At the entrance, in the defile of Thermopylae,
was the dreaded temple of the ancient Demeter and her

* See Steinthall and Baudry's Science of Language. (1864.) I shall
return soon and often to this grand subject.

126 Bible of Humanity.
sombre daughter, who guarded the door of Greece. Over
the narrow valleys, often black and deep, the rocks that
crop out from the great chain in promontories, exhibit in
the light, their eyries of eagles, which are towns, glistening
fanes, and temples encircled with columns.
The combats of the day and the dawn recall to the travel
ler or the excursionist that he is in the memorable places
in which the glorious day-god, with his silver bow, van
quished the dragon of darkness, Python, whose noxious
breath spread night and death. Apollo still sits in the
place of his victory, over the rocks which witnessed it, a
place of soothsaying and austerity, the aspect of which
alone elevates, enlightens, and purifies the mind.
A place less great than grand. In Greece everything
is proportioned to the human compass. Parnassus is
imposing without being gigantic, and, with its double sum
mit, is lord over the beautiful plane which extends toward
the sea. From on high flows down Castalia, a fountain,
pure and cold, of transparent water, worthy of supplying
such a temple, chaste as the muses, and their god. Phoe
bus is a celibate god. If he loved Daphne (the laurel), it
was in vain. From that time he had but the two loves,
of Melody and Light.
Midway ofthe mountain, above the town of Delphi, the
temple is poised in majesty. All around it is the sacred
terminus, an enclosure filled with monuments, which all
the Grecian peoples, and foreigners, in their acknowledging
devotion, erected without order. There are a hundred
little chapels, or treasuries, in which the Grecian States
have placed their gold under the guard of the god. In
irregular groups, there shone a whole people of marble,
of gold, of silver, of copper, of bronze (twenty different
varieties of bronze, and of all tints),* thousands of glori
ous dead, seated, standing. Veritable subjects of the god

* QuatremeRE : Olympian Jupiter, p. 60, etc. In regard to this people
of statues, and of Delphi in general, I follow the description of Pausanias.

Greece. 127
of light. By day all these statues res-emble a volcano of
blazing reflections which the eye cannot bear. At night,
sublime spectres, they dream.
Immortality is felt here, and the glory is palpable. It
would be necessary for a young heart to be totally de
prived ofthe sense of the beautiful not to be affected. The
first feeling is the benign disposition of the deities. The
Grecian gods are on a level with the historical or mytho
logical heroes, without pride, on friendly terms. All have
an expressive air of common relationship. Ulysses chats
with Themistocles, and Miltiades with Hercules. The
blind Homer is royally seated in the presence of standing
gods. Pindar, with the sacred lyre, the triumphal robe,
and pontifical decorations, again sings. Around him are
those whom he has celebrated, the conquerors of Olympia
and Delphi. Greece is grateful to them for the beauty
which they displayed during their lifetime ; she thanks
them for having, by the continuous work of the " human
form divine," in admirable features, realized Hermes,
Apollo, or Hercules, and who else ? Pallas ? Jupiter ?
Statuary perpetuated this, transmitted it in immortal im
ages, to preserve forever the very rapid flashes in which
man for a moment saw the gods.
When the eyes became somewhat accustomed to this
splendor, having considered these divine heads one
after another, exquisitely outlined on the deep azure
of a pure sky, what must have been the impression
of the Via Sacra, of the ascent to Delphi ! And what
momentous words must the heart have heard from
those silent mouths ! What delightful and forcible les
sons, and what encouragements ! From the victors of
Olympia to their singer, Pindar ; from the great soldier of
Marathon, ^Eschylus, to Aristides, and Epaminondas ;
from the brave men of Platea to the seven Sages ! Strong
and sublime chain in which the heart grew great. The
heart well understood this lesson : " Draw near and fear
nothing. Consider what we were, whence we originated,

128 Bible of Humanity.
and where we are. Do as we did. Be great in acts and
in will. Be comely, adorn thyself with heroic forms and
generous works which fill the world with joy. Work,
dare, attempt ! A wrestler or a lyrist, a singer, an
athlete, or a warrior, begin ! From the games to the
combat, mount, oh youth ! "
Greece, in her most fervent and most real worship, pre
served so much reason, such aversion for the absurd and
incomprehensible, that instead of imparting the terror of
the unknown, she marked the way by which the god was
deified, the progress which placed him so high, and the
various efforts, works, and benefactions through which
he obtained his divine rank. A graduated ascent, not
effeminate, but austere, was open to all. It may be ardu
ous and difficult, but there is no precipice, no leaping, no
pointed rock, which prevents the steady ascent. The
novice, entering the temple, before the imposing image,
standing even in the presence of the deity, by no means
forgot the popular narrations which the people made of
the infancy of the god. Phcebus was born passionate, a
severe god, revengeful. In the savage Thessaly, where
he appeared, his bow was often bent, and inflicted de
served punishment. The surly shepherd of Admetus, and
rude artisan at Troy, whose wall he built, he had not then
become the god of the Muses. Although originally a
demi-barbarian and a Dorian, the Ionian genius and the
Greek elegance adopted and invested him continually
with divine attributes. The Athenians commemorated him
at Delos. Every year the vessel, which brought back the
rescued tributes of children, took them to their savior,
Phcebus, whom they worshipped with the mystical dances.
They danced before him the labyrinth and the conducting
thread ; entangled and unravelled it. They acted even the
infancy of Apollo, the deliverance of Latona, his much be
loved Delos, that rocked him in the midst of the waves.*
?Homer: Hymn to Apollo. "The Muses, answering with melodious

Greece. 129
Thus the god of the arts is himself a work of art. He is
constructed by degrees, from legend after legend. He is
on this account all the more dear and sacred. He acquired
more and more the human heart, this large and benignant
justice, which, seeing all, understands, excuses, acquits,
and pardons. The suppliants, the involuntary criminal,
victims of fate, even the truly guilty, had recourse to him.
Orestes, despairing, appealed to him, when reeking with
the blood of his mother, which his father had required
him to shed. Closely following, pressing upon him, were
voice, sing the gifts imperishable of the gods, and the sufferings of men ; who,
with all they have received of the immortals, are unable, nevertheless, to pro
cure counsel and resources by which to keep off death and ward off old age.
The fair-haired Graces also dance, and the Hours, Harmonia, Hebe, and
Venus-Aphrodite, the daughters of Zeus, each' holding the other's hands by
the wrist. And with them sport Ares (Mars), and watchful Hermes ; and
Phcebus-Apollo strikes the harp, taking grand and imposing steps. Both
golden-tressed Leto (Latona) and deep-planning Zeus are delighted to per
ceive the mighty Mind (Noos), their dear son, thus sporting among the gods."
M. Michelet is in error in imagining that the dance was for diversion. It
was symbolical and imitative ; and Lucian declared it to be " a certain
knowledge, an exhibition, a showing of things arcane (aporreta) to the
mental faculties, and the expressing of things which are occult." The same
writer describes the heavenly bodies as moving in like measures : " The dance
of the stars in chorus, the concert of the planets in an established order, their
united and harmonious movements together or by a single impulse, constitute
the exhibition of the dance of the First-Born."
The Amazons instituted the dance of the gods. Indeed they appear to have
been the introducers of the worship of Demeter and the other Hippian
deities into Greece ; Plato says that Eumolpus, who instituted the Eleusinian
Mysteries, was their leader, and Clement instances him as one of the Hyk-sos
of Egypt. Their country was called Assyria, and they built Ephesus, where
they instituted the worship of Diana; also Smyrna, the birth-place of
Adonis, and Paphos, where they worshipped the heavenly Venus. The wife of
Cadmus was one of their number. Callimachus states that the queen of the
Amazons had daughters, known as the Peleiades, who were the first to insti
tute the circular dance, and the Pannychis, or watch-night, or Nyktelian
rites. It is evident enough, therefore, despite our author, that the Mysteries
and other parts of the Grecian religion, whether Pelasgian or Ionian, were
uniform with the Asiatic worship, and doubtless were introduced from Assyria
and Phoenicia ; undergoing modifications only to conform it to the prevailing
spirit of the people. Human sacrifices were offered in Greece on important
occasions, and the rites were equally sanguinary as elsewhere. — Ed.
9

130 Bible of Humanity.
the Eumenides. He heard the hissing of their whips of
vipers. The merciful god descended from his pedestal
and conducted the unfortunate to the town, which alone
possessed an altar of mercy, the generous Athens, and
committed his judgment to Minerva. The powerful god
dess, unexpected miracle, calmed the Eumenides, made
those dreadful sisters sit down in quiet repose, who, till
then, had wandered hither and thither over the earth,
and filled it with terror.
The worship of Apollo originated neither by accident,
nor by the vague popular instinct. In its most ancient
forms, it had the character of an institution of order, of
humanity, of peace. At Delos, he was offered only fruits.
The Athenians, during his festivals, allowed no capital
executions. The games of Delphi, in their character,
bore no resemblance to any other. They breathed the
sweet spirit of the muses. The festival was inaugurated
by a child. Beautiful child, wise and pure, kept worthy
by his father and mother to represent the god. He was
led in procession to the sound of lyres and citheras, into
the groves of laurel which were near, where the young
Apollo, with his virginal hand, cut the boughs of the
sacred tree for the ornamentation of the temple.
The contests were but a competition of lyre, of song.
Above all was sung the victory of the god of light over
the sombre dragon of night. Women, in the happy
freedom of primitive Greece, mingled with the concourse.
In the treasury of the temple was exhibited the gracious
offering of a young maiden, who, against Pindar
and other great poets, pleased the gods and won the
prize. The only gymnastic exercises were originally those of
the adolescent youth, whose age and elegance represented
the god of Delphi. Veritable games and not struggles,
foreign from the passionate violence of the combats of the
athletes, which at a later period united with them. Still
later, and in spite of himself, Apollo accepted the noisy

Greece. 131
races of the chariots, their tumult, the frequent bloody
and tragical accidents, which they occasioned.
All these were imported from abroad, as well as the in
toxication, the orgies of another worship ; as was also the
flute with seven stops, the instrument of Phrygia, whose
boisterous sound imposed silence to the lyre. The latter,
weak and pure, had this superiority, that it did not drown
the human voice. On the other hand it sustained it, embel
lished it, and marked for it its rhythm. It was the friend,
the ally of the noble language in which Greece saw the
superior sign of man ; the articulate, the distinct lan
guage.* The barbarian is the stammerer. Neither barbarians
nor their gods spoke ; they howled, or blew through this
instrument, which confused the mind and rendered the
soul boisterous. It was at the sound of this flute, com
plicated, jarring, of lugubrious, tempestuous, and feverish
effect, that men were led to the field of slaughter. The
bloody orgies, which incited to violence, were abhorrent to
the gods of harmony.
As soon as the sacred ground of Delphi was touched,
harmony entered the heart. Even the silence was full of
music. On the plains and on the mountains, in the sacred
woods, everywhere it was felt. In the temple, at the feet
of the god, before his silent lyre, the sweet echoes of a
heavenly concert were heard by every heart. At night,
when the doors had been closed, there were heard outside
the building melodious sounds, as though in those solitary
hours the lyre was quivering vaguely, and vibrating with
heavenly thoughts.
But the great lyre of Apollo was Greece herself, recon
ciled by him. All the Hellenic peoples came before him
and sacrificed together, mingling together their words and
their souls. The distinctive dialects, the light Ionic, the
grave and strong Dorian, the Attic, approached and
* HOMER : Meropes Anthropoi.

132 Bible of Humanity.
modified each other, as the worshippers communed
together in the language of light* Light removes mis
understandings, is a powerful means of peace. It reassures
and renders the soul serene. We scarcely hate, we never
kill, the man with whom we can agree, in whom, through
the ideas and the feelings common to all, we have found
our proper heart.
If anything could bring near together the people of the
several States, and blend friends and enemies in one, it
would be the witnessing before the peaceful altar, the chil
dren singing together, adorned with the fraternal laurel.
Full of eager delight, the people contemplated this young
world in which there was no hatred, nor even the knowl
edge of old dissensions. Even they themselves almost
forgot them. They were enraptured with the charming
spectacle of this future Greece, which was making its first
endeavors, which was vying in strength and elegance, in
grace and beauty. This spectacle lorded over everything,
and banished every other thought, except those of admira
tion, of art, and of fraternal good-will. Some would even
praise the sons of their enemies more than their own
children. The effect was admirable. Each town sent with its
young combatants, numerous deputations of grave men,
who sustained them, and were umpires of the games.
These deputies {Amphictyons) sitting together, constituted
a considerable body, which seemed like Greece herself.
In the controversies of either men or States, they were
often umpires. The weak, the oppressed, voluntarily
applied to them to intervene. Thus in time they became
the supreme judges of Greece. They were considered as
deriving their authority from the god. They sat at his
altar, and spoke as in his name. They were also sup
ported by the dreaded authority of the two goddesses,
Ceres and Proserpina, whom they honored at Thermopylae.
* I give this designation to the Greek language.

Greece. 133
He who despised Proserpina died. This fortunate super
stition, very powerful at first, restrained and disarmed the
unlike commonwealths that would otherwise have depopu
lated Greece. The oath of the Amphictyons appears to
have been dictated by the horror inspired by recent
exterminations, the utter extinction of the towns Helos
and Messena. The Amphictyonic oath obligated the
belligerents " never to destroy a Grecian town — and never
to divert its running water." In Greece, dry and cracked,
where water soon disappears, it was regarded as the very
life itself, and was placed, as in Persia, under the pro
tection of the gods.
This was the prototype and exemplar, faint at first, but
potent in its influence of fraternal federation of States, the
great social lyre which, leaving to each chord its distinct
independence and power, united them in friendship, de
stroyed discordances, and, in the event of unexpected
hostility, was able, by a gentle ascendency, again to unite
them in harmony.
Nor was Apollo satisfied with this. Even on the thea
tres of the most cruel wars, in the fields still reeking, of
the States of Peloponnesus, he tried to establish peace —
at least the fleeting peace which the festivals and the
games could give. He inspired the Eleans, to whom he
appeared in a dream, to erect an altar to the god of their
enemies, to Hercules, the tutelar god of Sparta. They
obeyed. By a praiseworthy sacrifice of hatred and ill-will, the
altar of the Eleans, every four years, united Greece at
Olympia, as she was united at Delphi. Conquerors and
vanquished, Grecians of the mountains and Grecians of
the islands, Sparta and Athens went there, to honor their
respective gods. For several days, at least, there was no
war. This appeared so agreeable that they made a god
of Truce itself. Amiable deity, who changed the minds,
and often brought with him his daughter, Peace, the
charming, the adored.

134 Bible of Humanity.
These general festivals, and the particular festivals which
were very nearly general, as the Panathenaa of Athens,
brought together an immense concourse. The roads were
thronged with people, curious travellers, pilgrims, athletes,
and strolling minstrels. Here, also, met the gods them
selves, who sometimes travelled,* and who were impor
tuned by one friendly town to honor another, or to pro
tect it from some scourge of pestilence or civil war. Great
movement, reciprocal hospitality, commingling, exchanges
of festivals and of ceremonies, of songs and of fraternity.
Over the men and gods, over these crowds and festivals,
over all this movement in which there was no jarring,
three lights crossed and made the unity. To the inflamed,
dusty splendors of Olympia, the subtle ether of virgin
Attica responded. Over all hovered in divine charm,
the warm, golden ray of Apollo.
Hercules.
Over this beautiful light of Delphi there still rests a
shadow. I would remove it. It follows me. Is it cer
tain that the god of the day has forever vanquished, in the
serpent Python, the old powers of night ?
In the dark defile of the narrow valleys of Phocis, along
the precipices, before the grottos of remarkable echoes,
the fantastic figures of Pan always appear to me. Further
off, in the country of the Centaurs, those monstrous forms
still dare, at morning, at evening, to show themselves in
the low meadows. Even at Delphi, in the temple, without
respect for the lyre of the god, strange noises are heard,
the barbarous timbrel, the Phrygian flute, the dull cries of
intoxication and unworthy sobs.
A witness, who cannot be disputed, tells us that when
Greece was reassured by her great victory over Asia,
* Travels and hospitalities which drew the gods near, mingled them,
gradually prepared the great divine unity, which Greece attained unaided,
and without the need of any assistance from the East. See A. Maury, ii.,
28, On the Theoxenues.

Greece. 135
another war, restrained hitherto, burst out with violence —
that between the flute and the lyre.*
The first, with great noise, was introduced everywhere,
and with it the Horned one ofthe East, god-goat, god-bull,
and god-woman. This new-comer, Bacchus, had already
glided into the Mysteries of Ceres, as her son, the inno
cent Iacchus. He grew great by the force of a fable
which begot weeping, the child dead and resuscitated. f
On this account he soon became the lord of the Mysteries,
and even of Demeter herself. An unwholesome vapor
appears to float about. All that nature had of secret
storms, all that which a sick heart had of fever and of
fancy, all that which the light of Apollo and the lance of
Pallas had intimidated, got free and no longer blushed.
Woman, whom the wars kept at the hearth, lonely and a
widow, came forth from her home and followed Bacchus.
The long robes were abandoned ; she ran about in the
orgies with hair dishevelled and the bosom naked. Strange
delirium ! What ? to weep for Bacchus, is this pointed
iron, under the deceitful vine, necessary ? Are night and
the desert necessary ; those races in the forest ; those cries
and those sighs, while a mournful music covers with a
fictitious grief their transports ?
* Aristotle: Politics, vol. i., p. 159. Ed. B. St. Hilaire.
f Mourning was a characteristic of the Asiatic worship. The Egyptians be
wailed, with Isis, the murder of her husband and brother, Osiris ; the women of
Syria, Palestine, and Phoenicia wept with Venus-Ashtoreth for the untimely
death of Thammuz-Adonis ; the worshippers of the Syrian goddess Atargatis,
or Rhea, lamented for her only-begotten ; and the Phrygians commemorated,
with noise and a tumult of grief, the anguish of Cybele, the magna mater, for
Atys ; the Samotracians deplored Cadmilus, or Hermes, slain by his brothers.
Repeatedly do we find in the Hebrew writers a reference to this annual
festival of Mourning for the Only Son. " Make the mourning as for the only
son," Jeremiah vi. 26. "I will make it as the mourning for the only son,"
Amos viii. 9. " They shall look upon me whom they have pierced, and they
shall mourn for him as one mourneth for the only son ; and shall be in
bitterness as one that is in bitterness for the first -begotten " (Protogonos),
Zechariah xii. 10. The only son was the Syrian Bacchus, under whatever
name, slain inopportunely, mourned, and finally, after three days, restored
to life. In this particular the old religions were substantially alike. — Ed.

136 Bible of Humanity.
The same witness relates to us that the fury of the flute
{i.e., of Bacchus), after the Median wars, invaded Sparta,*
whose robust and mannish girls, neglected by the men,
avenged themselves in love. They took a leading part in
the orgies over the rough Taygetus. Athens was not less
degraded by this folly. Everywhere the flute and frenzy.
Everywhere the furious Thyades. Those of Athens even
went in groups to Delphi, under the eyes of Apollo, and
of the chaste muses, to carry off the girls of Delphi to
take part with them in the frenzied enthusiasm. They
ran about hither and thither all night, and did not return
with them till morning. \
The surrounding air is no longer the same. The savage
virtue of Hippolytus, in which the conquerors in the
games sought their sovereign energy, now flagged and
softened. Those males are too proud to seek the females.
They have an overwhelming contempt for the Bacchantes.
Nevertheless, distressing miracle of Bacchus, this noise
troubles, enervates, renders languid. It is like the atmos
phere before an impending storm, which oppresses. The
thought wanders after them in the woods. "Where do
these Bacchantes go ? What do they wish ? I would not
follow them, but I desired to know. ... Is it true that
•Aristotle: Politics, vol. i., 159. Ed. B. St. Hilaire.
f " Fruitful Athens was aroused
By the chorus of the sleepless Luaios :
And many a group of revellers shouted ;
The assembled multitude, with many-colored robes,
Thronged all the streets ; and Athens everywhere
Was covered with vine-leaves to honor him
Who causes plants to grow and fructify :
Women placed iron on their bosoms,
And bound phalli to their breasts,
Thus celebrating the Mysteries.
Young girls danced in sacred measures,
And crowned their hair, braided upon their temples,
With ivy-blossoms. The Ilissus carried to the city
Water imparting prophetic powers, in honor of Dionysus ;
And the revellers dancing on the shores of Cephissus
Shouted aloud the Evian hymn." — Ed.

Greece.

137

the fawn, torn with their nails, is bitten with their teeth,
that the warm blood in long draughts intoxicates them,
swells their bosoms with love for this god-woman, who
made them hate man, who made them put Orpheus to
death ? "
What matters this to you, young man ? Rather go
with me. Let us sit down at the feet of those heroes of
bronze which the rising sun of Delphi emblazons. All the
mountains are crowned with strong and pure light. Their
summits, finely indented, as of polished steel on the
azure, pierce the sky. One of these, calm and strong,
which looks from on high, on all its neighbors of Thes
saly, triumphs in its glory. It is Mount CEta, the pile
of Hercules.
May the heroic legend strive against Bacchus ! May
the good, the great Hercules strengthen this wavering
young man, and keep him firm in the holy party of the
Lyre. Hercules, who is generally regarded as coarse,
knows nothing but the lyre. If he has occasionally been
the rival of Apollo, he is all the more his friend. He is
the hero of the West, whom the Eastern Bacchus, the
furious one, persecutes.*
Would you wish to know that which the noble god of
the day needed to sustain him in waging this great war ?
My son, it was pain, grief, death ; it was the funeral pile !
Apollo, who is only light, could not descend into the dark
kingdom. He had not struggled vigorously against death,
against love. He had not undergone the misfortunes, the
involuntary crimes, the expiations of Hercules, the flame,
which when traversed, places him pure, and a conqueror
in heaven.
* It is lately, very lately, and only by Diodorus, that we learn of this
hatred of Bacchus, who, on the whole, had a stronger grudge against Her
cules than had Juno. True and profound revelation, which simple good
sense ought to have made us conjecture. It was a dangerous secret which
no one would have dared to reveal so long as Bacchus was the master, and
had under his command an army of the initiated. A single word dropped by
JEschylus put him in danger.

138 Bible of Humanity.
But what Apollo most needed was work. He had tried,
he even became a mason ; but his hands, too soft, would
have been compelled to abandon the lyre, and could not
have felt any more its delicate strings. He left to others
the labors, the sweat ; the race to the winged feet of Her
mes ; the struggle to the arm of Hercules— the despised
works in the great struggle against the earth. He left
the better part, perhaps, to Hercules, my son ; the hard
labor, the great viaticum of life which keeps it serene and
strong. The ethereal art, the muse, are these enough ?
I doubt it. Are they sufficient to sustain us against the
assaults of nature ? No. Believe me, the fatigue, the
labor, of all the hours are necessary. I am thankful for
this. It has served me, led me, better perhaps than any
thing else. I shall die rich in works, if not of great re
sults, at least of great purposes. I lay them at the feet of
Hercules. There were a hundred heroes in Greece, but only one
whose exploits were LABORS. Strange, astounding facf !
Greece has such strong, good sense, a reason so marvel
lously adequate, that even against her prejudices — the
scorn of labor which she calls servile — her great deified
hero is emphatically the WORKMAN.
Consider that it is not a question of elegant, noble, or
altogether heroic works, but, of course, that which was
vile and unclean. The magnanimous goodness of this
hero, however, considered nothing base which was of
benefit to mankind. He fought hand to hand with
marshes and poisonous hydras. He compelled rivers
to aid him ; here dividing them, there uniting them in
those stables of Augeas which he flooded, swept, and
purified. What could the bow of Apollo have done here ?
In order to destroy Python forever something more than
arrows were necessary. Perseverance and the humble
heroism of Hercules were necessary.
The great deliverer of the Persians, as we have seen,
was the blacksmith. Gustasp, their great hero, in making

Greece. 139
choice of a trade, selected that of the smith and the anvil.*
But the iron ennobles. The hammer is an arm as well as
an implement. Persia would not have dared to give her
hero so low a place. The Grecian genius is so bold, so
free, and free of itself, that it has not feared to debase its
Hercules, and he becomes greater by his debasement. It
realizes the Persian ideal better even than Persia was able.
A benefactor ofthe earth, Hercules purifies and embel
lishes it. He banishes its morbid torpors. He compels
it to work, and creates fruitful fields. He pierces the
mountains of Thessaly, and the stagnant waters are drained
away. Behold a paradise, the valley of Tempe.f Every
where pure and rapid waters, large and safe roads. He is
the workman of the earth ; the artisan who fashions it for
the service of mankind.
This conception of Hercules astonishes on every side.
It greatly excels both the Iliad and the Odyssey. Her
cules has the fury of Achilles, but greater goodness. When
he has done evil, he repents, and repairs it. His heroic
simplicity removes him far from Ulysses. This perfect
Grecian of the islands, so deceitful, is very far from the
immense heart of Hercules. By land and sea Ulysses
looks for his little country ; Hercules for the great, and
wishes the welfare of all, the establishment of order and
justice over all the earth. Hercules is the great victim,
the living accusation against the order of the world, and
the despotism of the gods. His mother, the virtuous
* Shah Nameh.
f A similar tradition exists in Cashmere. Humboldt states " that its prim
eval name was Casyapamar, signifying the habitation or Casyapa, a mytho
logical personage by whose agency the valley was drained." Indeed, the par
allel holds much further. The population of that region, the Candaharians,
seem to reappear in the Centaurs of Thessaly ; both agreeing in custom as
much as in name. They procured their wives by carrying off virgins by
force ; they doted on horses ; their chief bore the title of Charon or Cheiron.
Hercules, who is the hero of so many exploits in and about Thessaly, is ap
parently a Heri-culyus, a lord, or protector of the people, whose cause he
champions and vindicates. — Ed.

140 Bible of Humanity.
Alcmena, faithful as a wife, intended her son to be legiti
mate, but he was, instead, a bastard. Conceived the first,
he was born a cadet to the inferior estate of a younger
son, by the injustice of Jupiter. At length he became a
slave, the slave of his elder brother, the feeble, the dastard
Eurystheus. A domestic slave and sold ; he was slave to
his strength and to the intoxication of blood. He was
the slave of love, because he had nothing else here below.
His enormous strength was his fatality. He was not
adjusted to the feebleness of the world. Often, when he
intended to touch lightly, he killed. This benefactor of
men, magnanimous defender of the oppressed and feeble,
lived overwhelmed by involuntary crimes, repentances,
and expiations.
He was depicted as small, squat, and very black. He
was possessed of the kind heart as well as the strength
of the black man. Antar, the Arabian Hercules, is black.
In the Ramayana, the Indian Hercules, Hanuman, so
good, so strong, who carried the mountains, is not even a
man. Thus, everywhere, the popular instinct has taken for
its hero the lowest, the most humble, the victim of des
tiny. The consolation of the oppressed crowds is to op
pose the grandeur of the miserable and of the slave to the
severity of the gods — Hercules to Jupiter.
Legend of the inferior tribes, touching but sublime and
facetious. Hercules is made after their image. He has
enormous appetite. He eats an ox. But he is kind-
hearted; he allows the people to laugh at him. He likes
to laugh himself. When he had taken alive the terrible
boar of Erymanthus, which Eurystheus required of him,
he bound him, he carried him bristling, the black head
showing the white teeth. The King, affrighted by such
a gift, fled from his throne, and hid himself in a cask
or cellar of brass. One imagines that he is reading the
German scene of the bear which, in the Niebelungen, Sieg
fried amusingly unloosed.

Greece.

141

Hercules, being force itself embodied, the strongest of
men, the Dorians adjudged him to themselves, and made
him the ancestor of the Kings of Sparta. But he is just
the opposite of the Spartan temper. He is the man of
mankind, beyond the exclusive egotism of a State so com
pletely wrapped up in itself.
He went among the Athenians, who graciously assured
him that at his birth Minerva had received him in her
arms. They established him at Marathon. They made
him the friend o^ Theseus. Nevertheless his legend is far
from being Athenian. He humiliated Athens in saving
Theseus from the domain of Hades. He is appropriately
the hero of the country of the Athletes, of the good and
the valiant Boetia, very unjustly despised by Athens, the
rural country of poets and of heroes, of Hesiod, of Pindar,
of Epaminondas. He is a Theban, unless he came from the
strong Argos. He grew great around Elis and Olympia,
in their rich plains. When young he fought in the dense
forest of Arcadia. He was the adopted child of those
of whom but little is said ; of inferior tribes which the city
eclipsed ; of a Greece less brilliant, but strong and gener
ous, which had less of art, and perhaps more of heart.
This obscure, voiceless world survives in Hercules.
Three or four alluvions of ancient races, in some way
superposed, exist together in this young god, who ap
peared very late in mythology. The Pelasgians had not
all gone, nor the glorious Achaeans, who conquered Troy.
The subjugated masses who cultivated Thessaly, who per
formed the labors under the name of Hercules, were cer
tainly extant, and probably contributed to form the great
legend. Hercules, in his statues, has the traits of the Athletes,
the striking disproportion between the chest, enormously
large, and the head, very small. The same inequality
appears in his moral nature. He partakes qualities in com
mon both with god and the beasts. When the inhuman
judgment of Jupiter declared to him that he, the strongest

142 Bible of Humanity.
of the strong, must become the slave of the coward, he
fell into a terrible frenzy, and went mad with grief. He
no longer recognized his children, but imagined them to
be monsters, and killed them. Yet he was the mildest
among men, and the most submissive to the gods. Without
a domestic hearth, without family, he began, from the
moment of his recovery, the great solitary, arduous, and
prolonged labors which were to save mankind.
The first of these labors was peace, which he, by his
own arm and prowess, established all over Greece. He
strangled the monsters, the hydras and lions of the old
world. The new tyrants, the brigands, felt the weight of
his club. The dangerous forests, the gloomy defiles,
became safe ; even the untamed rivers were vanquished,
confined, and compelled to flow in their channels. They
became highways. Greeks now freely communicated
together, and assembled at Olympia, where Hercules
had established before the altar of Jupiter the contests of
peace, superseding the old bloody conflicts. He himself
taught the exercises which made others resemble him,
which created calm heroism, which built up the inde
structible man, and made him firm like iron in the service
of Justice. No violent competition, no animosity, was
permitted. The olive was the only crown which he gave
to the conquerors in those games.
Greece was too small. Hercules set out for a larger
field of achievement. He wished to extend the peace which
he had established, to institute everywhere the new rite.
The ancient custom on every shore was to immolate the
foreigner. At Tauris, a virgin cut his throat at the altars.
In Thrace a barbarous King threw men to furious horses,
glutted them with human flesh. In the north, the cruel
Amazons made light of the blood of males. The same
ferocity in Africa, where Busiris gave to the shipwrecked
the hospitality of death. At the extremity of the world,
in Iberia, Geryon devoured men. These were the adver
saries of Hercules, who searched for them beyond the

Greece.

H3

seas, found them, captured them, and dealt with them as
they had dealt with their guests. The law of hospitality
was established from Caucasus to the Pyrenees.*
Hercules boldly entered the adytum or sacellum of the
mysteries which made the strength ofthe barbarians. He
faced the gloomy sea of the north, sanctuary of storms,
which no one dared to enter — the turbulent, inhospitable
Black Sea. He called it Euxine (hospitable). The queen
of the frightful shore, the Amazon Diana of Birmo, was
subjugated, like the sea itself. He forcibly carried off her
belt, and hence her ferocious pride. Before him nature
everywhere lost her virgin savageness. At Gades he
broke the old barrier ; with a shove of his shoulder he
* Jacob Bryant, in his Analysis of Ancient Mytliology, proposes a more
intelligent explanation of this custom. The practice of offering human sacri
fices, common alike to Greece, Rome, Asia, Africa, and Europe, was denoted
by these customs. In Hebrew story, Abraham was commanded to sacrifice
his " only son ; " the book of Leviticus provided for such cases, and Jephtha
is said to have actually immolated his daughter. Erectheus, at Athens, Marius,
the Roman consul, and the Carthaginians, when Agathocles besieged them,
sacrificed their children to propitiate divine power. The worship of the
goddess Hippa, the antitype of Cybele, Astarte, Iris, and Demeter, was
thus characterized. Hence Diana at Tauris, the same as Brimo, was so
worshipped ; the Black Sea was called Axenus, for this cruelty to strangers,
who were put to death in preference to citizens ; Diomedes, the Thessalian,
cast strangers to his horses, or rather gave them to the hippai, or priests of
Hippa, for sacrifice ; the Amazons, who worshiped Mars and Diana, and insti
tuted the rites of Ceres in Thebes and Attica, were Oiorpata, or immolators
of human beings ; a man was annually torn in pieces and his flesh tasted at
the orgies of Bacchus, till an animal was substituted ; and in Crete, Sicily, and
elsewhere, the priests were disciplined in boxing and other athletic exercises,
that they might overcome strangers and visitors, and have a pretext for im
molating them. The stories of Polyphemus, Busiris, Antseus, Eryx, Cycnus,
Andromeda, Lycaon, Echetus, Geryon, the Sirens, and Lsestrygones, and
doubtless all cannibalism, were examples of this practice. Indeed Hislop, in
his Two Babylons, derives the term "cannibal" from cahen, a priest of Baal,
the sun-god of the Hamitic nations, who was worshipped by such offerings.
It was believed that the gods hungered for blood, and could not communicate
with man till it had been tasted or inhaled by them. It is still a custom in
Africa, and certain islands of the Pacific, to immolate all strangers and
criminals ; and the practice of capital pmiishment, which is still preserved, is
a relic of the old pagan rite. — Ed.

144 Bible of Humanity.
parted two worlds, opened the strait. By him the small
Mediterranean became the woman ofthe great ocean, and
turning its back to Greece looked towards the distant
Atlantis.* Its azure, salt wave, emancipated, bounded
in this immensity which the heaven of Homer had not
seen. Olympus was surpassed. What will become of
the gods ?
This rash one did not stop. The gloomy infinity of the
Celtic forest did not affright him. He entered into its
depths. He penetrated the glaciers of the Alps, the eter
nal desolation. He laughed at the black firs, he laughed
at the avalanche. Through this place of terror he made,
without difficulty, a highway, the great thoroughfare of
mankind. Henceforward all, even the feeblest, the poor,
women, old men, bowed over their sticks, follow without
fear the high road of Hercules.
He had accomplished mighty achievements. He left
behind him enduring monuments. He thought it time
to be seated and to rest himself at the base of ^Etna,
at the foot of the great altar which smokes eternally.
He breathed, he peacefully contemplated the blessed,
sacred fields, always adorned with the flowers which Pros
erpina gathered, and he thanked the goddesses. His
heart vibrated with joy. In his heroic simplicity, always .
* An accomplished writer, not a professional geologist, suggested to the
editor, in a private letter, that perhaps at a former era a salt sea extended
through Middle Asia, dividing Scythia and the Turanian or Tartar races from
those of the South and West. This would, if true, account for the exist
ence of salt lakes and deserts in that region, as well as for the fact that the
Tartar races are not known in the Hebrew and other old records. If the
Mediterranean, by some convulsion, forced its outlet to the Atlantic, thus
draining away that region and reducing a continuous body of salt water to
lakes and barren deserts, the hypothesis would be a probable fact. The Dead
Sea was a part of the Red Sea, ages before Abraham, Nimrod, or King Menes;
and Lower Egypt was a part of the Mediterranean. Hercules was actually a
Libyan and Phoenician, rather than an Aryan or Grecian divinity. His name
was the Sanskrit synonyme of Melkarth, and he held no place among the di
vinities of Olympus. The Grecian Herakles was probably another divinity, and
probably was the appropriate deity to innovate upon the order of things.— Ed.

Greece. 145
free from pride, he pronounced this sentence: "It ap
pears to me that I have become a god." *
The gods had waited up to this moment. Nemesis
heard him.f This savage goddess and her ominous genius,
Ate, fly incessantly over the whole earth and gather the
imprudent words of prosperity. The. cry of boldness or
of audacity which unluckily mounts to our lips gives to the
jealous ones on high a pretext to punish us. They allot
to men, but with niggardly reserves.^: They give little
and withhold much. They release certain favors while they
limit, refuse the surplus, the too-much, the excess. This
too-much is the glory, the genius, the greatness of man —
that by which he can become a god, and it is that which
the gods withhold. Daedalus, Icarus, and Bellerophon
were punished for having taken wings. In Homer, the
too bold, too happy ships were changed into rocks by
Neptune. Was not the good and pious ^Esculapius struck
by lightning for having saved man's life ?
Hercules was still more culpable ! He had forced Terra
Mater, the charming and venerable mother of men and
gods. It is in vain that he says he did it out of love ; that
by piercing its mountains and draining its marshes, by
rooting out the black tufts of its humid forests, he eman
cipated Ceres. The earth remains disturbed on account
of it. If formerly, according to the fable, Ceres wept by
reason of the assaults of Neptune, how much deeper her
indignation against Hercules, who is only mortal ? But
is he only mortal ? Is this bold one, with his superhuman
labors, mortal ? This is what it is essential to know.
Between the old outraged deities of earth and the jeal
ousies of the young Olympians a strange covenant is
* These sublime things, although only found in Diodorus and other writers,
comparatively modern, are certainly ancient traditions, or rather adaptations
of the older Phoenician legends of their Fire-god and tutelar deity.
f Nemesis, or Moira, signifies distribution, division.
% There is nothing more instructive on this subject than the treatise of Mr.
Tournier : Nemesis and the Jealousy of the Gods. 1863.
IO

146 Bible of Humanity.
made. The last-born, Bacchus, an illegitimate brother
of Hercules, undertakes his ruin. What says Jupiter ? He
allowed him to act — to test his son ? or, was it from ill-will
against humanity, too bold ? He yielded to his favorite
Bacchus ; he yielded to the gods. Hercules must die. He
must be convinced that he is mortal.
The effeminate Bacchus, who passed his life in long
robes, in the half-sleep of an indolent woman, dared not
face Hercules. He went to find the Centaurs. This odd
race, of indomitable fury and strength, had sprung from
a strange mother, the Cloud, inconstant deity, sometimes
like smoke or fugitive fog, sometimes pregnant with
lightnings, filled with thunder-bolts, of an elasticity more
terrible than the thunder-bolt itself, and of such formidable
expansion as to hurl mountains to the sky. The sons of
the Cloud, the Centaurs — unbridled horses in their lower
parts, hasty, of furious rut — are men of folly, of caprice, in
flammable as their mother. Moreover, through her magic,
they had something of the coarse phantoms of the middle
ages, monstrous apparitions, fantastic terrors, bad dreams,
frightful nightmares, which frenzy and make mad.
A people so, much the more dangerous because they were
very diverse, of contradictory spirits. Cheiron was a wise
one ; another, Pholus, a good Centaur, was the host of Her
cules and his friend. It was Pholus, simple and credulous,
that Bacchus deluded. He brought to him a terrible drink
(the brandy of the savage ?), and told him not to open the
cask until the day that he entertained Hercules at his
house. Scarcely had the cask been pierced before the
vapor spread itself. All the Centaurs were delirious.
Pride ? Hatred ? or Envy ? Vain and light folly ? What
ever may have been their thoughts, they flew into a pas
sion, they assaulted the peaceful Hercules. The rocks fled,
the forests were uprooted and flourished in the air, the
oaks of a thousand years were brandished. Horrible hail
storm ! The firm hero, with his calm, stout heart, was
not dismayed. He responded with advantage, and hurled

Greece. 147
back at them their oaks and rocks, but with an arm much
more sure. The earth was strewn with the bodies of those
monsters. At evening all was over. No one has since
seen the Centaurs. Not having been able to ensnare him,
to assassinate him, the gods sentenced him. He must
undergo everything. Jupiter decreed, Eurystheus an
nounced it. He must die in obedience. The tyrant an
nounced to him the fantastical wish that he should go to
the underworld, and bring back to him the three-headed
dog. Bitter derision towards a mortal, who could only
obey by entering the world of death, with the hopeless
ness of being able to do no more, not even obey.
How bitter is death! But especially for the strong,
for those who feel in themselves all the energies of life !
Death is deliverance to the feeble and the sick. Her
cules, the most alive of the living ! for him it must be an
enormous effort to submit to die. We see that in his
heart he would say : " Suffer this cup to pass from me ! "
but he does not. He goes in search of Ceres, the be
nign and forgetful ; and having been initiated into her
mysteries, he humbly prays her to strengthen him.
He visited again the places ofhis youth, ofhis first ex
ploits, in that Thessaly where he had created Tempe.
The king Admetus, though he was overwhelmed with
sorrow, received him as a guest, and bid him welcome.
Hercules learned that the Queen Alkestis, in order to
save her dying husband, and to preserve to her son a
father more useful than herself, had embraced death, and
bravely descended into the gloomy kingdom of Pluto.
Hercules was moved. This great deserted palace, the
husband in despair, the son drowned in tears, a whole
people around a grave, all this pierced his great soul. He
no longer thought of death. He would go to Hell, the
world ofthe dead, face Pluto, vanquish death, bring back
to the husband the adored spouse. Admirable folly of
compassion ! But the strongest are the most tender
hearted !

148 Bible of Humanity.
In all this legend little has been said of Minerva. But
luckily she followed him. It was not in vain that at his
birth she received him from the womb of his mother.
Minerva, at the solemn, decisive moment, reappeared. I
am now reassured. Behind the sublime folly- 1 see the
eternal wisdom.
He went to Tsenarus, he descended into Hell. Hell was
afraid of Hercules. Cerberus came to lick his feet.
Pluto was amazed ; but Proserpina took the part of the
bold hero. Pluto consented. He let him go, — let him
triumph over death ! Hercules did not ascend from Hell
alone. A veiled woman accompanied him. She also
entered her home, the house of Admetus. He did not
suspect her identity, but rejected her. But immediately
the veil was removed ! Enough ! let us not describe this
unique scene, which no one can read without weeping.
What is hell, the underworld, henceforth ? A trifle.
We laugh at it. The Furies have been frightened. Cha
ron has obeyed ; a living person has passed and repassed
on his boat. Cerberus, in a cowardly manner, his tail
between his legs, crest-fallen, followed the conqueror,
but, at the sight of light, disappeared. The brother of
Jupiter, the King of the ghost-world, and of Tartarus it
self, has been outraged with impunity, and appears, in
these days, to have withdrawn into the profound abyss,
the doubtful fog of the great deep. Great, terrible blow to
the gods, who will surely avenge themselves. This last
victory brought inevitable misfortune to Hercules.
Strange destiny ! His only impiety was that he was
worthier than Olympus. His gentleness of soul, his mag
nanimity, had led him to avenge the outrage which had
been received by the wife of Eurystheus, that unrelenting
persecutor, that cruel tyrant over him. The gods of
Homer were disparaged, humiliated, by this contrast.
Such excessive virtue had been never heard of among
them. The maxim, "Render good for evil," which was en-

Greece. 149
joined on the old monastic East, is perhaps too easy
to the feeble. But that Hercules, the strongest of the
strong, should exhibit this extraordinary goodness, is
novel and marvellous. It is the very heaven ofthe Greek
genius. The heaven of the heart destroys the heaven of
the imagination.
Hell, the underworld, Olympus, all the gods have
sunk in this contrast: one thing remains, the greatness
of man.
Well, if thou art a man, it is by that that thou wilt be
assailed. Thy courage is invulnerable, but not thy love,
not thy friendship. At first Hercules lost his brother,
whom he loved. He lost the companion of his labors,
the courageous friend who followed him everywhere, who
bore his arms. Henceforth he must go alone, and fight
alone over the earth.
The strong are very sensitive to pain, and allow them
selves to be afraid of it. Hercules had once been deliri
ous ; and, after his descent into hell, when he had been in
the very presence of Death, his head was disturbed. His
heart, full of grief and trouble, invoked relief from the
dangerous physician, Love, who scoffs at our ills. He
yielded to Love, and followed meekly as a bull blindly
goes to meet the deadly blows. He loved Dejanira, the
dangerous and the jealous. He loved Iole, and found
nothing to come from such a love but outrage. The
brother of Iole repelled the bastard, the serf of Eurystheus ;
he irritated Hercules, who killed him. Frightful misfor
tune ! He was inconsolable. He pined away, he drooped,
and, sick, he went to consult Apollo. This was the se
vere oracle : " Pay them the price of blood ! "
" But I have nothing in the world ! "
"Thou hast thy body. Sell thyself as a slave in
Asia." Hercules obeyed. In this indolent Asia Minor, in this
effeminate Lydia, where man is a woman, he had not a
master but a mistress, a woman, the QueenOmphale. Was

150 Bible of Humanity.
not this enough ? No. The fable adds that, by a double ser
vitude, his soul was also enslaved, wretched by loving the
cruel woman, who amused herself with him. She exhibited
the deplorable spectacle of Hercules disguised, Hercules
in the garb of a woman ; most terrible burlesque ! Men
were horrified at the sight, but she laughed pitilessly, and
exacted, in order to complete the humiliation, that her
slave should work cheerfully, that he should spin, and ex
hibit himself to all less as the captive of an overmastering
fate, than of a dastardly love, and of a feeble heart.
So men and women laughed, and Olympus sang. Her
cules was delivered, only to suffer still greater calamity.
He returned to Greece, and rejoined Dejanira. After such
misfortunes, the humiliated heart willingly hides itself in
love and solitude. He took her into the desert. But, on
the road they met with a strange adventure. A river debar
red the way. A young Centaur, the only one who had
escaped destruction, offered himself to carry Dejanira over
the stream. Did he wish vengeance ? or was he, accord
ing to the blind instincts of his race, mad for Dejanira ?
It is not known. Having landed her on the bank, Her
cules still being on the opposite shore, he proceeded to
satiate himself with her. Hercules had his terrible arrows,
poisoned with the Hydra of Lerna, and yet he hesitated,
fearing to wound Dejanira. At last he let speed the arrow,
pierced the monster, who, in the double crisis of pleasure
and of death, pouring out his life, love, rage, mixed with
infernal poison, violently tore off his soiled tunic, and said
to Dejanira, " Take this. It is the soul of Nessus. In it
is love and the eternal desire."
This caused the death of Hercules. He soon after put
on this murderous tunic, having received it from his too
artless spouse, who expected to be loved the more. The
horrible poison burned in him. In despair, he refused to
wait for death. He anticipated it. He enfranchised him
self, and threw aside his tormented body in which he had
done so much, suffered, undergone the humiliating miseries

Greece. 151
of our nature. He made, with trees heaped up on Mount
CEta, a colossal funeral pile, and desired his last friend to
apply the torch.
He was enveloped by the flame and ascended. It is
said that he ascended to heaven. But what heaven ?
Was it Olympus ? His very career had killed the Olym
pians. What is added, and what is certain is that Hercules
espoused Hebe, the goddess of eternal Youth, in other
words, he lived and remained young. Two or three thou
sand years are of no consequence. Other mythologies
have been introduced. Other saviors have varied the
great, eternal theme of the Passion. The incarnated
{avataras) of India had for their Passion to go through
human life and to experience its miseries. Those of
Egypt, of Syria, and Phrygia, the Osirises and Adonises,
the Bacchuses, the Atyses, the mutilated gods were torn
to pieces, suffered, and endured. But their passive Pas
sion, far from giving us strength, has been discouraging,
and their legends have created sterile inertia. It is in
the active Passion, the Herculean, that there is the exalted
harmony of man, the equipoise, the strength which makes
him fruitful here below.
Persia had this intuition, but vague, quite elementary.
The Grecian Hercules was exact, strongly marked, and
of such a positive personality that we can portray him
much better than the historical heroes. His compact
solidity placed him apart from all the gods, and it is he
who, by contrast, makes us feel their transparency. As
to the restless Bacchus, who disputed the ground with
Hercules, he is lost in the troubled vapors of night, of or
gies, the reeky exhalations ofthe East.
The shadow of Hercules, the remains of Hercules, his
remembrance, his Olympian lessons, these accomplished
the great and substantial realities — Platea, Marathon, Sala
mis. But that which made him survive in Greece, and consti-

152 Bible of Humanity.
tuted him the spouse of the goddess of eternal Youth, the
young and the living, and the hero of future time, was his
humble and sublime part of laborer, the heroic workman.
He. dreaded nothing, he disdained nothing. In estab
lishing the sacredness of peace between man and man, he
civilized the world ; in piercing the mountains, emancipat
ing the rivers, he subjugated, purified, created anew the
earth. He is the strong arm, the great, patient heart, the cour
ageous workman, who prepared the earth for the second
creator, the artistic Prometheus. Prometheus.
^Eschylus alone, among the poets, had the good for
tune to be at once the singer and the hero, to have the
deeds and the writings, the grandeur of a complete man.
His tragedies fifty times won the crown.* He, like
Homer, had rhapsodists who sang his verses on the roads.
He never died; he was always sustained in the theatres,
which played only the pieces of the living. He remained
in a statue of bronze in the square of Athens, as a censor,
a pontiff, and a prophet, to watch the people, and to con
stantly warn them. Aristophanes, the great scoffer at the
gods, respected only ^Eschylus. He had seen him in the
underworld seated upon a throne of brass.
In the noble epitaph which ^Eschylus made for himself,
he remembered only that he fought at Marathon. He for
got his hundred tragedies. There never was a more vali
ant family than his. He was wounded at Marathon, and
was the brother of the most glorious soldiers of Salamis.
One of these was Ameinias, the bold pilot who first struck
the fleet of Xerxes, and won the prize of valor at Salamis. f
The other was the stubborn Cynsegirus, who allowed him
self to be cut to pieces as he held the vessel with his
* It is said that jEschylus won but thirteen dramatic contests. — Ed.
f Herodotus : viii., 84, 93.

Greece. 153
hands, which were severed, one after the other, and then
he still kept hold by his teeth. The sons, the nephews, the
kinsmen of ^Eschylus would have done as much, if they
had had like opportunities ; they made up, however, by a
torrent of tragedies, good or bad, composing and writing
with the furor ofthe great old man. One ofhis sons had
the peculiar good fortune to win the prize over Sophocles,
over his masterpiece, the King Qidipus.
The magistrates of Athens carefully preserved a com
plete copy ofthe works of ^Eschylus, lest some rash actor
should change any of his sacred words. Nevertheless, in
spite of this vigilance, only seven dramas remain to us, of
which there is but one complete trilogy, the Oresteia. Of
the three parts of the Prometheus, only one survives.
Enormous and colossal remains ! As the traveller, who,
finding in the sands of Egypt the foot of a Sphinx, or its
granite finger, attempts to calculate what must have been
its prodigious size, we in like manner, viewing these re
mains, seek to conceive the dimensions of this colossal
^Eschylus. Aristophanes admirably says that the verses of ^Eschy
lus are strong " as the closely-fitted planks of a vessel,"
as the indestructible frames of those conquering ships,
which dashed to pieces the fleet of Asia. He placed him
above Sophocles, far, very far from the feebler Euripides.
But his true place is between Isaiah and Michael Angelo.
In the sombre Prometheus there is more than simple
art ; there is the true essence of grief ; nothing which
softens or consoles as in Sophocles. The tragic utterances
of the heroes of the past seem dreadful warnings, mournful
forebodings on the present. Above all ^Eschylus reminds
us of Michael Angelo. The Italian prophet, in the midst
of the splendors and ofthe conquests of Julius II., painted
terror on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel, while the pro
phet ^Eschylus appears to have been filled with grief in
the midst of the prosperity of Athens.
Both had seen beforehand the terrible trials, the cruel

154 Bible of Humanity.
blows of destiny, and at the end, the judgment, the high
victory of justice. This was the greatness of ^Eschylus
which Aristophanes could not appreciate. Against the
despotic arbitrariness of the mythology of his time, and of
all other mythologies, he invoked, contained, brought forth
the principle of justice. His Prometheus proclaiming
the overthrow of Jupiter, also foretold the death and im-
potency of every myth of the future, not established on
the inflexible right. His Caucasus was the rock on which
the Stoic was soon to fix the Organon of Impartial Jus
tice, against the tyranny of gods in heaven, and of kings
and priests on earth.
The future unknown, veiled. The severity of the pro
phet, his grief, fills with astonishment. -iEschylus, in his
fortieth year, began the series ofhis threatening tragedies,
in the smiling moment in which the triumphant city was
pursuing, and crowning her victory, and appeared the
Queen of Greece. She was brilliant, she was fruitful. In
every sense she was radiant. She was young, and in her
twentieth year in her two admirable geniuses, two adoles
cents, who just then began to give indications of their
wonderful faculties, the beautiful Sophocles, the powerful
Pheidias. The latter, first a painter, by the test-stroke of
his chisel, sculptured the soul of Athens in his Minerva
Polias, haughty, sovereign, and colossal, who, with her
dazzling helmet, ruled at the Acropolis and in the temples,
and overlooked the distant sea and islands.
Moment of immense expectation ! Between Themis-
tocles and Aristides, between the generous Cimon and
thr sagacious Pericles, the struggle appeared equal, and
their contests even seemed to constitute the harmony of
liberty. ^Eschylus saw nothing of this. His soul dwelt in the
preceding century, in the disasters and dangers. He, like
Herodotus, had the presentiment of the Nemesis that
hovers over our heads, and takes revenge on our prosper
ity. The prodigious Babylon has indeed fallen. Massive

Greece. 155
Egypt, so strongly seated, is also prostrate. The good
Croesus, the cunning Polycrates, and delightful Ionia, all
have perished ! Athens remained the dike which arrested
the torrent of barbarians. But how many and rapid the
changes in Athens herself! ^Eschylus, when an infant,
saw the Peisistratidae, and the vindication of liberty, the
valiant act of Harmodius. Grown up, he won the great
glory of his wound at Marathon. Greece for the moment
found herself carried to heaven by the great wave of Sala
mis. She descended again, and a new age began. That
of heroism had gone forever. That of harmony now
began — the reign of the arts, of the beautiful. An im
mense radiancy of inventive genius and of fruitful intelli
gence, a world of grace and light was ushered in to
astound all coming times. In a single century was pre
pared the work of two thousand years ! Is it thus that
men live ? How is it that we do not foresee the coming
days of exhaustion ? What a beautiful play will Nemesis
have in return, when she brings hither her barbarians, not
this time from Asia but from Macedonia, in the gloomy
day of Cheronea !
Certainly the bow of steel had slackened, and the lyre,
enriched with new strings, took not its harmony except
from abandoning the rough and strong tone which it had
in the time of the heroes. Sophocles tells us that Her
cules, civilized, abandoned the club ; that he studied and
taught the choir of the stars, and conducted their concerts.*
The second Minerva, less colossal, no longer extended her
threatening look over the seas. Pheidias, this time made
her meditative, of a deep and penetrating mind, closely
resembling the effigies of Themistocles, " of him who
alone saw and foresaw" says Thucydides.
At what is she looking ? We do not know. But she is
certainly looking at something immense, infinite, and sub-

* In other words, the Phoenician Hercules, the sun-god, had taken the
place of the Grecian hero. — Ed.

156 Bible of Humanity.
lime. More than Athens herself. It is rather the long
career of centuries which Athens will illuminate. She con
templates the eternity of art.
Who marvels that Greece, in her wonderful beauty,
admired, adored herself ? wished for immortality ? Ob
serve that before all statuary, the living statue existed ;
that the powerful gymnical and harmonical creation
had made out of the real the most perfect ideal ever
dreamed of. Art at first copied ; it began with portraits.*
It did not amuse itself by sculpturing gods at hazard. It
made the likeness of those it saw. Beauty appeared di
vine in itself, and more divine as a revelation of the soul.
Pheidias became a sculptor by witnessing, on the Olym
pian course, a beautiful boy, coming off conqueror in a
race. Another youth of sweet beauty, at fifteen years of
age, led the chorus of thanksgiving to the gods, after
Marathon ; he was applauded by the Athenians . . . his
soul burst forth. ... It was Sophocles.
All this is grand and pure, very noble, and yet lively
and fruitful. The gods humanized, or, rather, made di
vine by the soul imparted to them by Pheidias, left the
adyta of the temples, and seated themselves under the
porticoes, and even in the public squares. So the cities
had two classes of inhabitants side by side and living to
gether, men and gods. The strange idea of Winckelman
that all was motionless, beautiful without but destitute of
expression, is daily more and more completely contra-
dicted.f These marbles everywhere palpitate with life.
* In 558 B.C. the custom was introduced of erecting statues to the con
querors at the Olympian games. This is an important observation of M. de
Ronchaud in his beautiful book on Pheidias, page 59. From that moment
sculpture began to soar.
\ Compare the brilliant genius of the Renaissance. Jean Goujon, where
he is sublime, as in a river, a nymph (Cluny Museum) has made fluid bodies,
of a fantastic undulation, through which life runs, and which plunge us in a
profound revery. . . . Death and life, what are you ? The longer I remain
here absorbed in looking at this, the less I know about it. The Greek, on
the other hand, gives a conscious, strong, and eager feeling of life ! The

Greece. 157
Before Euripides, and already in Sophocles, it was ap
parent that, far from being cold, this art was endangered
by its tenderness. I admire Sophocles, but not without
revolt, when he dwells too long and sadly on physical
evils, like the wound of Philoctetes ; when he unnerves Her
cules, and exhibits as feeble the strongest of- the strong.
Leave to me the entire beneficent legend, for I shall soon
need it. Consider that Zeno will soon oppose the philos
ophy of Hercules to the glory of Alexander the Great.
His CEdipus of Colonus is also very exciting. The sub
ject is " the necessity of death," the remedy of errors, and
the recovery of life, the sweet expiation which awaits the
victim of fatality in the long-wished-for sleep under the
generous shelter of Athens, the profound security in the
woods ofthe Eumenides. The two adorable girls carried
away, brought back, produce the highest emotion. . . .
See ! all the great people weep.
I understand very well that the hero, ^Eschylus, who
saw the beginning of that age of emotions, those affecting
marvels, and other of refinement, of sublime analysis, was
alarmed. What did he think when that wonderful rea
soner, Zeno of Elea, who first formulated logic, went to
Athens ? With remarkable skill, Zeno, overwhelming the
haughty sophists of Ionia, proved to the Athenians, in
that centre of activity, that motion did not exist. Peri
cles and all listened. They were passionately fond of
such tests of skill.
The centre for thinkers was soon transferred to the resi
dence of a young lady, one of those Ionian women, whom
the overthrow of Miletus sent to Athens. These Milesian
women, all charming, exciting attention because of their
painful shipwreck and the sale and enslavement of many,
became the more the queens. The voluptuous Thargelia,
the delicate and impressive Aspasia had a court, and what
fainting women, who, from the fronton of the temple, are gazing to see if the
child delivered to the Minotaur is coming and do not see him, are striking and
tragical in the highest degree.

158 . Bible of Humanity.
courtiers ! The undulatory genius of Ionia, with its fleet
ing grace, which made Olympus and its metamorphosis of
old, was Aspasia herself. Pheidias, and his young school,
at her court, got the inspiration of that exalted irony
which mocked and arraigned the gods. Pericles, the re
flecting and cautious orator, learned from her the art of
mimicry and the imposing comedy, which fascinated the
people. The sophists studied her insidious words, the
art of entangling, unravelling, and remixing the fine-spun
threads of women, which even the keenest could not dis
cover. Protagoras learned from her to doubt everything,
and Socrates, later, to doubt doubt.
Strange refinement, and how rapid ! How many cen
turies in twenty or twenty-five years ! Yesterday, it was
the coarseness of Marathon ; to-day, all is elegant, refined,
subtle. Where is the robust spirit which made Greece
victorious ? I see lodging with Pericles his teacher, an
obscure man renowned for volatilizing the gods. This
Anaxagoras, the Ionian, was surnamed " the NOUS," or
spirit, because he believed there was no other god. Sub
lime and pure idea which, centralizing the deity,* but
drowning the energies ofthe nation in aether, caused Pal
las and Hercules to disappear, and conducted all Athens
straight to monarchical tranquillity.
Unity in heaven, unity on earth, was the dream which
brooded in secret. Many would have a monarch to
represent Jupiter, not with the "Spirit" of Anax
agoras, but by their favorite Bacchus-Dionysus, a god
wholly eastern, who wore the tiara, f and the effeminate
dress of the women of Asia. He had taken the thyrsus,
and the ivy of the god of vintage, the ancient, rural
Bacchus. He drew after him women and slaves, a
troop of orgiasts. The Athenian slaves, who were sub-

* Anaxagoras styled the Divine Being " Nous autokrates," — the Mind or
Spirit that by itself rules all. — Ed.
f Sophocles.

Greece. i$g
stantially free, bold, like our Frontins and our Lisettes,
admitted to the spectacles, to the Mysteries, had their god,
their tyrant, their Savior, in Dionysus. By his affiliation,
he was worshipped at Eleusis. He had occupied Delphi,
dug for himself a subterranean tomb under the temple,
from which he was resuscitated. He compelled Apollo to
play in his comedy. Nor was this all. He aimed to eclipse
all the little gods of Greece and to be the leader in great
things, as in the conquest of Asia and of India. When was
this to occur ? and in whom was this great god to make
his appearance ? To each tyrant the people exclaimed :
"It is he!"
By a strange coincidence, Gelon, the glorious ruler of
Syracuse, on the same day in which was achieved the
victory of Salamis, had subdued Carthage, and imposed
on her the law that she should no longer offer human sac
rifices. He felt so secure that, on his return, he laid aside
his sword, and went about without guards. He was
chosen tyrant a second time, and hence for life. The
tyrants were revered like gods, chiefs of liberty, the lib
erty of brutishness. They appropriated the name of the
celestial ruler Dionysus, or the name which pleased the
vain hope, Savior (Soter) ; or were called Demetrios, the
name from Demeter. These Saviors were terrible ; they
crushed the idiots who expected liberty from the ruler.
Gloomy future, which at the time of ^Eschylus was
scarcely distinguishable. The orgies of Bacchus had but
recently been instituted at Sparta.* The Spartan Pausa-
nias, the vanquisher of Platea, thought he could make him-
the Gelon, the Bacchus Savior of Greece. The enlightened
Athenians laughed at this. Those dark-laid schemes
seemed impossible. The old men, however, who ob
served Pericles, were of opinion that they could trace in
him the features of Pisistratus.
But let us return to art. Under the dominion of Bac-
* Aristotle.

160 Bible of Humanity.
chus, in the constant fermentation of the mind, the theatre
became the controlling demand of Athens. It became
radiant, and abandonded all its elementary forms. All
gradually changed, the stage, the plays, and the actors.
Up to this time the stage had been built in frame-work,
and temporarily for the hours of the festivals ; it was ex
temporized for improvisation. The poet would not entrust
any one with the oversight, the effort, the danger of- the
performance. He represented himself the part of the
hero. Tragedy required an act of courage, of devotion,
in which all the energies of the man are staked. He rushed
fearlessly on the trembling boards, from beneath which
proceeded threatening echoes. With all the energies of
his physical being, his soul, and his voice, he defied the
caprices and the ridicule of the audience. Was the face
masked, and thus sheltered from outrage? Not always, for
Sophocles, because of his extreme beauty, played the
part ofthe beautiful Nausicaa in one ofhis own pieces.
But this was a severe trial to Sophocles, and the people,
who were passionately fond of him, spared their favorite
this painful task, and assigned him other and more con
genial characters, that of a priest, for example. They
thought that he was "so beloved of the gods " that they
attributed to him a miracle. One day, during a storm, a
hymn of Sophocles was sung. In an instant it became
calm. Neptune and the sea listened.
He felt that he was beloved. In his twentieth year he
competed for the tragedy. He produced a graceful pas
toral, Triptolemus, doubtless to the praise of Eleusis and
of the new Mysteries. It contained this line from Pindar:
"This is true happiness: to see them, and then die!"
These words excited, delighted, and carried away all that
were initiated. The admiration, the furor for the young
poet went so far that they sacrificed to him one of the
grand tragedies of ^Eschylus. The old partisans of
^Eschylus, heroic and patriotic, struggled in vain. There
was a general misunderstanding. The matter was referred

Greece. 161
to the generals, to the glorious Cimon, who, having re
turned from a new victory, brought back the ashes of
Theseus, a most acceptable gift to the Athenians. The
son of Miltiades could not be hostile to the old soldier of
Marathon. But the valiant Cimon could not be brave
before the people ; he recognized their wishes and turned
his back on ^Eschylus.
^Eschylus, henceforth, had everything against him, his
age, his long successes, and the progress of art, which
pursues its own path, independently even of genius. The
art required more of the tragic and less of the lyric — a
more complicated plot, which seizes the heart, keeps it
uneasy, in suspense. This was the peculiarity of Sophocles.
^Eschylus did not decline it. He followed it in the Oresteia.
This is the grandest production of the Greek theatre, or,
rather, of any theatre. Shakespeare, with all his resources
and varied effects, his magical and profound complications,
has not surpassed it. So exceedingly simple, it dispenses
with all ingeniousness, and without subtlety, without
twisting, without trickery, it takes a stronger hold of us,
clasps us and captivates us.
The three pieces of Orestes advance in terrific crescendo.
It was customary, during the festivals, to play from morn
ing to night. The three pieces could be represented in
one day ; the Death of Agamemno?i in the morning, that
of Clytemnestra at noon, and the Eumenides in the even
ing. One drama after another, terror after terror, the
audience could not breathe. The firmest trembled. Wo
men swooned, and it is said that many miscarried. At
night there was general consternation. yEschylus alone,
who had acted Orestes, was undismayed.
Agamemnon had taken effect. A cold chill seizes us
when his perfidious wife receives him with tenderness and
wraps him in her veil. The Clytemnestra {Choephores)
from the beginning causes the hair to bristle with terror ;
the shivering of the parricide, even the anticipation of the
remorse. Orestes realizes his destiny. The gods wished
ii

1 62 Bible of Humanity.
him to murder, and then sought to punish him for doing
their will. This is the audacious plot of the Eumenides ,
making plain the inconsistency of the gods. They pur
sued the gods no less than Orestes, overwhelming them
together by their mutual contradictions.
^Eschylus was very bold. He expressed the popular
belief; but it might produce irritability, indignation, when
it was beheld so clearly exposed. This has never been
stated, because it has never been made apparent what
was the moral condition of the mind, the inclination of
the Grecian Olympus at this period of its rapid descent.
With the overthrow of Ionia, Jupiter and Apollo fell
into notorious disrepute. Their oracles were disregarded.
Croesus, who had paid them immense sums, who expected
to conquer the Persians, and became their prisoner, out
raged the god of Delphi by offering him his chains. This
god was surnamed Loxias, the ambiguous, the equivocal.
When he was consulted before Salamis, he evaded an
answer, and was ridiculed. The only god left was Themis-
tocles. ^Eschylus evidently remembered the uncertain
oracle, which occasioned the loss of Lydia, and poor
Ionia, and the unfortunate Miletus so much regretted by
Athens. In the Eumenides he boldly said : " Behold
the temple of Delphi ! . . . How it drips with blood ! "
Apollo outraged, Jupiter outraged (as he had done),
was not his most dangerous act. The mortal danger in
his production was what he made the Eumenides say, and
contemptuously repeat over and over again : " The young
gods." If this sentence injured Phcebus, it fell much
more directly on Bacchus, the last-born of Olympus.*
The terrible goddesses crushed this profaner of their
secrets with all the sacredness of their antiquity.
^Eschylus, who was an Eleusinian, who, according to a
fragment, loved, as a son, the Eleusinian Ceres, knew bet
ter than any one else the significant changes in the Mys
teries, in which Iacchus, who was first introduced as
* Herodotus.

Greece. 163
a child, grew up, became Zagreus dead and revived, and
finally the triumphant Bacchus, who subdued poor Ceres,
and became for good or bad her husband.*
This revolution seems to have occurred between 600 and
500 B.C. f But things rush on. To the Eleusinian Bac
chus, who preserved some decency, was gradually mingled
the ignoble product of the Asiatic Bacchus. (Sabazius
Atys, Adonis, etc.) All this before the year 400 B.C.
The great Bacchus, who tore Orpheus to pieces, the Sav
ior, as he was called, of women and of slaves, god of
liberty (of drunkenness and of frenzy), this great Bacchus
upheld by the masses, was a tyrant in Greece. He in
spired terror everywhere.^
Even at Athens, the city of incredulity and laughtei,
the very compact masses of the initiated, the women and
the slaves were very daring, and especially at the theatres,
where their numbers gave them boldness. Slaves were
admitted. § They dared not speak, but they could mur
mur, roar, and it sounded like thunder. Women attended.
Their regard for this tender Bacchus sometimes made them
furious, and almost assassins. vEschylus came near ex
periencing this. For a word which he said of the Mys
teries in one of his pieces, he would have perished under
their fury had he not embraced the altar which was on
the stage.
We can realize the extreme danger to which he exposed
himself by that terrible and clear expression : " The young
* Yet Clement of Alexandria says that when he was tried on Mars Hill for
having divulged the arcane wisdom, he exculpated himself on the ground that
he had never been initiated. His brother, Ameinias, the hero of Salamis, is
said to have secured him from the rage of the populace. — Ed.
f More properly between 500 and 400 B. C ^Eschylus was born at Eleusis,
525 B.C. — Ed.
t Herodotus, who, as we know, read his history at the Olympian games in
452 B.C. (four years after the death of j^Eschylus), was so fearful of this
tyranny that, whenever he met with Osiris, the Egyptian Bacchus, he declared
that he held his peace and did not dare to speak.
§ Gorgias.

164 Bible of Humanity.
gods." But, in braving the fanatics, was he assured ofthe
support ofthe opposite party, the strong thinkers, the so
phists, those who followed Anaxagoras and his disciple
Pericles, zvho wanted no God but the Spirit ? By no
means. This party of religious liberty was attacked by
^Eschylus on account of their tortuous ways with respect
to political tyranny. He made the Eumenides say : " Re
vere justice, honor the laws. Take care not to give your
selves masters." The entire piece, doubtless, was a trans
parent attack against the intrigues employed by Pericles.
Some one, instructed by Pericles, had instigated the people
to suppress the Areopagus. ^Eschylus interposed the bold
drama, in which he exhibited Minerva instituting, for
the trial of Orestes, that irreproachable tribunal, which
had long made Athens the centre and the temple of law.
The Areopagus was not abolished. The people re
coiled. But so much more certain was the ruin of ^Eschy-
lus. They dogged his steps. Under twenty pretexts he
was persecuted and calumniated. They whispered in the
ear that, although in the denouement of his tragedy, he
dared not kill his victim before the spectators, he did it
behind the scenes ; and that thus in the frenzy of success
he offered human sacrifices for the favor of the gods of
heaven or hell.
Such charges as these ingeniously prepared the way for
the great blow, the accusation of impiety. We know but
little of the details. Did he defend himself? We are ig
norant. It seems that, for his defence, he only exhibited
his wound. The accusers remembered Marathon, his
brother and Salamis, blushed, were silent.
Not being able to strike him they struck the theatre, but
the blow was aimed at ^Eschylus. One morning, it fell.
The old theatre of wood that so often had shaken under
his feet and resounded with the thunder of his voice — fell.
Manifestly the vengeance of the gods. He had tired their
patience. They had imposed silence on his impious fury,
on this Ajax, on this Orestes, on this gigantic blasphemer.

Greece. 165
He had destroyed himself, and also his theatre. Another
edifice was erected, beautiful, of marble, surrounded
with statues. But it did not suit ^Eschylus. It did not,
like the other, vibrate and breathe, impregnated with the
ancient spirit. The images of the gods, marvels of art,
divided the attention, the regard. The most prominent of
the statues was the pensive, sleepy, and voluptuous young
god Bacchus, a masculine Venus, the beloved of Athens.
All this reminded the old hero of the sentence in his
own drama, which the Furies repeated to Orestes: "It
is all over with thee. . . . Thou shalt never more speak."
I think that it was at this time * that, just as he was
leaving these scenes forever, the old Titan erected his own
Caucasus, caused himself to be bound, nailed, and thun
derstruck by Jupiter, in order to hurl at him the great
word of rebellion, the prophecy ofthe future.
Colonus, a little demos, or market-town, not far from
Athens, a place of most tragical interest, is known by
^Eschylus's tragedy of CEdipus, his death, the mystery of
his grave. It had near by the woods of the Eumeni
des and the altar of an outcast, the Titan Prometheus.
While the Sacred Highway to Eleusis was day and night
peopled, noisy, Colonus was deserted. Its old, ill-famed
divinities did not attract the people. Its forbidding wood
land affrighted. The passer-by avoided it and turned his
eyes away.
Prometheus, as is known, was the personal adversary of
Zeus, who denounced him, caused him to be nailed up on
Caucasus. In spite of the gods he had given us fire, and
with it the Arts. The Greeks dared not forget him, and
half-worshipped him. The economical honor of a little
race was paid annually to this benefactor. But few pat
ronized it. Aristophanes complained of it. While people
crowded one another in the equivocal Mysteries, " no one
knew how to bear the torch of Prometheus." This torch,
* This is the very reasonable opinion of Ottfried Muller.

1 66 Bible of Humanity.
kindled at an altar at Athens, had to be carried to the al
tar of Colonus. The rapid, sparkling or smoking fire with
which the wind sported, sad image of our destinies, passed
from hand to hand, but scarcely reached there. The
gloomy altar remained obscure.
Strange forgetfulness ! Culpable ingratitude ! Prome
theus was the primitive emancipator, and all free energy
proceeded from him. Through him, and not Vulcan or
Hephaistos, who was not yet born,* has sprung forth Wis
dom, the elder daughter of Jupiter. The god of the thun
derbolt, among his black clouds, was oppressed by her, felt
her brooding under his brow. The industrious Titan,
with a blow (the most beautiful and sublime that was ever
struck,) pierced his temple. A luminous ether shone,
serene, pure, virginal, the eternal virgin who was the in
spired soul of Athens, still alive, and who will live and
survive all the Jupiters.
This is certainly the most exalted legend of antiquity.
Noble product of genius and of grief! It is the immutable
lesson of man, that of emancipation through effort, the
only efficacious justice. It teaches each one to draw out
of himself his Pallas, his energy, his Art, his true Savior.
It is directly opposed to the gloomy Saviors of the differ
ent faiths, the false liberators. It alone is the Liberator.
This ether of Pallas seems to be the same fire with which
Prometheus kindled the human soul. The Titan took it
from Heaven to place it in us. Till that had been done,
man was as heavy clay, and dragged himself about, herd
ing with his kind, scoffed by the gods. Prometheus put
in him the spark. This was the crime imputed to the
great Titan. "And, behold, he begins to gaze at the
* Prometheus was doubtless an older deity than Zeus, being Pelasgian or
.(Ethiopian, and not Aryan or Ionian. The scholiast to Sophocles declares
him to be " first and older, holding the sceptre, and Hephaistos or Vulcan
new and second." Most likely he pertained to the worship which the Olym
pian gods superseded. Jacob Bryant declares him to have been a god of
Colchis, which would render this account very plausible. — Ed.

Greece. 167
stars, to mark the seasons, to divide time. He combines
letters and fixes memory. He finds the high science, the
numbers. He digs the earth and surveys it, makes cars,
vessels. He understands, he foresees, he pierces the
future." Prometheus opened to man the road to enfran
chisement. He was the anti-tyrant at the time when
Olympus, in its' young Jupiter-Bacchus, was more and
more the tyrant, a type too well repeated by the tyrants
of earth.
I am much mistaken if the Titan ^Eschylus did not
frequently come to ask, as CEdipus, a seat of the Eume
nides of Colonus, if he did not sit down at this deserted
altar of the great forgotten benefactor. At this altar,
and not elsewhere, could the poet learn two things which
the Titan alone could reveal. ^Eschylus knew the name
of Prometheus's mother, knew that he was not the son of
a certain Clymene, as it was absurdly said, but the son of
Justice, of the archaic Themis, who had witnessed the
birth of all the gods. The second thing, altogether divine,
which neither Hesiod nor any one else had suspected, was
the true motive for which Prometheus sacrificed himself.
In Hesiod, the benefit conferred by the Titan was a trick
of malice : he wished to play a trick on Jupiter. In ^Es-
chylus, he had compassion on the miseries of man. He
had compassion. This constituted him divine, this made
him a god above the gods.
Compassion ! Justice ! Two most powerful levers which
gave an incredible force to the old fable. Thirty-thousand
spectators were captivated, bound more tenaciously than
Prometheus on Caucasus, when he uttered the cry, " O
Justice ! O my mother ! Thou seest what they make me
suffer ! "
What heart was not pierced when with a profound voice
he repeated this bitter sentence, " I had compassion !
This is why no one has had compassion on me ! "
If, as it is believed, the tragedy of Prometheus appeared
about the year 460 B.C., vEschylus was then sixty-five years

1 68 Bible of Humanity.
old. I believe, however, that in spite of his age, ^Eschylus
really appeared at this time on the stage. No one would
have dared to perform those very dangerous pieces but the
author. Aristophanes found no one but himself to per
form the piece in which he stigmatized Cleon. iEschylus,
after the Eumenides, in which he braved at once both the
party of Pericles and that of the young gods, could scarcely
find an intrepid actor to play the Titan, the impious, the
solemn enemy of Tyrants, of Tyranny. It is this word
evidently which opens and explains the drama. {Tvpavng.)
Notwithstanding this, it is said that the Prometheus is
obscure. It is too clear. On one side there was bound
and nailed the Son of Law. On the other hand, quite
powerful in heaven, there was the Tyrant, the enemy of
Law, the Lord, the arbitrary one, the favor or Grace. This
one was called Zeus, or Jupiter. But Jupiter, at that time,
was mingled with Bacchus, and soon after lent to him
the thunderbolt and the eagle.*
There was the especial danger. ^Eschylus alone could
act, acted, gave his arms to the chains, his hands to the
nails, and his head to the hammer. Extraordinary spec
tacle, which had all the effect of a personal execution !
Not a word in the first scene, while the cruel slaves of
Jupiter — Force and Strength — compel Vulcan to rivet
him fast. These left him only this decided and audacious
order, " Respect the tyrant." He opened not his mouth.
But when left alone, his heart burst, and from the mask of
brass escaped a terrible sigh.
^Eschylus, in the Seven, and in the Persians, appears
sometimes exaggerated and emphatic, but not at all in
Prometheus. It is nature, it is grief, true explosions of
grief, a feeling at once both general and personal. There
is no distinguishing. It is the Titan, and it is ^Eschylus.
It is man as he was and as he will be. Does humanity
complain, — humble itself? No. From the depths of
* In the statues of Polykleitus.

Greece. 169
grief it raises itself in its strength. We feel that heroism
in man is nature.
To the nymphs of the ocean, who came to weep with
him, he explained his destiny, but with a greatness and
haughtiness which made them shudder. He spoke in the
same way to his feeble friend, the Ocean, who wished to
give him cowardly advice. He indicated forever the
great traits of the Tyrant : " He who rules by HIS own
laws," CISiots) — peculiar, individual, personal, — savage
and not civil — unequal caprices, love for one, death for
another. And he adds this strong sentence: "He has
the right in himself," and he is its proprietor.
But the deepest trait of the caprice which best marks
the Tyrant is the outrage, the cruel debauche, the barbar
ity in love itself. What ^Eschylus himself, when a boy,
saw under the Peisistratidse, and which occasioned their
fall, he portrayed in Jupiter. The unfortunate lo, de
ceived by Jupiter, delivered to the fury of Juno, stung by
the atrocious hornet, goes distracted over the seas, the
precipices, from one region to another. As she ran
along, she accidentally drew near for a moment to the
fatal rock of Caucasus. The two wretched personages,
lo and Prometheus, the eternal motion and captivity, the
eternal immobility, looked for a moment upon each other.
The hapless lo wished to know her destiny. She asked
the enigma of the world, " Who rules destiny ? " — " The
Parcae, the Fates."
Cruel sentence, which however is but a cry of grief
over the disorder of this world. This fatalistic form * re
curs very often in ^Eschylus, like bitter complaints, roar
ings. It is a weapon rather than a dogma. He employed
Destiny, as a yoke of brass to make the Gods bend, to
* Quinet and Louis Menard have well said that the Greek Fatalism had
been infinitely exaggerated. It is absurd to think that the people who, of
all other, made the strongest use of liberty, did not believe in it. The fatal
ism of the Mussulmans, the fatalism of Christianity, made the middle ages
sterile. If Greece was so fruitful, it is because she believed in liberty.

170 Bible of Humanity.
break the caprice of the Homeric Olympus. But look at
the bottom, the true thought and the soul. Living lib
erty is everywhere seen in his dramas. It circulates in
them, and enlivens them with an extraordinary breath.
In the Seven, and in the Persians, it breathes and is the
country, the free genius of Greece. In the Emnenides it
is the right, the judicial debate of Law and Nature. Pro
metheus Bound is, in the highest degree, the freeman —
the liberty, all the more strong that it is the daughter of
Justice. It is not Titanic fury, a vain escalade on heaven,
but just liberty against the unjust heaven of Arbitrariness
(or of Grace).
Prometheus is the true prophet of the Stoic, and of the
Jurisconsult. He is the anti-pagan, the anti-Christian.
He leans on law, he invokes nothing but his works. He
proclaims only Justice, no privilege of race, no predesti
nation, nothing of the archaic primogeniture of Titans
over gods. The deliverance for which he waits will come
to him sooner or later from the hero of Justice, Hercules,
who will set him free and will kill the vulture which gnaws
him. Jupiter then will yield to the Right, will submit to
the return, the triumph of Prometheus.
But all must be expiated. He will not escape alto
gether. A terrible successor will come, a dreadful giant,
armed with an avenging fire, to destroy that of Olympus
and his little thunderbolt. Jupiter, bound in his turn,
will become the sufferer. At the moment in which we
think that Prometheus is on the point of telling the name
of this conqueror of Jupiter, comes Mercury and interro
gates him, but draws from him nothing but scorn. The
thunder mutters. ... In vain. Prometheus, with firm
foot, waits, defies. . . . The thunderbolt falls. We remain
in ignorance of this deep mystery.
The land of Athens, after the play of Prometheus, could
no longer endure ^Eschylus. He voluntarily exiled him
self. The people breathed easier.
A prophet is the honor and the scandal of the world.

Greece. 171
Isaiah was sawn asunder. The unlucky Cassandra, in
whom ^Eschylus appears to have painted himself, victim
both ofthe people and ofthe gods, goes through outrages
to find the deadly knife, under the fatal laurel. People
are implacable toward those who force them to see. They
bear a grudge to them for having spoken, and yet would
compel them to speak more. If they do not explain
themselves, they are impostors. " Die, or explain ! Thou
breakest the public peace. Thou art the enemy of the
commonwealth ! " This is the inward torture of the pro
phetic spirit. From those frightful peaks to which his
flight had borne him, he sees the immensity, the terra in
cognita. But how can it be described ? This troubled
vision, which can neither be illumined nor removed, over
whelms the seer. ^Eschylus, who had taken refuge in
Sicily, survived a short time. Death came to him from
heaven : " an eagle, holding a tortoise, looking for a rock
on which to break it, took for a rock the head of ^Eschy-
lus, his great bald forehead." The eagle was not de
ceived. After ^Eschylus there came no prophet. In his hundred
tragedies, in which he is so antique, and by far the elder
of Homer, he had made, if we may say it, the Greek
Bible, the Old Testament. All the Hellenic world, even
in its remotest colonies, as long as it endured, played
^Eschylus at the festivals, as a religious duty.
To him alone was given to see, beyond the great age of
the Arts and the Sophists, the road of brass from Pericles
to the thirty tyrants. He speaks of it in the Eumenides.
" Beware ! make thyself no master." In the Prometheus,
exalting himself, embracing heaven and earth, he indi
cated the tyrannical ways ofthe " young gods," the orgies
of the god tyrants, who, by apotheoses or by incarna
tion, gave us the tyrant-gods.
Athens was shocked, and averted her eyes. She fell
back on Sophocles. The beautiful and sweet geniuses of
harmony, who delighted this century, took pains not to

172 Bible of Humanity.
imitate the troublesome, the unrelenting ^Eschylus.
Sophocles and Pheidias, far from denouncing the frailty of
the gods, and their sad discordance, accorded to them in
the marble and in the drama, if not a powerful life, at
least the Elysian dignity of great spirits. Sophocles
treats them with gentleness and respect, and vindicates
them. By a happy turn, the disorder of the world was
evaded, veiled. The dreadful Sphinx which ^Eschylus
dared to exhibit, be assured, will be seen no longer.
Sophocles, and his offspring Plato, who will soon appear,
turn away their eyes from it. Does this monster still
exist ? Who could see it ? A sacred forest of laurels,
surrounding it, has become dense with underbrush, trees,
leaves, and flowers !
The fencing of the Sophists, their amusing encounters,
vie with the theatre. Under the porch, and in the gym
nasia, the people encircled them. This people, laughing
and inquisitive, values the Socratic irony more than any
of the games of the athlete. They are proud, refined,
subtile, Who would dare to entertain them with coarse
novelties, which come from Thrace or Phrygia ; with those
little Mysteries, which the women play among themselves
in the evening ; with the orgies of weeping, in which, for
the pleasure of lamenting, they mourn for the murder of
Zagreus, who never existed, for the death of Adonis, lying
on a bed of lettuce, or the wound of Atys, who is neither
man nor woman ? People scarcely deign to speak of it.
So much the more easily did the obscure outflow of the
follies of Asia gain stealthily, and infiltrate itself.
It is asked how Asia acts so slightly on Greece through
her purest genius, Persia, while she acts so strongly
through the lowest, the mad blindness of Phrygia, through
the charlatans of Cybele, through the gloomy and unclean
genius of Syria. Had she become so fallen, so enfeebled ?
Had she in her decline deserved such disgrace ? This
has been said, but wrongfully. Greece had no decay
whatever. She died young, like Achilles. Her strength

Greece. i y^
and her fruitfulness were the same. Plato and Sophocles
had passed away. But the genius of Science opened to
her a new career, not less great, and more firm. Hippo
crates, and Aristotle, those two remarkable observers,
began a Greece of adult and manly genius, armed with a
better method, with superior light, and more certain pro
cesses, which was going to stride over two thousand
years, and approach the age of Galileo and Newton.
The internal wars of Greece could not have destroyed
her. She would have found in herself powerful renewals.
The strife of faction could not have destroyed her. The
incentive of competition, which stimulated effort, carried
energy to the highest degree, and was a part of her life.
Slavery, whatever may be said about it, did not destroy
her The Greek was not weakened by it ; he reserved to
himself the works of strength. There never was a people
more generous toward slaves. These frequented the
theatres, and were even admitted to the Mysteries. Their
condition was tolerable. Diogenes, the slave, would not
be enfranchised. An Athenian proverb tells how change
able was the condition ofthe slave : "The slave of to-day
will be a denizen to-morrow, and soon after a citizen."
Were the altered, corrupted customs of Greece her
ruin ? Not at all. The unclean Venus-Astarte of Phoe
nicia, who flourished at Cyprus, at Cythera, at Corinth,
had really very little place in Grecian life. The most or
dinary sense, the most elementary physiology, show that
he who incessantly expends an enormous amount of
strength in all kinds of activity, has but little reserved
for vices. If I were assured that an artist worked
twenty hours daily, I should be fully persuaded as to his
morals. The Greeks were talkers and laughers — often cynical.
Far from concealing anything, they have exhibited too
plainly miseries and shames which had rarely existed.
The Grecian morals, of which so much has been said, at
which the Greeks themselves jested, are to be seen in a

1 74 Bible of Humanity.
single district of Christendom which we could name, more
than they ever were in the entire Grecian world.
The little that was really bad among them came very
late. In the first rapture of Art, when Pheidias proved
" that the human form was divine," the sublimity of the
discovery raised the soul to a great height. It must be
acknowledged that the extreme beauty of perfect harmony
astonishes and stupefies more than it inspires love. Gym
nastic life is chaste and sober. It is not at all probable
that it made false women like those of Asia ; on the con
trary, it made hardened sinews and stony muscles, impos
ing and powerful males.
Woman was honored in Greece. She always had her
part in the priesthood, and was not excluded from it as in
Judea, and among many other peoples. Haughty, exacting
citizen, much more than man, in all the solemn honors,
she dominated over the house, frequently influenced in
the State. The comic writers, and the incident of Lesbos
in Thucydides, demonstrate this. She had her distinctive
Mysteries,* her bonds of union very strong, which consti
tuted a feminine republic. The jests of Aristophanes are
most serious. The public evil was that women did not
follow men, but remained stubbornly apart from them.
Will Greece, in her Olympian course, in her burning char
iot, over the wheels on fire, degrade this weak companion ?
A life so strained ! Beyond all moderation, so many
works and combats ! Woman is dazzled, frightened, and
no longer sees man. What is this ? A fire from heaven ?
. . . She fears the destiny of Semele.
To this too brilliant light we must add the strange hi
larity which comes from all excess of strength. It is the
ardor, the youth, the triumphal pride of life. Woman
is wounded by it and humiliated. Her eyes are down
cast. She takes refuge in night. She ought not to have
been left there. Easily she makes discreditable friends.
* The Thesmophoria.

Greece. 175
Surely, this sister of Alkestes and of Antigone, with such
a heart, admirably adapted to the devoutness of Nature,
deserved that her noble spirit should be opened to the
high life of Law. She would have returned much.
Greece herself, with all her genius, had not been able to
conjecture that which the tender, assiduous culture of the
spouse, the fathoming of love, would have added to her
of heroic delicacy.
Woman was driven towards the mournful gods of the
East, — Bacchus, Atys, Adonis. In the spring festivals,
thoughtless youths, in scoffing orgies, sang of the forsaken
beauty, whose void widowhood Bacchus alone could fill.
Can it be said that she had taken no step toward the
higher life ? Oh, no ! The immortal memory of her who
was calumniated, but who was a heroine as well as a sub
lime poet, still existed. Alcaeus reminds us of her in this
beautiful and touching line : " Dark hair ! sweet smile !
innocent Sappho ! " Innocent ! * This poet, proud and
strong, penetrating, uttered in this a beautiful truth :
Genius is innocence ! Profound mystery of great artists.
They preserve their purity whatever occurs. Sappho
was born pure and very gentle. Plato places her among
the seven sages. We see her astonished and afflicted at
the news that her brother had purchased in Egypt a very
celebrated courtesan. She was indignant at tyranny ;
she hazarded her life to overthrow the tyrant of Lesbos.
She lost her country, but found her genius in exile.
She changed all music. She invented the song of tears
{mixolydien). The lyre, under the hand, was insensible ;
* She was born at Lesbos in 612 B.C., conspired against Ptolemy at the
age of sixteen, and retired to Sicily. She was a rich, married lady, and
mother of a son. Her native country atoned for her exile by stamping her
image on the money as that of the genius of the town. Sicily erected a statue
to her. She was called the tenth muse. Her memory was worshipped. A
century or two after a songstress of Lesbos (either from love or enthusiasm)
took the name of Sappho. It was she who made the leap at Leucadia. (See
Visconti, etc.) Toward a.d. 1822 medals have enabled us to distinguish
between the two Sapphos.

176 Bible of Humanity.
she made the bow, which causes it to sigh and groan. At
last (this is the great stroke) the uniform cadences which
had been in use, appeared emotionless to her passion.
She found the rhythm which darts the thought, and which
is named Sapphic. In a recitative of three verses, the
bow is -straightened. . . . A short line relaxes it. . . .The
arrow is at the heart.
Nothing is more rare than to find rhythm. Homer and
Shakespeare had none. Of this ardent, good, tender,
astonishingly fruitful Sappho, who had inundated Greece
with flame and light, there remain but a few golden
words, simple sentences, which move our passion. Who
can say that with all this, she, the unfortunate, had not
found love ? That she had loved in vain ? That the
world had fled from her ? That she had no consolation
but the tenderness of her affectionate female pupils, who
wiped away her tears, and whose tender-hearted friend
ship has been aspersed ?
The tears and despair of Sappho constitute the accusa
tion of Greece. The Greek genius, it must be confessed,
passed between two worlds, it lived in the midst of things,
neglecting the two extremes, the poles, the great perspec
tive, which opened on one side or on the other. It
fathomed neither love nor death.
These are two schools and two great paths, through
which the soul studies herself, penetrates herself, in her
self and in the All ; and in this loving Soul, that, through
these two harmonious forms — Death, Love — makes her
eternal beauty.
At the entrance of these two paths Greece turned aside,
went on, smiled. Her Love was but a child, a new-
fledged bird. Death, if not heroic, does not attract atten
tion. Death is adorned, nimble, and crowned as at a ban
quet. The beautiful Proserpina descended below, but did
.not part with her flowers.
It is a regret to us. Greece, manly and pure, very
lucid, had alone the right and power to lead us, as

Greece.

177

another Theseus, to the double labyrinth, in which one is
so easily lost. The effeminate, mutilated, enervated gods
of Asia have conducted us thither through equivocal
paths, greatly to our injury.
An entirely new, disagreeable host entered this world,
the weeping Death, enervating and disheartening, exactly
contrary to the harmonious Death, which greets, adopts
the divine order, and is illuminated by it, as in the
Thoughts of Marcus-Aurelius. This weeping, feminine
spectre came to us, and in the midst of strong labors and
manly resolutions, the heroic soaring, sighs near us, and
says : " To what purpose ? "
Listen to this equivocal, vague, and effeminate preacher,
swimming in the wave of reveries, mingling with grief, I
know not what, that is loved : is it the sweet and holy
tears of sorrow ? of pleasure ? We do not know.
Virgin of Athens ! Proud Pallas, so pure ! What must
have been thy prophetic scorn when people dared to offer
thee the feverish instrument, the stormy and mournful
flute of the worship of Asia? . . . Thou didst throw it
into the fountain.
Hercules treated it in like manner. The day in which
he heard the pathetic festival of Adonis, the enervated,
the woman-god, he was indignant, and cursed the coming
shame. But the supreme condemnation of these two
sexed-gods is Prometheus, father of Fire. He taught
us another process, which was unknown in Asia. How
through the iron and the steel, the effort, Art brings forth
this immortal daughter, Reason, Wisdom — the ether of
clear thought, the only inventive and fruitful thought —
exactly contrary to the dreamy torpor of the marvellous
Orient. But the East proceeds, invincible, fatal to the gods of
light, through the charm of revery, through the magic of
chiaro-oscuro, the clare-obscure. No more serenity. The
human soul, this curious Eve, digging in the unknown, is
going to rejoice and lament. It will doubtless find strange
12

178 Bible of Humanity.
depths. The strength and the calm ? Never. It will
have joy — violent, often mad, tart and gloomy. It will
have tears ; yes, many tears, the contrast between these
two things, their struggle and impotency, and the melan
choly which follows.

part Second
CHILDREN OF THE TWILIGHT, OF THE NIGHT,
AND OF THE LIGHT REFLECTING
AGAINST THE DARKNESS.

CHAPTER I.
EGYPT — DEATH.
Egypt is certainly the greatest monument of death on
this globe. No people on earth has made such persever
ing effort to preserve the memory of those who are no
more, to continue to them an immortal life of honor, of
remembrance, of worship. The whole length of the val
ley of the Nile is a great mortuary book, indefinitely un
rolled like an ancient manuscript. Not a stone on which
there is not a writing, adorned with figures, with symbols,
and enigmatical characters. Tombs on the right, on the
left ; temples which appear to be sepulchres. Nothing
more imposing to us than this long funeral path.
Very different is the impression on the African. The
Nile is the joy of Africa, her festival and her smile. This
great river of life which, from unknown mountains, brings
its tribute so faithfully every year, is the idol, the fetish
of the world of blacks. As soon as they see it in the dis
tance they laugh, they sing, they adore. In this thirsty
land the constant concern is water. From the great sand
desert of Libya, or from the frightful chains of granite
which lie on the Dead Sea and toward the desert of Sinai,
for what is the vow, the prayer, and the sigh ? A drop

180 Bible of Humanity.
of water. A trifling oozing under a palm-tree is called
emphatically an oasis; people flock to it and bless it.
What must have been the love for the great oasis, Egpyt ?
Thou didst ask water. Behold a sea, an immense sheet
of water, in which the land disappears, soaked, flooded,
and dissolved. Toward the north it is but ooze. It is
precisely this ooze, this Delta saturated with water, which
is the paradise of Africa. All desired to live there. All
wished the joy of it at least after death. Their bodies
were conveyed thither in boats. The tombs were piled
on top of one another. This low Egypt, luxuriant in pro
ductions, is the triumph of life, like an orgy of nature.
Behold, then, two aspects, decidedly different, of this
region. Our Europe admires it for its mortuary aspect ;
Africa and the South for its river, for its possessions of
water and food. We would willingly think of it as an
immense female Sphinx of the length of the Nile, a colos
sal nurse in grief, exhibiting a beautiful face, noble and
gloomy, to the world of whites, while, before its breast,
and around it, the blacks kneel.
This is the first glance. The impression at the second
is no less great. Nowhere, in the solemn accord of
heaven and earth, is the drama more striking. The Nile,
pontifically, on a fixed day, descends and rolls, expands,
refreshes, and fertilizes. It scarcely subsides, before man,
equally regular, without losing time, measures, re-estab
lishes everything, ploughs and sows, and so accomplishes
the agricultural round of the year ; while, from above, the
sun, almighty benefactor, no less punctually vivifies,
quickens, and blesses.
Life of immense labor ! But still more immense was
the conservative force, the effort against death, the admir
able perseverance to preserve, in spite of it, all that was
possible of life. The family is exhibited there in its most
affecting aspects. Unique example ! An entire people,
during many thousands of years, has absolutely had noth
ing else in view than to assure one another of the second

Egypt — Death. 1 8 1
life of the sepulchre. We cannot think, without emotion,
of the privation with which the most poor purchased it.
Each tomb is for two — the husband and wife. This was
their common aim. The man by excessive work, and
the woman by the most extreme economy, gained and
hoarded the little sum necessary to purchase what was
needed in order to be embalmed together, to sleep to
gether under the stone, and so be resuscitated again.
The contrast is very beautiful. Egypt is admirable for
death and for life ; both of which contribute equally to
this greatness. It is a region by nature harmonious, and,
quite artlessly, a system. There is nothing elsewhere to
be compared to it. The great Carthage, for example, her
monstrous empire, scattered here and there in fragments,
is entirely different. This is also the case with Syria. She
has two faces, like Egypt, but they are by no means in
harmony. Egypt, on the contrary, in her institutions, and in her
diverse characteristics of art as well as of nature, was a
unit, perfectly blended, both by the natural gentleness of
her profound, peaceful spirit, and by time — the enormous
duration. She participated in the majesty of the tomb.
All came to honor her as the great mistress of death.
All — even Greece, came to her school, and interrogated
the Egyptian priests. Their enigmas and their symbolism,
their purifications, their great festivals, their continual
judgments on the dead, the constant lamentations of
female weepers, and of male weepers likewise — for man
also wept at funerals — all this was imposing, affecting. In
spite of himself the observer imitated — not all, but this or
that particular ; and often awkwardly. Phoenicia, opposed
by nature, Judea, opposed by profound hatred, notwith
standing, appropriated some parts, as did also the Chris
tians. Though the Christians denounced Egypt, they fol
lowed her, and still follow her. In their ideas, their rites,
their festivals, their calendar, their funeral dogmas, their
great dogma of the death of God, they follow with so

1 82 Bible of Humanity.
many other people, behind her sepulchral boat, and in its
eternal track.
Champollion has well said : " Egypt is altogether
African, and not Asiatic."
The official monuments, in their monotonous solemnity,
do not, any more than the priestly Pantheon in its dreary
doctrines, speak clearly on this point. But the popular
religion points it out distinctly. It is altogether African,
without mystery, in broad daylight, all love, sensitive good
ness — voluptuous goodness. What can we do with it ? It is
Nature, the mother of us all, venerable as well as impressive.
Whatever she does, we must love and respect her !
The poor people — in their laborious life, in this mono
tonous climate, with a culture always the same, a weighty
enigma of dogma, of incomprehensible writing — would
have failed a hundred times without the good genius of
Africa, her Isis, the divine female, tender mother and
faithful spouse. In her they lived.
If goodness exists anywhere on earth, it is in those
races. Their types, remote from the dull people of the
negro countries, and no less differing from the dry Ara
bian or Jew, have an extreme mildness. The family is
very affectionate, and the welcome is good and sympa
thetic even toward the stranger. Egypt knew little of
human sacrifices. It is true that annually a girl was
thrown into the Nile, but it was a girl of wicker. No
Harems and no Eunuchs. Neither eccentric love nor
mutilation of infants, as in ^Ethiopia, in Syria, and every
where. Monogamy was general and voluntary. A man
could have many wives. The spouse had great ascen
dency, and maintained it. On the upper Nile she had the
peculiar felicity of never looking aged. She preserved the
beautiful forms which are seen on the monuments, the
very full bosom, erect, firm, elastic* It indicates, as in
* Caillaud, II., 224. This author speaks also of the charming piety of one
of the female ^Ethiopians, who, seeing our travellers completely exhausted,
asked them how long it was since they left the Nile. "Four months ago."—

Egypt— Death. 1 8 3
the sacred paintings, eternal virginity, and continually
holds erect the vase of immortal youth.
The Kings of Asia, who often had, like the Xerxes of
Herodotus, a profound sense of nature, preferred the
Egyptian to all other women, asked her from the Pha
raohs. They loved her better than the servile Asiatic, or
than that haughty half-male, who was called woman in
Europe. They believed her to be ardent, capable and
yet teachable, especially rich in goodness ; in a word, that
she would return the most love and obedience.
Woman ruled in Egypt. She could mount the throne,
and was a queen in every house. She transacted every
kind of business. Man acknowledged her genius, did not
forsake his work, and tilled or wove.* Diodorus goes so
far as to say that the husband swore to obey his wife.
Without her skilful government, neither could have
reached that difficult aim of the poor, the common em
balmment, the union of eternal rest.
Egypt was delighted with her Isis, and saw nothing but
her; Not only did Egypt adore her as a woman, as enjoy
ment, as happiness, and as goodness ; but all that was
good was Isis. The wished-for water ; the river, the good
liquid female (Nile is feminine), was not distinguishable
from Isis. The fruitful Earth, which brings water, even all
Egypt was Isis. The good, motherly cow was so much
loved by the goddess that she took its horns for her orna
ments. The horns or the moon-like crescent ? Isis was
the white moon, which comes so agreeably in the evening
after the intense heat of the day, which imparts rest to the
laborer and his beloved wife ; the moon, sweet compan
ion which regulates duties, which measures the work to
man, the love to woman, and marks its return, its epoch
and its sacred crisis.
" Four months ! " said she, fixing on us her beautiful black eyes, full of mild
ness, and, stretching her arms toward us, again said ; " Oh, my friends ! Oh,
my unhappy brothers ! " She gave all she had, dates, water. — Ibid, p. 242.
* Herodotus.

184 Bible of Humanity.
This Queen of the heart, the good genius of Africa,
without mystery, was enthroned as woman, simply
adorned with her beautiful breasts, and all the attributes
of motherhood. She carried the lotus in her sceptre, the
pistil of the flower of love. She bears royalty on her
head, in the form of a diadem, the greedy bird, the Vul
ture, which never says "Enough." The Vulture, em
blem of Death, austere procuress, which imposes love, the
maternal renewal.
The badge of the Cow-Mother, which, strange head
dress, is erected above the Vulture, indicates all that love
wishes : to renew life incessantly. Beneficent fruitful-
ness, infinite, maternal goodness, constitute the innocence
of the passionate ardors of Africa. Soon love and grief,
the eternity of regret, will more than sanctify them.
In the Universal Mother (Isis-Athor, or Night) were
conceived, before time, a daughter and a son, Isis-Osiris,
who, being two, were yet but one. They had loved each
other so much in the maternal womb, that Isis became
pregnant, and before her birth she was a mother. She
had a son named Horus, who is but the father formed
again, another Osiris of goodness, of beauty, of light.
Three therefore were born, mother, father, son, of the
same age, ofthe same heart.
What a joy ! Behold them at the altar. The woman,
the man, and the child. Bear in mind that these are per
sons, living beings. Not the fantastic trinity which India
makes out of the discordant marriage of three archaic
religions. Not the scholastic trinity which Byzantium
has subtly woven into her metaphysics. In Egypt, it is
life, nothing more. From the burning jet of nature
comes forth the triple human unity.
JSTo other myth had such strength of reality and truth/)
The mother was not a virgin (as that of Buddha, of
Genghis, and so many others) ; she was indeed a woman, a
true woman, full of love, and her breast full of milk.
Osiris is a true husband, whom no one can scoff at ; real

Egypt — Death. 185
and active, of assiduous generation, so enamored of his Isis
that his superabundant love fecundated all nature. The
son was a true son, so like to his father that he was a
solemn testimony to the union of the parents. He was
the living glory of love and marriage.
As all was strong and true, beyond the false and the
doubtful, so the result was also strong and positive. The
human Osiris religiously conformed to the One above,
fecundating his Isis, Egypt — fertilizing woman and earth,
generating incessantly from his work fruits and the arts.
These gods had not the impersonality, the obscurity,
and the terror of certain religions of Asia. They were
venerable and affecting, and they did not affright. If the
Hindustanic Siva were not careful to close his eyes, he
would unconsciously burn all with his devouring glance.
In Egypt human nature itself was at the altar, in the
mild aspect of the family, blessing creation with a mater
nal eye. The great God was a mother. I am greatly re
assured ! I feared that the world of the blacks, too greatly
dominated by the bestial life, had been struck in their
birth by the terrifying images of the lion and the croco
dile, and would never make but monsters. But behold
them tender-hearted, humanized. The amorous Africa,
from her profound desire, has given birth to the most at
tractive object of the religions of earth. . . . What ? The
living reality, a good and fruitful woman.
Joy bursts forth, immense and popular, and altogether
natural ; a joy peculiar to thirsty Africa. It was water, a
deluge of water, a prodigious sea of sweet water, which
came from I know not whence, but which overspread the
land, drowned it in happiness, infiltrating itself, insinuat
ing itself into the least veins, so that not a particle of sand
had cause to complain of thirst. The small, dry canals
smiled in proportion as the murmuring water visited and
refreshed them. The plant laughed heartily when this
salutary water moistened the beard of its roots, besieged
the stalk, ascended to the leaf, inclined the stem which

1 86 Bible of Humanity.
was softened, and moaned sweetly. Charming spectacle,
immense chain of love and of pure voluptuousness ! All
this was the great Isis, flooded by her beloved.
But nothing endures. How can we deny this? All
perishes. The Nile, the father of life, dries up, becomes
parched. The Sun is tired. Behold him obscured, turned
pale ; he has lost his rays. The living Sun of goodness,
who sowed in the bosom of Isis his seed — every wholesome
thing, had been able to create all things out of himself,
except time, duration. One morning he disappeared. . . .
: He had been immolated by his cruel brother Typhon, who
divided him with the sword, dismembered and scattered
ihis body. The honor of man, his pride and his strength,
his manhood, had been harshly mutilated. Where are
these poor remains ? Everywhere, over the earth, in the
waves. The stormy sea carried part of them as far as
Phoenicia. Here we leave the domain of fables. It is a living real
ity, an excruciating recollection of the mutilations which
were made (and are made) to prepare false women, young
eunuchs, for the markets, who were sold for the Harems of
the East. For a long time Phoenicia was the centre for
these sales.
Isis tore her hair, and went in search of her Osiris.
With true African grief, the most ingenuous in the world,
Isis, abandoned, without pride, confided to all nature
the painful tortures of her widowhood, her regret, her
poignant desire, the heart-breaking impotency in which
she was to live without him. At last she found some of
the members which the waves had carried off. She went
as far as Byblos, in Syria, to recover them, and obtained the
pledge that they should be returned. Only one part was
wanting.* Profound despair ! " Alas, this missing part
is life ! Sacred power of love, if deficient, what becomes
of the world ? Where can I find it ? "
* The x?Si pala, or phallus, which being the physical agent for procreation,
was made the symbol of Life. — Ed.

Egypt — Death. 187
She implored the Nile and Egypt. Egypt was unwill
ing to surrender that which would be for her the assurance
of eternal fecundity.
But such great love and grief well deserved a miracle.
In the violent contest of tenderness and of death, Osiris,
although dismembered and cruelly mutilated, by a power
ful will, revived and returned to her. And so great was
his love, that by the strength of the heart, he found a last
desire. He came back from the grave to make her again
a mother. Oh ! how eagerly she received this embrace.
. . . Alas ! It was nothing more than a farewell. The
ardent bosom of Isis will not warm this icy germ. No
matter. The fruit born of it, sad and pale, indicated no
less the supreme victory of love, which, fruitful before life,
is still so after death.
The comments which have been made on this very
simple legend lend it a deep meaning of astronomical
symbolism. And certainly the coincidence of the destiny
of man with the course of the year, the decadence of the
sun, etc., was early felt. But all this is secondary, ob
served later, and added. The first origin is human ; it is
the real wound of the poor widow of Egypt, and of her
inconsolable sores.
On the other hand, we must not be deceived by the
coarse African coloring. There is here something more
than the regret of physical desire and unsatiated passion.
With regard to such suffering, Nature would have had a
ready answer. But Isis did not wish simply a male, she
wished him whom she loved ; her own, and not another ;
him, and him only. It was a feeling entirely exclusive
and individual. It is to be seen in the infinite care she
takes of his mortal remains, so that not one atom shall
be wanting, and death shall make no change in them, but
some day shall render, in its integrity, this unique object
of love.
In this most tender, altogether pure and ingenuous le
gend, there is an astonishing zest of immortality which has

1 88 • Bible of Humanity.
never been surpassed. Be. hopeful, ye afflicted hearts, sad
widows, little orphans. (You weep ; Isis also wept, but
she did not despair. Osiris, the dead, still lives. He is
here, renewed in his innocent Apis. He is now the shep
herd in the underworld of souls, the complaisant keeper
of the world of ghosts, and your dead are near him.
Fear nothing, they are there. They will return some
day and reclaim their bodies. Let us envelop with
care their precious mortal remains. Let us embalm
them with perfumes, with prayers, with burning tears.
Let us keep them near us. Oh ! the delightful day
in which the Father of souls, coming out from the dark
kingdom, will return to you the cherished souls, rejoin
them to their bodies, and say: "I have preserved them
for you."
"Up to this point all is natural. A beautiful popular
tradition added to it an incredible excess of goodness.
It was said that Isis, in her melancholy excursion, when
she was looking for the remains of her husband, found
something black, bloody, and shapeless, — a little new
born monster. She knew by its color that it was an
offspring of the black Typhon, her enemy, her tormen
tor, the ferocious murderer. This child was Anubis, the
figure of a grave-digger, with the head of a dog or a
jackal, as seen on the monuments. But the adorable
goddess, in the presence of this feeble creature, that
was crying or yelping, felt only compassion. Goodness
was stronger than love and grief. She raised it from
the ground, and took it in her arms. She could have
had it brought up and nourished by another ; but Isis
is all tenderness and mercy. She could not do any
thing by halves. She pressed the odious nursling to
her bosom, to her deeply-lacerated heart ; in tears she
smiled on it, and magnanimously ended by giving it
the breast. Spectacle truly divine ! Let all the earth
behold ! The widow of the murdered one nourished the
child of the murderer. Satiated with the milk of good-

Egypt — Death. 189
ness, bathed with the tears of love, the monster became
a god.* This is the most tender conception of the human mind.
I do not see anything in either the myths of India, or the
Christian myths, that can be compared to it. The myth
of Egypt declared that race innocent which the middle
ages believed to be devilish, damned ; it established this
fact, that crime was not transmissible ; that the child of
the criminal (black as his father) is no less worthy of
celestial compassion ; that divine goodness admits him to
rise, to mount to God.
The result is beautiful. This black child, this son of
crime, by his illegitimate birth doomed to death, and yet
consecrated to life by his nurse, became the genius of the
passage between life and death, the good genius who in
terpreted the two worlds. \ He understood everything,
knew all mysteries, created all art. It was he who fixed
memory, in which the fleeting generations will be pre
served and consecrated. He formulated and calculated the
year. He invented writing, which chronicles the remem
brance of the months and years. His art gives to our
mortal remains that stability which enables us to await in
bonds the day of resurrection. But the supreme office of
Anubis, and his highest benefaction, was to welcome, to
reassure, and to lead the poor soul at the moment that it
left the body. The soul, a sad bird, wandering, entered a
strange world. Did it sleep ? Was it awake ? This is well
exhibited in a magnificent copy of the Book of the Dead,
on a mantel-piece of the Louvre. The soul, represented
as an interesting young man, does not know what to do,
but is in good hands. The dear Anubis touches his heart,
and strengthens it. "What dost thou fear? I answer
for thee. . . . Fear not the Judgment. ... If I, the black
*Anubis is declared by Plutarch (Isis and Osiris, 14), and other writers, to
have been the offspring of Osiris and Nephthys, wife of Typhon.— Ed.
\ He was styled the 1)12, peter, or opener, because he opened the mysteries
of the underworld. — Ed,

190 Bible of Humanity.
son of Typhon, have passed in safety, thou, innocent,
pure in thy white robes, hast not reason to be alarmed.
Come ! the good Osiris awaits thee."
While writing this, I glanced over the plates of the
grand Descriptions — those of Champollion, of Rossellini,
and of Lepsius. With my heart filled with these sublime
myths, I was anxiously looking for images of reality to
bring them out clearly. One plate arrested my attention,
and made me think.* It was that in which a sub-farmer,
at the head of his cattle, was going to render his account
to a scribe, who notes the number, and writes down
whether the flock has increased or diminished. The
peasant, still young in appearance, beardless, as all
Egyptians, stands with arms folded over his breast, in the
posture of religious respect. The scribe, by no means
imposing, is the agent of the king or the priests. It is
known by the beautiful history of Joseph, that all the land
of Egypt belonged to the king, except one-third, which,
according to Diodorus (i., 40), belonged to the sacerdo
tal order. Property, in Egypt, was scarcely anything more
than a tenantry. From the Pharaohs to the Ptolemies, to
the Sultans, to the Beys, the sovereign had the land culti
vated by whom he wished. He was at liberty to make
each generation pay, to compel the son to redeem the
land which his father had occupied. The results of such
a system are known. It made misery perpetual in the
richest country in the world. At the death of the father,
the family knew not its destiny. At the moment in which
the embalmers entered, with the chisel in their hands, the
son and the mother fled in tears, and abandoned the body
and the house. The next day another proceeding took
place. The scribe of the king, or of the priest, entered,
pen in hand, and reckoned the animals ; and from his re
port it was decided whether the family had increased the
cattle and deserved to be continued. I think the plate, to
* Rossellini, in folio, vol. ii. , plate 30.

Egypt — Death. 191
which I have referred, exhibits a scene of this kind. At
the foot of the scribe is seen a prostrate female figure, so
very humble, as to appear terrified — as if praying and
entreating. Is she the wife, or the mother of the tenant ?
The poor family underwent at once two judgments.
Could the survivors retain the occupancy? Would the
dead person be judged worthy to enter the sacred tomb ?
The priest alone decided.
Enormous privilege, which, among people so tender in
their family attachments, accorded to the priests un
bounded terror.
Overwhelming servitudes carried the men away inces
santly. Everything was performed by manual labor.
Rameses employed one hundred and twenty thousand
men at one time to erect one of the obelisks of Thebes.*
To cut and smooth the basalt, the granite, and the
porphyry, with the rude tools of that time, how many
men and centuries were necessary? A man taken in youth,
recently married, wasted his life in the quarry, and did
not re-enter his home until bowed with age. Oh ! how
many human lives, chagrins, and tears, in the building of
the Pyramids, those true mountains of grief, in the enor
mous cemeteries of the low lands on the side of Libya !
And how much despair in the subterranean perforations
of the mountain-chains on the Arabian side, in those
rugged rocks which eternal labor changed into funeral
bee-hives ! Thousands of living men, in order to hollow
those abodes of the dead, have lived by the lamp-light
only. Dead themselves, if we may so say, having no day,
no sky, but in the smoky vaults ofthe sepulchre.
"The sacred characters were only known by the priests,!
and ignored by the people, by those numerous masses
whose years were wasted by engraving them on the granite.
All the complications of the three Egyptian styles of
writing are known : symbolism, short-hand, and ordinary
?Letronne : Acad., xvii., 34.
f Diodorus.

192 Bible of Humanity.
alphabet. Is this figure before me a man, or an idea?
Is it a sentence or a letter? Overwhelming enigmas,
which surely the head of the stone-carver could scarcely
have unravelled. Admitting that he could have read those
terrible inscriptions, and pierced the mystery under the
obscurity, what would he have found ? The obscure
meaning of the sacerdotal religion, the hidden doctrines of
emanation, by which the gods, issued one from another,
easily re-entering one another, mingled and confounded
one with another, precisely as in the black conduits which
had been pierced in those mountains, the funeral labyrinth
became entangled and confusing.
Neither the characters nor the thoughts were intelligible
to the people. But the harshest thing is that Egypt had
for ten thousand years * pined away in this enormous
work, without even the consolation of understanding its
sense and purport. Alas ! where is the good, popular
religion, so touching and so clear, summed up in Isis ?
What has become of it ? Isis is still seen in the monu
ments near the kings, as adviser, as protectress. But in
reality the active and master spirit in all this was the wise
god Thoth, — an elevated, refined form of Anubis. This
religion of goodness, which issued from the heart of a
woman, was changed by him, and became a system, a
laborious system, pervaded with dogmas and observances,
a scholasticism of priests.
Death was the only hope for the man and woman so
frequently separated. In that hot region where the sun
splits the stone at mid-day, the poor laborer prayed
* Plato : Laws, ii., 3. "This doctrine has been known among them from
antiquity ; . . . they exhibit them in their temples ; and except there, it is not
lawful either for painters or others who work out forms, or whatever else
there may be, to introduce any innovation, or even to think of any other than
those of the country ; . . . and you will, by observing, discover that what have
been painted and sculptured there ten thousand years ago — and I say ten
thousand not as a word, but a fact, ovx wc tnor evkuv fivpmarav aW ovrwc-
are neither more beautiful nor more ugly than those turned out of hand at
the present day, but are worked off according to the same art. — Ed.

Egypt — Death. 193
this sun to give him, by its liberating stroke, rest forever
with and near his wife. On her part, the woman cultivat
ing the earth, with her son, subjecting herself to many
fastings, thought of nothing but of the accumulation of the
little money for the embalmment.
If either of them failed in this end ! If he was so un
fortunate as to be judged unworthy ofthe sepulchre ! and
his wife condemned to eternal widowhood ! . . . Painful
thought which troubled the mind and spoiled even death !
The soul, the best soul, could not attain a second birth,
except through a laborious series of transformations.*
What, then, would become of the doomed soul, which,
alone and without a god to conduct it, took this terrible
journey? Horrible and unclean, it was changed into a
swine, which was detested by the Egyptians as well as by
the Jews. Fantastical monsters intervened to debar the
way. With these the soul had to fight. To crown the
whole, it was scourged by malevolent guardians. Query,
Ape-demons ? Leopard-demons ? f
Behold the swine into which, according to the gospel,
Jesus sent the demons. Behold the Middle Ages, the
beginning of the elements of those traditions of terrors,
which have so cruelly narrowed and perverted the mind.
The agony was frightful. As in the dark Christian cen
turies (the tenth, eleventh, and so on) the dying man,
believing that he would be carried away by demons, had
recourse to the invocation- of saints, and had himself
covered with relics, so the Egyptian was so frightened
that the one guardian, Thoth or Anubis, could not reas
sure him. He feared for each limb, and for each claimed
the aid of a special god. He caused himself to be upheld,
not by four, but by fifteen or twenty divinities. A god
*In an inscription, Ahmes, chief of Mariners, intending to say: "I was
bom," said "I have accomplished my transformations." — De RougiS, Acad.
of Inscrip. M. des savants Strangers, 1853, vol. III., p. 55.
1 1 cannot distinguish which of the two by the plates of Champollion. (In
folio, vol. III., plate 272.)
13

194 Bible of Humanity.
was responsible for his nose, and kept it secure. Another
warranted his teeth, another his eyes, another his neck.
The terror was so excessive that he was not satisfied with
having the arm protected, but must also have a guardian
for the elbow ; and so with the leg and knee.*
Spirits did not appear by day, so that the living could
act. At night they walked over the earth, even the bad
spirits. Hence a thousand fears, a thousand spectres.
No safety at the hearth. The innocence of animals, their
peaceful manner, sometimes gave assurance. Hence,
probably more than from anything else, the excessive at
tachment to these good companions ; hence the touching
small talk, the worship of the sacred animals, the gentle
friends of man, that cared for him in life and death.
Where ends the animal ? Where begins the plant ?
Who can tell ? Sensitive plants, Ampere remarks, in this
powerful climate, approach the animal. They have their
fears and their dislikes, as if they were delicate women,
fixed by fate to a single spot ; without language, without
the means of flying or escaping. Palm-trees evidently
love. In all ages, in Egypt, the people assisted them in
their loves. The male plant, separated from its love, was
drawn near by the ready hand of man.
The tree moans and weeps, as with a human voice.
The French in Algiers, who were cutting trees in 1 840,
were surprised and almost frightened at hearing them
groan. An illustrious, learned man was present, and was
troubled, moved, as the others. What must have been
the impression of those sighs of the tree, of those heart
rending complaints on the mind of the poor Fellah ! How
could he doubt that a wretched soul, like his own, was
* Champollion had already given one of those rituals of the dead, in the 4th
vol. of Caitliauds Journeys. Lepsius published one complete in 1842, in
quarto, and M. DE Rouge has given another, in folio, in this very year, 1864. I
see in it the most curious things. The soul has to fight the fantastic animals.
It is forbidden to work in Ker-neter, to leave (the Amenti) the infernal re
gions during the day. When it rises again it will recover its heart, etc.

Egypt — Death. 195
under the bark ? The tree, being rare in Egypt, is so
much the more loved and cherished. He who had the
happiness to have one at, or near his door, lived with it.
He related everything to it, confided to it his fears and
his griefs, the exactions of the scribe or the overseer, the
excessive work, void of consolation, and alas ! sometimes
other wounds, cruel and from the beloved hand. In brief,
he trusted it with his heart, deposited it, hid it in the
tree. The Mimosa, which shudders and feels everything,
sometimes received this heart ; also the Persian laurel, the
tree of Isis, admirable tree ; its leaf a tongue, its fruit in
the form of a heart.*
But what part of the tree is sufficiently discreet to re
ceive this delicate deposit ? The trunk ? perhaps, because,
when cut, it moans. Or, is it the branch, which, between
itself and the trunk, can press and hide, unite maternally ?
Or is it simply the flower? In the cases ofthe mummies,
the painted flower is half open, permitting a small head to
pass, the pretty soul of a woman. If such an Acacia
closes its flower at evening, it is to preserve the heart of
man. Great and profound secret. This Egyptian tree is not
like that of Persia, the sublime Tree of Life. It is a rest
less tree. It may be ruthlessly cut down to-morrow for a
boat, or a palace. What then becomes of the heart ?
The man trusted the secret of his deposit to only one per
son, to his unique, beloved spouse, putting his life in her
hands. We may imagine with what veneration the woman
regarded the tree, after the death of her husband ! How
sacred, and what a confidant ! How consulted, how list
ened to in those hours of security when alone. It was the
successor ; it was a husband, a lover, an altar, a dead and
living god, often bathed with tears.
Such things only happen in true love, in monogamy,
the holy, solemn, and tender marriage, as it was in Egypt.
The tree did not fail to be moved and to answer. The
* Plutarch,

196 Bible of Humanity.
wife often lived on the tears shed by the tree, — tears of its
own kind, vegetable tears doubtless, of the pine and many
other trees. Was this friendly compassion ? Was this
really the soul of the dead imprisoned under the bark,
pressed, suffering, which, in order to reveal itself in its
poor language, wept this sentence to her : " I still love " ?
This touching faith, which has made the tour of the
world, had its primitive, its purest type, in Egypt.
The sepulchral boat of Isis, searching for Osiris, landed
at Byblos, in Syria. I know not what, in the bottom of
her heart, told her that he had stopped there, and was in
the palace of the King. In order to be received there,
Isis, although a queen, humiliated herself, and represented
herself as a servant. She observed and watched every
thing. The magnificent palace, supported by columns,
had one column (Oh ! miracle !) which wept. This was
a pine-tree.* Isis had no doubt whatever that it was he.
She divined the metamorphosis. It had floated to the
coast, to the pine forest of Syria, and hidden itself in the
sand; it became a pine-tree. Placed in the palace, it
always remembered, and wept. Isis drew it from its posi
tion, embraced it, and flooded it with tears, and rendered
it funeral honors. f
* At Teneriffe, the pines, which have supported the houses since 1400, still
weep. f This legend of the living tree, so sorrowful and sometimes comforting,
appears to have had its origin in Upper Egypt, in the Acacia mimosa of the
desert, continued in the Persea Laurus, in the pine in Syria, in the pome
granate and almond tree in Phrygia, etc. The unique literary monument,
which, up to this day, we have from Egypt, very ancient in character, and
certainly even more ancient in conception, starts from the acacia. It is a
short personal story, which serves as the frame-work of the general and popu
lar idea,
A very honest and laborious young man, named Satou, worked at his elder
brother's, and made the cattle prosper. The wife of this brother, who was a
beautiful woman, preferred Satou, because he was strong, and wished one day,
at the burning hour of rest, to keep him with her. Despised, she accused him.
He would have perished if his ox and cow, which loved him, had not put him
on his guard. He swore his innocence, and assured it forever by a cruel muti
lation. Very desolate and alone, he retired into the desert and put his heart

Egypt — Death. 197
into an Acacia. The gods had compassion on him, and made for him a more
beautiful and admirable wife, whom he loved so much as to entrust to her the
tree in which he had placed his heart.
This beloved but ardent woman, eagerly desiring an efficacious love, grew
weary, and allowed herself to be carried off. The Nile bore her to Pharaoh.
Remorse went with her. She thought she could end it by cruel means, by
cutting down the tree of Satou. In vain. The poor heart became a magnifi
cent bull, which groaned and roared at her. It was killed. Two drops of
its blood had fallen on the ground. Out of them sprang two trees, not the
wretched acacia which was cut, but two sublime trees, two gigantic perseas,
which chatted together of love, and sighed. The queen was frightened, and
caused them to be sawn down ; but a splinter separated and touched her so
intimately, that she became with child. Satou had conquered her in spite of
herself. He was restored to the human form, was glorified, and became
Phra, Pharaoh, Sun. (All the same.) Now master of this cruel wife, he did
not avenge himself, but only related to her what she had caused him to suffer.
See the translation and the very interesting notice, which M. DE RouGti has
given of this manuscript of the fifteenth century B. c. — Athenaum Francais,
vol. i., p. 281. 1852.

198 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER II.
SYRIA — PHRYGIA — ENERVATION.
In the funereal monotony of Egypt one feels his soul
alienated, cramped (during a hundred centuries), and
stifled, as under the tree of grief. The contrast is very
striking when one gets out of such a place and enters the
stirring world which lies round about it. It seems to him
that a sea, a tempest of sand, like the whirlwind in the
desert of Libya, or in that of Suez, is floating before his
eyes. Among the blacks of the Upper Nile, in the en
campments of the Arabs, in the world separated from
Syria, even in those great empires of the profligate
Babylon and the barbarous Carthage, the mind seemed
to be led astray, and to be in the midst of a chaos.
The myths, which are luminous in Greece, harmonious
in Egypt, and which maintain an appearance of wisdom
even when most fantastical, here seem to whirl as the
simoom of the desert. It has not been spoken enough of
how much this south-west between Africa and Asia, where
all is fragmentary, divided, unorganized, looks in its whim
sical worships, like a real dream.*
* In the conscientious Egyptian paintings, which strike the beholder with
their truthfulness, one may see what difference in countenance there was,
seventeen centuries before Christ, between the Syrian, the Assyrian, the
Arabian or the Jew, the Negro, and the European (the Grecian as it would
seem). Those paintings are masterpieces indeed. The Grecian, who looks
like a man of modern Greece, is the mariner of the islands, with a profile harsh
and cunning, and with a piercing look. The Negroes are lively. In their ex
cessive and unconnected gesticulation it is very well shown that they are not
stupid fellows, but that, on the contrary, they are too lively, ofrich blood, unset
tled in their convictions, hot-headed, and half-mad. A precisely opposite type
is exhibited in the stiff and unyielding Bedouin, the angular though not ignoble
Arab, the rough and unprogressive Jew — pebbles of Sinai cut fine as with a
sharp instrument. I am sure these will live and defy the action of time. But

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 1 99
Syria felt her god in the swarming sea, whose waves
seethed and bubbled up a flood of living foam, oily and
permeated with myriads of fishes. Like the Euphrates,*
she had for her ideal the fish and the Female-Fish.
Certainly, if the infinity of inferior love, of fecundation
shows itself anywhere, it is undoubtedly in the fish.
Fishes could fill the sea. They swamp it literally at cer
tain times, make it white and illumined with a fat,
thick, and phosphorescent sea of milk.
Behold the Venus of Syria ! It is Derceto, it is
Astarte or Ashtaroth, who is male and female, the dream
of generation. The Hebrew, at the skirts of the desert,
living poorly, dreams of a people as numerous as the
whirling sand. The Phoenician, in the rich towns of
badly-smelling ports, dreams of the infinity of tide, a
people of amphibious beings, who stir and swarm from
Seidon to Carthage and to the ocean.
In the inland, the poetry ofthe amorous Syrian women,
who are pretty and who woo lasciviously, was to dream
the ephemeral and spurious figures of Babel and Phoenicia are short-lived, and,
like insects, continue their species through the ceaseless renewal of generations.
The man of the river Euphrates is a fish ; the man of Tyre is a frog. The
low backward inclination of the forehead in the Babylonian figure reminds us
of his god, and belongs to the aquatic world, the Magian fish. The man,
however, is not repulsive, nor is he void of grace in his movements ; he in
spires us with confidence, and seems to bid us " Welcome." And thus is it
that the gods of every land, and men of all nations, were attracted and fused
together helter-skelter in Babylon, because of the easy and accommodating
manners of the Babylonians, who freely welcomed and admitted all on equal
terms. Unlike the Babylonians, the Phoenicians are not dressed in beautiful
and closely-fitting robes, but with short jacket (of esparto ?) and naked arms,
like a sailor, leaving their limbs free for action. Their eye is clear, and they
seem like men accustomed to look at distant objects on the great plain of the
sea. This picture, however strange, is beautiful and serious. More wonder
ful : they have no neck. Singular abortions, their precocious vices have ar
rested their growth. Their faces indicate cruelty and indifference, which fit
them for their profession as merchants ; a horrible traffic in human flesh being
the chief article of their commerce.
* See the monuments in Rawlinson (1862), v. ist, page 167, in Botta,
Austen, Layard, etc.

200 Bible of Humanity.
of numberless doves, a people obscene and charming.
Their violent caresses, their love-intrigues, very irregular,
whatever may have been said to the contrary — were the
spectacle and the lesson. And their consecrated nests,
increasing day by day, could at their leisure whiten the
sad cypress of Astarte.
The Phoenicians carried away with them Astarte * on
their ships, that they might have a good voyage. They
worked on her behalf. Their great commerce consisted
in carrying off doves — women, girls, or pretty boys — and
taking them to the seraglios of Asia. Their religion was
to raise, in every settlement which they founded, an altar
to Astarte, a convent of soiled turtle-doves, who fleeced
the foreigners. f Cyprus and Cythera were defiled by
this worship to such an extent that the girls of these
islands underwent, each of them, the sacred blemish be
fore their marriage. \
They were lucky enough to get off at such a price.
For this Ashtoreth or Astarte^ the Venus of pirates, was
not always distinguished from the other god of the Phoa-
nicians, whom they called the King (Moloch), and who
was so fond of boys that he stole some of them every-
* Venus Eupkea, the goddess of prosperous voyages by sea. — Ed.
f Jacob Bryant describes the Sirens and Lamiae of Italy as a Canaanitish
priesthood, whose women, by their music and personal charms, seduced travel
lers and sea-faring men to repair to their temples. The Jewish Scriptures
make frequent mention of them, Q'BHp and riV^Hp. men and women conse
crated to the sanctuaries. The liaison of Judah ( Genesis xxxviii.) with his
daughter-in-law, Tamar, was induced by the religious consideration that she
was a holy woman, a minister of the temple, and not a harlot. All Syria,
from Hierapolis and Cappadocia to Arabia and Egypt, swarmed with these
votaries of Astarte, both male and female.
X Herodotus: i., 199. "The Babylonians have one most shameful cus
tom. Every woman born in the country must once in her life go and sit
down in the precinct of Venus [Mylitta or Astarte] and there consort with a
stranger. . A custom very much like this is found in certain parts of the
island of Cyprus." — Ed.
Also, Baruch, vi., 46. "The women also with cords about them, sitting
in the ways, burn pastiles for perfume," etc. — Ed.
Also Strabo: xvi., and Ancient Symbol Worship, page 87, note. — Ed.

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 201
where. This king, god of blood, god of fire, war, and
death, delighted himself in an execrable manner in clasp
ing living bodies to his iron bosom, heated to a white heat.
If the boy was not burned, he was mutilated. The iron
made a woman of him.
These Molochs, these cruel merchants, masters, and sul
tans everywhere, with their ships crammed with wretched,
living human flesh, and with their caravans, who led those
wretched beings away in long herds, had nothing what
ever to do with Syrian women. The latter were widows.
At night, on the high terrace of their house, or on the dry
wall which supported vine-plants, they cried, dreamt, and
told their griefs to the moon, the equivocal Astarte. The
sulphurous breath of the swallowed-up cities blew from the
South, and from the Dead Sea.
They dreamt. Never were dreams so powerful. The
Parthenogenesis, the force of the desire, which is fruitful
without a male, burst out in the Syrian woman, who alone
had two children.
One of them was the Messiah-woman, who freed Baby
lon, which till that time had been a thrall of Nineveh, the
great Semiramis, who was born a fish, and became a
dove, who married the whole earth, and at last wedded
her own son.
The other child was a god of sorrow, the Lord (Adonai
or Adonis). He was born out of incest, and his worship,
mixed with tears and amour, was also impure and in
cestuous. The great Syrian legend, the incest under its three
forms, Semiramis, Lot, and Myrrha, ends in this feminine
creation of immense importance, Adonis dead and risen.
A sensual and weeping worship, and very fatal too,
through which the world miserably went down the decliv
ity of enervation.*
* It is necessary to trace it to its source, and to say a word about the
remotest antiquity to give a clear idea of this worship. The foreigner is re
garded as unclean and abominable by the spiteful morals of those small tribes.

202 Bible of Humanity.
At all times, burials have . been the occasion of the
saddest follies.* Male and female mourtiers, feigning
despair, blinding themselves with wine and tears, became
utterly delirious, and ended by acting as if they had been
dead themselves, cutting their own flesh, and outrageously
staining it. Lot, who had seen the land sink into the
flames, and lost his country and his wife, believed that
everything, even the law itself, had come to an end. He
was dead, he cared for nothing. They were at liberty to
delude him as much as they wished.
The Lot of Byblos is affliction. Gingras or Kinyras,
the funeral harp, in this bad dream, is a king loved too
much by his daughter. This daughter is Myrrha, the
each of which thought itself to be the chosen people of God. To marry a
foreign woman, to leave for her sake one's kindred, was held a crime, and as
an incest. The only pure marriage, in their opinion, is with the near relative.
For this reason the daughters of Lot, having seen their tribe perish, say :
"There are men no more." Horror seized them at the idea of associating
with a man of another tribe. But on the other hand the highest dishonor, ac
cording to Syrian ideas, would be to die a maid, without child, like a
sterile fruit. They addressed themselves to the only man yet remaining,
their own father ; they deceived him and had by him two sons, Moab and
Ammon. In the book of Genesis there is not the least blame imputed to
them for having done so. On the contrary, the Jews trace from Moab the
descent of Ruth, the charming Moabitess, from whom sprang their kings —
David and Solomon. The history of Lot does not differ at all from that of
Semiramis, and of the real queens, Anaitis, Amestris, Parysatis, etc. They
wish to maintain the unity of their stock against the confused life of the
seraglio. For this purpose they marry or wish to marry their own sons, ac
cording to the custom of the Chaldean magians. This strange marriage in a
country in which woman becomes old so soon, was indeed a kind of celibacy.
It was perhaps a symbolical marriage, the mother having the title of wife,
that she might repel any foreign woman, and at the same time making her
female slave take her place. This Sarah and Rachel did, as it is related in
Genesis. This marriage concentrated in the family the mysterious tradition
of the arts of the magians, their astronomical attainments and industrial or
medical formulas and receipts, of which they were extremely jealous. Two
very ancient historians, Conon (quoted by Photius), and Xanthus of Lydia
(Clem., Strom., iii., 185), mention these marriages, as well as Euripides,
Catullus, Strabo, Philo, Sextus Empiricus, Agathias, Origenes, Saint
Jerom, etc,
* See books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy.

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 203
myrrh which is burned at funerals. Harp and myrrh,
lugubrious things, have so much of affinity that they min
gle themselves during twelve nights. At length Gingras
becomes indignant. But she does not, and, disconsolate
on account of her love, she weeps, and will continue to
weep under the shape of a myrrh-tree.
" Was this tree a punished, an execrated one ? " By no
means. The Syrian woman made of it the exquisite and
perfumed being which made death charming. One of its
beautiful, sweet-smelling tears was Adonis, who was such
a pretty boy, that from that time there existed for hei' no
other god. She called him " my Lord " (Adona'i), " my
Baal " (proprietor, husband). She herself dreamed that
she was his Baaltis, his Astarte, who must possess him,
Astarte Hermaphrodite, Adonis wife of Adonis. And in
order to reach the height of foolishness, her love-name
was Salambo {Samalkis), the mad flute, which is dismal
and furious, and which is played upon during the burials.
But by making Adonis her Baal, she had cruelly pro
voked Baal-Moloch, the king, the king of Fire, the king
of War, and of Death (Mars or Mors). This demon takes
the form of a demoniac beast. He enters into a hog, or
rather into a wild boar, and wounds the beautiful boy in
the sexual part, kills him, or kills his power of love.
Who could doubt about all this when his blood is still
flowing? At Byblos there is a torrent, which, by a
singular coincidence, becomes troubled and reddens at
the time, described in the Song of Songs, when the season
of rains is over, and the feverish blood runs quick in the
emotion of a Syrian spring-time. "It is the blood, the
blood of Adonis!"
Tears are a relief. Those mourning women were in
satiable of them. Every place echoed with their tears.
At Byblos, they used to weep before the sea, while'the
warm wind blew from Africa, in the intoxication of spring
time. In Syria, at the end of September, when the vine
mourned over the year, for it was the last month, they,

204 Bible of Humanity.
during seven days, till the first of October, used to rave
and to blind themselves with tears, over the vintage-tub. In
some places they could not wait for autumn, but during
the harvest, under the piercing rays of the sun (Adonis),
these mad female lovers welcomed him with abundant
tears in his supreme victory.
It was a rage for burials. They fancied, for everything
was confused in their minds, to have lost their lover as
well as their child. They made up an indifferent doll,
which represented a very effeminate boy.* Over this
wretched rag-baby, they, with heart-rending cries, per
formed the funeral rites and obsequies. They washed
that doll, opened and embalmed it. Afterward they put
it on a catafalque, and contemplated it for a long while,
especially its cruel wound, which was made on its delicate
side. They sat down in a circle on the floor, with their
hair dishevelled, sometimes chanting litanies, sometimes
holding their peace, and now and then heaving deep
sighs. From time to time one of them said : " Alas ! my
sweet Lord ! where is now your lordship ? " They were
stifling. At the end of seven long days it was necessary
to put an end to all this, it was necessary to part from
each other, and to bury this unfortunate doll. And what !
To see him no more ! His Astarte, his Baaltis, the des
perate Salambo looked in vain for him. Was he dead ?
. . . They took pains to make up a little miracle. In
some flower-pots, prepared beforehand, they set some of
those plants which heat causes quickly to blossom, and they
exposed them on the roofs of their houses, on the terrace,
where people sleep in Syria. These were the gardens of
Adonis. Precisely on the seventh day they went up to
see . . . and behold . . . the plant had burst out . . .
the plant had flourished. Shouts of love were heard from
terrace to terrace. " Oh ! joy ; the Lord had risen from
the dead ! "
* I follow closely the ancient texts, which the reader will find in Movers'
Phoenicians, I., chap, vii., 190-253.

Syria — Ph rygia — Enervation. 205
Everywhere the frantic Astarte seized again her young,
living, entire, unmutilated lover. They reassured the
world that it had lost nothing. They raised up the sign
of fecundation (the phallus mephallityth or neuropast) as
it was done in Egypt. But there was a great, a very great
difference in the purpose of so doing in the two countries.
As to Isis, the African wife, it was the over-excitement
of mutual happiness, and her adoration of her husband.
As to the Syrian Baaltis, it was the blind intoxication, the
indiscriminate tenderness, which welcomed the unknown
friend in the foreign guest, in the passer-by, in a word, in
Man. Adonis would have it so. The woman who forebore
to do all this, and shut her door, had, for penance, to let
fall her hair, and thus, with her hair cut close and ugly,
had to remain for a long time without daring to appear in
public. It seems that Baaltis-Astarte acted in antithesis to
Moloch. This jealous, terrible king sacrificed men in
order to keep, through dread, his colonies. She, on the
contrary, opened the door of her house altogether to the
passer-by, saying : " The poor foreigner ! " Moloch, the
great seller, the great mutilator — everywhere prepared
Adonises for the seraglios. Astarri, on the contrary,
worshipped the maimed boy.
This seems to be a striking opposition, but indeed it is
not. Unclean love is a kind of death. Moloch, in all his
horror, was less dangerous than the deep abyss of Astarte.
The amorous compassion, the effeminacy and the tears, the
contagious delight of the rites of Adonis brought on the
world the terrible and deadly fact : the disappearance of
manly strength.
Look at this progress of weakness. In Egypt, Osiris
died, it is true ; but he did not die altogether, because,
even dead, he became the father of Harpocrates. In
Syria, the male was nothing more than a weak ado
lescent, who did nothing but die. There was no pater
nity in him. Adonis had no child. He was himself the

206 Bible of Humanity.
child. But in Phrygia, under another name, he sank still
lower. The Syrian woman, although she looked languishing,
was at the bottom violent and terrible, and incapable of
resignation. She was full of boldness and prompt in doing
good as well as in doing evil. Jahel, Deborah, Judith,
and Esther, saved their people. Athaliah and Jezebel were
monarchs. It was the same with Semiramis, the famous
Dove of Ascalon, who flew away from Syria to the Euphra
tes. The goddess-fish, — Derceto, — got with child by the
god Desire, and was delivered one fine morning of this
strange creature. From a slave having become a queen,
and being lascivious and warlike, she got rid of a husband
who worshipped her, became wife of Ninus, the great king
of the East, took away his life and usurped his throne.
She dethroned also Nineveh, and made of Babylon, with
its hundred gates and gigantic walls, an image of herself,
a monstrous gulf of pleasure, which opened to everybody
the shelter of its impure brotherhood.
Babel was already the tower, the celebrated observatory
of the Chaldean Magi.* She was the market, to which
every year were brought from the upper Euphrates, and
are still brought, f the wines of Armenia, which led to
joyous festivity. She was an open city. The people of
Asia were afraid of the walls and obscurity of cities.^
The free chief of a caravan apprehended that if he stopped
in a walled town he would be lost, robbed, sold, and
perhaps killed there. When the conquest of Nineveh
drove away its people to Babylon, this industrious people
allured at any price all merchants and reassured them.
The advice of Balaam (prophet of the she- ass or Baalpeor),
as given in the book of Genesis, was followed to the letter —
to seduce through woman. The haughty ladies of Babylon
sat down at the gates, and invited the foreigner. What
could be more reassuring ? Whoso that passer-by was,
* Diodorus. \ Rennell. X Herodotus.

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 207
from the East, from the West ; of whatever race, a mer
chant, a chief of a tribe, a savage Ismaelite, a runaway
perhaps, or a miserable slave, the great lady, in state
and seated on a golden throne, received from him the
small sum which he threw on her knees. The Venus of
Babel imposed this duty of humility and equality. He
seemed to buy her, for every marriage was a purchase,
and, as it were, to marry her. Let him command !
Was all this a merely symbolical ceremony ? But how
proud must he have been in espousing Babylon, the
great Queen of the East, " the daughter of giants," of
whom he has dreamed so much in the wilderness ! He
felt himself beloved, adopted, and a Babylonian, himself
acquired and bought forever. Such was the snare of this
city. The foreigner, in passing over its threshold, lost
his recollection. With that small sum, given to the beauti
ful smiling lady, he found presently that he had also thrown
away into her hand his past, his country, his family, and
the gods ofhis ancestors.
All this went so far that he himself, in return, built and
enlarged Babylon, working eagerly to raise the walls of
his new country. As by a charm those walls rose two
hundred feet high. The Magians, by a stroke of genius,
had foreseen this, and had beforehand drawn astrono
mically, according to the number of days of the year, a
city of three hundred and sixty-five stadia in circum
ference. The bricks were baked in the sun. There was
plenty of asphalt. The whole was constructed at once,
with a true rage of love, by the friends, m the paramours, of
Queen Semiramis, the symbolical personification of Baby
lon. The walls, a real chain of mountains, on which four
* It results from the combined narrations of Herodotus, Ctesias, Diodorus,
etc., that, this enormous city, which contributed the third of the revenue of
Asia, was traced beforehand, and built at one time ; that its walls, so pro
digious, were the spontaneous work of multitudes who took shelter there under
the protection of the tower of the Magi. This reminds us on a grand scale
of some constructions of the Middle Ages, as the cathedral of Strasbourg,
which was built by the pilgrims, who worked at it day and night.

208 Bible of Humanity.
chariots could go abreast, suddenly lorded it over the
country. The neighboring kings were in a rage, and
threatened. But they ceased, when they saw that Babylon
was unassailable. During two or three centuries it was
the universal refuge, the ark of the arts of Asia, which
wrapped them up and preserved them from the floods
that lowered over the horizon.
What a great spectacle to see so numerous a people
become the children of this strange mother, who, under
her vast robe, welcomed and sheltered any man, whether
he was black or white, freeman or bondsman. The slaves
themselves had festivals, in which their masters attended
on them. The captives also were so well treated that
they throve as in their own home,, as it is seen in the
case of the Jews. In the midst of this great confusion,
people easily believed themselves to be brothers. Women
helped each other to husbands, the ugly ones receiving
their dowry from the beautiful. Sick persons placed them
selves confidently on the public squares and consulted
the friendly multitude.
Babylon, by the purchasing of mercenary soldiers from
the North, became a conqueror. Her Magi or Nabi (Na-
buchodonosor) frightened for a while the world, by carry
ing away and conducting to the Euphrates whole peoples,
as Israel, Judah, ,etc. But this grandeur was not strength.
The heterogeneous masses could only increase the discord
ancy of Babel, the confusion of mind, of languages, which
has become a by-word. Babel and Babylon seem to be
synonomous words, as barbarian in Greece, to signify a
smatterer, a mumbler, who mixes many languages. Such
medleys are injurious to the mind and produce giddiness.
Witness the great Nabi who became a beast* The women
there being more sober and more dispassionate, and whom
no excess can exhaust, found themselves to be more and
more the only males. Babylon itself was woman. The
* Daniel, iv.

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 209
queens-magi, especially Nitocris, who governed glori
ously, made in vain some immense works of defense, in
order to stop and delay the enemy.
Persia made light of such defence, entered, and thought
herself to be the mistress. But she was herself taken cap
tive in the long run. The old, voluptuous city embraced
her, held her fast, and prepared for her a bed so volup
tuous that she grew soft in it and melted. The genius of
the Magians, which was obscure, profound, unclean as
well in its origin as in cunning and lust of power, and
which had eaten the fruit of the tree of evil, perverted
altogether the conquerors. The queen-mothers imitated
the amours as well as the boldness of Semiramis. The
kings copied the pride, and the downfall also, of the
Nabuchodonosors. The Magians made up two idols, the
idol King, protected on every side by that comedy of
dread, which is seen on the monuments, the eagle-bull
with a human face, etc. The other, the idol-Mother, the
Great Mother Mihr-Mylitta, or Venus, in which character
they swallowed up all the gods of the East, and which
they boldly placed between Ormuzd and Ahriman, as a
Mediator, who domineered over Persia herself.
Personified Voluptuousness, Mylitta, the true conqueror
of Asia, sat, at the summit of Babel, on a throne, and
her lewd colossus wantonly reposed upon amorous lions.
Between those beasts was the King of kings, whom she
kept enervated and mild by the means of a Babylonian
seraglio, in which every year were incessantly placed
five hundred young creatures, a multitude "of fat chil
dren." *
Mylitta, in the lower part of Babel, and under the low
vaults where formerly the sacred dragons were fed, had
her young unemployed priests, gallant, rosy, with painted
faces, — counterfeit boys, counterfeit girls with false and
delicate voice, victims of shame, who were hired for

* Daniel, i.
14

210 Bible of Humanity.
money, and in their immolation, saw the heavens open
and told good fortune.
This unclean religion spread fast. Mylitta gained
ground in the West. In Lydia, in Phrygia, at the great
slave-markets, at the manufactories of eunuchs, Mylitta
was called Ana'itis-Atys ; she was the Great Ma with
numerous breasts, whom Greece called Cybele\ In this
confused country of Phrygia, a veritable chaos, where
people mixed everything without understanding, Atys, by
a monstrous legend, became the little male, the Adonis of
this large Cybele. They imitated the Passion of Adonis,
the holy week of Byblos. The child was always repre
sented as mutilated, lost, recovered, and bewailed by
women. The getting-up was still more pathetic, barbar
ous, grotesque, and very shocking. They did not take
out a small image of wood, but a piece of bleeding flesh,
which they set up as the head of Adonis, or his obscene
relic. The horror was at its height. Then the tree of
Atys appeared, — a pine-tree, as at Byblos, — enchanted,
groaning, and full of sighs. The crowd, with dishevelled
hair, prayed and called him up. At length a child burst
out from the opened tree. Atys, in rising from the dead,
was charming, worthy of admiration, in his equivocal
gracefulness, both boy and girl at once, the uncertain
dream of love.
This drama of giddiness and of fancy was highly remun
erative. The priests of Asia Minor, like the ecclesiastical
princes of Italy, traders in every way, speculated at the
same time on piety, love, and fortune-telling. They drew
from their Atys a lucrative brokerage ; and so grew rich,
became kings and popes.*
They pushed on their success, sending forth in every
direction their missionaries and apostles, itinerant Atyses,
mendicants, collectors with an ass, soothsayers, cunning
merchants of prayers and expiations — true antique Capu-
* Kreuzer by Guignaut : book III., ii., p. 80, et passim.

Syria — Phrygia — Enervation. 211
chins. They were half-eunuchs, and therefore safer minis-
trants to lust, and they sold at the same time pleasure
and penance.* These queer fellows, as the Flagellants,
shamelessly exhibiting themselves under the lash, moved
tender hearts to compassion. They bled, and women
became delirious, and fainted away.
Behold the conquerors of the world. Antiquity will be
swallowed up in their Atys-Sabazius.
* Plato : Republic, ii., 7. " Pedlar-priests also, and prophets frequent
ing the gates of the rich, persuade them that they possess a power, granted
them by the gods, of expiating by sacrifices and incantations in the midst of
feastings, whatever injustice has been committed by any one, or his fore
fathers." See also Apuleius : Metamorphosis, viii. — Ed.

212 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER III.
BACCHUS-SABAZIUS — HIS INCARNATION — THE TYRANT.
By looking at Greece invaded, penetrated by the
gloomy gods of the East, I feel the same dismay which
Athens ^elt when the sea was covered with the fleet of
Persia, commanded by the Phoenicians ; the same dismay
felt by Syracuse, when the vessels of Carthage brought
thither its black Moloch. What will become of mankind,
if the country of light is darkened with the worship of the
Eastern gods ?
They are all from Syria.* Everything passes through
Syria, even that which is Egyptian or Chaldean. The
uncouth gods of Phrygia, such as Atys-Sabazius, are the
counterfeit of the Syrian gods, Adonis, Sabaoth. The
Phoenician colonies are the great vehicle of this muddy
torrent. Nothing is so strange as the metamorphosis through
which those savage gods creep, and diffuse themselves
into Greece.
The stern Adonai of the desert, a mourner at Byblos,
becomes the charming Adonis. Sabaoth, the lord of the
seven heavens, of the myriads of stars, the ancient father
of the Magians, and god of Sabaism, becomes Sabazius-
* The antagonism between Phoenicia and Greece is not less evident than
that between Carthage and Rome. On Adonis-Atys, Sabaoth-S&bazius,
Mylitta (Mithras)- Venus, Baal-Peor, the ass belonging to Bacchus, see the
Hebraic and Greek texts, especially Movers, I., 350, 365, 383, 668, 695.
On Mithras-Venus, see the Investigations of Layard, and especially his
Memoirs (of vast erudition) on the worship of the cypress-tree. Acad, of In
scriptions, vol. xxii.

Bacchus- Sabazius. 213
Atys, a young martyr, whose Sabazian sorrow and noc
turnal festivals will last two thousand years. Quite close
by him, not only in antiquity, but in the Middle Ages, will
reign the other demon, not less tenacious, but more sly,
the cunning Baalpeor of Syria, with long ears, the ass of
wine, of lasciviousness, in an unmanageable manner given
to Priapus. " Orientis partibus — adventavit asinus—pul-
cher etfortissimus."
But those whimsical figures would have frightened
Greece, if most of them had not passed through a great
transformation, and had not been immersed, boiled,
scummed, and fermented, not in Medea's caldron, but in
the reeking vintage-tub of a rural god, who appeared to
be innocent, a god whom one finds everywhere, the god
of vintage, the god of the lively round,* and the coarse
pranks which people play at vintage time. And hence
springs up Dionysus, Bacchus-Sabasius , the chaos of gods,
the false Mediator, the false Deliverer, the god of Tyrants,
the god of Death.
In the India of the Vedas we have noticed tne fermented
liquor, the Soma, which was the offering of Asia. It was
replaced by wine. In going toward the West, it met with
the vine, which was preferred to it, and which seemed
more divine. Each year, this god in casks started from
Armenia, loaded on leathern boats encircled with boards,
and an ass was placed on them. He went down the
Euphrates. The Chaldeans, who had but their bad palm-
tree wine, drank with devotion this nectar of Armenia.
The boards were sold. The ass was loaded with the
leather,f bringing it to the highland. This amiable ani-
* Bacchus comes from everywhere, receives all things, and absorbs every
thing. As the god of wine, of noisy agitation, of rounds and of dancers, he is
a Thracian. (See Lobeck). Thracia and Phrygia are the classical lands of
vertigo ; the dervis-dancers continue the round of Bacchus-Sabazius-Atys ;
most of them are venal drunkards, who whirl in order to drink, and drink that
they may whirl. Ed. Gerhard (Griech. Mylhol., I., 467-512) exhausts
in an admirable manner the theme on the Thracian, Grecian Bacchus, etc.
f The commerce of wine in that country, in our own time, is the same as it

214 Bible of Huma n ity.
mal, the pride of the East, that each year, without fatigue
and in triumph, like a magian king, entered Babylon with
the cheerful vintage, was warmly welcomed and honored.
The title of Lord, Bel, Baal, was given to him. He was
respectfully called Belpeor (Lord Ass).
Respect even greater he received in Syria, where his
lascivious gayety, and his amorous power, and his super
iority over man, astonished the Syrian women, as the
prophet says. He was himself a prophet, and spoke under
Balaam. The mountain on which he spoke is still named
the Ass. On the whole he was a demon, Baalpeor, an
unclean and voluptuous demon, who serves everybody
and all purposes, allows people to get upon his back, and
to bridle him.
It is on the mountain of the Ass that the angels them
selves, inspired by Baalpeor, burned in lust for the daugh
ters of men.* Even in the wilderness, as Ezekiel says,
the festival of the ass was already celebrated. However,
he did not go to Egypt, where his neck would have been
broken without mercy. He went toward the North,
toward the West, solemnly preaching the cultivation of
the vine from which people have wine, the cadet brother
of Love.
The ass would have invaded every place, and would
have been Priapus and Bacchus. His personality, quite a
comical one, prevented him from being such. He could
not have become the voluptuous Proteus of tears and of
joy. He could not have played the child to affect women.
He could not have made of himself a tortured beautiful
boy. He could never have created the spectacle of the
Pathemata {Passion).
This spectacle appears to have had its origin in Crete,
through the tradition of the child given up to the Minotaur
is related in Herodotus to have been in his time. Rennel, etc. See (besides
Movers) the texts collected by Daumer, Ghillany, Kreuzer, Rolle,
etc. , on the ass of Babylon, of Balaam, of the Talmudists, of Bacchus, etc.
* St. Hilaire.

Bacchus- Sabazius. 215
(Bacchus). The child represented Bacchus, the victim
took the place of the god. This little Bacchus, or Zagreus,
torn to pieces and immolated on the tumbrel of the vin
tages, made people first laugh and afterward cry, on
account ofhis screams and his tears, the false blood which
flowed. The Passion of Zagreus, a tragi-comical one,
represented at Athens and everywhere, was the beginning
of the Greek theatre, as the theatre of the Middle Ages
began with the Mysteries, the kindred of the Passion.
Women, in their little Mysteries of springtime and
autumn {Anthesteria and Thesmophoria) festivals, in which
mother Ceres twice a year expressed the rights of love —
women, I say, found it very gentle to have in their arms
the fruit of love, to carry to those festivals a little child,
whom they called Iacchus. Bacchus, under the form of a
child, entered Eleusis, with his tragi-comedies, his Passion
of a god torn limb from limb, his incestuous equivocation
of obscure symbolism. Lamentable additions. The grain
died and lived again, so also did Proserpina. Bacchus
died and rose again. It was a drama in a drama, which
made intricate this beautiful and great moral theme, with
out strengthening it.*
It has been said, not without some grounds, that this
was the heathen mass. The initiated partook of the supper
of Demeter, of the bread, and the mixed beverage, which
she drank in her gloomy courses, in her motherly Passion.
This was a communion under both species, to which, how
ever, Bacchus did not add that of wine. But in his own
* Lobeck's Aglaophamus is, and will be, the chief, most complete, and
most critical book on this subject. All the texts are there brought together,
judged and elucidated with peculiar strength. This thaumaturgy of Mys
teries, confused and obscure, fumeous as it was, was not wholesome for
the mind. Bacchus had spoiled the ancient and charming myth of Ceres.
This is the reason why Socrates and Epaminondas would not be initiated in
them. Nevertheless there could be no immodesty in the Mysteries at Eleusis.
A serious lady, the hierophantides, superintended. At the altar a young boy
was always present. Diodorus and Galienus say that people brought back
from them always pure and pious ideas.

216 Bible of Humanity.
festivals he took an inferior name, the name of Ampelos
(vine), and offered himself in funeral sacrifice. Bacchus-
Vine gave up himself, and immolated himself to Bacchus-
Pluto, and pretended to die for us.*
He is here evidently the mediator who mitigates the
passage, and gently leads the souls from this world to
another ; who takes upon himself to plead for man and to
pray for him. He could act on man's behalf because he
had not been a god at first, but simply a hero, an heroic
man. Humanity, at this strange epoch, seemed to think
itself unworthy of speaking to God. It needed inter
mediate agents, guides, and interpreters. Mithras in the
nether world, and Bacchus on earth, will already speak for
us. God and man have two languages. Behold ! they
are separated ! Man is deprived of the glorious privilege
of a direct intercourse with God. Oh ! what an immense
fall! Is heaven higher? I do not know. But I am lower,
The wise had at first energetically struggled against
Bacchus. We have seen the war of Apollo against him,
the memorable contest between the flute and the lyre.
The lyre killed Marsyas, the flute killed Orpheus. The
followers of Pythagoras at first opposed Bacchus, aiming
at purity, but nevertheless submitted to the vanquisher.
They adopted him in their Orphean hymns, in which they
wished to reconcile everything, — uniting helter-skelter the
Phoenician Love (or Desire), the Greek Zeus, and the new
Mysteries with Bacchus.
Thus the wise and unwise, the pure and the unclean,
all took sides with him. Plato, against Socrates, and the
Socratic spirit, wished to have a Mediator of love. ~\ This
* Kreuzer : Symbolik, iii., 1027.
f "Man, the eldest ofthe gods, is born of Love and Chaos." This is a
piece of Phoenician doctrine which one wonders to see in the Birds of Aris
tophanes. But it had probably remained, together with the power of the
Eastern Venus, in the islands and Grecian ports, and ancient Phoenician colo
nies. Philosophers rashly and too easily lay hold of these Asiatic ideas,
which they understood very badly. Pythagoras copied Egypt, and Pherecydes
copied Phoenicia. They thought to follow some ideas, and did not see thai

Bacch us- Sabazius. 217
is a great part, which Eros, the winged child, will never
assume in Greece ; but it accrues altogether to Bacchus,
ever since irresistible, all-powerful, carrying away every
thing. Art contributed not a little to bring this about, followed
the decline, and made it more rapid.
Bacchus, in his statues, at first was manly enough. A
son-in-law, a son, a husband of Ceres, according to his
various names, he was noble still, when, in the last act of
the Mysteries, he lay beside the venerable goddess, on a
triumphal bed. Equal to Jupiter of heaven in the statues
of Polykleitus, represented with the eagle and the thunder
bolt, and being the Jupiter of the nether regions, with the
holy cup of the dead ; Savior in heaven, on earth, in the
they were following the sinking of the world, which had become general
through the fall of the empires of Asia. Persia became effeminate, received
the Mihr, the Mylitta of Babylon, a mediator of love. Will this dogma en
ter Greece ? Could not one hope that the logic, the school of analysis, and
of the Socratic good sense would shut it out ? Socrates, a few days before his
death, had, in his admirable Eutiphron, formulated the inmost depth of the
Grecian idea, the Law, a queen of the gods themselves, shutting the door of
heaven to the tyrant gods of favor and of love. Now this very god of love,
the true eastern tyrant, indifferent to justice (or rather an enemy to Law),
comes in through a false door. Which ? The very school of Socrates, when
it was divided and jarring. Plato, the great artist, willingly took doubtful and
incoherent glimpses from the hypogea of Egypt, or from the smoking volca
noes of Sicily. The poetry of the Mediator of love troubled him, and also
won him over. In the wonderful dialogue of the Symposium, a shocking,
sublime, and austerely licentious dialogue, he puts into the mouth of Socrates,
his teacher, a doctrine which was to undermine utterly the Socratic teaching.
"What is love? A god? No; for he has desires, and is not sufficient to
himself. A man ? No ; for he is immortal. He is a being who stands between
the mortal and the immortal. He is the Mediator, who is the link of all
things. . . . Love is a demon, Socrates, a great demon ! God not revealing
himself immediately to man, those spirits are his interpreters." (Plato, Ban
quet, 229.) All this is said slightly, and with a laughing gracefulness. Then
comes a charming story. Then follows a bold scene, which modern readers
find to be shameful, but which the light cynicism of the Greeks surely relished,
and which made this little book pass quickly from hands to hands. Its con
sequences have been incalculable for the ruin of Greece, and the impairment
of the human mind. IO

2 1 8 Bible of Humanity.
underworld, and opening hope everywhere, he appeared
the god of gods.
But he was indeed woman, and as such he appeared
more and more. He became Adonis, Atys, and Sabazius,
the womaned youth, whom Nature, by mistake, had digni
fied with the sex of man. Somnolent and with half-closed
eyes, he seems to be only a lazy beautiful woman. This
beauty asleep has the unwholesome charm of a marsh
under flowers, and is quite different from Eros, the lively
and wild boy, who is all sparks.* Art made him more
and more effeminate, daring not indeed represent him
with a woman's breast, but making him the indecent rival
of Callipyges. All this by degrees till he became the
young, fat, a little bloated, and gloomily unchaste Bac
chus of the column of Nero's gardens. He fixes a sad and
haughty look on the sun, but the sun blushes in seeing
him. Vain fables embellished this favorite. People without
any respect for Homer, who had pointed out at the
cowardice of Bacchus, made of him a Hercules fighting
with the Titans. They made him a conqueror of India,
giving him tigers to draw his chariot, instead of the ass,
which is his riding animal. They sang his praise, as
having strolled about the whole earth, amphora in hand,
and overthrowing the strongest through the invincible
force either of wine, or beauty.
I do not know how Aristophanes, the undaunted comic
author, dared in his Frogs show the true Bacchus like a
* The ordinary model of Eros was evidently the eager, shining Greek boy,
with a piercing look, in a word, a Spirit. This exalted all. The high admira
tion, which made him divine, felt in him the hero, and wished that he were
such. The model of Bacchus, on the contrary, is a mild, feminine, soft, deli
cate beauty : that of the northern slave : there is no such thing in the South.
Sometimes he lifts to the sky a look of sadness, and sometimes he closes his
eyes. If one has a will to do so, one can make of him the Genius of Sleep,
at the Louvre, or that of gentle Death, the amiable and hoped-for deliverer of
the slave (Bibl. Imper., engravings of ancient statues). Baleful conceptions
of a very corrupting art, which softens the heart with amorous compassion for
this dangerous son of dream and caprice, in whom is the heart of the Tyrant.

Bacchus- Sabazius. 219
fat, unclean, cowardly woman, who is frightened to death
for nothing. If he wished to vilify him, his attempt was
a failure. Bacchus was the worshipped mistress, the
popular darling. The Grecian peoples, among whom the
enfranchised and the slave already ruled, — the false Athens
which had replaced the true one, — acknowledged them
selves in him, found him charming, and honored him pre
cisely as a gluttonous and cowardly slave, especially as an
enemy to labor, or as Idleness and Drunkenness incar
nated. He was just the King, the Tyrant they dreamed
of. This was the terrible power of Bacchus. He was the god
of tyrants and of slaves. He was the good tyrant of drunk
enness and of hazard, of happiness and Good Luck. He
was the Deliverer, who unbound and untied (Eleuthereus,
Lysios, Lyaeos) ; he untied man from the cares of the
year, of the works of summer, in order to enter in the
vintage. In autumn, in spring time, he made the festival
of the slave. He nourished him with hope, with the
chimera of the kingdom of Bacchus, and of the lawless
life, in which to drink and to sleep will be the only law.
A god who untied all, was, of course, himself unbound,
and without girdle ; his Bacchantes also were so, in sign
of ease. No more mine and thine, no more boundaries.
Especially no more labor ; Bacchus had abolished it. In
its place, he had instituted an eternal banquet, in which
he will make the shares. His diadem seems to bear his
name {Isodetes) the Divider.
If he untied everybody, will he not unbind woman ? At
first he gave her the freedom of tears, sensual tears, — " the
sweetness of crying." With his laughing train of Satyrs
and Silenuses, he was pre-eminently a mourner. The
Grecian woman, sadly sedentary, opened her heart en
tirely to Bacchus, and poured forth her loves in tears.*
* Women superabounded (Aristoph., Acharn.). And, on the other hand,
they were driven to despair (Id., Lysistr., v., 231), since men had entirely
perished at Miletus and elsewhere. At Athens, the inexcusable indifference

220 Bible of Humanity.
She was always in company of her inseperable, indispen
sable, and confidant nurse, who was either a tender and
foolish woman from Thracia or Phrygia, or a cunning
Milesian, or a sweet female friend from Ionia. The
sweetness was in going in the evening to cry together at
Bacchus-Adonis', at the vespres of Syria, in which, during
three entire nights, the dove sighed and groaned. People
laughed at this. But they did not laugh at all, when on
a certain evening, at the moment in which the fatal expe
dition of Sicily was decided on, a song of sorrow filled
the city. It was the ladies who were crying over . . .
their country ? No; . . . but over the death of Adonis.*
Fear attends vain sorrow. Demons, evil spirits, be
stirred themselves, going and returning. It was an epi
demic. The maid was sick for it. She was told " to get
married as soon as possible." But the wife was not any
more tranquil. Many were so much haunted by the
demons, that they were driven to despair, and strangled
themselves. Their dreads, their shocks, spread the sacred
sickness, the scourge of epilepsy. f
Movement, dance, the thyrsus, the noisy orgies are
surely a remedy against fear. Women, who, under the
guard of their nurse, hardly went in the evening to their
modest Mysteries, now found themselves so bold that they
went by troops to Eleusis, nay to the desert promontory;
nor is this all, but they went to Delphos, to Parnassus.
They wept as though each of them were a Thyades, and
were delirious as Bacchantes. But, wonderful to be told !
each of them was also a Mimallone, the warrior of Bac
chus, and bore the thyrsus and the dagger.
This soft Bacchus was a god of Death. The Bacchantes
took from him their name, the servants of Pluto. This
sweet Bacchus was fond of blood, and remembered that he
of men, made women live among themselves, closely bound and forming as a
feminine republic (Id., Ibidem). In all this Aristophanes is a great historian.
* Aristophanes : Lysistratus.
\ Hippocrates, Littre's edition, iv., 367, viii., 467, etc.

Bacchus- Sabazius. 221
was also Moloch. If he did not require any longer
human victims, his thirst had not changed, so that his
female lovers, in the rough Arcadia, lashed themselves and
lacerated their bodies to offer him the blood of woman.*
These impure and cruel religions spread themselves in the
false Greece ; in Sicily, in Italy assuming a cynic character
(as it may be seen on the vases) ; in Phrygia assuming a
dull and foolish form ; and in Thessaly, Epirus, Thrace,
and Macedonia, being commixed with barbarous magic.
There was a general foreboding that great evils were
coming, — a terrible overthrow. Women had a shrinking
of the heart. The sorrow of Cheronea weighed over them
beforehand. And beforehand also weighed on them the
dreadful end of Thebes, where Alexander in one day sold
thirty thousand Greeks into slavery. Women felt and
feared the danger, but nevertheless they were preparing
it. It was from the dismal orgies that those evils were to
spring, for which they wept, without knowing them — dis
soluteness, ruin, slavery, and the barbarous victory, the
living orgies, the Tyrant.
* Pausanias : Arcadia, viii. , 25.

222 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER IV.
THE INCARNATION OF SABAZIUS — CONTINUATION-
MILITARY ORGIES.
The glory of the great Gelon, the good Tyrant, who
repelled the efforts of Carthage, had perverted ideas in
Sicily and everywhere. Among the Seven Sages there
were two Tyrants. The Tyrant, a chief of the party op
posite to aristocracy, represented himself as the friend and
benefactor of the people, their good foster-father, who
would make them eat and drink, would be their Bacchus,
their Ceres. To flatter him, according to these gods, the
people often called him Dionysus {Denis) and Demetrios
(from Demeter, Ceres).
But no dynasty of Tyrants ever long endures. They
spring up and fall. It was necessary, in order to create a
stable one, to have a foundation, a fixed point out of
Greece. It was too hateful to look for such a support
among the Persians. Philip, the cunning king of Mace
donia, perceived perfectly well that the true basis of a
dynasty of Tyrants ought to be half Greek and half bar
barous, and that if he could group, around his small Mace
donia, the rough Epirus and the wild Thrace, and espe
cially Thessaly — the country of Centaurs — -all that pseudo-
Greece, which was so warlike, would be in his hand a ter
rible weapon against the genuine, exhausted, divided
Greece. He did two very sagacious things. He freed
Thessaly from its tyrants, and became the patron and
chief of its wonderful cavalry. He honored Epirus by
taking his queen from among its people, and thus he as
sured to himself the valiant tribes of Albania, their firm
foot-soldiers. This is the secret of his victory, and also of

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 223
his death. He perished, because he had married a
woman of Epirus.
That country, the Albania of our time, of discordant
contrast ; that country so small, and yet reckoning fourteen
peoples, is well known. An eternal storm unceasingly
strikes there with thunder the Ceraunii mountains. Old
volcanoes, earthquakes, violent alluvions of torrents, these
things make up Epirus. There were enormous fierce
dogs, but man was far more fierce. Assassinations at all
times were abundant. The very women there carried
weapons ; they were stern, violent, and haunted both by
the old spirits of the country (in the forests of Dodona),
and by the new demons of Thrace and Phrygia. They
were born Bacchantes and sorceresses ; skilful in the dan
gerous herbs of dreams, or of poison, it was their joy, in
imitation of the Medeas of Thessaly, to wind around their
arms and their breasts, the beautiful, undulating adders.
They used to say that they had formerly put to flight
whole armies only by means of their yellings and their ser
pents.* Vain fables. Those innocent reptiles upon them
were rather an ornament of prostitution. It is said that
Hercules, with loathing and horror, saw on these barbarous
lands the beginning of the Syrian and Phrygian orgies of
Adonis, and of Atys-Sabazius. Those haughty women,
with their thyrsus, their dagger, and their masculine
pride, sank in those orgies to the level of false women or
half-men, the immodest Atys, who styled themselves
mutilated, the merchants of unprolific amours, of dreams,
and who were trivial soothsayers. If from the holy or
gies a child were born, oh, miracle ! the child was the off
spring of a god !
Handlers of serpents, inspired quacks, circle-dancers of
Sabazius, Bacchants, and Bachantes of Bacchus, they all
held fast together. The young woman whom Philip
married belonged to those who played with serpents.
* POLY^EN., iv., I.

224 Bible of Humanity.
She was protected by the greatest oracles, all which at
that time were subordinated to Bacchus. Philip, perhaps,
knew that, and thought to make it an engine of power
in his hand. He was entrapped in his own snares. The
name of his queen from Epirus was Myrtale ; but she,
through unseemly ambition, called herself Olympias.
After the marriage, she boldly told Philip that she had
conceived on the eve, that she had had the dream of
Semele, a flood of fire. The lightning had filled her
bosom, and hence the whole earth. Philip little relished
such a confidence. He had the apprehension that the
lightning, with which she was pregnant would bring him
ill-fortune. He was inquisitive to know why at night she
lay alone, and, looking through a crevice, he saw near her
a great serpent sleeping. He was disgusted at the spec
tacle. He perceived immediately that his queen was
expert in the dirty rites of Sabazius.* The vast brother
hood, mixed with those of Cybele and Bacchus, included
the low bottoms of prostitution, the street-walkers and the
quacks, the sellers of love, of prayers, of remedies, of
abortion, and of poison.
If he had cast away this woman, he would have caused
Epirus to revolt. He would have set against himself the
army of Bacchants and Bacchantes. He must have be
lieved so, when, having consulted the oracle of Delphi,
he was told that he must make an offering to the god who
had honored him so much, and that he would lose but
one eye for the impiety of having looked through a crev
ice into the bed-chamber of Olympias. This answer of
the oracle spread through Greece, and caused the predic
tion to be fulfilled. A skilful archer undertook the task.
The child, Alexander, whether bastard or not, grew up.
His mother had employed every means to make people
believe in the fable of his birth. She had her serpents
everywhere, keeping some in vases, others in baskets,
* See especially Movers and Lobeck. I will return to this subject by
and by.

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 225
from which they darted out hissing, not without terror to
visitors. The boy, brought up in the midst of such come
dies, believed himself to be the son of Bacchus-Sabazius.
He inclined his neck on the left, in order to imitate the
gracefulness of Bacchus, the ease of the beautiful idler, as
he is represented in his statues. Nevertheless, since the
name Sabazius had become too synonymous with the
words liar and quack, people called him Zeus-Sabazius,
and later in life Alexander attributed to himself the horns
of Amon.
Nobody was less Greek, nothing more opposite to the
Grecian hero (Ulysses or Themistocles) than Alexander.
He had the true blood of the North, was of very white
complexion, and had another characteristic, which is
never found in the South, namely, humid eyes {hygroteta),
eyes with glimpses of blood-red fury or drunkenness. In
short, he was a perfect barbarian, full of impulse, but a
toper, a passionate man, capable of great crimes and great
repentance. It is known that he had at times the shame
less adventure, not heard of before among the Greeks, of
killing in his drunkenness a friend with his own hand.
His countenance very probably expressed too distinctly
his native inhumanity ; for he seems to have been afraid
of being exhibited in portrait too resembling to himself,
and therefore forbade, under penalty of death, that artists
should deviate from the official model of his artist, the
great statuary Lysippus.
Philip forgot him, and left him entirely under his
mother's care till he was thirteen years old. His educa
tion was so neglected that he did not learn even the most
common exercises of Greece ; for instance, he could not
swim. Philip had a son, his bastard Aridseus, a well-dis
posed and well-gifted young man. Olympias, however,
secretly provided against him, by means of some bever
age, which turned his head. Philip then had to think to
whom should he leave the great work of his .life, his king
dom and the army which he had created with so much art
10*

226 Bible of Humanity.
and cunning. Cool-headed as he was, and truly superior,
he had no repugnance toward the boy, who, whatever he
wjas, seemed to be undaunted, and who by many was
called the son of the gods. Philip adopted him, and put
him for four years under the tuition of a client of his
household, a man of very great genius, Aristotle ; who,
however, was so much of a Greek, and of such a reflecting
turn of mind, that he was precisely the most unfit to have
any hold on that young barbarous nature. Besides,
Aristotle had Alexander late under his tuition, when the
latter had already been moulded by his shameless mother,
and by her lying story that he was a god, and when the vile
flatterers of Olympias surrounded him.' But the teacher
whom Alexander filially loved was not Aristotle ; it was
Leonidas, Alexander's silly foster-father, who spoke only
of Asia Minor, of India, and of the victories of Bacchus,
which the young man was to renew. Add to all this the
concurrence of all the oracles, which foretold even the
least details of his future conquests.
Philip had reached the highest eminence of renown.
Conqueror at Cheronea, he had displayed a glorious
moderation, declining any triumph, and sending home the
prisoners. His great work was accomplished ; he was not
only powerful, but beloved. Many sincere men believed
that Greece could not, without him, carry on her mission,
the Hellenization of the East. It was nothing to conquer it.
It was necessary to pervade it with the Greek spirit and
knowledge, to colonize and civilize, and to make such a
change desirable. Nobody could do that better than
Philip. Brought up in company with Epaminondas, he
was possessed, if not of his virtues, at least of his patience
and his steady mildness. He had that in which the vio
lent Alexander was deficient — the coyiceplion of the time,
of the necessary compromises, without which a conquest
would be but a scourge for the world, and create nothing
but chaos.
Philip was forty-six years old. Around him, at the

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 227
solemn moment of his expedition, was gathering a crowd
of eminent scientific men, precisely as the Committee of
Egypt formed in our time by the Directory for General
Bonaparte. The soul of it was Aristotle, who declined to
go with Alexander, but who would have followed Philip,
and doubtless in company of the illustrious naturalist Theo-
phrastus. With Alexander went the school of Aristotle,
Callisthenes his nephew, Anaxarchus, and Pyrrho his
pupils, and many historians, Nearchus, the great mariner,
etc. It was perfectly easy to conjecture, after the trium
phant return of Xenophon, and the success of Agesilaus,
that the war against an empire already dissolving could not
be a serious one, and that people could very easily follow
the army, study, become perfectly acquainted with the
country, and, above all, select the places where colonies
should be established. The most important of them had
been organized. A multitude of Greeks — soldiers, ma
rines, and merchants — filled the shores of Egypt.
There was but one bristling point for Philip, — his bar
barous woman of Epirus, who tried to prevent his depart
ure, by arming against him the people of Epirus and her
son, the son of Sabazius, that dangerous young man,
fully convinced of his own divinity, and capable of doing
anything to overthrow opposition. The mother and her
son had on their side the temples. Philip, desirous to en
courage his party, consulted the oracle of Delphi, but he
received an answer bearing a double meaning, and which
forshadowed his death : " The sacrifice is ready, the bull
is crowned with garlands."
Philip went further, and took a wife, by whom he had a
child. This hastened the catastrophe. Olympias caused
him to be assassinated, and dedicated under her own
name the dagger at Delphi. People were then enabled to
judge what they had lost, and what the new government
would be. Olympias took possession of her rival, with
her child, and caused them to be burned in a brazen
vase. Alexander, in one day, sold at auction thirty thou-

228 Bible of Humanity.
sand Greeks, the very Thebans who had raised Philip,
and had made the greatness of his house.
All obstacles were removed before the son of the gods.
Extreme weariness, atony, and despair produce, in this
world of ours, a disease, which may be called the Messianic
epidemic. All the superstitious elements which were in
Greece stood by the young god, whose inauguration had
taken place through a massacre. People saw him with
lightning in his hand, an army enormous indeed, and
unheard of. All the resources of wisdom had come to
gether for the great, inevitable, and expected enterprise,
which was to be accomplished by the wise, or by the fools.
Its time had come, and the necessity was such that no
mistake of Alexander could have made it miscarry. He
made many queer mistakes, with impunity, which would
have caused the ruin of another man. He fought in the
most unfavorable places. He marched through unusual
routes, and through deserts without water ; he risked his
army and put it to the utmost ordeals. How was it ?
People have not wished to understand it. But those who
have a little experience, and the knowledge of living
forces, easily conjecture that, beyond the miracle, there
was some other thing than a well-trained army. There
was, indeed, a God and a spirit, the wing of fire, and
the breath of fire, that which I would call the soul of
Greece, which always went straight forward ; seemed to be
led, while it was leading ; made up for blunders, and re
paired them, and which was indeed the infallibility of
victory. The historians have thrown all this into the
shade, as much as they could. But Alexander felt it
with vexation, when ironically he said this true thing :
" Could it not be said that the Greeks, in the midst ofthe
Macedonians, are like spirits among beasts ? "
It was the peculiarity of Greece, that, for a hundred
years, in the expectation of great things which were
foreseen, there had been many men of equanimity, fit
for all things, warriors and men of letters, philosophers,

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 229
soldiers of adventure. Men like Xenophon had already
penetrated into Asia, and acquired renown. Men like
the undaunted, cruel Clitarchus, the sophist, made them
selves tyrants of a state. Such a one was the excellent
and accomplished tyrant who gave his sister for a wife to
Aristotle. But the absolute dominion of little common
wealths was not enough to satisfy them. They aimed at
higher things, at Babylon and Persepolis. They knew, as
a modern authority has said, that " one cannot work on a
large scale but in the East." In those high-minded men,
men of superior genius, there was an ambitious Greece —
waiting till at last the barrier should be put down — that
followed Alexander and served him too well. The same
signal happiness, which, in the campaign of Italy, was
the lot of Conde^ and Bonaparte, — everywhere taking
and gathering around themselves many excellent officers,
men beyond comparison, — was also the lot of the young
Alexander, around whom gathered themselves spontane
ously those illustrious Greeks ; and it is especially for
this circumstance that the young king became Alexander
the Great.
The Persians also had Greeks in their pay, who, how
ever, were riotous, dissatisfied, and not very numerous,
although their number has been exaggerated as much as
it could be. Nothing was neglected to deceive the world,
and the coming generations. Many licensed historians
went along with the army. The generals themselves
wrote, lied, as much as they could ; yet Alexander did
not rely on all this. That the war was by no means such
as it has been related is evident from the fact that he had,
through all his route, the leisure of writing, at every turn,
to his friends or lieutenants in Greece, the news, which
they put in everybody's mouth.* As it is known that, in
the last century, Frederick wrote incessantly to France
and did his best to become a Frenchman, so it is certain
* Plutarch : Alexander, li. 93.

230 Bible of Humanity.
that Alexander seemed to be uneasy at not being
altogether a Greek, and made court to the shadow of
Athens. He carried Homer with him everywhere, and
put him at night under his pillow. That which shows,
nevertheless, how little he profited by Homer's poems,
is that, quite contrary to the custom of the true Greeks,
who all imitated Ulysses, he chose for his ideal the brutal
hero of the country of the Centaurs, the impetuosity and
the fury of Achilles. To imitate Achilles and the over
throw of Troy, he performed the horrible pillage of
Thebes. In the most urgent moment of war, he cele
brated at Ilium the games and long festivals. After taking
Gaza and the chief of the city, who had opposed him a
long resistance, he imitated Achilles by dragging him
behind his chariot by means of a rope and his bored feet.
One fine morning this Achilles became Asiatic, and
turned his back to Homer and Greece. Babylon, the
great mistress in monarchical prostitutions, accomplished
in one day upon Alexander those effects which it required
a hundred years to produce on the Persians. Shameful
and unforeseen spectacle ! The conquered found them
selves to be the vanquishers. Asia, that was at that
moment worn out, stained, and in the cadaverous condition
of Chaldean rottenness, — old Asia obtained her master
for her lover. A gilded sepulchre, the sink of love, through
which the world had passed, such was the passion of Alex
ander the Great. Modern writers, when they see in all this
an admirable political sagacity, are insane. If the Greeks
had to contract a little of the Asiatic manners and think
ing, this certainly was not the way to do it. Asiatic cus
toms and ideas ought to have been controlled by the lofty
Greek spirit. It would have been necessary, above all,
to proceed in this business with a very slow prudence,
and with wise considerations.
To lay hold of Asia through the child Bagoas, the
false girls, the Good Luck, and the perversity of the
magians ; to throw himself headlong in the pit and mud

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 231
of uncleanness, was to show himself a barbarian by
nature, delighting in impurity ; it was to recall to mind
his nativity, the son of a Bacchante, and of the charlatan
Sabasius. His palace was crowded with soothsayers and
charlatans. He relied solely on the conquered people, and blindly,
without shame or precaution, armed them. He was train
ing thirty thousand Persians for fighting against the
Greeks, or to drive them away. He wished that the
latter, transformed in a moment, and becoming Persians,
should worship him in the Eastern manner, abjuring their
good sense.
It was not, as some make us believe, a childish thing,
and a mere vanity. It was a perverse and calculated
thing. Adoration was the touch-stone for the abdication
of good sense and human dignity. The magians, his
teachers, felt that this would be the limit of Greek obedi
ence, and that if he were resisted, he would hate Greece,
and become entirely a Persian.
When at a later period the Caesars didthe same things,
the world had sunk so low, and was so much degraded,
that anything was easy. But at the time of Alexander, in
the presence of Greece yet alive, in that sublime light of
genius and reason, the attempt to sink man into the con
dition of a beast was a mad crime, even beyond the foolish
ness of Caracalla.
Strange thing ! Greek apostates were partly the cause.
When in his drunken anger Alexander had assassinated
Cleitus, the sophist Anaxarchus, seeing him weep, said
to him, while making sport of him : "That nothing was
crime in him, since he was the Law ; that Jupiter had
Themis, who sat near him, to serve him." Such words
sank deep in Alexander's heart. From that moment he
caused himself to be worshipped.
The Greeks obeyed and laughed. Only one among
them did not laugh, and resisted. He disconcerted Alex
ander, and checked him by the sacrifice of his own life.

232 Bible of Humanity.
His name will never die. It was CaUisthenes, the philoso
pher, and nephew of Aristotle.
Ptolemffius, later a king of Egypt, a captain and friend
of Alexander, his most serious and reliable historian,
positively says that CaUisthenes was crucified by order of
Alexander, because he would not worship him.*
Enormous event. Plutarch, who had read Ptolemaeus
and all the contemporaneous historians whom we have
lost, says that Alexander did flinch ; that CaUisthenes lost
his life, but saved Greece from that extreme degree of
shame. I have no doubt about it. This solemn action was of
an immense importance. What the deep thought of
Aristotle had just founded in the intellectual domain, by
creating in theory the philosophy of energy, his nephew
carried out in practical life, and from the height of his
cross he, more than Zeno, more than Cleanthes, originated
stoicism. Rich and fruitful work, which was not only the struggle,
the heroic defence of the soul and of conscience, of human »
reason crushed under the gods, but which was soon to
become the strong foundation of what the ancient world
has bequeathed to us of its best, — civil law And jurispru
dence, which in the main points we still follow.
Wisdom is sedate. I will not describe foolishness.
The new Bacchus pushed on to India. With what real
result ? Is it really the genius of Greece which con
quered its way, and penetrated into remoter Asia ? Is the
bloody chaos which we soon shall point out, the ephem
eral Greek empire, a foundation ? Asia despised it, and
was filled with disgust by it, and returned eagerly to her
* Plutarch, who relates this fact, has under his eyes Ptolemaeus, * high
authority, and the first of all authorities. Arrian, whom alone Montesquieu
follows, is the worst historian of Alexander. Arrian, many centuries after
Alexander, falsified Alexander's history, trying to put in it some good sense.
It is necessary to leave it as it really is, an absurd, romantic, foolish narra
tive.

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 233
ancient religion, a fanatic reaction, which soon created the
empire of the Parthians.
The army, wiser than its commander, at last refused to
go further, and behold, this powerful god was compelled to
obey. The scenes which were exhibited on the return
were extraordinary for madness and despair. Alexander
had lost his senses, and was scarcely a man. He built a
city in honor of his dog ; another for the tomb of his
horse. He played Bacchus, carrying the thyrsus, and
crowned all his army with ivy, making Bacchantes of all
those sunburnt old soldiers. From the height of his world
wide imperial throne, he taught and exemplified that
which the kings of Asia hid in their seraglios. He was
already an Heliogabalus, with all the infamies of Atys,
and of Adonis of double sex, "the lover of Venus, and
the fair beloved of Apollo." He wept over Hephaestion
with the passion of a woman ; he killed his physicians,
burned the temple of Esculapius, and asked the oracle of
Amon to make a demi-god ofthe dead Hephasstion. The
love-feast in honor of the child Bagoas, displayed before
the army, was more astonishing still — an unique scene
which is not to be found in the history of the Caesars.
This example in such a man as Alexander the Great car
ried with it a fatality. The burden, with the weight of
his glory and his immense influence, was destined to lie
heavy on the future. The Caesars were its product, and
it created the military customs of armies, the morals of
soldiers and of kings.
The army of Alexander clapped hands at the strange and
monstrous sight, at first in mockery — and then in the wild
joy of feeling the restrictions upon them loosened in the
outrageous libertinism of the exhibition, and the carnival
which lasted so long. All had been emancipated for all
the filth of war. A spurious, unbridled Greece, formed
from every people, will plunder the world. Every one
through infamy will be Bacchus-Sabazius ; every one,
in his own sphere, will be an Alexander the Great.

234 Bible of Humanity.
His heritage was a vast one. It consisted of three things :
First. He killed hope, and human dignity. Every one
felt himself a plaything of destiny, who had encountered
enormous, unforeseen, casual forces, and despairing of
himself, became weak and credulous. Everywhere there
were tears, everywhere hands were lifted up to the sky.
There was an immense commerce of slaves ; merchants
followed the soldiers. Those unhappy masses of Syria,
of Phrygia, and even of the upper East, brutalized
Europe with their Messianic foolishness.
Second. Alexander killed human reason. The wonder
ful fact of his expedition made everything credible and
acceptable. People did not remember any longer that
Xenophon with ten thousand men, and that Agesilaus with
six thousand, had crushed all the efforts of the Persians.
People did not remember any longer that the miracle of
Alexander had been set in order and prepared through a
concurrence of the events of two hundred years. People
were stupefied, and sadly bowing their head before every
thing which was absurd, foolish, chimerical, and which
until that time they would have laughed at, they used to
say : " Why not ? It is less than Alexander the Great."
Intelligent men, as Pyrrho, became altogether sceptical.
He had followed Alexander, he had seen the fact, and he
could not believe in it ; it appeared to him to be a dream,
and from that time everything seemed to him to be un
certain. The majority of mankind, on the contrary, sank
into the silly belief of monstrous fables. Euhemerus
flatly asserted that every god had been a king ; and the
majority of men more flatly believed that every king was
a god. "Why could not a divine serpent have chosen, for his
Leda, Alexander's mother ? . . . Mystery ! deep mys
tery ! . . . Silly human reason, hold your peace ! Un
doubtedly men like Socrates had not foreseen it ! What
of that ? Alexander can do without it. Suffice it that his
miracles have proved his divinity."

The Incarnation of Sabazius. 235
Henceforth many kings are gods, and sons of gods.
The pattern has been laid down. Any one can copy it.
Augustus' mother will tell you that she has enjoyed the
favors of the serpent, and that the slimy reptile has im
planted the Caesars in her womb.
Third. Imitation is the law of this world of ours. Osiris
was imitated by Sesostris in his conquests ; Semiramis,
with few slight differences, imitated the latter. Bacchus,
in his war in India, in his conquest of the earth, copied
this old nonsense of the East; so did also Bacchus- Alex
ander, who has, in his turn, been imitated by the Caesars,
Charlemagne, Louis XIV., etc.
But, more than any other man, Alexander has been the
founder of all monarchical folly, not only on account of the
unmeasurable influence of his glory, but because from
him began in our Europe the royal machinery , preserved
and servilely imitated. The conception of the modern
king, the court, and the etiquette have come to us taken
precisely from him.
The ancient king of the East, the patriarch or sacerdotal
king, had the unction and sceptre of a priest, rather than
the sword. The Grecian tyrant was a popular chief, who
had the sword, the might. These two kinds of authority
were, for the first time, united in Alexander.* From
that time the double tyranny in one man has lain, and
will lie heavy upon mankind. For the modern king, in
Christian times, while he carries the sword, has also the
cope, the priestly character. \
It was by this that the magians so easily laid hold of
Alexander. His triumphal entrance into Babylon was a
curious one, as a political apotheosis, a deification of
royalty. Through a road strewn with flowers, between two long
* This idea, which is the animus of M. Michelet's work, is not accurate.
In India and other countries, ages before Alexander, military leaders had
usurped supreme power, and made the priests their subordinates. — Ed.
f See my History.

236 Bible of Humanity.
rows of silver altars, on which perfumes were burning, all
of great Babylon, — with her riches and pleasures, with hei
sciences and arts, with her music, with her astronomers,
women and lions, tame leopards, with her pretty, rouged
boys, the minions of Mylitta, — came to prostrate herself
before Alexander. He was so dazzled by, and so intoxi
cated with, this pomp, that his masters and corrupters made
of him what they desired. They made him accept the ma
gians' purifications (so impure !). They made him accept
their solemn puerilities, and appointed for him a seraglio
of three hundred and sixty-five women, according to the
number of the days in the year.* They muffled him up in
the cidarim ,\ the diadem (of Mithras and Bacchus) anointed
with myrrh, which makes gods out of kings. They thrust
upon him a golden house, a golden throne, a golden scep
tre, all the old royal curiosities, with the comedies of the
eagle, of eagle-lion, the griffin, which things the Caesars
later put on their standards, and feudalism adopted into its
beautiful heraldic mysteries. Moreover they made him
accept a wearisome etiquette of seven tasters, of seven
nobles devoted to his person — the seven planets of the
royal sun, a haired sun ; he must wear long hair. From
this we perceive whence were derived our Roman-heads
of false hair, and the periwig of our King-sun.
* See Diodorus, Plutarch, and the texts which have been collected by
Hyde in his book De Regno Persarum.
f From the Hebrew "ifD, KiTaR, a diadem. The term is found in the
following passages : Esther i. 11; ii. 17; and vi. 8. According to the
Talmud, the tzanich, turban or mitre, of the Jewish high priest, was called
kitar or cidaris. — Ed.

The yew — The Servant. 237
J

CHAPTER V.
THE JEW — THE SERVANT.
A TRAVELLER is arrested in his journey, about evening,
in a barren region, by an overflowing torrent. There is
in the midst an old bridge, but it is broken on each side.
There are still two arches standing, and two or three piers,
but they are inaccessible. At what time was that struct
ure built ? It would cost much labor and trouble to ascer
tain. One cannot even determine its very height. The
unapproachable ruin, covered with wild shrubs, looks
grandly solemn. Indeed, if the shades of night fell around
us, that phantom would become larger, and would almost
frighten us out of our senses.
The effect produced by the Jewish Bible, for a long
period of time, has been similar to that of an isolated ruin
seen from a distance. People reasoned about it at random,
having neither the true perspective to examine it, nor the
means of studying the approaches of such a monument,
namely, the neighboring or kindred peoples who were in
termingled with the Jews ; the great empires to which they
were transplanted, and where they lived. While all this
was wanting, Judea, considered alone, deceived the eyes.
She filled up all the horizon, nay, she concealed the
world with her phantasmagoria of religious illusions, with
the prismatic colors, or gloomy clouds of her allegorical
mysticism. Our century did not remain an immovable contemplator
of the mysterious monument. It neither worshipped nor
demolished it, but completed it by rebuilding on each side
the piers and the arches overthrown. The great ruin in
the midst is no longer isolated. By that alone everything
has been changed. There is no longer any phantasma-

238 Bible of Humanity.
goria. One can now approach, view, touch, and measure
it. From one bank to the other, taking in all the landscape,
one sees, clear of the mist, the colossuses of Egypt and
of Persia, the two masters and teachers of Judea.* Near
her and round about her one sees her kinsmen, namely,
the people of Syria, Phoenicia, and Carthage. From
these comes the great ray of light. It was believed that
those peoples had altogether disappeared. Alexander
having overthrown Tyre, and Scipio Carthage, Judea re
mained the heiress and representative of all that was
destroyed. It is true that there never was such a terrible ruin. The
remains, the fragments, the wrecks, broken over again
and again, are moreover scattered on every side. A
wonderful patience alone could recover them. Such a
pursuit, though difficult, has however been accomplished.
Men like Bochart and Selden, Munter and Movers have
obstinately sought after, gathered up, and collected what
they could on those peoples. They have recovered thou
sands of instructive texts on Carthage, which city had
been so completely overthrown. The collected texts re
lating to the gods, manners, commerce, and genius of the
Phoenicians are far more numerous. The Phoenicians
were evidently identical with the Canaanites, an indigen
ous population of Judea, which population had lived
always there among the Jews, and differed very little from
them in customs and habits, f
* Despite the Hebrew traditions of a sojourn in Egypt, and the greater
probability that the Jews descended from the Hyk-s6s fugitives into Palestine,
it is noteworthy that only the name of their reputed leader (Moses, a child),
and the father of Joshua (Nun, a fish, or celibate woman), appear as the
name of any Israelite in the Old Testament. See Inman : Ancient Faiths
Embodied in Ancient Names, i., pp. 96, 97, 135; ii., 99, et passim. — Ed.
f Indeed it is hardly possible to discriminate, when we consider that the
same language and religion characterized the two peoples, and that they inter
married. " The children of Israel dwelt among the Canaanites, Hittites,
and Amorites, and Perizzites, and Hivites, and Jebusites ; and they took their
daughters to be their wives, and gave their daughters to their sons, and served

The Jew — The Servant. 239
How could Judea have been able to insulate herself
entirely ? The country was truly nothing but a narrow
strip of hills, bounded on the East by the river Jordan,
on the West by the coast, the ports of the Philistines and
Phoenicians. Her utmost width is fifteen leagues. * On
the coast there were the large cities of the Philistines,
Gaza, Azor, Ascalon ; and then the wealthy ports of the
Phoenicians, Sidon, Tyre, etc. An exuberant population
existed altogether towards the sea, that many a time
seized upon the mournful country of the mountains, but
more often despised it.
Judea, on the east of the river Jordan, possessed, outside
of herself, several tribes or commonwealths, who found in
the low valleys a little pasture-land ; but the heights were
and are dreadful, and dark with lugubrious basalt.

their gods." — Judges iii. 5, 6. The amalgamation appears to have been
very complete according to the Bible record.
"I do not myself," says Prof. J. P. Lesley, "believe, with entire confi
dence, in the personal existence of the Jewish patriarchs. For you will find
in the old Hindoo mythologies the names of Abraham, Isaac, and fjudahj
ranged in a similar order and connection. Brahma's son, Ikswaka, was the
great-grandfather of Yadoo. The Hebrews of Palestine were but a single
twig of that wide-spreading branch of the Shemitic tree, which had its original
seats in Central Asia, and migrating southward and westward over Persia,
Mesopotamia, Arabia, and Syria, entered Egypt under the name of Hyk-sos.
.... Judging the Mosaic story from these canons, in which all agree,
we find it of an age ante-dating all precise history ; we find it utterly unsup
ported by contemporary monumental records; and we feel it to be a splendid
series of incredibilities from first to last. His birth, his miracles, his Exodus,
his converse with Jehovah, and his mysterious disappearance, — all stamp the
history with an indelible character of myth, which not a single discovery of
any branch of science has yet repaid the endeavor to efface. In less degree —
in a far less degree — but still in essentially the same mode, the legends of
the Jews of a date previous to the reign of Solomon, are utterly unhistorical ;
although the stories of the Judges are probable enough. Nothing prevents
us from identifying the Hebrews of the Monarchy as descendants of the Hyk-
sos race, nor from supposing that the Mosaic Records were inventions of a
later age, based on a mixture of Hyk-sos traditions, Arabian poetry, Zoroas
trian mythology, and genuine Egyptian and monumental history. " —Man's
Origin and Destiny, pp. 144, 153. — Ed.
* Hieronymus, ad Dard. 85. — Munk, Palestine, p. 40.

240 Bible of Humanity.
Strabo rightly says that Judea is, on the whole, a very
poor country. There is, however, some variation from it ;
vineyards, which are supported by terraces, are cultivated
there, and also some patches of wheat in the many oases,
which are naturally formed by the river Jordan and several
brooks. In every epoch, however, the travellers, whose
word may be believed, say that, on entering that country,
one feels something like a great dryness and an infinite
ennui. With the exception of the small circle of Galilee
and the land of Naplous, everything is gloomy and mo
notonous, dull and gray with ashes.
Good sense evidently shows that there must have been
very strong reasons for preferring this country to the rich
Damascene Syria, to the fertile region of the giants, to
the bewitching Ascalon, the betrothed of Syria, to Tyre
and Sidon, the queens of the seas.
Judea seemed to offer two asylums, two natural shelters,
in the two central points of her two kingdoms of Israel
and Judah. On the north, the closed valley of Samaria
is protected on each side. On the south, Jerusalem, which
stands on a very high commanding point, can be ap
proached only through two passes easily defended, namely,
the valley of Jehoshaphat and that of Terebinth.
The Jew invited and hospitably admitted the stranger,
promising to render him impartial justice ;* pledging to
him an equal share of land as if he were a Jew ; \ agree
ing with him to admit him to his own festivals and ban
quets ; \ nay, even to his prayers.^ The stranger shall be
in Judea as though he were in his own country ; the Jew
loves him as he does himself. \
That is going too far. But who is this stranger ? He
may be a fugitive entering Judea without clothing, or
any means of subsistence. " God loves him, and will
give him an inheritance among his own chosen people."
* Deuteronomy i. 16, 24. \ Ezekiel xlvii. 22.
X Deuteronomy xvi. 11, 14. § III. (I.) Kings viii. 41.
\ Leviticus xix. 34.

The yew — The Servant. 241
A little farther one sees more clearly into this secret.
The stranger may be a slave. " The slave who takes
shelter among you shall not be given back to his master.
He will dwell where he wishes, and shall find rest and
security in your cities, and nobody shall make him
uneasy."* After this, we know what will happen. Under these
conditions, the most gloomy, the most barren country,
will never be a desert. Such policy, which wishes to pro
cure inhabitants at any price, is all the more remarkable,
because it is found among an economical, and even greedy
people, as it may be seen in the books of Kings and in
that of Jeremiah, etc. The Jews are altogether unac
quainted with the chivalrous feelings of the Arabians,! ar>d
still more with the generous, though often imprudent
grandeur of the Indo-Celtic races, which burst out in
their poetry from the Ramayana to the Shah Nameh, from
the Niebelungen to the French songs of Roland and of Mer
lin. The Jew, from the beginning, has been a peace-loving
man, a man of business. His ideal is neither the warrior,
nor the workingman, nor the husbandman. Formerly a
nomad, a shepherd, he returned later to his wandering
life, as a pedler, as a banker, or as a broker.
The Bible strongly and simply lays down such an ideal.
It is Jacob, who constituted the type and exemplar, who
received the sacred name of the people, Israel. Jacob
was a pacific man, "who remained at home," while his
brother Esau, the Idumean, worked, or went hunting.
Esau, entirely hairy, had a skin like that of a beast ;
Jacob had no hair at all. Jacob a shepherd, like Abel,
was blessed. Esau, a laborer like Cain, was condemned
and disinherited.
* Deuteronomy xxiii. 15, 16.
f If David did not kill Saul, at the time he could have done it, it was not
on account of chivalric feeling, but because the king was the anointed of the
Lord. II

242 Bible of Humanity.
Art and industry, as well as agriculture, are condemned
in the personification of Tubal-cain. The builders are dis
paraged, mocked at, and the tower of Babel is mentioned
as the great work which they were able to perform. The
true Jew, the patriarch, is the artful shepherd, who knows
how to increase his flock by an intelligent care of acquisi
tion and calculating. He is pleasing to woman, his mother
Rebecca, and he seems a very woman himself, very pru
dent in his submissions and adorations to his brother
Esau, whom he had so dexterously wheedled out of his
birth-right. The beloved son of Jacob is the slave, who became a
vizier. It is Joseph, the financier, who from being at
first a soothsayer, rose to power by interpreting dreams.*
Such a story would have been impossible in Egypt, where
the shepherd, Hyk-sos, being considered as an impure
man, would have found every entrance closed to employ
ments and honors, t but which is very natural in Chaldea,
where such men as Tobias, Mardocheus, and Daniel were
soothsayers, viziers, and treasurers.
The great and true glory of the Jews, which they owe
to their own miseries, is that they alone, among all the
peoples, have given utterance, in a piercing and eternal
voice, to the sigh of the slave.
Elsewhere it was a cry, hardly uttered and constrained.^:
In Judea, admirable and profound songs of grief were
sung during many centuries. Those songs were so ex
quisite that men are satisfied to borrow them to express
* Genesis xl. , xii. and xliv. , 5, 15.
\ It has been conjectured, however, that the king who made Joseph his
vizier, was himself of the hated race, which might account for his partiality.
The Egyptians detested all foreigners, perhaps from the memory of the Hyk-
sos, who are described as Arabians, Phoenicians, Hellenes or Greeks, and
Shepherds. — Ed.
X Virgil has scarcely dared to utter the sigh of the Italian soul, of the un
fortunate Tityrus, who had become the slave of the soldier. In our age the
Poles have raised their voice for a moment in a sublime despair : Krasinski,
Mickiewicz, are equal to Isaiah.

The yew — The Servant. 243
their most sincere sorrows, and personal chagrins. It is
because the Jews had endured misfortune in its ful
ness, and under its harshest forms. At first wandering
shepherds, then carried off into Egypt and becoming
working-men in spite of themselves, they were employed
to build up the Pyramids.* In Palestine they were hus
bandmen against their will. The so-called Mosaic laws
show prodigious efforts made to induce them to devote
themselves to the tillage of the soil. Agricultural and
rural festivals were organized, but the Jews remained none
the less restless and nomadic in their mind.
The miserable slave, who is essentially a hater of light,
welcomes night as the hour of liberty. The Psalms and
the chants of the prophets are, most of them, night-
songs. He has worked at his vineyard. Night falls, and by
and by all is wrapped in darkness. Stretched on his
terrace, under a sparkling sky, he sleeps a few moments,
and then awakes. The lions, which are in his heart, bound
... It is a loud roaring. But before long the tears come :
Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! Lord, my God.
But God hears not. The sufferer cries out, invokes
him all the more: "Arise. . . Do you sleep, O Lord?
Do you wait until I die ? . . . The dead will not praise
thee. . ."
That which is original and extremely touching in these
long alternatives is that, among his aridities, languors,
and the delays of God in hearing him, the Jew reproaches
himself alone. He strikes his own breast. Seated under

* It is hardly probable that the Hyk-sos or Hebrews worked on the Pyra
mids. Hengstenberg, quoted by Lesley, states that Ramases II., or Sesostris,
to guard his frontiers against the Hittites of Palestii e, forced his native
Hyk-s6s serfs and foreign military slaves to build a chain of forts across the
Isthmus of Suez, of which the principal were Ramases and Pithom. These
conscripts were called Apura, conj. Hebrews, as both words mean over-men
or emigrants. This king worshipped the sun-god Aten or Satan, whom the
Jews afterward made the Enemy of Jehovah and Prince of Devils. — Ed.

244 Bible of Humanity.
the juniper tree, he says : " Take me to you, O Lord ! . . .
I am no better than my fathers were."
How different is this, not only from the indomitable
Arabian of Hedjaz (Antar), but from that of Idumea, the
nobly disputant Job, in his controversy with God. In
his violent poem it is perceived that Job, being over
whelmed at last, holds his peace and speaks not, but
does not consider himself vanquished. God, with dinning
noise speaks to him of the Leviathan, of thunder, etc.
Such arguments of the strongest against a feeble being are
no arguments at all. Job keeps his own thoughts to him
self : "Thou art strong, but I am just." *
* The story of Job is dramatic in a high degree, and illustrates the bold
self-reliance of the Arabian Emir or Sheik, such as Job is represented. He
acted as the Hebrew zachans or patriarchs. In his controversy with his three
friends, Job had asserted that his champion or next of kin would deliver him-^
and stand up in his behalf ; and even now, though he was black and putrid
with disease, he would yet see God, and judgment would overtake those who
now condemned him (xix., 21-29). In the latter part of the poem, Job and
the Deity are brought into conference, and the steadfast chieftain "holds fast
his integrity," as he had declared that he would (xiii., 1-6).
" Then Job answered the Lord, and said :
' I know that thou canst do all things,
And that thy decrees no one can resist.
How should I disapprove of thine inscrutable wisdom ?
I have been speaking of what I did not understand ;
Things too marvellous, that I did not comprehend.
Hear me, I beseech — I will speak :
Let me ask questions and explain them to me,
— I heard of thee by the hearing of the ear,
But now mine eye hath seen thee —
Wherefore do I abhor myself,
And turn myself about in dust and ashes ? '
" Then Jehovah said unto Job :
' Let him who disputes with the Almighty stand to it ;
He who censures God let him awe him. '
" Then Job replied to Jehovah and said :
' Behold, I am a poor creature, what shall I answer ?
I will lay my hand upon my mouth. ' "
The discussion ended by the vindication of the patriarch, the Lord himself
taking the part of his champion. — Ed.

The yew — The Servant. 245
The thoughts of the Jew are quite different. He en
joys not the expansion of the wilderness as does the free
Arabian, who breathes at his leisure and whose life is
high and proud, things of which Job bears witness to
himself. The greatest misery of the slave is that he per
ceives that he wallows in those vices, which slavery in
volves with it, and that his will grows corrupt in them.
Thus, there is neither mildness nor innocence in his
lamentations. They are not like the song of the nightin
gale, but one may hear in them the inauspicious cries of
some night-bird, or the bewailing of a heart, which in
its prostration still feels itself impure. But pride has
had the best of it. " God will be my justice ! God does
not impute my transgressions to me. Blessed be he
until the break of day, and from morning to evening."
Meanwhile the darkness is becoming clear. A black
carob-tree appears on the horizon under a luminous gray
sky. The day is near. " If tears flow from my eyes in
the evening, gladness will come in the morning."
It is daylight at last. The Dead Sea sparkles ! . . .
And the red image of the sun, even before he goes beyond
the barren summit of the gloomy hills, stains with blood
the dismal waves. . . . Thus the Liberator, the cham
pion, lAO or Jehovah is near coming ! Such a conception
of an avenging, destroying God, is the intense passion of
the slave. He broods over it ; and it is his precious
treasure. The undefined Iao of Chaldea, who, according
to Movers, was only a breath of life ; the gloomy Iao of
Phoenicia, who was a voice of death, a voice of sorrow, in
Judea is the soul of the desert. Look toward the South.
Everything ends there ; life ceases there ; no visible form-
neither of animals, nor of vegetables. As a compensation
of all this, a burning breath (which recalls the Egyptian
Typhon), an invisible power makes itself felt. One sees
nothing, and yet one cannot face it. This invisible power
said to Moses : " If thou dost see me, let it be at the
back. . . . Otherwise thou art a dead man."

246 Bible of Humanity.
The Jews incessantly leave this terrible, savage God,
and always return to him. "Is this a wonder? a mir
acle ? " Not at all. This God, notwithstanding his irk
some laws, is, however, the Jewish liberty, the liberty of
hating, and cursing the gods of powerful peoples. In
order to understand this passion for such a repulsive deity,
the faithful and obstinate returns to him, it is necessary to
consider that the Jews, over whom the torrent of Asia
passed again and again, were the playthings and the vic
tims of all those other gods. The Midianites, with their
black god, encamped, like devouring locusts, among the
Jews, and ate up everything. The giants, as the Philis
tines were called by the Jews,* made them bondmen of
their goddess Astarte, of her outrageous orgies, in which
even Samson and David figured as actors. \ Nor is this
all, but in the middle of Judea, door by door, the old
tribes of Canaan remained as a perpetual temptation to
the Jews, whom the Canaanites united with in the lasciv
ious dances of the Heifer or of the Calf.
This was a worship of deep enervation. The serf,
allured into it at night, found himself on the morrow
worn out and more a slave than before. Then he would
return with shame and pious zeal to his male God, to his
austere Jehovah, who alone was to him a wall, an invisible
wall of fire against the sweet pressure of those deities of
death, that surrounded him on every side.
All this remained obscure, until, in the last century,
Astruc, a keen critic, threw a glimpse of genius on the
Bible. He saw the duality, the struggle of the Jewish
soul. In the Bible, which had been always considered
* Raphaim, a designation of the aboriginal races east of the Jordan, and of
the country of Palestine. It must relate to other peculiarities than a colossal
body, for one of the archangels, or Amshaspands, was styled Rapha-el.
\ The Hebrew word does not bear this out. Samson " made sport " in the
Temple of Dagon, the Keto or Hoa of Asia ; and David, though he estab
lished the worship of Iao in Palestine, as the national divinity, nowhere is
mentioned as taking part in the worship of the Syrian goddess. But his
grandchildren did. — Ed.

The yew — The Servant. 247
a simple book, he saw two Bibles ; and his view has
since been adopted by all critics. Two religions — two dif
ferent worships, exhibit themselves side by side in the
Bible. The agricultural religion of Elohe, or of the
ELOHIM, was practiced by the majority, and easily mixed
itself with the Cananean worship of the Heifer or the
Calf. An austere minority, * out of hatred for the oppres
sive idol, made efforts to be faithful to the invisible Jeho
vah, the ark and adytum of whose temple, however, was
decorated with the awkward figures of terror — two cher
ubs on winged bulls. This God, who in the most extreme
misfortunes, or in panics, was very easily taken for the iron
bull (Moloch), remained none the less the soul of the proud
purity which upheld and saved the people, giving them
unity. +
The prophets of Judea are true martyrs, tortured by the
contrasts of a violent situation. They are the popular
representatives of the true Jewish spirit against the kings,
who were too Syrian. The prophets struggle likewise
against the people, against the barbarous tendencies of
the two worships of Elohim and Jehovah, which divide
them. The great concern ofthe prophets, between these
two opposite gods, is to purify the first, to separate him
from the orgies — the fanaticism of the nocturnal worship
of Baal— and to humanize the second, to thrust aside from
* It is evident that the worship of the Elohim or Cabeinan deities was
maintained among the plebs of Palestine, who were a non-Shemitic peasantry,
while the religion of Iao or Jehovah was adhered to by the aristocratic. — Ed.
f Nations, without coming to an understanding, were advancing toward
the idea of the Unity of God. From the year 1000 B.C. to the year 500 B.C.
this unity was manifested everywhere and in the same manner, a negative and
destructive one, through the eclipse and the death of the gods. The Greek
Olympus, in its high sphere, pale and withered, spiritualized itself, and became
the Nous of Anaxagoras, or from below was blended and mixed in the impure
vat of Bacchus. The great struggle ceased in Persia. Ahriman, enervated,
inclined to be absorbed by Ormuzd. All the Baals of Babylon were buried in
the bosom of Anahid or Mylitta. Those of Syria, as a judgment, appear to
have been burned in Jehovah. The impure unity belonged to Babel. In
Judea there was the unity of hatred.

248 Bible of Humanity.
his worship the brazier of Moloch. In doing this the
prophets are noble, the true benefactors of mankind, ven
erable guardians of the people against those worships,
which they repelled in a desperate struggle, often by the
sacrifice of their own life.
" Sons of my barn-floor and of my mill-stone ! It is you
whom I have crushed, that are my sons ! "
This sublime sentence of Isaiah, which sums up the
prophets, has produced strange consequences. The
heavy, redoubled blows, the shower of griefs and out
rages, have neither tired out, nor broken down the sur
prising elasticity of the Eternal Patient. Beaten down,
he rises up again. Disappeared, he is found again.
Against the cruel, very real and very certain present, he
considers chimera and the impossible as a more certain
blessing. He hopes against hope, and the more the storm increases,
the more he thinks that the hand of God is near to show
itself. He would groan to be saved by his own foresight.
He longs for the hazard of Grace ; he wishes to be saved
by a throw of the dice. These tendencies, depending on
chance, deeply corrupt the judgment of the slave, make
him hate Reason and despair of action.
It was the expectation of the Messiah which troubled
and tortured the Jewish people from their remotest anti
quity. This is admirably shown in the book of the
Judges. Each of the seven captivities ended through a
miracle, the hazard against Wisdom. The very proud as
¦well as very humble principle of this curious history, is
that the people of God, a perpetual miracle, must have a
constantly extraordinary fate, beyond any human fore
sight. God, in order that he might manifest his glory, singled
out, in the midst of the chosen people, the weak rathe-r
than the strong, the little rather than the great, the
younger against the elder. He preferred Joseph to the
haughty Judah ; Jacob, cunning and mild like a woman,

The yew — The Servant. 249
to the valiant Ishmael and the strong Esau. The little
David, through God, kills the giant Goliath. In the same
manner, God loved and chose for himself, and adopted a
small people, the only one chosen. The other families of
mankind were cut away.
We must follow the ulterior consequence of this prin
ciple. God loves and willingly singles out the smallest in
merit, he who is of but little worth, who wishes nothing,
and does nothing. He says, and incessantly repeats, that
the chosen people are worthless. He chooses the idler
Abel in preference ofthe worker Cain. Abel, who makes
no effort, who brings no merit which requires a reward,
and so compels the hand of God, pleases him, and is
blessed by him.
But what follows is stronger still. He, who not only
has no merit, but has dishonored and outraged the divine
law, and who cannot be chosen and blessed, except
through an astonishing miracle of mercy and goodness,
will be precisely the very man who will glorify most the
free power of God. He is chosen rather than the just
man. Jacob, who cheats his brother, and deceives his
own father, is chosen. Levi, cursed by Jacob for treason
and murder, is the father of the sacerdotal tribe. Judah,
who sold Joseph, and who shamelessly bought the impure
embraces of Tamar,* Judah is the chief of the people, who
are called by his name.
Is all this a positive preference for evil and sin ? Not at
all. It is a system, a strict application of a principle,
according to which, he who owes nothing to God, if he be
chosen, exhibits all the more gloriously the gratuitous
mercy, the omnipotence of God.
Some will say: "Are not the Jews a people under a
law which requires Justice ? " Yes, but this very Law,
* Genesis xxxviii., " When Judah saw her, he took her to be a priestess
(Hebrew Kadesha, a consecrated woman) because she had covered her face."
A woman of this class was considered holy and pure, and not as a prostitute.
—ED. II*

250 Bible of Humanity

' given exclusively to a favorite people, to a people
whom Moses himself declared worthless, this Law is es
tablished on a basis foreign to Justice — a basis of unjust
preference. The Law itself, loaded and overloaded with minute or
dinances, and with an immense formalism foreign to con
science, tends to lull the latter asleep. So much the more
so, that, in performing those rites and all those vain pre
scriptions, one feels himself to be dispensed from doing
right. The ground ofthe Jew is this : "I am the happy
one, whose Justice is God himself." Why? "I am of
the chosen people, the son ofthe divine favor."
But, after all, why chosen? Through what merit have
Abraham and Jacob deserved that God should make with
them an eternal covenant? Without any merit. They
pleased God.
Thus this Jewish antiquity gives already the theory of
Grace in all its nudity. And the Jewish history close by
shows the natural result of that theory, the repeated sins
and relapses, vainly lamented, and, in the midst of those
tears, the secret assurance of this proud doctrine, which is
summed up in this : " Any transgression will be forgiven
me ; I am the son ofthe house."
Let Moses speak gruffly ; let Isaiah beat them with his
thunderbolts ! All these manly appearances will not pre
vent this doctrine from being the doctrine of passion, of
the feminine fancy — of the caprice of woman, who wishes
to give no other reason for her love but love ; who by
choosing the worthless thinks herself to be a queen, and
who says: "As thou art nothing, thou shalt glorify so
much the more my favor, my goodness, my grace."
Such a theory is the desolating of the just, the discour
aging of endeavor — is the shutting of the door for ever
to a great will.
God's justice, they say, exceeds all our acts of justice,
all the little ideas that the heart of man has about what is
just. Then God can punish the innocent. When he pun-

The yew — The Servant. 251
ishes the guilty, he is compelled to do it ; he cannot do
otherwise. But when he crushes the innocent, the inno
cent son of the guilty, oh ! how great then he is ! how
much more of a God then he is !
It was only at the time of the Captivity, when such ter
rible events shook all existence, every idea, and all the old
groundwork, that two prisoners, two prophets, Jeremiah
and Ezekiel, rooting out from their bleeding hearts those
detestable principles, with a great and noble effort pro
claimed at last the Right.
The unfortunate Jeremiah, who had given the Jews a
very reasonable advice, but whom the Jews called a
traitor, when he was enfranchised by the general of the
king of Babylon, availed himself of his liberty only to go
back to Jerusalem, and to weep upon her stones. It was
there that he had this beautiful thought, this anti-Jewish,
anti-Mosaic idea, above the ancient Law. "The Lord
says : I have destroyed, but I will rebuild. They will then
no longer say : Our fathers ate the sour grapes, and our
teeth are set on edge. Each man will have the toothache,
according to what he himself has eaten, and he shall die
only on account of his own sins. I will make a new cov
enant. I will write the Law no more on stones, but within
the heart and bosom of man. Man shall no more set
himself as a teacher, and say to his neighbor : Know God ;
because every one then shall know me, the most humble
as well as the greatest shall know me."
Ezekiel is still more admirable on the point of personal
responsibility, of the salvation of each through his own
works. He wards off any equivocation, takes up the
argument thrice, and dwells on it with a vigor, a slowness,
and a gravity worthy of the Roman jurists. It is evident
that he is aware of the importance of the sacred stone,
which he lays firmly and seals with lime and cement. The
Jewish prophet and the wise man of Greece here agree
and for once unite. The chapter in which Ezekiel sets
forth God as a just judge, as Justice, is precisely in the

252 Bible of Humanity.
"* spirit of the Eutyphron of Socrates: "The divine is
divine in so far as it is just."
The Jews, when transported to Chaldea, or sojourning in
Egypt, experienced no great misfortune in their exile.
They made a fortune. From a small people, exhausted,
drained off, and ruined, they became, in those great em
pires, what they have been since, namely, rich and numer
ous tribes, carrying on commerce everywhere ; and the
commerce of money entering through the back door, but
entering nevertheless the palaces of kings, who appreciated
their merit, their humble way, and their versatility. They
became the general medium of commercial transactions.*
The Jewish people, without abandoning the Mosaic in
stitute, or the faith of the prophets, adopted also another
faith — the faith in gain, in money. In their great over
throws they said to themselves that riches were the only
guarantee. " Riches are to the rich man a city, a fortress,
as a wall by which he is surrounded " {Prov. xviii. 2).
But what riches ? The easiest to keep or to save is gold.
Indeed, is that so ? Something better, the invisible
riches, gold invested in sure hands. If the Phoenicians,
as it is said, invented alphabetic writing, the Jews in
vented the promissory note.
This is a natural result of slave-life — an uneasy life — like
that of a hare between two furrows. The Jews soon found
out, also, the politics of the slave, which never failed at a
court, to give, to give secretly. "A gift in secret allayeth
anger " {Prov. xxi. 14). Servility, the unlimited worship
of kings, now characterized them : " My son, fear thou
Jehovah and the king" {Prov. xxiv. 21). "The wrath
of a king is as messengers of death. In the light of the
king's countenance is life, and his favor is as a cloud of
the latter rain" {Prov. xvi. 14, 15). "Exhibit not
thyself in the presence of the king, and stand not in the

* This would seem to demonstrate their generic identity with the Phoeni
cians, who did precisely the same thing. — Ed.

The yew — The Servant. 253
place of the great " {Prov. xxv. 6). A great number of
similar maxims teach an extreme prudence, a perfect obe
dience, even a genuine admiration of monarchical power.
The Jews will be loved by kings. There are no better
slaves, more docile and more intelligent. Often they
believe that the king is from God, but as a scourge
{Prov. xxviii.), and they honor even this scourge, being
stayed by no humiliation, because, by keeping their own
law, they believe that they do not debase themselves
inwardly. Such a distinction is in practice a delicate and
difficult one ; to be a saint behind the scene, and at the
same time in front the pliable instrument of all the
tyrannies of the world.
The beautiful Jewish encyclopaedia, which people call
the Bible, is in all its parts strongly marked with this
spirit of business, of skill, and of thrift, which character
ized the Jews when they had become familiar and active
with the affairs of great empires, by means of the bank,
and intrigue — a pious, humble, prudent intrigue, which
declined to play great parts. Its books were composed
or rather written over again, and put in order from ancient
fragments or records, perhaps ; and were then reviewed,
adopted and fixed permanently by the Great Synagogue
that Esdras kept long assembled. In those books many
antique features have been preserved. Many things, also,
which the priests might have thrown away for the sake
of decorum, have likewise been kept up in those books
with a tenacity purely Jewish.
What strikes us the most is a true, lively, but grave and
moderate genius of narrative kept within bounds. Joseph
and Jacob — the cunning man— delight and inspire the
narrator. But his favorite hero is David, an Arabian-Jew,
shrewd, valiant, impure, descended from Ruth the Moa-
bitess (one of the tribe that was begotten through the
incest of Lot), "the chief of the ruined people who fly
into the desert." This cunning politician, more priest
than the priests themselves, charmed and edified the peo-

254 Bible of Humanity.
pie by dancing before the ark, by singing and playing the
fool.* All this is wonderfully artful, strong, even savoring of
the free-thinker. That which is wrong in it, is the pleas
ure with which the narrator seems to relish the general
picture, relating over and over again the sensuality and
revenge. He takes delight in describing some impossible
revenges. The reader cannot believe a word of the
frightful massacres which the Jews had made in the coun
try of Chanaan, of the pretended extermination of tribes,
which were still extant in subsequent periods. Their
numerous servitudes show conclusively that the Jews
differed widely from the warlike Arabians, and could not
have achieved those bloody glories. Such narratives are
mere bragging, a revenge in words for the many evils en
dured. Similar narratives are found in the monkish
chronicles ofthe age of Charles the Bald, in the Friar of
Saint- Galb. This good-natured friar, shut in his cell,
wrote only of death and havoc. In his pages blood flowed
like water. One of his convent heroes was so strong that
with his lance he ran through seven warriors at once, and
carried them all as on a spit. This reminds the reader
ofthe wonderful stories of Joshua.
Yet, that which saddens, that which may dry up the soul,
are not so much those improbable massacres, the gross
sensualities, as the general aridity. With the exception
of some parts in Genesis, in the Judges, and in the books
of Kings, the spirit of the Bible is harsh and dry. There
is sometimes a flame, but it is the flame of a bush which
blazes for a moment, glitters, burns, and frightens, but
neither warms nor illumines.
The aridity is radical both in the form and in the
subject-matter. t All the progress of the Jews ends in
deep sterility.
* As was done at the processions of Bacchus or Baal. — Ed.
f Nothing has cost me so much labor as this chapter. I love the Jews.
I have not let slip any occasion to call to mind their martyrs, their family

The yew — The Servant. 255
On one side there were the Pharisees, a set of men
more estimable than it is generally believed, who were
zealous of the Law, and who, according to Jeremiah and
Ezekiel, seemed to have a natural bias toward the fruitful
doctrines of the Greek and Roman uprightness, but they
stopped in the narrow formalism of the Mosaic prescrip
tions, *
On the other hand there was the mystical party, more
independent of the Law ; this party appeared to gravi
tate toward love and Grace, but not finding in them the
waves of the heart, sank in the strange eccentricity of a
worship of grammar, the adoration of the language, and
the religion of the alphabet.
The Hebrew language, essentially fragmentary and ellip-
virtues, the admirable abilities which they have displayed in our time. How
could a man remain unconcerned about the destiny of this people, authors of
the Christian world, and so much persecuted and maltreated by the Chris
tians ? As soon as one wishes to be severe toward them; he regrets it, and
says : " The vices of the Jewish people are those which we have produced in
them ; their virtues are their own." Let us then respect the patient people,
whom, for so many centuries the world has smitten so hard, and who, in our
days, have suffered so much in Russia. Let us respect the faithful people
whose antique worship preserves the type from which humanity departed, and
to which we are going back, the family pontificate, the type toward which
the future bends. Let us respect the lively energy, which from the Oriental
stock has raised up so many unforeseen talents, so many savants and profi
cients in every art. And yet how can one hold his peace ? It is through the
ancient books of the Jews that slavery is authorized everywhere and sanctified.
In the South of the United States of America, the slave-holders cited texts of
the Bible to justify their prodigious crime. In Europe the Holy Alliance
swore on the Jewish and Christian books. The Jews, all over the earth, have
been the best slaves, and the prop of their tyrants also. Why ? Because they,
more than any other set of men, had the secret liberty of that religious feeling
which makes bondage and outrage an endurable burden. Moreover, they had
the industrial turn of mind which makes the best of a tyrant, and converts
slavery into the field of speculation. The Jewish race bids fair to have great
destinies in future, because it is one of the acclimatable races of the world, as
has been remarked by Mr. Bertillon, in his valuable book on this great subject
of acclimatation.
* Does not the name Pharisee suggest that of Parsee, the votary of the re
ligion of the Avesta, a religion which evidently permeated the Mosaic polity iu
historical times?

256 Bible of Humanity.
tical, has the most rebellious idiom. It excludes deduc
tion. The most cruel sentence of Jehovah on the proph
ets, was that of imposing on them an impossible lan
guage. " I am a stutterer," says Moses to him. All the
prophets are so. All of them make terrible and desperate
efforts to speak. Those efforts sometimes are sublime.
Darts of fire leap up. . . . The lightnings, the night
which follows them, penetrate the prophets themselves
with sacred horror. This language seems to them to be
either divine or God himself. The scribes call God the
Word.
Is it the Word of Ormuzd brought back from Persia ?
Anybody would almost believe it to be so. Wrongfully.
What Persia calls the Word is the emission of life, the
divine manifestation of light and being, identical to the
tree of life (Haoma), to the universal river, which proceeds
from it and flows at its foot.
The rich life of trees, fruits, flowing rivers, which had
made Asia a paradise, is foreign to the Jews. The tree is
accursed. The Word is no longer life, love, and genera
tion. It is the command, the saying of God. There are
no more preludes. The being, that till that time came
into the world through the progressive ways of impregna
tion and incubation, in their idea, is born all at once,
alone, full-grown, and such as he will always remain. He
springs up from nothing, is struck with terror, and falls on
his knees. He is the effect of a masterstroke of divine
policy — an arbitrary, accidental fact of that divine terrible
will. But what will, what saying, what name ? Here is the
rub, the great uneasiness of man. The universal mystery
is to know of what syllables, of what letters the *name of
God is composed. A dreadful power is in it, and as soon
as one can pronounce that name, one partakes of that
very power. Let the profane who betray the secret be
accursed ! The seventy authors of the Septuagint wish
him who reveals it to be stoned.

The yew — The Servant. 257
The name of God enlarges. From three letters (to
express and embrace the divine perfections) it increases
to twelve, to forty-two. The alphabet is divine. Each
letter is a force of God. It is by the means of the
alphabet that he has created. Man himself, through the
use of certain letters, could create, could heal. The
thirty- two ways of the almighty Wisdom comprise also
the numbers (which are letters still), and some forms of
grammar.
Infancy of decrepitude ! . . . Piety is made to consist
wholly in childish practices. The scribes called them
selves numberers, because they spent their lives in counting
the words and letters which are contained in the sacred
books.* In dotage all things unite. This magic of the alphabet,
this queer superstition of letters, blended itself in a
strange manner, with a unitarian mysticism in which man
thought himself to be lost in God. Like things, however,
are seen among Christians. The barren schoolmen, in
their empty brains, fancy to rave of love. Saint Augustin,
Saint Bernard, in imitation of the Jewish Rabbi, dare to
imagine that God will descend into their hard hearts, into
their searching minds disputing on a pin's point and aiming
at a spark, and that he will consummate with them a spiri
tual marriage. They dare propose such a strange union,
a nuptial bed made of needles and flints, to the great
Soul, the Mother of worlds. They pretend, the insolents !
to possess this eternal lover ! they sing the song of love
on their shrill psaltery.
And what a song ! They go too far indeed ! Such a
pathological case will astonish posterity. They are so far
from nature, their minds are so much led astray, that both
Jews and Christians choose a song of passionateness, the
song of the morbid, shameless voluptuousness of Syria, to
celebrate a marriage with God, a thing so frightful as to
make angels turn pale !
* Franck: Kabale, p. 69.

258 Bible of Humanity.
It is indeed a devilish and demoniacal spectacle to see
those Rabbis, those doctors, those bishops, those Fathers,
repeat over and over again such impudicities, squeezing
and wresting them, and say solemnly, but with a fright
fully-grimacing mouth, those words which are whispered
on the pillow, the most secret avowals of a girl lost in the
rage of love, and who can no longer refrain herself.

The World- Woman. 259

/

CHAPTER VI.
THE WORLD-WOMAN.
THE Song of Songs is unquestionably the most popular
part of the most popular book — the Bible. Wordly-
minded men and unbelievers, as well as believers, have
admired and read it over and over again, as the high ex
pression of oriental love, or, simply of love.
It is evidently an incoherent collection of love-songs,
but arranged in such a manner as to give some idea of
unity to the whole.
What is astonishing is that the Jews, who had no song
of joy, should, for the celebration of their Passover, have
adopted this song, which, in its principal features, is by no
means a Jewish song. There is in it such a flight of im
agination, such a charm, such peculiar liberty, that it jars
and contrasts with the gloomy Bible of the Jews, which in
general is dry and constrained. In this song, on the con
trary, there is an unbounded effusion and openness, not in
deed of the heart and love, but of passion and desire. It
is a song of Syria.
The Shulamite * is of Syria. The Jewish woman is
more restrained. Her lover would surely not have com
pared her with "the wild Arabian mare of Pharaoh. \ "
It is not of her that he, in trembling admiration, would
have said, " that she was more terrible than an army in
array of battle."
The Jews have, through the means of harshest laws,
restrained woman, imputing to her the Fall, and always
* This term is the feminine of Solomon
f i. e., Hebrew, J1D1D, Susa, a mare. — Ed.

26o Bible of Humanity.
fearing her as impure* and suspicious, and so much so as
to give to a father the following strange advice : ' ' Never
smile to your daughter, "f
The Song of Songs would, surely, have never issued
from a Jewish source. The marriage-ceremony among the
Jews was severe, for the bought woman, led away by the
man who placed a ring in her ear (or in her nose):]: un
derwent a very hard judgment (too publicly) on her vir
ginity. The Jewish woman, so charming and so affecting
through her humility, § does not exist in the presence of
the law ; she is not numbered in the census of the people,
The Shulamite in the Song of Songs is rather a girl of
Syria, armed with seven spirits, in order to invade,
trouble, tempt, unnerve man, and make of him a weak
boy. This is the meaning of the Song of Songs, and it
strongly stands out as soon as the reader throws aside
the awkward additions by which it has been obscured.
The Jews, having had the very strange idea of singing
* Leviticus xii. 5. \ Ecclesiasticus, or Wisdom of Jesus, vii. 24.
X Even in our time, the Eastern woman carries often a ring at her nose as
she would say : "I am obedient, subdued, and I will go whither people wish
me to go." (All travellers are agreed upon this. See Savary I., 298;
Lefevre I., 38, etc.) There was little difference between the married
woman and the captive, who had a ring put on his nose or lip. (Rawlinson :
Assyria, Vol. i., plate 297.) In the book of Genesis (ch. xxxiv. 47) the
servant of Abraham places a ring on the nose of Rebecca, and Saint Jerome
translates ridiculously: " I put the earring upon her face." (See Cahen'S
Bible.) The ring which disfigures the face and excludes the kiss, humiliates
the woman very much, renders her more passive, a subdued female who sub
mits herself to pleasure. The reciprocity of it disappears. As to circumcised
persons, who are less sensible than the uncircumcised ones (see Egypt's Plague
by the Surgeon Savaresi), pleasure is slow and indefinite, single in the very
conjugal act, as a long mystic dream, in which one sees only one's thoughts.
When the lover in the Song of Songs says to his beloved that "her nose is
haughty like the tower of Lebanon," he means to say that she is a virgin,
has not received the ring at her nose, and is not yet subdued to conjugal
humility. § Among the Jews, a man says in the morning : "I thank Thee, O Lord,
for not having made me a woman." The Jewish woman says: "I thank
Thee, O Lord God, for having made me as Thou hast wished to make me.''

The World- Woman. 261
such an erotic song at their holyday, believed that they
sanctified it by supposing at first that it was a song of a
legitimate marriage. They next supposed that it was a
song for royal nuptials, that which purifies anything.
Then they supposed it to be the song of the blessed nup
tials of the holy King Solomon. Hence some of its gro
tesque ornaments, as for instance the fifty strong men
around the bed, etc., and then luxury and gold. Oh!
holy metal ! At the moment in which the beloved girl
resists no longer, yields all herself, her lover who admires
and adores her, says, insipidly : " The joints of thy thighs
are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning
workman " (vii. 1).
These are miserable additions, but which can easily be
thrown aside. Freed of them the Song of Songs remains
admirable for its local beauty, altogether Syrian, burning
with physical passion, though not very edifying, but full
of a morbid spirit and of a kind of fever, as an autumnal
wind, deadly and delightful.
The story is not obscure, as people have tried to make
it. Indeed it is too clear.
It is spring-time, the moment in which a festival was
celebrated in Syria, Greece, and everywhere in order to
open the casks and taste the wine of the last vintage.*
It is the moment in which the red blood of Adonis flowed
at Byblos with the sands of the torrent, itself a torrent of
love, of desperate pleasure, of tears. A beautiful young
man, an emir's son, I think, in his very prime of life,
white, delicate, has come to the cellars which are excavated
in the mountain, near the city, in order to open and taste
the new wine. On his way thither he sees a beautiful girl,
a dark one, whom the Eastern sun has richly colored, and
who guards her vineyard thereabout. He invites her to
go with him, to enter and to taste. She is very ignorant.
This pretty young man with so sweet a voice appears to
* The Anthesteria or Broachings of the wine. — Ed.

262 Bible of Humanity.
her a girl, a small sister. She obeys, follows him, and I
know not what he makes her drink, but she goes out of
the cellar enraptured. She says : " Once more ! kiss me
with kisses of thy mouth ! To touch thee* is better than
the wine thou hast made me drink ! Oh, what a fragrant
odor comes out of thee ! I will run after thee because of
the fragrance of thy unguents !"
The admiration of the innocent girl is occasioned by the
very white breast ofthe young man, " ivory variegated
with sapphire." \ She compares herself with him and
blushes ; she excuses herself for not being white : " If I
am dusky the sun has scorched me. My mother's sons,
who are angry with me, made me keeper of the vine
yard. . . . And behold, mine own vineyard I have
not kept."
I see her sad and pleading smile. No complaining. But
I imagine that her little heart is uneasy. If her brothers
are her masters, it is because she is an orphan. Will she
not be ill-treated ? I fear it. She also fears it. She looks
as though she 'is feeling in her heart that now her lover is
to protect her. She presses close to him and will not quit
him. "Tell me, thou whom my soul loveth so much,
where feedest thou ? " In her simplicity she believes that
he leads his flock himself. "Tell me where dost thou
recline at noon?" And as he holds his peace, she, in
order to render him jealous, adds, with a pretty threat :
"That I may not mistake, and go as one straying toward
the tents of thy companions." But she cannot get a word
out of him about that. He flatters her, caresses her, and
promises her beautiful necklaces.
* To touch thy breast [D'Yl didim]. "Thy breast is more pleasant than
wine." Nobody has understood that. It is necessary to imagine that the
scene is in the country of Adonis, where the boy and the young man are more
womanish than woman. In soft and warm regions woman is the true male
(for instance, at Lima, etc. See Ulloa). In such a warm climate, the
beautiful and strong girl of the fields sees this fine creature of a superior rank
as an object of voluptuousness.
\ " I felt pity for Bajazet, I described to her his charms. — Racine.

The World- Woman. 263
She is a poor girl. He is rich, and evidently he is
afraid that she attaches herself to him. Is he of age to
get married ? Would he not rather forget ? Nothing is
known about all this.
" This is a very common story." Yes, but the sequel is
by no means a common one. A charming and terrible
power reveals itself in this girl. She is enraptured, trans
formed by love and passion. The seven spirits are in her,
as they were in Sarah, in the book of Tobit, and in the
Magdalen, who, by a single word, created a world. The
power of this girl consists in her actual weakness, in fol
lowing desperately her passion, in concealing nothing, in
saying : " I am dying of love," in saying what no woman
ever said. From that time the short poem, like the
winged trumpet of demons, hurries on and carries every
thing before it.
The loving young man comes to her over and over again
in spite of himself. It is in vain that he escapes and
eludes. Nay, for a moment (the ingrate), he laughs at
the expense of the poor girl, and boasts of his good
fortune with his friends.* But he boasts in vain. He is
subdued. The wonder is that in seven nights she is really
grown up in an extraordinary manner. She is noble and
haughty, she is a queen ; he is struck with astonishment ;
he is almost afraid of her. She has become so imposing
* He really speaks of her with an outrageous thoughtlessness, and already
with the insolence of satiety. " Eat and drink, my friends ! I have harvested
completely. I plucked my myrrh with my balsam. . . . I have drunk my wine
with my milk. I have eaten so well my honey that I have eaten also the
honeycomb." Ignorant ! But everything remains yet; there is still what is
more delicious. . . . Nevertheless it is in vain that he speaks, it is in vain that
he plays the proud. He is attracted by an invisible power, which brings
him back. He goes where she is, over and over again at night, and wishes
that nobody may awake him. He is touched, he trembles, when, after some
vain caresses, she on a sudden becomes gloomy. " Don't look at me so ! thou
art terrible as a bannered host. This made me fly from thee. ... It seems
to me that thou comest from the desert, from the dens of lions, the moun
tain of panthers ! " " My sister ! my friend ! one of thy sweet glances, the
smallest of thy hair is enough to wound my heart."

264 Bible of Humanity.
and beautiful. In one word, she is the mistress of his
house. Everybody knows this song by heart, and remembers
the beautiful scene in which it is stated that she is lying
sick, oh ! so very sick and fainting away, while her friends
attend her — in that stormy and terrible night in which she,
quite ready and having used perfumes, is waiting for him,
hears him, thinks that he touches her, starts. . . . O !
misfortune ! he went away ! She goes round about the
dark city, meets with soldiers, is beaten and wounded.
But her lover is soft-hearted, he is moved, comes back,
brings with him jewels, shoes, and beautiful robes. There
he is dazzled with her beauty, he laughs no longer, and
bends his knee before her.*
This moment carries everything before it. " Let us set
off," she says ; "let us go out into the country, and lodge
in the villages ! Oh ! what a happiness to see on the
morning the blossoms of the vineyard, and of the fruits !
There will I give thee my love ! "
The evening has come. They are in the retirement of
the country. She lovingly says : "The mandrakes give
a smell," rendering women prolific. This tender hint
* Lying still, languishing, having lost her garments on that cruel night, or
not being able to endure them because of the overwhelming heat of the even
ing, she is waiting, she is in readiness for him. He is struck with compassion,
tenderness, and admiration. He counts her charms, and describes his treas
ure as a miser does his gold. Although she is so confiding, and so submis
sive, she is none the less worthy, and she inspires every kind of respect. He
puts on her naked foot elegant and rich shoes. She walks, and behold she is
the daughter of a prince ! " O my beautiful one ! How noble thou art !
Thou art the queen of love 1 Thy flowing locks are like the dark purple which
consecrates the forehead of kings ! Thy head upon thee is like Carmel 1 Thy
nose like the tower which from a summit of Lebanon looks toward, and defies
Damascus ! Thy throat is the full bunch of our rich grapes of Judea ! Thy
stature resembles a palm tree. ... Oh ! yes, I will climb the palm, and I
will gather my fruits, and thy breast will be my vintage." This word falls on
her heart like a spark. She throws her arms round his neck and exclaims :
" O ! the sweet word ! It is like the delicious wine which one tastes and
relishes over and over again between his lips and teeth. . . . Let us go then."
(The sequel is to be seen in my text. )

The World- Woman. 265
is not lost, as far as we can guess. On the morrow when
he saw her quite another creature, perhaps already a
mother, and transformed by an indescribable solemn grace,
he says proudly, with an Oriental emphasis : " Who is this
soft and voluptuous one, coming up out of the wilderness,
leaning upon her beloved ? "
All this is very natural, it is the manifestation of the
blood in the South; it is the very climate of love. I confess,
however, that one cannot read this song without feeling
his head heavy. I prefer the pure love of Rama, of Sita,
the scene in which the holy mountain, as spotless as its
snows, poured over them a shower of flowers ! ... In
this song there is too much of perfumes, of sharp and strong
aromatics, and of drugged wines. I know not whether
the Shulamite has, like Esther, passed "six months in the
oil and six months in the myrrh;" but the perfumed oil
which swims in the cup of love makes one hesitate to
drink. From verse to verse we meet with the word
" myrrh," the perfume for embalming. In this song there
is of it at least as much as would suffice to embalm three
dead persons. There is also the spikenard, the dark Indian
root of valerian, which has so powerful an effect on the
nerves. There is likewise the cinnamon and numberless
other aromatics of all kinds, from the insipid odor of the
lily to the bitter and burning aloes, which puts forth its
flower every ten years.*
But is not love in itself intoxicating enough without
having recourse to those odd drugs, so apt to confound
the senses and pervert voluptuousness itself? They both
smell each other, and do not distinguish themselves from
their perfumes. " I will run after thee, because of the
fragrance of thy unguents," she says; and he languishingly

* In four pages, the word myrrh is employed seven times ; there occurs
seventeen times the word frankincense and other perfumes, many of which
are not very agreeable, as aloes, etc. In short, in this song there is a com
plete assortment of perfumes,
12

266 Bible of Humanity.
enumerates one after another the exquisite odors, the ema
nations that come to him from his beloved one.
All this is unwholesome, morbid. One turns mad at all
this, and behold ! this ignorant girl, who yesterday was a
virgin, has, all at once, some diabolical ideas in the pre
sence ofthe young man asleep. Is that her fault, or that of
her race ? Innocently impure, in her veins runs some of
the blood of Lot and of Myrrha. " Oh that thou wert as
a brother of mine ! " etc. She looks as if she were groaning
because she could not sin much more. Moreover, as a last
motive, she many a time employs an astonishing request,
boldly mentions the holiest remembrances. (There is the
room in which my mother. . . . There is the tree under
which thy mother. . . . etc.)* This is the greatest im-
pudicity and it smells ofthe sepulchre.
These words, uttered on the morrow of the last night,
are the completion. They are followed by the decisive
formula which puts an end to everything, and which
might be interpreted thus : " For ever and ever."
" Place me as a signet ring upon thy heart. Love is
strong as death. . . ." That is to say : love is irrevocable.
He takes her, embraces her and she becomes his wife.
He wished he had all the world, to give it to her. At
least, he gives her all he has, wishes to have nothing but
with her.f
She is delicate, but she is very shrewd. She thinks of
her family. " We have a small sister, and she has no
* This is even worse than Ham showing the drunkenness of Noah. There
is in it something of the old genius of the Magians, and of the impiety of
Babel. The principal passage has reference to the morning which follows the
seven-night, in which he enjoyed with her, in his own^house in the solitary
country. His love is quite assuaged. But she turns like a panther: "that
thou wert as a brother of mine who sucked the breasts of my mother," etc.
"I would lead thee," etc. "Thou wouldst instruct me; under this apple-
tree," etc. " There thy mother was deflowered" (viii. i, 2, 5).
f Nobody has understood this. But many have found out something bet
ter than the text. Mr. Dargaud says, in commenting upon this text with a
charming delicacy, which this coarse text has not : " Man will give his life
for love, and believe at the same time that he has given nothing."

The World- Woman. 267
breasts. What shall we do for our sister in the day that
she shall be spoken for ? " She remembers well the two
sisters, Leah and Rachel, wives of Jacob. When the
second wife is to come, as it happens in the East, she her
self prefers to give her, to take the little girl who will be
docile to her, to make the happiness of the small sister,
toward whom she is rather a mother than a sister. Her
husband smiles, understands, and under an Oriental, del
icate form, promises all that she wishes.
To what a degree then she is the mistress, the spouse,
and sure of her own situation ! "I feel to be as strong as
a wall, which would protect a city. My breasts are swol
len, and come up, as a tower, when I have found my peace
in thee."
Meanwhile some noise is heard. His young friends
have discovered where he is, they come to search for him,
they call on him. But she can dismiss him now. All
is accomplished. He may go and amuse himself: " Go
my young hart upon mountain of spices. . . . Flee and
be like a gazelle ! "
The explanation which I am giving is taken not in the
clouds of the vague imagination, but in the text itself, fol
lowed closely, sentence after sentence, and brought back
to its true local character : Syrian voluptuousness and now
and then Jewish rudeness. It is to Solomon himself, to
his vast experience of woman that I have asked the inter
pretation of the Song of Songs. Here I mean for Solomon
the books attributed to him, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, etc.
These books, sometimes harsh toward woman, especially
the Syrian woman, describe none the less with force her
mystery which may be rendered in this sentence : Magic
of the seven demons.
And this holds good not only in the woman of pleasure,
the Delilahs, the Magdalens, and in those women of in
trigue and audacity, the Herodiases, the Jezebels, but
also in the very virgin, the young Sarah of Tobias.
Seven devils in this innocent one. All of them are in

268 Bible of Humanity.
love, jealous, domineering by turns. They all, from
Astoreth to Belial, from Adonis to Balphegor, bustle
about and fight for her.
The seven gods of Syria — fish, serpents, doves, or en
chanted trees — " have been born by the god Desire." It
is this god who endows the woman of the Song of Songs.
When she comes out blushing from the cellar and says :
"Once more!" a luminous circlet is round her head.
Is it the Arabian flash of the lightning of Jericho, of the
girl with dark eyes ? Is it the expiring softness of the
weeping women of Byblos ? Is it the strange, voluptuous
enigma, which the eastern Jewish woman shows yet, and
which one would fain divine ?
All this is in it, but there is still more, namely, that which
will be temptation itself— the humble avowal of woman,
which, while it degrades her, makes her so strong. The
bewildered enchantress of Theocritus and of Virgil, who
melts away as wax before the fire, and who, through a
desperate effort, calls back an absent one loved too much,
has more of nobleness in her and agitates one less than
the sick woman in the Song of Songs, who faints away
among her friends and plainly says : "I am dying of
love." She unites in herself the two characters of that woman,
who, of all women, is to accomplish the Fall : She par
takes of the Angel and of the Brute. She is a queen, and
a slave, subdued and desirous to obey. It is through this
that she reigns, that she is irresistible.
She has the force of binding up. Solomon, who had so
much experienced it, says this in a marvellous way:
" She is like the nets of the hunter. She is like the
snares of the angler." * There are three things that are
not to be satisfied, and a fourth one which never says
{enough) : " The world of the dead, the fire, and the bar
ren womb ; the earth which is not satisfied with water." f
* Ecclesiastes vii. 27. \ Proverbs xxx. 16.

The World- Woman. 269
That which in the Song of Songs produces astonishment
is, that at the moment in which the woman there spoken
of seems abandoned to nature, and in which the mild
Syrian female appears to be led astray in a dream, the
perfect lucidity ofthe Jewish woman subsists, and timidly
reveals itself. Though young, how she knows already the
course of the Oriental life, and the shortness of love !
This does perfectly agree with what the Proverbs of
Solomon say elsewhere of the cautious, clever spirit of the
mistress of the house, of her aptitude to business. She
increases the fortune of her husband, makes and bids her
servants make tissues, which she sells. With the labor of
her hands she acquires, she buys a vineyard ; she becomes
a land-owner and dresses herself in purple. But she does
all this without injuring the interest of her husband — a
simple easy man, magistrate of the city, whom she directs
in his judgments.
Solomon, who had seven hundred wives, and, as it is
said, was terribly enslaved by them, did not forgive them.
"I have found," says he, "that woman is more bitter
than death." He advises the husband to do what un
doubtedly he himself did, * namely : when she is unbear
able and quarrelsome, to go to dwell in a corner of the
house-top. f
* It seems that whilst the Wise man was studying the Universe, from the
cedar to the hyssop, his queens, wanton Syrian women, or Arabians with
burning blood, like the queen of Sheba, changed the gods, built temples — in
a word, imposed on this great king the shame of the worship of Baal, which
sets man at the foot of the woman. What is related about Aristotle in love,
in a story of the Middle Ages (Aristotle, subdued by a fair woman, who rides
on him and makes an ass of that wise man), is a mere trifle in comparison
with the peculiar rite of Syria, which has been preserved among the Druses.
Woman, any woman, and of whatever age, seated majestically in the temple,
exacted from man, prostrated before her as an avowal of his nothingness, an
obscene, humiliating homage to the power which people call feeble, and
which, however, shares in the indefatigableness of nature. — "It is the very
women of Syria who have introduced this rite." — Sacy, Asiatic Journal,
1827, x., 341.
f Proverbs xxv. 24.

270 Bible of Humanity.
The Jew, according to the advice of the wise king, goes
more frequently to dwell in a corner of his house-top, far,
very far from his wife, and there he occupies himself in
making accounts, or in counting the words and the letters
of the Bible. In his uneasy, trembling life, he is afraid
of fecundity and follows the advice of the Ecclesiastes :
" I wish thee to have few children." In the book of
Wisdom, in order to reassure his conscience altogether,
it is said: "that even the eunuch may be blessed by
God." To all this must be added the weakening of the char
acter, a fact general at that time. In the innumerable
misfortunes, and unforeseen, continual revolutions, which
happened after Alexander, the heart and strength fell off.
No men were left in the world. Each people lost the
vigor of manhood.
Vico has uttered this profound sentence : "In the
ancient languages, he who says vanquished says woman."
Sesostris, in having his victories engraved, gives to the
vanquished man the sex of the spouse. The captive, like
the bride in the East, had a ring in his lip, on his nose,
and in his ear, in order that he might be led. Entire
populations were thus dragged away, herds of children
and women. From hand to hand, from master to master,
they handed, with their gods of Asia, their voluptuous and
gloomy rites.
At this agitated time, there appeared a thing quite
new and of infinite importance — the Novel.
The history of the Jews, even their grave history, has
the mark of romantic groundwork — the arbitrary miracle,
in which God takes delight to choose the commonest
man, even the unworthy one, as a Saviour, liberator,
avenger of the people. At the time of the captivity the
banking business, or the intrigue of the court, the sudden
fortunes, hurled the imaginations into the field of the un
foreseen. It was at that time that appeared the very
beautiful historical novels of Joseph, Ruth, Tobit, Esther,

The World- Woman. 271
Daniel, and many others.* They are always interwoven
with two ideas : It is the good exiled man, who, through
the explanation of dreams and his financial skill, becomes
a minister or favorite — or the woman loved of God, who
makes a great match, acquires glory, allures the enemy,
and (astounding thing, contrary to the Mosaic ideas) is the
Saviour of the people. According to Moses, woman was
impure and dangerous, and had brought on the Fall. But
it is just the unforeseen influence that the novel takes
hold of.f God makes of woman a snare, makes use of
her seduction, and through her operates the Fall of him
whom he has condemned.
Love is a lottery, Grace is a lottery. That is the
essence of the novel. It is the contrary of history, not
only because it subordinates great collective interests to
¦an individual destiny, but because it likes not the ways of
'that difficult preparation which produces what happens in
¦history. It moreover takes delight in showing us the
cast of dice which hazard sometimes brings in, and in
flattering us with the idea that what is impossible becomes
sometimes possible. By means of this hope, of pleasure,
of interest, it gains over the reader, spoiled from the
beginning, and who reads on with such an eagerness as to
overlook the want of talent in the plot, and even the want
of tact. The chimerical spirit finds itself interested in the
adventure, and wishes that it may have a fair issue.
These Jewish novels, even the most admirable of them,
Ruth, which is so finely planned and unexceptionally lascivi
ous, are sensual. % They abound with feelings of devotion

* The anacronisms in them are monstrous, as, for instance, if one should
place at the same epoch S. Louis and Louis XIV. See de Wette, etc.
f-Sir, what is a novel? Madam, a novel is what you have at this moment
in your mind. For, as you care neither for your country, nor for science, nor
even for religion, you brood over what Sterne calls a hobby-horse, and what
I call a pretty little doll. Our novels are dull and insipid. Why ? Because
we have not great poetry.
X It is a skilful imitation of ancient times. The language does not show

272 Bible of Humanity.
and submission, and they breathe the deepest feeling of
fear, fear of God and fear of the king, but they do not dis
guise at all the cunning by which woman is dexterously
pushed forward, and the best made of her. Judith frankly
says that the high priest sent her to the tent of Holo-
fernes.* In the novel of Esther it is stated by what
means the shrewd Mordocai engratiated himself with
the eunuchs, in order to introduce his niece and secure for
her the preference.
Esther, a beautiful novel, is profoundly historical, and
of immense instruction. It is not only at Susa and Baby
lon that captivity leads the beautiful and impressive girl.
She will enter everywhere. Esther, through a thousand
adventures of slavery, travels also in the West, and with
her, her thousand sisters. If Asiatic men sought out and
stole Grecian women, those splendid girls of the Pelo
ponnesus, with deep bosom, who had powerful voices,
were good singers, and amused them — the Western men,
on the contrary, wished to have Syrian women, the Greco-
Phoenician of Cyprus, f of Ionia, ofthe Cyclades, of those
dove-nests formerly established by Astarte\ These had
not run on the Taygetus, danced, wrestled, and taken those
faultless forms, which the art has made eternal. They, in
requital of that, appeared to have more of womanish
nature, and they were soft and loving from their birth.
Easily trained to all lascivious arts, they made pleasure a
religion and sexual rites a duty. The intelligent slave-
merchant — an Ephesian or a Cappadocian — and the Ro
man Knights, who at a later day conducted this com
merce, gave the preference to those girls of the East who
had voluptuous blood. They bought Jewish women who
anything very ancient (de Wette). It must have been written against Esdras,
who was driving away foreign women.
* Saint Jerome is not scrupulous at all. He adroitly cuts off this verse.
f See in Lamartine's Voyage the marvellous description of Miss Mala-
gamba, a Grecian of Cyprus, with Syrian blood in her. Farther off, see in
the same author ihe female of Jericho, with charming, eager, and terrible eyes.

The World- Woman. 273
were modest and restrained; in reality, however, they
were, if we must believe the prophet Ezekiel, of such a pro
digious ardor as to astonish Syria. Possessed of the
gloomy spirit which sleeps beneath the Dead Sea, they
besought to be enjoyed.*
Those dreamers carried with them their ceremonies of
impudicity, their purifications, their fears and remorses,
their desires, and fetiches. Slavery, a powerful vehicle
to scatter abroad woman and gods, led everywhere the
deities of Syria. And it was because they were slaves that
they became the rulers of the world.
The Syrian woman, pursuing her destiny from one
seraglio to another, and from one paramour to another
(the seven devils helping her) ascended often very high.
He who had had her when she was a little one, had despised
and sold her over again, saw her one day seated at the side
of a tetrarch, or of a Roman prince, under a name which
disguised her.f Bearing a Roman name, and a Jewish
soul, and smacking always of Esther, she acted through a
morbid charm — the voluptuous and funeral odors of
Adonises, the perfume of a god in the grave — and that
magic of grief which made the Roman say : " Oh ! how
much I like thee in thy tears." %
Many and many women, called by Greek names, came
from the Phoenician temples scattered in the islands, and
may have been Orientals. Does not the same origin per
tain to the Delias, the Lesbias of Catullus, Tibullus, and
Propertius ? Those women were from the Cyclades, and
their lovers describe them as passionately fond of them,
and very religious.
They were brought up carefully by avaricious owners,
who derived profit by them, and they were far more ac
complished and learned than the fashionable ladies of our
own time. They were not at the disposal of every passer
by. They were hired for a prescribed time. They followed
* Ezekiel xvi. 33. t Drusilla, Procla, and others.
X Martial.
12*

274 Bible of Humanity.
obediently such a great personage, or such temporary
owner, occasionally in hard journeys, and even in the wars
among the barbarians, as the Lycoris of Virgil. We per
ceive that this beautiful one, who inspired Gallus with so
much love and so much despair, had a refined mind,
capable of feeling the tender farewell ofthe muse.*
"When I set off, Delia consulted all the gods."f These
were surely the gods of Chaldea, Egypt, and Syria, the
gods of the East. The women I speak of were very super
stitious. The weariness of their situation, the dislike of
themselves made them wish and search for purifications.
They willingly fled from their hard profession to obtain a
liberty in I know not what chapel. The dearest liberty
to them was to shed tears.
Holy chapel ! At the smoky glimmering of old oils,
with which the Chaldean and the Jew nourished their
lamps, Delia, under the blackened vault, was not alone in
praying. The noble and haughty matron, disguised, and
in plain head-dress, is near to the humble girl. The hired
beauty, and the great, powerful dame (who knows who
she is ? Perhaps Caesar's wife) joined together will change
the world.
At Rome, customs mocked at laws. By law the woman
there was poor ; but in reality she was very rich, had in
fluence, and ruled everything. Tullia, Volumnia, Cornelia,
Agrippina show to us enough to make us believe that
* "A few things to my Gallus, but which Lycoris herself may read!'1'' —
How much this tenth eclogue is pure and a thousand times lovelier (if we must
say the truth; than the Song of Songs ! Lycoris would surely not have needed
to use the impure stimulus, the sharp cantharis of Lot and Myrrh. What I
say of Lycoris holds good also of the Delia of Propertius, and of Tibullus.
In those charming little poems of melancholy love, one forgets altogether that
they are addressed to unfortunate women who could not dispose of themselves.
Some admirable sentences call to mind the sweetest household affections.
"What happiness!- She is everything! At home I am nothing!" — And
again : " To embrace her tenderly ! To listen, in her company, to the wild
winds roaring at night ! " An humble wish, but so touching and so full of
tenderness and innocence.
f PROPERTIUi.

The World- Woman. 275
they were queens as well as the Marozias, the Vannozzas
of the Middle Ages.
Twice they undermined Rome. While Rome was
striking hard on Carthage, and was thrusting back the
East, they were undoing its victory, and were by night
introducing in the asleep city the Eastern orgies {Bacchus
Sabazius), and placing in it the horse of Troy.
Now let us see the second blow. The orgies had
been exhausted. But the gods of death, all the gods of
Egypt, arrived. The funeral Egypt, enemy to the sea,
embarked for Rome, carrying with Isis, its mixed, new
god — Serapis with the sacred canopus. This Osiris from
below — this Pluto — he alone swallowed and buried thirty
gods ! He healed, killed, and buried. Anubis, his jackal,
the barking corpse-eater, came with him : the bambino
Horus in his mother's arms, and the wan Harpocrates, who
followed with a halting step, were with him. The strange
procession came down from the ship with torches, flames,
and lamps. Amusing and dreary spectacle ! All this
happened under Sylla. He was on the point of putting
down all these gods of death in his tablets of proscription.
But those gods were stronger than he. The women were
not afraid, and protected them. Caesar, as a friend of
Isis-Cleopatra, kept them up, and Antony did the same.
They both did so for their own misfortune. Tiberius
proscribed them, but in vain. If Rome adopted all the
gods, why not likewise take in Death himself, the god
whose love and worship increases and flourishes more and
more ?
Egypt is still too living. Humanity will go further into
the gloomy kingdom than even Egypt itself. We shall
find there dead men and ghosts even more dead than
those we have just considered.

276 Bible of Humanity.

CHAPTER VII.
THE- STRUGGLE BETWEEN WOMAN AND THE STOIC : LAW
AND GRACE.
The haughty genius of Rome seemed to have been or
dained to continue the Greek work of protecting the world
from being swallowed up by the gods of Asia, who came —
cruel or weeping — to bury the human soul. Whether
Moloch assailed it with his iron horns, or Adonis interred it
in the myrrh of the eternal wedding, the East was the grave.
Immense and enormous struggle. In the history of the
world there is nothing like the Punic wars. It is not there
an Alexander who rushes through an overturned empire.
The Punic wars are not the obscure wars of Caesar in wild
forests, where he kills a hundred nations. Here every
thing is done in broad daylight. Hannibal and his army
were indeed quite another thing than all this. It was a
great day that on which the Unnamed God of Carthage,
with the terrible machine of an army without a name, and
with a strong genius of war, the strongest that ever was,
rushed on Italy ; great was the day on which the East and
Africa came into Italy through the Alps. It was then
that the world knew that which Italy — the fruitful mother
— had in her bosom. Italy did what Greece could never
do, by raising two millions of soldiers — a rural mass,
deeply thick. An honest, docile mass, indomitably re
signed and indefatigable to die. Rome, in those days,
taught the whole world how to die. And in the long run,
it was the monster that died. Infinite thanks are due to
thee, great Italy ! all this will last for ever.
Salve, magna parens frugum, Saturnia tellns !
Magna virum ! *
* Virgil, Geor. II., 173-74.
Hail, sweet Saturnian soil 1 of fruitful grain
Great Parent, greater of illustrious men.
Dryden : Georgics ii., 241-42.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 277
The old Italian genius possessed a great science which
is worth many philosophies, the science of the hearth and
the tombs. The married household gods, guardians of
the family ; the great gods Consentes, married two by
two — who, happier than men, are born and die on the
same day — are an agreeable and venerable spectacle
among the ancient Italians. The Etruscan and Italian
tombs do not overwhelm us as the cemeteries of Egypt.
They exalt our minds ; they console. They speak from
man to man ; they teach us the course of time, the great
ages of the world, the regular return of things.* Deep
sense of history possessed only by this people, and which
vivifies death and makes graves flourish. In the ur7i was
a perpetual spring.
The respect of boundaries, of property, of the ground
sacred by labor or by tombs, was admirably preparing
this people to become, under the inspiration of Greece,
the universal teacher of municipal laws. No other people
was so strongly attached to the rights of the past, even to
the imaginary ones. The infinite patience of the plebeian
who fought so many centuries for the commonwealth,
which however was so stern as always to thrust him back,
cannot be accounted for but by the infinite meekness of
the Italian husbandman. No mutiny but that on the
Aventine hill — a peaceful secession. The result of it was
a great one. Three things proceeded from it : the Roman
fasces, by which Carthage was crushed ; the conquest of
the world, and the organization of the most magnificent
empire which the sun has ever beheld ; finally an immense
work, unalterable in many parts, the colossal body of the
Civil Law.
I know what some say : " The Romans made war"—
as well as other nations. " Rome had slaves " — as well aa
other nations. " The Roman proconsuls abused their
power " — as it always happens. Was Verres worse than

See my Roman History and especially Vico.

278 Bible of Humanity.
Hastings, whom the English acquitted ? Was he worse
than the first Spanish governors, who depopulated Amer
ica ? Or was he worse than the Christians, who have
made the year 1864 remarkable by the death of three
peoples ? *
,- Did Rome make the decline ? No, she inherited it. It
was an ended world which fell in her hands. Men too
frequently forget the depopulation, the chaos, the mili
tary revels, which humanity had undergone since Alex
ander the Great. The orgy centered and expired at
Rome ; but it must by no means be called Roman,
because, when it was almost a shadow, even in the
midst of Rome, it was the debauchery of Asia, of the
East. Rome admitted all the gods, maintained all the laws of
the vanquished, reserving for herself the right of appeal.
She rendered homage to their genius. There is nothing
which so much honors those sovereign magistrates as the
boundless deference manifested by them towards the Gre
cian genius, acknowledging in it the authority of light,
and confessing that they were indebted to it for every
thing. " You are going to Athens," Cicero writes to Atticus.
" Revere the gods !"
The Greeks themselves have never spoken of Greece as
Lucretius did in several lines, so solemn, so touching,
and in such a deep strain. Virgil, the sacred genius
of Italy, when he speaks of Greece, humbly descends
from his tripod, lays down the laurels from his head,
makes himself a disciple, an offspring of Hesiod, and
follows him. Beautiful, amiable, touching tenderness !
He did not know how much the master was inferior
to him.
Rome herself was thrice on her knees before Greece, on
account of language, philosophy, and the inspiration of
the law itself. * Poland, Denmark, and Circassia.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 2 79
Every Roman had a Grecian preceptor, and learned the
language of Homer thoroughly, even to the neglect of his
own. They spoke Greek at Rome, even on those lively
occasions in which the heart itself was prompted to speak,
in the paroxysm of love,* under the stroke of death.
When Caesar was struck, he cried out in Greek {hellen-
isti).\ The Romans asked of the Greeks the rule of life. In all
the schools of Rome the Grecian philosophy sat as a queen.
And I am not speaking about theoretical ideas, and spec
ulation. I speak of action, of customs, of deportment.
The Greek philosopher, in every Roman household, was
the adviser, of whom they asked strength and light in the
perplexed moments of life. The heroes of resistance, the
Thraseas, had their philosopher to attend them at their
death. The emperors themselves had their Greek attend
ant, who restrained and soothed them. Augustus would
have been but Octavius, except for his Greek adviser.
In this noble antiquity there is nothing greater and
nobler than the simplicity of Rome, who, although all-
powerful and mistress of the world, asks help of Greece,
of that ruined old Greece, already almost a desert, of
Athens, which was comparatively a solitude. Rome,
overwhelmed by her own grandeur, addressed herself to
the poverty and moderation of Greece. " The Greeks
were gifted by the muse with genius, speech, and a soul
above desire. f
But how did Greece herself still live ? After the terri
ble conflict with the armies of Alexander, Greece was
broken down, crushed, and desolated. What did re
main to poor Greece, when the Romans themselves car
ried away her gods, perhaps a million of statues ; when
every altar was empty, and the heroes that decorated
her squares, her streets, and her porticos were captives in
Italy ?
* Juvenal. f Plutarch. X Horace.

280 Bible of Humanity.
It is in this that we must admire the might of the
Hellenic gods. In them was found the basis on which
Greece upheld Rome and humanity. Greece leaned upon
Hercules. There was at Athens a portico, called the Cynosarges,
sacred to him. It was there that, after the death of
Socrates, Antisthenes fixed himself. He had been a
disciple of Socrates, and alone pursued the revenge of his
master and punished his accusers. In the decline which
followed the Thirty Tyrants, he undertook the valiant en
terprise of placing before the eyes of the people the ideal
of liberty. Hercules was eminently free, for, being able to
have everything, he would have nothing. With the skin
of a lion, and a club of olive-tree, he was king even more
than Eurystheus himself. He was the model of Antis
thenes and of Diogenes, his disciple. Diogenes was by
no means the fool some writers have represented him.
He did what Solon had done before him — like the He
brew prophets. During a century he preached by his
deeds, acting the comedy of Hercules. His exaggeration
was the result of a purpose : " The teachers of a choir,"
he used to say, " force the tune that they may bring up to
it their pupils." The key, the tension, in the general
slackness, is the philosophy of Hercules.* Thus the bow
and the lyre had been strained in the hand of Apollo.
There is a monument from which it is seen that Hercules
while still young, in his enthusiasm for the beautiful and
the sublime, takes the lyre and vies with Apollo himself.
This tension is but harmony and mildness. Diogenes
gave the solemn example of it. Although he was a slave,
when charged by his master to bring up a child, he made
of him an admirable man, through the most gentle edu
cation. The great myth of the Twelve Labors of Hercules
* In all this I follow the Greek texts so well interpreted by Ravaisson
(Aristotle, 1 1), Vacherot (Introduction to the Philosophy of Alexandria, i),
and Denis (History of Ideas, i).

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 281
was the idea of the new philosophy, the glorification of
labor. \
"The good god is Nature. Nature is reason, which
toils and fashions the world."
" Labor is the sovereign good."
The workingman, the slave, is rehabilitated. Hercules
is a slave to Eurystheus. Diogenes, sold by hazard, wishes
to show that even in the midst of slavery, one may keep
himself free. He declined to be ransomed. Some men
who had been born slaves, as Menippes, Monimus, etc.,
were admitted at the Stoa, or Porch of Hercules, and they
did the honor of it.
Was all this a play ? One might have thought so. But
through terrible circumstances, through the dreadful blows
of fate, the barbarous military orgies, and the incarnation
of the Tyrant, the Stoic was under the necessity of evin
cing that he was THE STRONG. The Passion of CaUisthenes,
crucified by the cruel madman at whose foot was the
universe, for having stood up for honor and reason, this
solemn event placed the school on the battle-field in the
presence of death and torments.
From the cross of CaUisthenes was heard the sentence of
the Prometheus, "O Justice, O my mother!" — and the
last sentence of Socrates (in the Eutiphron) : "There is
nothing holy but the Just." All this made up the doctrines
of the Porch. Zeno and Chrysippus taught that Justice
is holiness. " Themis is not enthroned beside Jupiter, as
it is said. She is Jupiter himself, god of gods and
sovereign good."
"Good creates happiness. The wise man alone is
happy. The just is happy in death, in grief, on the rack."
Are these vain sentences ? No. Action corresponded
with them. The inward soul found a sublime alibi. A
Stoic, when he was crushed and pounded, said to the
tyrant who put him in the mortar: "Beat, crush, and
pound. . . . You cannot reach my soul."
The great part of resistance played by the Stoics at the

282 Bible of Hutnanity.
beginning of the Empire, presents them under a too
peculiar aspect. What Horace calls the ferocious spirit
of Cato obscures for us his stoicism, makes us believe it to
be narrower than it is, and partly conceals its grandeur.
It is generally unknown that stoicism, besides its funda
mental principle of Justice, from which originates Duty,
admits also another principle, namely, Love, which is im
plied in true Justice. It is, however, to be observed that
this is not a tardy mitigation of the time of Cicero, or
Marcus Aurelius. Five hundred years before Marcus
Aurelius, at the time of Alexander the Great, Zeno, who
was the first Stoic, in his explanation of the universal
commonwealth ofthe world, had said already : " Love is
the god that saves the city."* He is speaking of that love
which is also called mutual friendship and human brother
hood. At the very first appeared then, distinctly, this
sacred Trinity : The liberty of the soul, — the equal liberty
(and which is extended even to the slave) — Love (of all
for all), the great fraternal unity.
It is easy, it would seem, that a happy man shold love
and fraternize. But it is a beautiful, a great thing, to see
a wretched man — in the midst of hard, monotonous, bar
ren labors, which dry up the soul — still love and frater
nize. Zeno had the good fortune of finding such a mira
cle in his disciple Cleonthes, who at night toiled, drawing
water out of wells to irrigate gardens, and in the daytime
meditated and philosophized. Zeno, delighted with him,
called him the second Hercules. Cleonthes was gifted with
the very soul, tender and good, of the hero. He laid down
the great unalterable formula : " Love begins with the
mother and the father. From the family it extends to the
village, to the commonwealth, to the people, and it be
comes the holy love of the world. From that time man,

* Denis (History of Ideas) points out, with just reason, the error (volun
tary ?) of those who try to make people believe that these great ideas of the
primitive Stoicism did not appear but in the Christian era.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 283
on the account only of being a man, is no longer a
stranger to another man." 300 B.C.
They did not stop here, by stating the principle only ;
they carried its spirit into many practical questions which
concern the province of Jurisprudence. From Paulus
Emilius to Labeon, a Stoic lawyer, the Greeks, especially
those of the Porch, prepared at the same time men and
ideas. The right of equity softens and modifies the
antique barbarity. That was the concern of the Praetor.
But who is the Praetor ? The pupil of a Grecian philoso
pher, most frequently of a Stoic*
What stopped the work of the Greek philosophers, and
the Greek Wisdom ? What made barren the experience
of the Roman statesman and jurist ? In a word, what
prevented the restoration of the Empire ? Assuredly, it
was the vices of the supreme power, but especially the
weariness, the incredible weariness of the world at this
epoch. The end ofthe Thirty years War, the exhaustion
of Europe after Wallenstein and Tilly, the long devasta
tions ofthe hireling soldiers of that time, give but a feeble
idea of the conditions of the ancient peoples after the
three hundred years, during which the successors of
Alexander, Phyrrus, Agathocles, and the hireling sol
diers of Carthage spread death and ruin everywhere.
Above all, add to all this Marius and Sylla, the ferocious
struggle of Italy herself, divided among soldiers — divided
without profit ; for any improvement ceased. The wil
derness began then, even at the gates of Rome. " Even
in the ancient cities an inhabitant rarely is to be seen going
here and there." f
The Fathers of the Church deceive us strangely, wish
ing to make us believe that the times of the heathen orgy
continued through the Empire. It was concentrated in
Rome with the excess of vices and that of riches. Any-

* See Meister, Ortloff, and especially Laferriere, i860.
\ " Ranis et antiquis habitator in urbibus errat." (Lucan.)

284 Bible of Humanity.
where else everything was dismal and poor. Greece was
deserted, and the East had grown old. Except Alexan
dria and Antioch, new cities of some activity, there was
everywhere a great silence, a great calmness, or rather a
torpor, somnolency, paralysis.
There was another cause of weariness, which the Fath
ers conceal from us. During three or four centuries sev
eral different gods had appeared, and passed away, suc
ceeding each other like shadows. The beautiful Grecian
gods, Apollo and Minerva (about 400-300 before Christ)
had made room for Bacchus, who swallowed up them all,
even Jupiter himself. Bacchus, transformed into an East
ern God as Adonis-Sabazius, lost all his character. His
mysteries were mixed and incorporated with those of
Phrygia and Egypt, Atys, Isis, etc. Worthless displays !
Mithras, the inefficacious reviver, marched behind them.
There were three epochs of gods after the effete Jupi
ter. The Fathers revive all those gods to make us believe
that the new god, who vanquished them, had to fight hand
to hand the fury of the antique orgies — the true Bacchus,
with the horns of a bull, and the roaring lions of Cybeles.
But all those gods had been buried. Jupiter and Bacchus
had long been cold statues * in the Pantheon at Rome, and
had no longer any power ; and they, unconcerned, could
contemplate at leisure the struggle between Mithras and
Jesus. There was a power, which undermined that worn out
world. What power ? Strange as it may appear, it was
the progress of humanity and equity — the vast and gene
rous equity of Right — that gave a hold to the deadly
enemies of reason, to the gloomy destroyers of Right, and
the Empire.
Every nation step by step came to Rome. Rome was
the common country. When Italy had taken down the
barrier, when the good tyrant Casar, and the good tyrant
* This is admirably stated in Quinet's works.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 285
Marc Antony, both lovers of Cleopatra, opened the door
to the East, all mankind repaired thither and presented
themselves. They were all admitted little by little. For,
after all, they were men. The indulgence of the new Bac
chus (Caesar) who, in imitation of his god,* went about
without belt, agrees on this point entirely with his enemy
— the Stoic — and with the unbounded humanity of the
doctrines of the Porch. Rome looked upon, and admired
her new sons. She saw black Romans, from Libya ; yel
low Romans from Syria, and green-eyed Romans from the
marshes of Friesland. The most incoherent mixtures
were made of men half-made up, of barbarians (bears or
seals ?) with the corpses and skeletons of the impure East,
the residuum of empires, the tomb of tombs and caput
mortum. And it happened, as in any mixture, that the
wholesome sap was absorbed, and vitiated by the old
rottenness. Alas ! rottenness and death were in the slave ; the vices
of the free and his own. Raised up by the Stoic, the
Roman Jurist and Law, replaced near the free, can the
slave remove from himself the traces of his long misery ?
Mark, that he is not the innocent laborer, the negro of
America. The ancient slave was the match of his master
in culture, malice, and perversity. Almost always it was
the humble, graceful son of the East who came like a
child-woman, and by means of love and intrigue made
his Asiatic gods circulate in every palace of Rome.
The agreeable Tyro is to Cicero more than a slave. He
is his friend, the most obsequious of his friends, and yet
at the same time the most powerful one, and the master
of his master. Does any one likewise believe that Lycoris,
the poetical, the Lycoris of Virgil, could really be a slave?
Those beautiful ones, as soon as they were getting old,
redeemed themselves and remained rich. In their return
* Virgil: " Daphnis et Armenias curru subjungere tigres," etc. (Fierce
tigers Daphnis taught the yoke to bear. — Dryden, Past. V., 43.) The
ancient commentators apply this passage to Julius Caesar.

286 Bible of Humanity.
to Asia or Greece, they, honorable ladies then, and free
to love whom and what they liked best, loved dreams,
fables, the gods of the East.
Scarcely different is the spirit of the true Roman Lady,
the free Roman woman, the independent wife of a shadow
of a husband, or the widow, a reigning, absolute mother of
a child. If she is not a guardian, she does really perform
what belongs to guardianship, having the custody of her
son, and administering his property. Horace and Seneca
inform us about that. Nor is this all. Precocius ex
cesses, which are more deadly to men than women, con
centrated at Rome, as well as in Greece, the family
property in the hands of the woman. Both, the Law,
generous and humane, and Nature, more and more power
ful, contributed to bring about this result. The heart
speaks, and always to the advantage of the daughter. If
the charming formula of the Northern laws* had not yet
been written in the Roman statutes, the spirit lived through
them all. " My sweet child, a severe right withheld from
thee my property. But I, dear child, I make thee equal
to thy brothers," etc.
The France of the Revolution felt precisely this same
outburst of the heart, when, on a sudden and without pre
paration, humanizing the civil law, she made of the French
woman the richest woman in the world. The result was
the same. By giving her property without giving her
education, by making her rich without enlightening her,
without placing her on a level with the culture of the age
she lived in, the Law put in her hands the weapon for
destroying the Law. The obstinate return of errors
and misfortunes has never been more striking. To-day
as at that time, then as to-day, the Revolution only suc
ceeded, to end by stifling itself. Paula and Metella, pro
vided with immense fortune, either as a dowry or heritage,
had built for Serapis, for Mithras, for Jesus, chapels
* Marculf.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 287
and temples, like those which in our own time crowd our
cities — temples and chapels which were then as they are
now the strongholds and citadels of counter-revolution.
Strange sight ! To whom does the Law entrust these
enormous forces ? To the feeble person, to the sickly
hand, to the fanciful and troubled heart, which is so easily
preyed upon by imposition of all kinds. Who will save
women from themselves ? Paula, in her vast abode,
was afraid. Those rich enfranchised women, the Chloes
and Phcebes of Saint Paul, Mary of Magdala, who has
become so famous, trembled, haunted as they were by
unknown Spirits. On the morrow of the ancient orgies,
when everything had grown pale, and decayed, they
hastened to the gloomy Chaldean (astrologer, or savant)
who had succeeded the magians, and who consulted
the sky and the stars to foretell destinies. Even the
meagre and dirty Jew, who, in the field of Mars,
lay down in a basquet, was consulted by the uneasy
woman. Great changes were at hand ; she was sure of
that, she felt that ; she had them in herself, for they
were struggling in her bosom. What were they ? Ter
rible things, scarcely uttered, and only hinted at 
First of all, the end of the world, the universal death, a
supreme catastrophe, which, carrying away at once our
lives and our stains — an immense loathing — would free us
from ourselves.
She however had grown pale  She would die
and she would not. She was ready to ask for favor. . . .
The man had got hold of her now. He made her hope
(buy?) a great secret. "The world, in dying, does not
die. An epoch passes away and another comes. Egypt
and Etruria had no other mystery at the bottom of their
tombs. The revolutions of things, the chorus of the hours
of the world, in their eternal round, in each thousand
years, bring back the sunset and the dawn. A living
dawn is at hand, and it will begin again everything. The
dawn is already beginning to light up the sky, the mys-

288 Bible of Humanity.
tery is on the point of being accomplished, and the cradle
is ready. . . . Let us wait for the Divine Child  "
"Begin, O little boy,
To single out thy mother with a smile ! "*
Expiring Italy raised herself in her poet Virgil to
make that vow, and tried to hope. Her poet, with long
hair like that of a woman, her poet, an unhappy Sibyl,
whose sighs were stifled, could on this occasion speak, and
prophesy. His masters, the cruel statesmen, hoped that
his sacred voice was just uniting the world on the cradle
of a son of Augustus.
The revolution of ages, the universal expectation, had
to bring in a child, a little god-saviour. The lost, or Pro
serpina, the child Bacchus exposed on the sea, the gentle
Adona'i, wounded and risen, — these three young deities
had enchanted the world. Atys had enraptured it by the
touching show in which the recovered child gushed forth
from a tree full of sighs. All this was very ingenious and
charming, but at the same time it was worn out. In
the halls of the emperors, it had not yet been determined
whether the Messiahs were to be made anew, or to be
proscribed. The mother of Augustus failed in the attempt,
and every body laughed at her serpent, a servile imita
tion of the incarnation of Alexander. Maecenas judged
it better not to try this expedient any longer, nor endure
those contrivances, but to proscribe the Saviours, as
dangerous to the Empire. Though endowed with so
much mind, he was however not aware that any royalty
is a Messiahnism. That individual, whose vast soul con
tains and exceeds the soul of a people, is necessarily an
Avatar, an incarnation.
The last popular form had been Atys, a true image of
the exhaustion of the world. After the fruitful and
Priapic orgies, the powerless furor burst forth in this
mutilated Atys, a girl-boy, and weak in both sexes. No

' Incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem. ' ' — Virgil.

The Struggle of Woman and the Stoic. 289
more robust men. Atys mourning over himself, mourns
over humanity itself.* Nature appeared to have been
herself contaminated with the sterility of man. The wan
sun did not warm any longer. The tree dried up and the
grass turned yellow.
But though people cannot create any longer, they can
remember, they can speak, and repeat words. What
remains of life, is especially the voice, the echo. The
god-word outlives the gods. Nothing was left of the
Commonwealth. But the School subsisted. The new
Saviour was the teacher. A gentle teacher with a low
voice, who put the damper to render fainter the high
tunes of the past, who introduced no change, and excited
to no effort in order to know something new. The ancient
teachers, Apollo and Orpheus, sang. Pythagoras taught
by silence. Silence is too eloquent. There is no sweet
ness like that of those vague words muttered about night
fall to the woman, or to the child that wishes to sleep, and
cannot. One cannot really tell whether the voice, which
is uttered at that time, proceeds from without or from
within. Is it a self out of one's self, the soul beloved, or
own-self? The charm is too great to wish to dispel it. We
hold fast to it ; we lazily fear to awake and to be too lucid,
to resume the life of effort and of reason. " Above all,
no more reason ! Let conscience be asleep ! Complete
passivity ! Let the soul be nothing but an instrument ! "
'This is just what was inculcated by Philo, the contemporary
of Jesus, and, as he has already been called, his brother
as to his doctrine. He expressed very well the lazy
somnolency of this passive epoch, when the world lay
down under the fatality of the Eternal Empire.
As to the pedantic discussions added to it by the Rabbis
on the coming Messiah, who was to put an end to all
things ; as to their rigmarole about the Logos, Wisdom,
" the Son of man coming on the clouds, "\ they had no
* Catullus. t Daniel.
13

290 Bible of Humanity.
influence whatever on the spirits. The crowd held more
tenaciously to the tradition of Syria, the incarnation of
the Dove, and to the Jewish tradition of the Holy Ghost
descending into a barren mother, causing her to bring
forth a great Nazarene.
These Biblical miracles, read over again and again on
the festival days, made woman very pensive, when she
mused on them in the evening. From the East, the
golden star was seeing her, was following her, and darting
its twinkling rays. The Saviours of Asia were the Sbns of
the star. Who has not sometimes seen it falling, and
leaving here below a luminous trail, as a flow of heavenly
life ? ... Its warm radiance makes the cheeks burn. . . .
And even less than all this is necessary ; the Spirit, of
which Elijah speaks, the softest breath of air is enough :
" At first it was a storm, and it was not He. Then a
strong wind came on, but it was not He. At last passed
close by a tepid, soft wind. . . . It was He."

Triumph of Woman. 291

CHAPTER VIII.
TRIUMPH OF WOMAN.
It is very logical that Christianity, conceived and born"!
by the Virgin Mary, has produced, as its latest outcome,
the Immaculate Conception. Mary contains it and includes^
it ; the mother of Mary and their female ancestors also
contain and include it. A long feminine incubation, a
continual bringing forth, produced this creation, which, as
it has been truly said, owes nothing to man, having been
brought about solely by woman.
Up to the year 369, woman was a priest in the Greek,
or Eastern Church, which is the mother church. There
has never been a more legitimate priesthood. She is the
true Christian priest. Who can, better than she does, ex
plain, make feel, and worship that which she herself has
made ? It was in those first centuries, and through this
charm, that the ancient idolatry was overthrown. No
marble divinity could stand up when the living grace
officiated at the altar.
Mary was put aside, but only in order to return more
powerful. She reigns at last. The Christians have made
to her the avowal that she is the whole of Christianity.
Saint Dominic declares that he has seen heaven, nay, more
than heaven, in her bosom. He saw in it the three worlds,
purgatory, hell, and paradise. -^
The schoolmen were simply ridiculous, when they',
wishing to be delirious in a wise manner, spoiled the fool
ishness of the cross — the feminine element, grace — by aryf
impossible alloy of manly reason and justice.
How is it that they did not perceive that at every
step they made out of the path of grace in order to make

292 Bible of Humanity.

"a masculine person of Jesus, they strayed out of the field
| of religion, and were but dialecticians and jurists ? Saint
j Thomas, who wore out his life in this impossible enter-
Lprise (a triangle without any angle), repented of his fault
on his death-bed, gave himself up to grace, and in his
last moments he wished the song of songs only to be read
to him.
The lonely woman saw rising from her bosom her
genius, her angel, and her young soul, a speaking soul
which teaches in being born, and which tells to its mother
all that she was already acquainted with. This soul,
which was her son, was also her soft reflection, undistin
guished from herself, but by being loved the more. When
he was twelve years old, and already grown handsomer,
he was quite her mother, and yet her master, her lesson,
her little doctor. She placed him before herself and
knelt down at his feet.
Ah ! behold him grown up, a beautiful and stately
adolescent, with long hair which seems that of his mother,
and with a sad and serious look. Is he her son ? Does
she know it yet ? She likes much better that he be any
thing else, — a charming and austere doctor, a little feared,
but so gentle ! Oh ! what voluptuousness it is to be
taught, to obey, and in all this to be only timid, but not
afraid ! This is more, or this is less than love ! The lover
in the song of songs seems to know that, when she utters
the subtle and deep sentence : " Thou shalt teach me."
This is like the effect of a fair moon, when with its rays
is blended a weak reflection of the setting sun. Many
persons, from the very first, saw in all this an illusion, as
though all this were nothing more than the soul of Mary
contemplating itself, speaking to itself, teaching and loving
itself, and creating itself, outside itself in order to be able
to love itself. All this gave to tender-hearted people the
advantage of allowing them to believe that the son of
Mary had not suffered, and that his Passion had been an
illusion likewise. The Docetce believed so, thinking that

Triumph of Woman. 293
God, having compassion, had not permitted his son to be
tortured, but had given up to the fierceness of death only a
shadow. This question is a very curious one, but nothing
can elucidate it, and it will always be discussed and uncer
tain for ever.
If somebody insists upon, and wishes, as my friend
Ernest Renan, to state that Jesus lived and suffered, the
essential point to sustain this assertion, and to consol
idate what Strauss has vaporized, is to replace him
on his mother, to give him again her warm blood, and her
tepid milk, and to look at him in the arms of the dreaming
woman of Judea. One is astonished in seeing that the
skilful galvanizer, while with a caressing and fine hand he
is making up the child again, denies him his mother.
But without Mary, * no Jesus. -J
The first Fathers of the Church, Origen, Epiphanius,
Gregory of Nyssa, have by no means refused the Gospel of
Mary written by James, the son of Joseph. \ They call
it the first of all gospels, and it is indeed the natural in
troduction to them all. Why does the Roman Catholic, or
Western Church, so characteristically in her faith and pre
serving record of so many miracles, why does she put this
small book among the apocryphal ? The ancient churches
of the East accepted it without any objection, and had it
translated into the Syriac, Arabian, and other languages.
Our wise men of the sixteenth century have distinctly
* Renan owes much to her. And his charming book, which perhaps will
give to what is dying the respite asked by Hezekiah, does discuss in vain,
because his book believes and makes others believe . It is useless for Renan
to say that he doubts ; the reader is touched. Whence does such a charm
come ? From Renan's genius ? . . . . From the power of the recollections
of infancy and of the household ? Yes, from all this, and also from some
thing else. He has something more than his books in his stirred up journey.
People see him now, and the future generations will always see him, between
life and death, between the angel and the holy. . . . The wilderness decks
itself with flowers it never had before, the fig-tree becomes green again, the
water murmurs, and the birds of the parable warble.
f The first Gospel of James. Philo Jud^us, Codex apocryphus Novi
Testamenti. Lipske, 1832.

294 Bible of Humanity.
stated that it was the groundwork of all—" the true pre
face to Mark." It is an innocent and amusing book, and
not extravagantly doctrinal ; it is not full of Gnosticism,
like the Gospel according to Saint John.
Postel says that it is a pearl. And it is a pearl indeed
for everybody that wishes to have a living Jesus, who,
without his mother as the basis of his existence, seems to
be a transparent shadow.
The Jewish novels are greatly important. Esther, a
well combined and very expressive novel, gives the key
of the history of customs. From the remotest part of the
East, from the inmost recesses of the seraglio, it illus
trates everything. The novel on Mary (if one wishes to
call it so, according to the Latin Church) is not less in
structive. In reading it, one feels that there is in it the
eternal Mary, who was in the Jewish soul.
I have stated before, that the peculiarity of the Jewish
people is, that behind the masculine forms of the Law and
its stony tables, the stern countenance of the frightful,
bull-faced Cherubim, there are among that people femi
nine sighs, vows of the gratuitous salvation, and the ex
pectation of deliverance through the unforeseen Grace
from above.
Peoples, no more than crystals, are ever to be classi
fied according to their external form, but according
to their nucleus. Here, under a rough outside, under
angles and points, you will find at the bottom the feminine
element, Grace. It is Mary disguised with the beard of
Aaron. The East was worn out. The Jews made illusion. But,
they themselves, as it may be seen in their Nehemiah,
were eaten up by usury at Jerusalem which was in ruin.
The military plundering incursions made on them by
Ptolemeus I., in favor of Egypt, the unclean inhumanity
of Epiphanes, who contaminated everything, blunted
many a soul, and, morally speaking, the Macchabees did
not raise them up. The government of the Idumeans,

Triumph of Woman. 295
confirmed and upheld by Rome, the eternal Rome — sealed
the Jews forever under the tombstone. In the infirm
minds, the Legion of demons stirred and acted vigorously.
There were possessed persons everywhere. Even this
was an attraction. Many Jews from Egypt and from the
East, as well as many other people who were not Jews,
flocked to Jerusalem. The pride and the haughtiness of
the Temple were repulsive. The Pharisees, the party
that stood for the Law, the country, Jewish liberty — a
sincere party, but a violent one — offered to those, whom
they wished to convert, nothing but harshness and aridity.
One liked better to hear, in the small synagogues, the
condescending, indulgent Rabbis, who were popular both
for the exemption from the Law and for their satires on
the haughty doctors. Hillel, a predecessor of Jesus, was
such a Rabbi as has been described. John the Baptist, a
kinsman of Jesus, was such another.* The lessons of
these teachers were, by no means, new ones. They said
what the prophets, especially Isaiah, had said wonderfully
well: "The heart is all." "Eh! what have I to do
with your sacrifices ? " etc. This is identical with what is
said in the sixty-first chapter of the Ramayana.
The precept "of loving one's neighbor as himself,"
precept of Confucius and the Stoics, had been, in a very
peculiar manner, given to the Jews in the Leviticus. Even
toward a stranger, whose ideas and ceremonies were so
repugnant to Jewish feelings, the Jew was commanded
"to love him as himself ."\ The precept " of rendering
good for evil" is everywhere, especially in Manou VI. 92.
The popular teacher appears to lead, while he really
follows the people. He is, wittingly or unwittingly, the
echo of the popular mind. The Jewish people found the
yoke of the Pharisees to be heavy, for they made the
* Jesus himself, it is said, is cited in the Talmud, as was also his brother,
James the Just, or Yakob ha Tzadok. But this distinction between the Rab
bis or Scribes, and the Pharisees, appears fanciful. — Ed.
\ Leviticus xix. 37.

296 Bible of Humanity.
Mosaic virtues a condition for salvation, and imposed
works — works in both senses, the work of the Law and
the works of Charity. The Rabbi neither commanded nor
required anything, but he said : " Love and believe. . . .
All your sins are forgiven you."
" But what to love? what to believe?" About that
there was not a precise formula. To love the teacher, and
to believe on the teacher?* To take his very person, a
living creed, for a symbol and a creed ? This is the very
accurate meaning of all that Saint Paul has written and
which has been marvellously well stated in this sentence.
" Jesus taught nothing but himself, "f
Every Rabbi gave himself for an object-lesson. If any
had put the question to these crowds of women and simple-
minded persons : " What do you believe ? " Each of them
would have answered, " I believe on Hillel, the teacher.
I believe on Paul, or I believe on Jesus."
Personality is a singular mystery. Genius and beauty
have often much less to do with it than some inexplicable
* Could he teach otherwise the crowds whom he addressed ? With difficulty.
The rough minds of the inhabitants of Judea, and the uneducated people of
Galilee would have been shut out and deaf to fine moral inferences. It is a
mockery to confound their short-witted sophia, which moves only on aphor
isms, and cannot analyze nor infer, with the Greek logos, which is undulating,
deductive, and of a boundless scope. In Hebrew, even the most elementary
distinctions are impossible. Our modern Hebraists, more, precise than the
Rabbis, and who know the Hebraic language thoroughly, say that it is an ob
scure and indistinct language, and so much so, that in it the words crime or
injustice cannot be distinguished from the words misfortune, punishment,
suffering. This is an obstacle for the translator at each step ; it creates for
him a very great difficulty of becoming himself so much of a barbarian as to
preserve to such words their immoral obscurity. The Jews did not accept,
but at a very late period, the tenet of immortality, which, among many other
peoples, was the foundation and support of morals. (See the excellent
pamphlet of Isidore Cahen on this subject, and what he says at the beginning
of the book of Job in the Bible translated by his father.)
f This sentence is from Renan. — Havet, in an admirable article, which
is according to my heart's wishes, has judged of this literary masterpiece of
Renan with a young, eloquent, and sympathetic ingenuousness, which does by
no means exclude a very solid criticism.

Triumph of Woman. 297
aura or emanation of the individual. Nothing like per
sonality gives an energetic impulse to the great current of
fanaticism. The Polish Messiah, a truly holy man, who
in our own time attracted after him the greatest minds,
possessed such a charm. A Russian Messiah in our days,
although he was a nullity, possessed it likewise ; and he
had the startling success of being followed, in his own
spite, by ten millions of serfs.
In the remarkable dispute in 1863, to which the book
of Renan contributed so much, I regret two things : First.
That the disputants held too closely to history, and spoke ,
little about doctrine.* But doctrine is the main point. ;
It is the doctrine that makes the doctor. Second. I regret }
that the disputants, holding fast to biography, put aside
the little popular gospels, which, homely as they are, )
make us acquainted with the real condition of that age,1.
more than the official gospels. I will not fill up the gaps ''>
of that discussion ; it is not my business. I only observe
how very strangely the primitive gospel characterizes the
world of women, by adding to the narrative appropriate
words about the nativity and the life of the carpenter.
Three women begin the' whole : Anna, mother of the
Virgin ; — Elizabeth, her kinswoman, the mother of Saint
John the Baptist ; — and another Anna, a prophetess, and
the wife ofthe high priest. \
The foregoing incidents evidently took place around
the temple, and under the direction of the priests. The
families in question were dependent on them. The
women believed that the fulness of time had come, and
?Patrice Larroque, a worthy and austere wise man, has vigorously filled
up the gap, with a courageous boldness and seriousness which cannot be ad
mired too much. — Peyrat has exhausted the biographical question, making
it plain with a firm and impartial logic, in a book which ought, in a definitive
manner, to put an end to this great criticism.
f There is no evidence in the text that Anna was the wife or widow of a
priest ; but simply that she was a woman who abode at or near the temple,
perhaps as consecrated. But the first two chapters of the Gospel of Luke,
and the stories of Anna, mother of the Virgin, are hardly trustworthy.— Ed.

298 Bible of Humanity.
that a wonderful personage would proceed from them ;
they were in a feverish state of mind because of their
dream, had almost become pregnant by their dream,
and ardently wished to give birth to something. The
priests, on their part, seeing that everything was ready,
hoped and desired that nothing of the sort would occur,
except through them.
The Messianic condition, to be an aged person, and
barren up to that time, was precisely verified in the two
cousins, Anna and Elizabeth. Was their barrenness pro
cured, or designed, according to the cunning prudence
taught in the book of the Ecclesiastes f The ministers of
the temple put Zacharias and Anna, his wife, to shame for
their sterility ; and then Anna became the mother of
Mary. The little Mary, a rich heiress, given to the temple,
remained in it from the time she was three years old until
she was twelve. The priests, being unable to keep her
among their sons, and near the son of the high priest, for
whom she was intended, compelled Joseph, who was one
of the carpenters of the temple and a man devoted to
them, to take her with him. Joseph was the father of
several boys and girls. His wife died, his sons married, ex
cept Juda, his eldest son, and James, his grandson, whom
the good little Mary consoled, adopted, and brought up.
Mary, whom the priests did not lose sight of, worked
for the temple. Her task was one of confidence, namely,
that of weaving the purple (very dear stuff), for the great
vail of the Holy of Holies.* Here is a pleasing description
of her life as a working woman. She prayed in the morn-

* The weaving of curtains appears to have been a pursuit at all temples, and
the Kadeshuth or consecrated women performed the work. When Manasseh
placed the Ashera, or image of Astarte or Venus-Urania, in the temple, there
were houses of Kadeshim, Galli, or consecrated persons there, "where the
women wove hangings for the grove or Ashera." In many temples young
girls were chosen for the purpose, and dismissed at the conclusion of their
tas , —Ed.

Triumph of Woman. 299
ing, in the pure hours ; she prayed in the evening, in the
mysterious hours. She worked from nine to three o'clock,
and in those hours it was warm ; she scarcely ate in the
evening. One seems to be reading the life of a little
devotee of Flandres. Those pious working- women, in the
darkness of their cellars,* poured out their overflowing
heart in small songs of infancy, called the songs of lolo.
The poor girl of Judea, who sang less, and watched over
everything, at intervals "shone forth as a dazzling snow,
which the eye could hardly look at."
One may conjecture her thoughts. It was now six
months that her aged cousin Elizabeth, who had never
had a child, was pregnant. With a prophet ? With a
forerunner ? One might well suppose that. At that
time everybody spoke of nothing but miracles, of Mes
siahs, and of incarnation. The air was impregnated and
heavy with this subject.
At the burning hour, when her work ceased, during the
long hours of the afternoon, those sickly hours in which
Cassianus says, that the friars pine away, of what did this
young woman dream ? She was already sixteen. What
did she see ? The heavenly dove ? The divine lightning ?
Or did she see in the evening the angel, who brought her
nourishment? All this is pure and affecting in the little
Gospels, which in some parts bear the characteristic of the
people more than the official ones, and exhibit more of
nature and more of heart.
They tell us distinctly that Joseph and Mary were not
united in wedlock. They thrust away the idea of adultery.
This was a wise foresight, which would have made the
legend less dangerous, by hindering the indecent jests,
the facetious Christmas songs, which during all the Middle
Ages made marriage contemptible.
The fate, the fruitful extent of this religion of woman
would have been quite different, if the official Gospels, in-
* Damp, and therefore dark apartments, were necessary for this work, to
enable the threads to be of sufficient fineness. — Ed.

300 Bible of Humanity.
stead of weaning Jesus harshly and abruptly, had given
him the milk of nature. He would have been more of a
man. What beautiful and useful fables might have been
imagined upon that subject ! It would then have been
necessary to have heart, goodness, and affection. And all
this is wanting in the Gospels. There is love in them, but
that is quite another thing. Love is not goodness; it is
often a dry, and sometimes a violent and passionate ardor.
Nothing is more likely than the journey to Egypt, as
Munk has well remarked. Egypt is very near Palestine,
and people went there by sea continually. Philo,* the
Egyptian Jew, professed the doctrine of Jesus and of Paul,
under a more philosopical form.
Moses, as is expressly said, received his education at
the Egyptian court. Hence the precocious understanding
of Jesus, who, when he was twelve years old questioned
the doctors and made them hold their peace (as Daniel
when a boy had made the judges dumb). The mother
of Jesus, who had encouraged him at first, began now to
be afraid, and would stop him. Poor mother ! . . . And
why speak harshly to her ?
* Philo Judaeus who was born a short time before Jesus, and who died a
short time after him, under Claudius, exhibits in a clear manner the chaos of
those foolish sciences, which in the brains of the Jews mixed up the doctrines
of Plato and Moses with the revelations of Ezekiel and Daniel. On the very
obscure epoch of the Messianic precedents, between Daniel, Jesus son of
Sirach, Philo, etc., Michel Nicolas, one of the ablest critics of our
days, has thrown such light as the subject allowed. His is a robust mind,
cautiously bold, which scorns false splendor, aims at the bottom of any
subject, and reaches its depth. In his article on L. Menars he has in a
wonderful manner laid down this great principle : " The heart creates faith.
Greece created her gods before the gods themselves had given her an exis
tence." The great question of sacerdotal genius, in which the poor Ben
jamin Constant maintained the truth against Eckstein with so little en
couragement, has been now decided with the ever increasing light of science
by Michel Nicolas. (Essays, p. 76.) He says that if the Greeks had not
escaped from theocracy, Herodotus would have been a Vincent of Beau-
vais ; Plato a Duns Scot ; that Homer would have written a work like
Fierl-a-bras, and the Prometheus of ^Eschylus would have been like the
Mysteries of the Passion. Michel Nicolas : Essays, p. 76.

Triumph of Woman. 301
Henceforth it was the crowd that was Jesus' mother and
sister. He was followed by his mother's sister, Mary, the
wife of Cleophas. He was also followed by other ladies
whom he charmed and consoled. They were very in
teresting women, some of them the wives of magistrates,
and, alas ! connected willingly or unwillingly with a thou
sand unjust and cruel things. They flung themselves at
this young Rabbi's feet, and gave themselves up to his soft
doctrine, which washed off and wiped out all this. They
followed him ; they could not quit him, and they min
istered to him. He was followed even more eagerly by
many unhappy women, weary of their unchaste life, and
their sins, who had no repose and whose disordered life
made them seem to he possessed of the demon. Such a
one was the unfortunate Mary of Magdala, who has been
called a courtesan, and who (as likewise those women I
am about to mention) must have been, as is often the case,
an enfranchised woman, ransomed and retired from such
a cruel infamous life. The warm outpouring of her heart
and of her gratitude, the perfumes with which she em
balmed her teacher while he was still living, and which
she wiped out with her hair, is a very beautiful and
passionate story, forming the most perfect contrast to the
coldness with which the Virgin is treated in the Gospels*
This, however, is a logical sequel of the Jewish tradition,
in which preferences are given less to those who are just
and irreproachable, than to those who, having sinned
much, and standing in more utter need of pardon, make
Grace shine much more.
Magdalene, according to Saint John, was the sole wit-

* It will be seen from this attributing of several incidents to one person,
that the legends from which Michelet derived this story, treat Mary of Mag
dala in Galilee, the courtesan at the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke vii.
37-50), and Mary, the sister of Martha, whom Jesus loved, who " chose that
good part," and anointed the head of Jesus at Bethany, at the house of Simon
the leper, as the same person. The Gospels are not quite clear on the mat
ter. — Ed.

302 Bible of Humanity.
ness of Jesus' resurrection. She alone saw it with her
heart's eyes. The world has believed her word.
Violent doubters are very liable to become quickly
credulous. Men, self-styled positive, by a sudden change
which happens very often, are wistful visionaries. Paul,
a Jew from Tarsus and a tent-maker, a haughty and vehe
ment man, showed, in his commercial travels, the great
zeal of a Pharisee.* He had the misfortune to take part
in the stoning of Saint Stephen. The young martyr's
figure, in all its touching meekness, remained, doubtless,
impressed on him and never left him. A storm, a fall,
a flash of lightning, accidents which are so common,
upset him. The more impetuous zealot he had been for
the Law, the more ardent, hasty and imperious he was
under Grace.
Such a man belongs to women. And indeed the Acts
of the Apostles and the Epistles exhibit him always with
them. They seem to let him never go out of their sight.
Thekla follows him as a sister, and performs for him the
humble duties of Martha, if not those of Mary.
In all this history the personality of this impetuous man
is a curious one on account of its variations. His peculiar
struggle is against the Greek mind, and, as he boldly
states it, against Reason, t In his manifesto to the
Greeks,:): he acts precisely as David did when he danced
before the Ark, boasting of his folly, and proclaiming
himself a fool for Jesus sake, " because the foolishness
of God is wiser than men."§ And all this is said in a
hasty, eloquent, very na'fve manner, showing all the heart,
* Living away from Judea, Paul could not be as acceptable to the residents
of that province. Besides, Tarsus was in constant communication with
Greece, Alexandria and Pontus ; so that he had abundant opportunity to be
indoctrinated in the Mithraic doctrines as well as the Mystic and Platonic
learning. Indeed, he shows as much in the Epistles, which on all doubtful
points, are more reliable than the Acts of the Apostles. — Ed.
\ Not quite correct. It was the logos or sophia of the Grecian philosophers,
that he thus abjured. — Ed.
X Epistles to the Corinthians, I. , II. § I. Corinthians, i. 25.

Triumph of Woman. 303
and the very real difficulties of an honest and pure man in
a society of ardent and passionate women.
At Macedonia, whence he writes, he is between two
women. Lydia, at whose house he dwells, and the Pallid,
Chloe, at whose house the small congregation met. This
nickname, the Pallid, seems to be that of a retired, en
franchised woman, and doubtless a rich woman too, as
Mary of Magdala was. At the beginning, while he gives
advice about continence, he boasts to be above all that.*
Wrongfully. Later he confesses that he has " a thorn in
his flesh ; that the messenger of Satan buffets him, lest
he should be exalted above measure. "\ This is a moving
avowal, which one would least have expected. It is to
be regretted that we know not who were those charm
ing and dangerous persons, that had such power over him
as to put an obstacle to his so great burst of purity.
Nothing is known about this Lydia. She seems to be
of Syria, the country of seductions. She was a trades
woman, and, doubtless, a prudent one like the woman
who, in the Proverbs of Solomon, so well superintended
housekeeping, enriched her home, made and sold tissues,
etc. Lydia sold purple, a costly article of merchandise,
bought by the Romans, especially by Magistrates, Praetors,
and Procurators. Such a tradeswoman was a lady, and
perhaps of the first rank.
The continuation is a peculiar one. He says, that in
the midst of those temptations he besought the Lord
thrice, that it might depart from him. " But he has said
unto me : My grace is sufficient for thee. My strength is
made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I
* I. Corinthians, vii. 7, 8.
f II. Corinthians, xii. 8. He seems to have undergone a kind of ecstasis,
which he regarded as equivalent to the disclosures to the Epopt at the Mys
teries. " I come to visions and revelations of the Lord. I knew a man in
Christ about fourteen years ago, whether in body I cannot tell, or whether out
of body I cannot tell, caught up to the third heaven .... into paradise, and
he heard things arcane." It is in this connection that he speaks of the thorn
in the flesh, and in no relation to seductive women. — Ed.

304 Bible of Humanity.
rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ
may rest upon me," Such ideas have a dangerous import,
which, without doubt, people did not consider at those
times of primitive purity. The mystics have interpreted
them thus: "By sin, one rises. In sinning we glorify
God." These are the proper expressions of Molinos.
Paul himself, however, was, as I believe, indignant
against his fluctuations. One seems to feel his indignation
in the vehement words which he addresses to woman to
humiliate her, harshly exhorting her to silence, to sub
mission ; reminding her that the image of God is in man,
and that she has been created for him ; that she may
not pray except vailed, and that her long hair has been
bestowed on her for this purpose,* etc.
Such vehement outbursts would make us believe that
woman will be kept far off from the altar. But the con
trary happened. She was a priest, officiated, and was
consecrated during four hundred years.
Paul even contradicted himself. Arriving at Corinth, he
perceived quite well that the Grecian woman, with her
noble beauty, her subtle and eloquent speech, was his
great auxiliary. Phcebe, the Brilliant, the name of another
enfranchised woman, was already the active minister, the
factotum of the church of Corinth. She was a deaconess
at first. The former companions of Paul, Barnabas and
Thekla, were no longer with him. Phcebe was now every
thing. She gave him lodgings. She wrote for himf under
* I. Corinthians, xi. 3-15.
\ This has been suppressed in the Latin translation of the Bible. It has
been suppressed also in the Greek original of the Didot edition (1842) which
is dedicated to Affre. — The original Greek says: E-ypac|)7j Sm cpot'r)!. The
ancient French translator of the Reformed Church honestly and literally
translated that Phcebe wrote from the dictation of Saint Paul. If the Greek
word meant only that he sent the letter by Phcebe (as Jowett of Oxford
thinks), it would be a useless repetition. Paul had spoken before of the expedi
tion of Phcebe, had recommended her, etc. *

* Nevertheless, other Epistles have the same preposition, and several persons are so in<ii«
cated. M. Michelet is probably in error. — Ed.

Triumph of Woman. 305
his dictation. The reason of it is not known. Was he
sick ? And what did she write ? The most vehement
writing of Saint Paul.
Here is expressly stated what one might have conjec
tured, that such a hasty, lively, but incoherent eloquence,
which goes by fits and starts, and is so often in violation
of logic and reason, is not written. A Jew of Asia Minor,
a country where languages were mixed up, a travelling
tradesman and merchant of Cilicia, the Babel of free
booters whom Pompey crushed, must have spoken a
Greek very much mixed with Hebraisms and with Greco-
Syriac dialects. But the ardor, the boldness, the vehe
ment spirit which hurried him on, scarcely stopped at
that. He spoke, he thundered, he overwhelmed. The
Greeks around him, with their rapid hand, and the ladies
so zealous, picked up what they could from his talk, and
wrote off-hand. Very often they were compelled to trans
late, and they performed the task without scrupulousness
(for they were animated by the same ardor), but not with
out danger ; because Paul's ideas, thought in Hebrew and
uttered in bad Greek, at the risk of their sense and in
spiration, could hardly be settled in tolerable Greek lan
guage, except by serious changes, mutilations, and sup
pressions which are quite well perceptible in the shocks and
jolts, as of a race at full speed on a very uneven ground.
A complex and collective work, the Epistle to the
Romans — the Marseilles Hymn of the Gospel of Grace,
the utter setting at naught of the law — seems indeed
to have been composed by the whole church of Cor
inth. Saint Paul contributed the glimpse of genius, and
Phcebe her skillful pen. Erastus, the public treasurer
of the port through which at that time passed all the
commerce of Greece — Erastus, the important person, whose
greeting Saint Paul sends to the Emperor's household, may
have had a great influence on the contents of that epistle.
A profound revolution was taking place in the Empire.
The Emperor almost everywhere hatl .-i.bstituted for the
20

306 Bible of Humanity.
Praetor, who was the man for the State, his own Procu
rator, his agent, a steward of his household, of his own
interests — whether he were a Roman or not — and often
one of his freedmen. Erastus, whose name is a Greek
one, and who was the friend of Saint Paul, may have been
an enfranchised man. This representative of personal
government, of favor and of Grace, raised as he had
recently been to dignity by Claudius or Nero, was fatally,
as well as Saint Paul, an enemy to the Law and a born
adversary of the Jurist.
The whole Epistle is contained in this sentence : The
Law alone made sin : the law being dead, sin is dead.*
This is a sentence with many meanings. The word Law,
among the Jews, signifies the Mosaic Law ; in the Empire,
the Roman Law ; and according to the Greek idea, the law
of conscience and natural equity.
But now, by having broken to pieces the tablets of
stone, and the tables of brass, and having struck out the
prohibition of evil, is it by any means certain that evil has
disappeared from the world, and eternal justice has also
been struck out ?
Justice, that was a queen in ^Eschylus and Socrates, in
Zeno and Labeo, has became again a servant ; or rather
Justice has been destroyed by love and faith, by the divine
intoxication and the orgies of Grace.
x It will be seen with what power the administrative revo
lution, and the religious revolution agreed well together;
and to what a degree the agent of good favor, the delegate
of Caesar must have been in secret understanding with
Phcebe, and with the Apostle of the East. Their mani
festo to Rome, to the city of Authority, means precisely
this: " Death to Authority."
Phcebe did not trust to anybody for carrying this
Epistle to the palace of Nero, to the friends of Narcissus.
This is expressly stated in it.
* Epistle to the Romans, vii. 8. The same sophism appears also in the
First Epistle to the Corinthians, xv. 56, 57.

Triumph of Woman. 307
I say Nero and not Claudius, because the latter had ex
pelled the Jews from Rome. In his reign it was hardly
possible to send to Rome the embassy of a sect which at
that time was considered to be entirely Jewish.
Phcebe did not go unarmed. She carried with her two
keys which would open the household of the Emperor
with great facility.
The real masters of the Imperial household were the
priest-prostitutes of both sexes, the Galli and Nautch-
girls, the Narcissuses and Pallakies, peculiar to the wor
ship of Cybele, Venus-Ery-cina and the Syrian goddess.
These debauched wretches constituted a world of people
apart by themselves, and were for this very reason wholly
devoted to the promoting of the ideas ofthe East. All the
gods were there as well as the little arcane worships, the
mysteries of every kind, expiations, purifications, a thick
vapor of vice and remorse, of panic and of odious dreams.
The flagellants of Atys surely were there, and perhaps
already the unclean Taurobolia,* washing of blood.
What power could equal that of Phcebe arriving there
with the simple sentence, which dismisses and makes
all those things useless? "Good news! . . . Sin is
dead! ..."
The other key powerful to open was this. Jesus, the
Teacher, had said : " Render unto Caesar the things
which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are
God's."f Paul, the disciple, had said : " Let every soul
be subject to the higher powers. Whosoever resists the
power, resists the ordinance of God." " Pay ye tribute also
to princes, for they are God's ministers, attending continu
ally upon this very thing. "% Peter had frankly said : " Be
subject to your masters, even to the froward ones."§
* The Taurobolia or baptism of blood was one of the Mithraic ceremonies
which spread over all Western Europe and into Northern Africa. — Ed.
f Gospel according to Matthew, xvii. 21.
X Epistle to the Romans, xiii.
§ First Catholic Epistle of Peter, ii. 18-20.

*,

308 Bible of Humanity.
The question is to obey not only de facto and in deeds?
but also with the soul. The question is not to obey by
making the Jewish reserve : " Through the transgressions
of the people, their princes become many,"* and they are
the scourge of God. No reserve. One must subdue
one's self and obey in conscience ; serve willingly, and
love — love Tiberius, love Nero. This is a new slavery,
hollowed out under slavery ; this is a great and ingenious
deepening of all the ancient servitudes, and which, in the
Middle Ages and afterward, operated to transform all
princes into zealous Christians.
The great fact of the moment, the personal government
of Caesar, free from the idea of magistracy ; of Caesar, ruler
of the Law, and become the Law itself in the person of his
procurator, received from the new tenet a marvellous sanc
tion. Must not Caesar have welcomed this voice from the
East, this Messiah who enjoined that man should obey
from his inmost heart ? Nero, on his accession to the
throne, although still docile to his Roman teachers, was
already in an underhanded way surrounded by enfran
chised persons, who had been governing till that time ;
persons of any kind, who amused his artistical imagina
tion, some of them being poets and declaimers, others
charlatans and ministers of some god. Nero, on account
of his vast disorderly imagination, was a natural prey
for them. His head was full and bursting. He re
volved in his mind enormous things and in a thousand
different ways. Ought he to be the Caesar of Rome and
the Jurists, or the supreme artist, the emperor of poetry ?
or rather the restorer of the genius of the East, a Mithras
and a Messiah ? He himself did not yet know.
He would be loved. Brought up by Seneca, a generous
Stoic, who dined with his own slaves, Nero had embraced
the cause of the enfranchised. He contemplated an im
mense Utopia — the abolition of taxes. This would have
* Proverbs of Solomon, xxviii. 2.

Triumph of Woman. 309
been the realization of the Stoic ideal, as stated by Zeno :
" Love is the safety of the commonwealth ! "
But, oh ! how vague and obscure this word " Love " is !
Love without Justice, love of caprice and favoritism may
become a hell, the scourge of the commonwealth, and by.
no means its safety.
One of the greatest struggles which ever took place on
earth is that which we may conjecture, and which doubt
less took place at this very moment in the Palace of Nero,
and perhaps under his very eyes ; I mean the struggle
between Woman and the Stoic.
It has been already remarked that Woman in the first
four centuries of the Christian Era (till the year 369) was
a priest, the true Christian priest. It was her special
prerogative to protect that faith, which issued forth fromy
Woman. But, oh ! how different the part of the two adversaries
is ! The Stoic reascends by the universal propensity of
the world. And Woman goes down on it at her own ease.
The Stoic commands effort, enjoins work to the exhausted
and worn-out world, which teaching of his made him
hated. . . . And oh ! how easily Phoebe could answer
in a scornful manner: "The lily does neither work nor
spin, and yet it is better dressed than Caesar."
Jurists or Stoics, magistrates, philosophers, all, in asking
of the world to be watchful, to live yet, were asking an
enormous, unbearable thing, while the world, sickly as it
was, settled itself down so well to go asleep ! How much
better it liked the voice of the nurse, alluring to sleep, the
sweet and voluptuous voice of woman, that said : " How
sweet it is to die ! "
To die, to be free from the bonds of the body — what a
happy prospect ! ( Who will deliver me from the ties of
this body ?)* The body means work, the care of taxes,
the burden of the law. The body is the militia, the war-
* Epistle to the Romans, vii. 24.

310 Bible of Humanity.
fare against barbarians, the exile to the frozen Rhine, the
defence of the Roman frontiers.
On this point the Jurist was strong. He thought to
stop the Christian woman, and to perplex her. But she
answered with a smile: "What! To thrust back our
Northern brothers, who come to seek , salvation ? It
would be much better to invite them, to open them our
doors, to overthrow from their foundation the walls of our
cities. ..."
But the Empire, but our laws, our arts ? —
What are the arts good for ? —
But our sacred country, the City, this vast harmony of
wisdom and peace ?- —
There is no peace here below. There is no City but
the heavenly one.
Down, thou vain Wisdom ! Reason, cast down thy
eyes ! make an apology both of you before the Fool
ishness of God. . . . Justice and the Civil Law, thou art
the enemy. I know thee, O proud one ; thou haughty
mother of human virtues, come down from thy prae-
torium. . . . The sinner already sits higher than thy
false just persons. His sin is the field where Grace
triumphs. Oh ! what mockery Phcebe could make, and what con
tempt she must have had of the Julian law, which was an
official glorification of marriage ! * What ! to bind yet
one's self by vow, to generate beings for a world, which
must die to-morrow, to perpetuate this mean thing — the
body — which God wishes to abolish ! Immortal thanks
are due to him that the desert is becoming a fact and it
enlarges itself. In many provinces, the Empire is already
expurgated. Let some other scourge be applied, and all

* People quoted a terrible sentence of Jesus against marriage. Salome
said to Jesus : " How long will people die ? " — " How long will you bring
forth ? " — " Ah," she answered, " I have done well in not having children ! "
— "Salome, Salome ! eat of anything," said he, "but do not eat the bitter
herb."-,— Clement of Alexandria, Stromata III., 345.

Triumph of Woman. 311
will be released. Husbands, fly from your wives 
Let everybody go away and live isolated. " So much the
more speedily will the world come to an end, and the City
of God be filled up."*
Death is the supreme argument, and to it there is no
reply. Phcebe preaches her cause on the sepulchre of a
hundred nations, whose gods, cold already in the Pan
theon, and with empty eyes, were, in the apparent strug
gle, easy fighters for this priestess of death. If they had
been able to answer, they would perhaps have said, that
the new faith, triumphing through Woman, followed, in
spite of Paul himself, the way of the old. Paul had wished
¦ her to be vailed, silent, and dependent. I see her at the
¦altar preaching and prophesying, teaching man, telling
him of God — nay, making a god for him. A powerful and
charming contrivance, quite natural after all, which the
ancient worships had not abused. The gloomy Iphigenia,
the foaming Sibyl, had less charms than terror. The
Vestal, obedient and silent, was a statue. The priestess of
the new faith was a living woman, she spoke and officiated ;
raised above the people, she blessed them and prayed for
them ; she was their voice to the throne of Jesus. ,--
As long as the goddesses of art, production of the
Greek chisel, were not overthrown, people, during four
centuries, opposed to their dead beauty, life itself, the
visible Wisdom, the pontificate of Woman. \ The silent
* 1 Augustine.
f Like any other priest [presbyter], woman was solemnly consecrated, and
received the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. ( Council of Chalcedonia,
the fourth Gicurrienical.) The Council of Laodicea, in the year 366 or 369,
forbade her to beja priestess. (Chapter XII. Collection of Denys the Little,
Mayence, 1525. Labbe and Mansi have omitted this council.) The Coun
cil of Carthage, iri'391, forbade her to catechize, to baptize, or even to study,
except with her hilsband. Till that time she used to preside, to preach, to
confer orders, to dfnciate. Atton remarks that she at that time was worthy
of doing all that 'ffor the instruction she had received in the heathen times."
It is easily conceived what must have been the power of woman in those high
functions which rriade her almost divine, while she was about thirty years old,
and still beautiful, eloquent and dexterous, as women are in Greece and in

312 Bible of Humanity.
Ceres could not struggle much when the new Ceres en
chanted the ancient agapa, and administered the sacred
bread. Pallas, the austere virgin, must have yielded
altogether when Magdalene made the altar dramatic and
wetted it with her tears.
What did she say to the dying world? ..." Let us
die together ! " A tender sentence of a sister, which was
very sure to be listened to ! What would, however, become
ofthe world, if everybody remained always suspended on
this sentence, not able any longer either to live on or to
die altogether ?
the East ! Enthroned at the altar, admired and the beloved of everybody, she
possessed a true power and, surely, the most complete of all. The gloomy
Tertullian was indignant against her. The fierce Athanasius, over
excited about Egyptian monachism, feared the too sensible effect of the mo
ment in which she consecrated and made the marriage of heaven and earth,
and in which all communicated with her and received the Sacrament from her
gentle hand. If she consecrated, he wished her to do it with closed doors and
for herself alone. But often she had not the strength thus to shut herself up
altogether. The door was not shut very strongly ; the zealots, who were
without, took her by surprise at the decisive moment, when she was in a
touching trouble of modesty and holiness. Then Athanasius in a new fury
forbade her to allow herself to be taken by surprise, and he forbade her
also to wash herself, hoping thus to make her repulsive. By a more refined,
more exalted scrupulousness, the sect of the Callydicians feared that the love
of Jesus might too much agitate the priestess, and that she might wander in
the dreams of the spiritual marriage ; and therefore, among them she was a
priestess, but only of Mary. In the West, women, much more ignorant,
never exercised the priesthood, but only the deaconship, or the material cares
of the Church. In the fifth century three Western councils and two popes
decidedly removed woman from the ministration of holy things.

Period of Universal Weakness. 313

CHAPTER IX.
PERIOD OF UNIVERSAL WEAKNESS — THE CRUSHING OF
THE MIDDLE AGES.
Let us suppose that on a fine morning the observatory
and the Academy of Sciences, which are our popes, inform
us that on such a month, and on such a day, the earth
will pass across a comet of igneous aerolites, a shower of
iron and of fire. Great stupor. At first people will
doubt. But the event is certain, calculated, demonstrated.
All activity, all pleasure, all work stops. People cross
their arms. The event, however, delays ; the astronomer
has mistaken the year. No matter. No work begins
again. The languor of the people is the same. Every
body had settled himself down for that.
Death ! there is nothing more dear than death to him
who has no longer any part in active life. In the early
Christian times, the expectation of death simplified
everything. A silence, a strange calm of all human pas
sions took place. Law-suits ceased. Mine and thine be- 1
came indifferent. People hardly contended over that
which might perish to-morrow.* Everything was com-j
* People willingly got rid of their slaves, under the belief that the judg
ment was so near at hand, and that everything was soon to come to an end.
Christianity had, by no means, abolished slavery. The text of Saint Paul
(Galatians iii. 28), which Walton and many others have quoted, has
nothing to do with it. Despois has conclusively shown this in his articles
of impregnable strength, and to which no answer has been made. (Avenir, 2,
16, 23, Decern. 1855.) Bossuet, on this point, agrees with Despois:
" To condemn slavery is to condemn the Holy Ghost." (Warning to Pro
testants. ) Despois has also, in support of his reasoning, the teaching of the
Ecclesiastical seminaries of our own days, which teaching " condemns the
negro who escapes from his master." (Bouvier, Bish. of Mans, 6th edi
tion, VI., 22-25.) The Koran, on the contrary, declares free the slave who
embraces Islamism. It says: " He who enfranchises a man, frees himself
from the penances of this life, and from eternal punishment."

314 Bible of Humanity.
mon between brothers and sisters. Sex was forgotten.
The very wife was no more than a sister. The hearth
was cold and its fires extinguished.
Death was hoped for. Oh ! that it would come speed
ily ! Ignatius says : " I am hungry of it, I am thirsty for
it." Nature was the curse. Nature was damnation. In the
fourth chapter of Genesis, it is stated that " it repented
the Lord that he had made man on the earth."
To leave tiature soon, " to depart as soon as possible,"
says Tertullian, "is the true object of man."* Saint
Cyprian made vows for plague and famine. f He who has
children, says Tertullian, must pray to God " to the end
that they may depart from this impious world." This is
just what Saint Hilarius did for his daughter, and his
prayer was answered. Afterward he prayed for the
eternal departure of his wife, and he received this grace
also 4
But how continue life, its duties, its actions, which are
necessary even if it has to last one day ? How obtain
some indispensable action from this great sluggish people ?
And yet, if they cannot be brought to act, the world infal
libly must come to an end. At least, if somebody could
devise for such sick persons a passion, or even a vice !
They could then be saved. But what can be done?
What can be drawn out from the distressing perfection of
those pale lovers of death, who smile and give thanks
when they are struck ?
We see nowadays in India the feeblest men, who are
beaten with impunity; we see timid women, old women
who are at their last gasp, throw themselves under the
wheels of the car of Jagernat, which slowly runs over
them, and yet such horrible torture does not draw out of
them a sigh. They are unable to do the least action.
Nothing is more usual, especially at the outset of great
* Adversus Gentes, v. 2. \ Ad Dem. X Fortunatus.

Period of Universal Weakness. 315
religious epidemics, than this hunger after death, this facil
ity of undergoing martyrdom, this joy of deliverance. On
this point the most despicable, the humblest man has
yet this happiness of pride, namely, that of destroying, of
trampling under foot order and Law, and of being a Law
to himself.
The example was contagious. A few Christians per
ished.* But immense masses that did not imitate their
martyrdom, imitated their refusal to bear the burden of
civil life, and especially the military service. \ The latter,
hard as it is in itself, was harder still on account of the
immense journeys of the legions — from the river Seine to
the Euphrates — and hardest of all things on account of
the work of masons and mechanics, which the legions had
to do, and the wretchedness of their pay, made less by the
increase of price of everything. Tacitus has described all
this in a masterly way. What did the soldier do ? He
made war against the Empire itself, he created a Caesar,
who augmented the pay, but it soon again became insuffi
cient. At last, disheartened, he abandoned the Rhine and
the Danube to take care of themselves, if they could, and
threw away his sword, saying : " I am a Christian."
Then the barbarians passed over. They were disorderly
multitudes — of whom Marius and Tiberius in their day
had made great slaughter — and confused masses of women,
children, oxen, chariots, than which nothing was easier to
arrest. And to stop them was also the wisest thing.
Whatever Tacitus in his Germania (which is nothing but
a novel) may have said ; whatever our extravagant Teuto-
maniacs may have added to what he said, the barbarians
carried into the Empire only disorder and ruin. The best
the Romans could do was to make a choice of them, to

* Dodwell : Fewness of Martyrs. Ruinart himself acknowledges
that the number of martyrs has been exaggerated.
f The text is precise : " All they that take the sword shall perish with the
sword." (Matthew xxvi. 52.) Tertullian expressly enjoins the soldier
to desert. Lactantius forbids even the sea-service and commerce.

316 Bible of Humanity.
scatter them among the provinces, and thus to make them
Romans. But to open the barriers, and foolishly to fra
ternize with them, to admit them by tribes, was the same
as to accept chaos. The tall, insipid-looking young fel
lows were very, very far from being able to understand
the Roman life. They broke everything, and turned
everything topsy-turvy. And then, those men who ap
peared very strong were too effeminate, and they melted
as snow at the heat of the South, at vices and excesses.
Of their corruption, there remained only a mire, into
which the Empire stuck fast, every day falling lower and
lower, instead of being regenerated.
The few Italians and Greeks who yet remained, Celtica
and Spain, the hard, indestructible races of Lyguria and
Dalmatia, maintained to the Empire, even in its depopula
tion, some resources more real indeed. Was there no
genius in the nation, which at that time gave to the world
Tacitus, Juvenal, and Marcus-Aurelius ; Gaius, and Ul-
pian teachers of jurisprudence, and the oracle of it,
the great Papinianus ? It could then have been held
for certain that if, on the one hand, the world was
falling off since Aristotle and Hippocrates, it was raising
itself on the other hand by Equity and the comprehension
of Justice. _
The vulgar belief " that the Empire was dying without
remedy " had its origin in the idea which rashly con
founds the life of nations with that of an individual.
Nothing, however, is more different. Nations have in
their constitutive elements a principle of renovation, which
the individual has not. But in order to live again, one
must believe in life ; in order to conquer, one must be
lieve in victory. What can we do with persons who have
been struck at heart ? " What is left to you ? " " My
self," answered Medea. If self remain, that is all. But '
if it does not remain ? if it is shaken and sickly ? To
believe that one is dying, and to say so, is to have died
already.

Period of Universal Weakness. 317
The great colonies of Trajan, which were so strong and
so durable— one of them of six millions of souls existing
still in Roumania and Transylvania — appeared to consoli
date the Empire. But neither the great military chief,
nor the greatest of jurists were sufficient for the conditions
of the minds. The Eastern enervation was daily gaining
ground, as well as its effeminate gods, the feverish malady
of Syria and Phrygia. The Caesars were compelled to
imitate their rivals, the kings of Parthia, who were Sun-
kings, as the ancient Phra of Egypt, the Nobis of Babel,
and the Mithrases of Iran. The Greeks of Bactriana, and
the unconquerable Mithridates, the immortal Mithra of
the kingdom of Pontus Euxinus, had borne that title.
Such a thing seemed foolishness at first. But Nero was
thinking on it, and it was this that undoubtedly made him
cruel toward the Christians, and their Anti-Christ.* The
childish Elagabalus, the little pontiff of Syria, tried it, and
lost himself. Both of them were very unclean, effeminates
and grotesque Adonises, and wonderfully ridiculous.
Their foolishness, however, was imitated by the wise and
brave Aurelian when the highest necessities compelled
him. He was victorious in twenty battles, and proclaimed
himself an incarnation of the Sun-god.
Every dying god had declared himself a Sun, Serapis,
Atys, Adonis, and Bacchus ; everything came to an end
that way. The Empire, in its decrepitude, looked toward
the sun for a little warmth. And for a moment people
thought to make Mithras — the invincible Sun — the god of
the armies, the worship ofthe Roman legions. \
Mithras had derived great renown from Mithridates,
the last enemy of Rome, and from the mysterious empire
which Pompey destroyed, namely, from the association
of pirates, who for a while were masters of the whole
Mediterranean. This association was a Mithraic one,
the secret of which has never been wholly unfolded.
* See Reville on the Apocalypse.
f See the texts collected in Preller's Romish Mythology, 1858.

3 1 8 Bible of Human ity.
What we know precisely about it is, that among those
desperadoes, Mithras was worshipped as energy, the
solar and human energy. Their initiation to the military
service of Mithras was performed in caves. The god was
represented to be born in gloomy caves, as a young and
strong man, dazzling with splendor, throwing down and
killing a bull. The pirates very ingeniously adopted, for
the ordinary representation of Mithras, a beautiful Greek
statue of a virgin (it is Victory) killing the enormous
beast. But they put on her head the Phrygian cap, made
of her a young Atys, who, however, was not mutilated,
but, on the contrary, had an unfailing arm, and struck
down the bull at one blow.
The degrees of the initiation were as follows : Soldiers,
Lions, Scouts of the Sun, to run over the world sword in
hand. A sword and a crown were offered to the novice, and
he took only the sword, saying : " Mithras is my crown ;
I will be a king of energy."
That had a very great success in the legions. It was
believed that the blood of the bull, issuing forth red and
warm from it, and falling upon the enervated individual,
poured forth on him its strength and even its amorous
valor. Mithraism for a while was the genuine religion
of the Empire. Constantine himself hesitated to have
a hand in it.
Its effect did not last long. Mithras himself, struck as
he was, far from healing others, languished and decayed.
Though he was the Sun, though he was Victory, he also,
like many others, became a penitent god.
In order to understand well the nothingness of this
epoch, and to value its fall, it is enough to consider the pale
literature of that time, which is like the breath of one who
dies, an unmeaning mess of fables and vague words ; a
deep poverty and extreme impotency. Everything was
languid, soft, old — and, what is worse, bombastic, swollen
with air and wind, and strangely exaggerated.
There is nothing in any language to be compared with

Period of Universal Weakness. 319
those strange letters, in which Saint Jerome, while advis
ing a Christian virgin to embrace religious celibacy,
related his temptations, the fury of his own old desires.
As a compensation for this, there is nothing so cold and
tame as the narrations of martyrs, which are indeed feeble
productions for so glowing a subject. But the best of all
that literature is the universal and popular hand-book,
the insipid Shepherd of Hennas, a libretto of the small
mysteries into which the novices were admitted, and
which Ireneus, Clement, Athanasius, Jerome, Eusebius,
and many others quoted and admired during two or three
centuries. That book was in vogue as long as women
•were priests, probably because it exhibits many parts for
young and old women, in which they could at leisure dis
play their apostolic graces.
It was a sad production, too like those pale eggs
which the male has not fecundated. And yet, who will
believe it ? it was not woman's fault. Her softness and
her gracefulness, her charming faults are absent. Lo !
what it is to believe that people can do without love,
without child, without maternity, that which is a powerful
initiation ! The idea of the child scarcely appears in
the Jewish monuments, except the pride of succession,
and appears not at all in the Christian monuments. Jesus
seems to be a child and he is not. He preaches. His
mother dares not interpose. As for her, he is fruit
less, neither suckled nor brought up. What follows
of all this ? Woman is sad and dry, an ungraceful and
pitiful-looking being. The impotency of man is un
doubtedly lamentable. But an impotent, atrophied woman
is a dry fruit. Her impotency is worse than death, it is
desolation !
Look likewise at the silly appearance, the idiotish face
of those Northern people who go to this school. They
are Ostrogoths and Visigoths, who have become a by
word for decrepit foolishness. Look at them on the
benches of the old school of Hermas, reciting "musa,

320 Bible of Humanity.
a muse." Behind them comes another, Attila, a cruel
teacher, with his iron rod.
It is to be observed that the kings of the Goths have
still the countenance of men in comparison with the sons
of Dagobert who came afterward. The same is to be
said of their chronicles in comparison with those of Fr4-
degaire, who, however, was better than the Carlovingian
friars, for the latter were dumb beasts who could scarcely
lisp and bleat out words.
In the terrible voyage of Kane to the polar seas, noth
ing strikes the reader so much as to see Newfoundland
dogs or Esquimaus "that were very wise and strong-
minded " becoming mad through the excruciating severity
of the cold. The same sadness, the same dismay seizes
me, if I may make use of such expressions, at seeing in
the Christian legends that the lion, the dog, and the birds,
formerly so wise, have become imbecile. The beasts are
silly. The animal which in India was the friend of Rama,
and which in Persia had its celestial, winged genius,* is a
ridiculous penitent with Saint Antony, Saint Macarius,
etc. The lion becomes a lay brother of the hermit, and
carries his baggage. The hyena listens to his preaching
and promises to steal no more.
Illusive legends. In the Christian mind, the animal is
suspicious, the beast seems to be a mask. The veins, an
inauspicious name, which the Jews give to animals, are
dumb devils. And nature becomes demoniac. The tree,
with its gloomy foliage, is full of terror and snares. Is
it not the tree, that guilty one, to which the serpent
twisted itself in order to seduce, to deceive Eve, and to
ruin mankind ? If it be not the serpent now on the tree,
* The City of Beasts, their grandeur and their decline, is a beautiful subject.
Eugenius Noel, a writer of a very charming mind, has found out such a
title, and he alone can write a book on it. It contains an immense part of
human affairs. It is evident by the Avesta that mankind has lived only
through the alliance of the dog against the lion. The dread of the lion brings
people together. Where he does not exist people live isolated. The lion
made society.

Period of Universal Weakness. 321
it is the bird, it is the nightingale (a demon of melody)
which sings still on it to trouble and to lead human
hearts astray. Through those enchanted trees the magic
of the desert was performed ; the cloud gathered, and
the rain poured down ; hence, flowers and fruits, and all
the temptations of man. Down ! O fatal trees ! Let the
plain be spread, rugged, naked, and desolate ! The earth
has made love for a long time ; let it now do penance.*
Thus began here below that strange phenomenon — the\
hatred of creation, and persecution, -the exile of God the
Father. The Word alone reigned. Until the year 1200 ,j
there was not an altar, there was not a church dedicated j
to the Father, there was not even a symbol which called '
him to mind. It was not the fault of man that (oh ! enor-j
mous thing ! ) God was not banished from nature, from(j
the great church, of which he is the life, the soul that isj
unceasingly born of him.
Father ! It is a dear, sacred word, the love of the
ancient world. The household had in it its firm support,
its noble genius ; the home had in it its solidity. Every ^
thing wavered in the Middle Ages. The husband, was]
he the husband ? the father, was he the father ? I do not
know. The ideal and mystic family, which was shaped t;
according to the legend, has its authority elsewhere. |
There was no head of the family. There was no father \-
 . /
* The three peoples of the .Book, the Jewish people, and their two offshoots,
the Christian and the Mohammedan (studying the Word and neglecting life, rich
in sentences and poor in works), have forgotten the Earth, the Mother Earth.
Oh ! what an impiety ! Look at the nakedness of the old Greco-Byzantine
world. Look at the desert of Castile, rugged, salt, unpleasant. Look at
all the canals of India neglected by the English. Persia, once the Paradise
of God, what is she now ? A Mohammedan sepulchre. From Judea to
Tunis and Morocco, and on the other hand from Athens to Genoa, all those
bald summits which look from on high into the Mediterranean have lost
their forests, their crown of cultivation. And will those forests adorn those
summits again? Never. If the ancient gods, and the active and strong
peoples, in whose time those shores were blossoming, should to-day rise from
their graves, they would say : " O gloomy .peoples of the Book, of grammars,
of words, and of vain subtleties, what have ye made of Nature ? ' '
21

322 Bible of Humanity.
in the ancient meaning ofthe word. A third person now
assumed this name, which formerly meant a creator, a
generator. The father said to him: "My Father!"
What is he then in his own house ?
Let us put aside the idea of adultery, which, however,
recurs everywhere in the Middle Ages. Let us suppose
that the family is respected, pure, and holy. The fact is
always sad. It is the scorn of the man, it is the dispar
agement of the husband. As to him, his wife is a virgin.
For her soul is elsewhere, and while she gives all, she
gives nothing. Her ideal is another. If you see that she
has become a mother, it is because she has conceived of
the Spirit. The son belongs to her. And to her hus
band ? No. Behold then the household made at the
image of the external society. The mother and her son
constituted one people, the husband an inferior people.
He was the serf, the beast. The crushing of the world was
here reproduced in the very shelter where the unhappy
man would have wished to revive his wretched heart.
Who is that child that grows up apace and flourishes
with a precocious gracefulness under the complaisant eye
of his mother? The woman's husband himself is proud of
him, and prefers him to all other boys. And yet how he
differs from him ! One feels that too strongly at intervals.
Oh ! bitter fluctuation ! Oh ! incurable sadness ! He
will be uncertain whether he may love him or not. In the
meanwhile he loves him. But he has no feeling of secu
rity. There is no complete and true joy for him. He has
lost his smile, and he will never recover it on earth.
In the Primitive Gospel {Protoevangelium), a book quo
ted by the first Fathers, the touching figure of Joseph has
been set down, namely, his compassionate goodness, as
well as his deep chagrin and his tears.
The Gospel of the Carpenter is much more explicit. It
is a serious and artless book, which people have done
their best to destroy. It has been recovered in an Ara
bian translation. But it is not an Arabian book, for it has

Period of Universal Weakness. 323
none of the silly flowers of Arabian literature. It is a
Greek or a Hebrew book. This poor little book has,
with a prophetic vigor, pictured in Joseph and in Jesus
the whole situation of the thousand years that followed —
the cruel plague of the family.
Joseph has, from the beginning, been worthy of admi
ration for his behavior toward the orphan girl, harshly re
jected by the priests of the Temple, who sent her away,
while she was compromised and poor. Joseph, scarcely
engaged and simply betrothed, opened his arms to her
and saved her. He was none the less sad, however, and
he remained so through his life. On his death-bed, it
went still worse with him. His soul, weakened by cha
grins, troubled itself and despaired. He cried over his
destiny, cursed his birth-day, believed that his mother
conceived him in a day of bad desire, according to the
idea of the Psalmist, and at last he said: "Woe to my
body ! and woe to my soul ! I feel that my soul is far
from God ! " What a bitter cry ! He has had neither
earth nor heaven. He has lived near her, with her, and
without her. And, at the end of such a gloomy life, he
saw " the lions of hell." He was afraid of Jesus himself
on account of the bad thoughts which he had entertained
about Jesus's mother. But he was wrong in this. Jesus
had a compassionate heart, and his tears flew copiously to
calm and reassure him, driving away from him the terrors
of death. " Be not afraid, nothing of thee will die ! Thy
very body will remain, it will not be dissolved, and it will
be intact till the great Feast of a thousand years."
Thus, from the earliest Christian times, was described
in a wonderful manner what was to come, and to be re
peated everywhere. That which, however, was not fore
seen was that, in this hell, the victims of marriage would
embitter their griefs by making sport of each other. The
cruel songs of the Christmas-carols follow them through
the whole of the Middle Ages. They must laugh at those
songs, and sing them, and be merry. To be sad is al-

324 Bible of Humanity.
lowed to nobody. And it is the saddest married man
who sings, that he may avoid being the laughing-stock of
the party. That follows him everywhere. Wherever he
turns himself, either at the evening songs, the Mysteries
which are performed at the doors of churches, or the
Mysteries figured in stone, the same legend follows him
always and everywhere. To the songs of the Christmas-
carols succeeds the novel, which like a sweetish diluting
makes the legend worldly. A whole literature spreads
and stirs up the poison, pouring it in the wound, giving
to the heart nothing but the sharp cut of doubt on the
dearest thing . . . love !
There will be at least always subsisting the love of the '
child to the mother. "In this worship, is not the child
the beloved object ?" He, who thinks so, is wrong.
Even among the Jews the family relation was hard
hearted. "Withhold not correction from thy child."
" Beat him constantly." * " Never smile to thy daughter,
and keep her body pure." f What a strange and shock
ing commandment ! It will be handed to the casuists so
much the better. And they will take hold of it, and make
shameful commentaries. One of these commentaries
prohibits the mother to look at her son !
What is, then, this child ? Flesh, incarnated sin. The
more beautiful the child, the more abundant the blending
of lilies and roses on its cheek and brow, the more it
represents love, the moment of love, in which Nature —
the condemned one — spoke. Alas ! on her knees, in her
arms, over her breast what does she hold, but Sin ? . . .
Thus, how sad and timid she is ? Will she dare love ?
Yes and no. ... If she should love too much ? . . .
Where must her love stop ? Oh ! cruel doctrines, which
breaking the links of home, and making love a bitter
thing, freeze even maternal affection.
* Proverbs of Solomon xiii. 24; xxxiii. 13 ; xxix. 15 ; and Ecclesiasticus xxx.
I, 9, 10.
¦j- Ecclesiasticustvii. 26

Period of Universal Weakness. 325
" Therefore, no love but in God. God loved so much
the world. . . . He can require all, since he has given all,
his Son ! " Enormous sacrifice through which the Gospel
appeared as infinite Forgiveness, and showed sin dead, jus
tice impossible, hell vanquished and extinguished. How
is it, then, that still subsists the barbarous old idea, Pre
destination, which teaches that there are people con
demned before their birth, and created for hell-fire ? This
disheartening idea hovers vaguely here and there over the
Old Testament • but it stands out in bold presence in the
Gospels, as if in red lightning on a dark background.* In
the writings of Saint Paul it becomes a man in the vigor of
his youth, and in the works of Saint Augustin, a hangman.
Oh ! how terrible Love is ! On the door of hell, ac
cording to Dante, there is the following inscription :
"Love made me." The fury and ferocity of Augustin
has its foundation in Love. He, with his African nature,
in his ardor toward God, blamed and condemned the
Greek Fathers, who entertained doubts about an everlast
ing hell, and dared believe that the blessed, in looking at
the reprobate, could feel pity.f
* " Unto you it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of
heaven. To them it has not been given." (Matthew. See also John xii.
40.) But why speak by parables ? " That seeing they may see, and not per
ceive ; and hearing they may hear, and not understand" (Mark iv. 12;
Luke viii. 10) ; and Mark adds ; " Lest at any time they should be converted,
and their sins should be forgiven them." (Mark iv. 12.) What is stranger
still is that according to the old Jewish spirit "God tempts man." (Lead us
not into temptation.) I wish I were mistaken. Perhaps I have not under
stood well ! Is there anything more cruel than this to the heart ?
f The terrible barrenness of the Middle Ages has passed judgment on these
doctrines. It seems as though they had been wasted by fire. How many
centuries in vain 1 A patient erudition finds out this and that . But, truly,
how can we desist from blushing at it ? What ! so few things in a thousand
years ! A thousand years ! a thousand years ! I say, and for a society of so
many peoples and so many kingdoms ! How they go slowly till 1200 ! . . .
And after 1200 their condition is more lamentable, for they can neither live
nor die. During six hundred years, with so many resources, they cannot
create or institute anything which is not hatred and police supervision. In
1200 the Orders of Mendicants, their burning charity, and the worship of Mary.

326 Bible of Humanity.
And who is the reprobate ? Why, everybody. It is
evident in Saint Augustin that in this doctrine of Love,
the loved is undiscoverable, the chosen is rare, almost
impossible. . . . Good gracious ! What in the Law
could have been harsher than this ? Give back to me
Justice. With her I might have had at least some ex
tenuating circumstances. But I have none under the dis
pensation of Grace. My lot is fixed beforehand. Oh !
release me from Love ! f
" If you have sometimes travelled among mountains,
you may perhaps have observed the same spectacle which
I once met with.
" From among a confused heap of rocks piled together,
amid a landscape diversified with trees and verdure,
towered a gigantic peak. That object, black, bare, and
solitary, was but too evidently thrown up from the deep
bowels ofthe earth. It was enlivened by no verdure ; no
season changed its aspect; the very birds would hardly
venture to alight on it, as though they feared to singe their
wings by touching the mass which had been projected
from the earth's central fire. That gloomy evidence of
the throes of the interior world seemed still to muse over
the scene, regardless of surrounding objects, without ever
rousing from its savage melancholy.
"What were then the subterraneous revolutions of the
earth, what incalculable powers combated in its bosom, for
that mass, disturbing mountains, piercing through rocks,
shattering beds of marble, to burst forth to the surface !
What convulsions, what agony forced from the entrails of
the globe that prodigious groan !
" I sat down, and from my eyes tears of anguish, slow
And all this was a new kind of police, (heaven help us) the police of the In
quisition. About the year 1500 the crusade of Ignatius, knighthood, and
yet penalty, a net of infinite intrigues. In our days. Saint Vincent de Paul,
a philanthropic devotee. But the Public and the State have seen in it noth
ing bat police still.

Period of Universal Weakness. 327
and painful, began to flow. Nature had but too well
reminded me of history. That chaos of mountain-heaps
oppressed me with the same weight which had crushed
the heart of man throughout the Middle Ages, and in that
desolate peak, which from her inmost bowels the earth
had hurled towards heaven, I saw pictured the despair
and the cry of the human race.
" That Justice should have borne for a thousand years
that mountain of dogma upon her heart, and, crushed
beneath its weight, have counted the hours, the days, the
years — so many long years — is, for him who knows it, a
source of eternal tears.
" My very heart bled in contemplating the long resig
nation, the meekness, the patience, and the efforts of
humanity to love that world of hate and malediction under
which it was crushed.
" When man, resigning liberty and justice, as something
useless, entrusted himself blindly to the hands of Grace,
and saw it becoming concentrated on an imperceptible
point — that is to say, the privileged, the elect — and saw
all other beings, whether on earth or under the earth,
lost for eternity, you would suppose there arose every
where a howl of blasphemy ! No, only a groan.
" And these affecting words : ' If thou wilt that I be
damned, thy will be done, O Lord ! ' ...
" Then, peaceful, submissive, and resigned, they fold^dj
themselves in the shroud of damnation.
" And yet, what a constant temptation to despair and
doubt ! How bondage here below was, with all its mis
eries, the beginning, the foretaste of eternal damnation !
First a life of suffering ; next, for consolation, hell !
Damned beforehand! Then, wherefore those -comedies
of Judgment represented in the church-porches ! Is it not
barbarous to keep in uncertainty, in dreadful anxiety, ever
suspended over the abyss, him, who, before his birth, is
adjudged to the bottomless pit, is due to it, and belongs
to it?

'328 Bible of Humanity.
"Before his birth! — the infant, the innocent, created
expressly for hell ! Nay, did I say the innocent ? This
is the horror of the system ; there is innocence no more.
I know not, but I boldly and unhesitatingly affirm this-tcr-
be the insoluble knot at which the human soul had stopped
short, and patience was staggered.
" The infant damned ! This is a deep, frightful wound
to the maternal heart ! In exploring its depths, we find
there much more than the terrors of death.
" Thence was it, believe me, that the first sigh arose of
protestation ? No ! And yet, unknown to the timid heart
of woman, whence it escaped, there was a terrible But in
that humble, low, agonizing groan.
" So low, but so heart-rending ! The man who heard
it at night slept no more on that night, nor for many a
night after. And in the morning, before daylight, he went
to his furrow, and there found many things were changed.
He found the valley and the field of labor lower, much
lower — deep, like a sepulchre ; and the two towers in the
horizon more lofty — more gloomy and heavy ; gloomy the
church-steeple, and dismal the feudal donjon. And then
he began to comprehend the sounds of the two bells. The
church-bell murmured Ever ; that of the donjon, Never.
But, at the same time, a mighty voice spoke louder in his
heart. That voice said, One day. And that was the
-voice of God !
" One day Justice shall return ! Leave those idle bells ;
let them prate to the wind. Be not alarmed with thy
doubt. That doubt is already faith. Believe, and hope !
Right, though postponed, shall have its advent; it will
come to sit in judgment on the dogma and on the world.
And that day of Judgment will be called the Revolu
tion." *

* Michelet : History of the French Revolution, ist vol. Introduction,
p. xii. (January 31, 1847.) Prof. C. Cocks' translation. London, 1848.

Period of Universal Weakness. 329

CONCLUSION.
I had wished that this sacred book, which really contains1
nothing that is originally mine, but is the utterance of the
soul of mankind, might not exhibit a single word of criti
cism, but that all in it might be words of blessing.
And yet in the last chapters the spirit of criticism seized
us again. It is not our fault. And, indeed, how to speak
of modern thought, of its happy agreement with the
remotest antiquity, without explaining the long delays,
the halt of sterility which we underwent in the Middle
Ages ?
We undergo it still. To speak the truth, the delay,
the stop occurs again too often. At intervals we lag.
In spite of the immense powers we have, we seem out
of breath at every step. Why ? The reason is evident :
we drag after us a dead thing, which is so much the more
heavier. If it were our own skin we could manage to get
rid of it, as the serpent does. Many shake themselves
vigorously. But the evil is at the bottom.
It is in our friends as well as in our enemies. Each of
us is bound inwardly by a million of threads — remem
brances, habits, education, affections. Great men are
bound as well as others. Even the imagination which
thinks to be free and a queen has its interior servitudes,
by fluttering about from Equity to Grace. The very
lively and so strongly concentrated sensibility of artists
feels so much the less the evils of men. Dante appears to
have known nothing of the great Albijenses terror, of the
eclipse of a world, of the appalling fact which in the
year 1300 opened the way to the worship of Satan. He
raises his standard, not in the eternal Gospel (the high con
ception of this epoch), but in the past, in Saint Thomas.
Shakespere, the king of magicians, wanders from heaven
to hell. But the earth ? his own epoch ? Behind the
arras he feels only Polonius, but not the black mole which

330 Bible of Humanity.
prepares Thirty years' war and the death of ten millions
of men. Rousseau heedlessly hurls a century of reaction
by a sentence of his Emilius.
Some geniuses in our time (who, I think, will not blush
to find themselves ranged in such high society) believe
that they are able to reconcile the irreconcilable. Either
through compassion, kind heart, or through old habits, they
keep a shred of the past. The tender remembrance of
their mothers, the thoughts of the cradle, and, perhaps, the
floating image of some good old preceptor, all these things
stand before their eyes and conceal from them the world,
the immensity of evils indefinitely prolonged, the Spiel
bergs, and the Siberias — I mean to say the moral Siberias,
the barrenness, the progressive coolness which is going on
at this very moment.
It is necessary to wheel about, and eagerly, frankly, to
turn our back to the Middle Ages, to that morbid past,
which, even when it does not act, exercises a terrible in
fluence through the contagion of death. We need neither
to fight nor to criticise, but to forget.
Let us forget and go on !
Let us advance toward the sciences of life, the museum,
the schools, the college of France.
Let us advance toward the sciences of history and hu
manity, and toward the languages of the East. Let us
consult the archaic genius in its harmony with so many
recent travels. There we shall take the human sense.
I entreat you, let us be men, and let us be exalted by
the new and unprecedented grandeur of mankind.
Thirty sciences, which had been belated, have just made
their appearance, and with such a new vision, such a
power of methods, that undoubtedly the number will be
doubled to-morrow.
Thirty centuries have been added to antiquity, and with
them numberless monuments, languages, religions, and
worlds, which reappear to judge this world of ours.
An immense light, with crossed rays, terribly powerful

Period of Universal Weakness. 331
(even more than electric light), while crushing the past in
all its scientific nonsense, has shown, instead, the victo
rious harmony ofthe two sisters, Science and Conscience.
Every shadow has disappeared. Eternal Justice, identical
in all epochs, and standing on its solid foundation of nature**
and history, sheds its beams.
This is the subject of this book. It is great and easy.
The things for making it up had been so well prepared
that the most unskilful hand has been sufficient to write it,
biit mankind is the real author.
The vow which a great prophet used to make in the
sixteenth century is ah accomplished fact now. Here is
the deep Faith. Who could shake it, and from what part
could come the attack? Science and Conscience have
embraced each other.
Somebody is striving at something, or seems to be
doing so. He gropes along in open day. He is a coun
terfeit blind man, who will have a stick when the road is
even and very wonderfully illumined.
Here is the whole mankind in perfect harmony. What"
do you wish more ? What interest have you in doubting ?
A torrent of light, the river of Right and Reason flows
down from India to the year one thousand seven hundred
and eighty-nine. The remotest antiquity is thyself. And
thy race is the year one thousand seven hundred and -
eighty-nine. The Middle Ages are the stranger.
Justice is not the foundling of yesterday, but the mis
tress and the heiress that wishes to return home — she is
the true lady of the house. Who was before her ? She
can say: "I did spring up in the dawn at the glimmerings
ofthe Vedas. In the morning of Persia I was the pure
energy in the heroism of work. I was the Greek genius,
and emancipation by the might of a word : ' Themis is
Jove.' God is Justice itself. Hence Rome proceeds as
well as the law which thou dost follow yet."
"I should like . . . I perceive well that . . . ." But
it is necessary to will completely.

332 Bible of Humanity.
To come to a close, I say only three words, but practiA
cal ones, which ought to pass from father to son : Purifi-\
cation, Concentration, Greatness. >-
Let us be honest and pure from mixture with the old.
Let us not halt from one world to another.
Let us beware in two senses — let us be strong against
the chaos of the world, and of opinions — and let us be
strong at home through the unity of the heart.
The fireside is the stone which upholds the common-*"
wealth. Without home everything perishes. To the vain
systems which would break it down, the answer is a terri
ble one: "The child will not live." Men will be fewer,
and the citizen an impossibility. /
People cry out: "Fraternity!" But they scarcely
know what it is. It requires a security of morals as well
as of character, and a pure austerity of which our century
has little idea. %L
If the fireside must be enlarged, it must be done first'
of all by making sit down at it the whole heroic humanity,
the great church of Justice, which, among so many peo
ple and ages, has been perpetuated to this time.
The fireside will then become again what it formerly
was, the altar. It is enlightened by a reflex of the uni
versal soul of the worlds, which is but Rectitude and
Justice, impartial and unchangeable Love. ->
It is the firm fireside that this book would make, or at
least begin for you. It proposes to give you in the fire
side what it so often gave myself during this long work,
which kept me up by day and awoke me by night — a
great alleviation of suffering, a solemn and holy joy, the
deep peace of light.

NEW AND COMPLETE

ALPHABETICAL INDEX,

COMPRISING all the names of

DEITIES, HEROES, PERSONS, REGIONS, CITIES, MOUNTAINS,
RIVERS, ETC., MENTIONED IN THIS WORK.

A.
Aaron, 294.
Abbas' monument, 11.
Abel, 241, 249.
Abraham, 143 n., 144 n., 239 m, 250,
260 n.
Abram, 75.
Acacia, 195, 196 n., 197 n.
Achjeans, 116, 141.
Acheia, 116.
Achilles, 46, 70 n, no, 112, 121,
123 n., 124, 139, 172, 230.
Acropolis, 116, 154.
Acts of the Apostles, 302.
Aditi, 19 n.
Admetus, 128, 147, 148.
Adona'i, 201, 203, 212, 288.
Adonis, 129 n., 151, 163, 172, 175,
177, 201, 203, 204, 205, 210, 212,
218, 220, 223, 233, 261, 262, 268,
273, 276, 284, 317.
Adoration, 231.
^Eolus, 102.
^Egina, 90, 1 10.
.lEgystus, 106.
^Eschylus, 85, 99, 116, 124 n., 127,137
n., 152, 153, 154, 155. 157, I59.i6°.
161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 167, 168,
169, 170, 171, 172, 300, 306.
^Esculapius, 145.
.(Etna, 144.
.(Ethiopia, 69 n., 182.
^Ethiopian, 166 n., 182 n.
Affre, 304.
Africa, 68, 69 n., 71, 142, 143, 179,
180, 182, 184, 185, 198, 203, 276.

Agamemnon, 106, 109, 161.
Agapa;, 312.
Agathias, 202.
Agathocles, 143 n., 283.
Agesilaus, 227, 234.
Aglaophanus, 98 n.
Agni (the Fire) 15-24, 102.
Agora, 109, 119.
Agrippina, 274.
Ahmes, 193 n.
Ahriman, 59, 60, 63, 65, 70, 78, 209,
247 m
Ajax, 70, 73, 124, 164.
Albania, 222, 223.
Albijenses, 329.
Albordj, 65.
AIcecus, 175.
Alcides, 104.
Alcinotis, 108.
Alcmena, 104, 140.
Alexander the Great, 71, 124 n., 157,
221, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229,
230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236,
238, 270, 276, 278, 279, 282, 283,
288.
Alexandria, 284, 302 11., 310 n.
Algiers, 194.
Alkestis, 106, 147, 175.
Alps (the), 144, 276.
Altar (.the), 332.
Amazons, 129, 142, 143 n.
Ameinias, 152, 163 n.
Amenti, 194 n.
America, 113, 278, 285.
Amestris, 75, 202.
Ammon, 202 n. , 225, 233.

334

Index.

Amorites, 238 n.
Amos, 135 n.
Ampere, 194.
Amphictyons, 132, 133.
Amshaspands, 57, 58, 59, 70, 246 u.
Anahid, 247 n.
Anai'tis, 83, 202, 210.
Anaxagoras, 158, 164, 247 n.
Anaxarchus, 227, 231.
Andra, 55 n.
Andromeda, 143 n.
Anna, 75, 297, 298.
Anna (the prophetess), 297.
Anquetil Duperron, 5, 48 n., 56, 58,
75-
Antar, 140, 244.
Anthesphoria, 95, 215.
Anthesteria, 261 n.
Antheus, 143 n.
Anti-Christ, 317.
Antigone, 106, 175.
Antioch, 248.
Antisthenes, 280.
Antony, 275, 285.
Antony (Saint), 320.
Anubis, 188, 189, 192, 193, 275.
Aphrodite, 104 n.
Apis, 188.
Apocalypse, 317 n.
Apollo, 84, 85, 88 n., 103, 117, 119,
121, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131,
133, 134. 135. 136. 137. 138, 149.
159, 162, 216, 233, 280, 284, 289,
Apuleius. 211 n.
Arabia, 69 n., 191, 200 n., 239 n.
Arabian woman, 75 n.
Arabians, 72, 198 n., 241, 242 n., 245,
2S3. 254, 322, 323.
Arcadia, 85, 86, 141, 221.
Arcadians, 116, 121.
Ardvisura, 49.
Areopagus, 164.
Ares, 129.
Arete, 108.
Argolides, 116.
Argos, 141.
Aridffius, 225.
Aristarchus, 3.
Aristides, 127, 154.
Aristophanes, 118, 124 n., 152, 153,
154, 165, 168, 174, 216 n., 218,
219 n., 220 n.
Aristotle, 112, 118, 121 n., 135 m, 136,
159 n., 173, 226, 227, 229, 232,
269 n., 316.
Armenia, 206, 213.
Arrian, 232 n.
Artaxerxes, 83.

Aryans, 15, 16, 25, 26, 54, 166.
Ascalon, 206, 239, 240.
Ashera, 298.
Ashtaroth, 199, 200, 268.
Asia, 71, 72, 82,83, 88, 98 n., 99,
102, 109, 115, 117, 134, 143 n.,
144 n., 149, 153, 155, 158, 159,
172, 174, 177, 183, 185, 198, 200,
206, 207 n., 208, 209, 213, 217 n.,
229, 230, 232, 233, 246, 256, 270,
276, 278, 2S6, 290.
Asia Minor, 69 n., 149, 210, 226,
3°5-
Aspada, 157, 158.
Assyria, 68, 69, 70, 129 n,
Assyrian Monuments, 16.
Astarte^ 143 n., 199, 200, 201, 203,
204, 205, 246, 272, 298.
Astruc, 246.
Atargatis, 135 n.
hxi., 145.
Aten, 243 n.
Athaliah, 206.
Athanasius, 312 n., 319.
Atheneus, 1 1 3 n.
Athens, 87, 96, 101, 109, 112, 116,
117, 118, 119, 122, 123, 130, 133,
134, 136, 141, 143 n., 152, 153,
154, 155, 156, 157. 158, 160, 162,
163, 164, 165, 166, 170, 171 n.,
212, 215, 219, 230, 278, 279, 280,
321.
Atlantis, 144.
Attica, 87, 117, 134, 143 n.
Atticus, 278.
Attila, 320.
Atton, 311 n.
Atys, 95n.,i35n.,i5i, 163, 172,175,
210, 218, 223, 233, 284, 288, 289,
3°7, 317, 3i8-
Atys-Sabazius, 211, 212, 223.
Augeas, 138.
Augustine (Saint), 257, 311, 325,
326.
Augustus, 235, 279, 288.
Aurelian, 317.
Aureng Zeb, 10.
Aurora, ui.
Aurungabad, 10.
Austen, 199 n.
Avatar, 151, 288.
Aventine hill, 277.
Avesta, iv, v, 48 n., 55 n., 71, 75,
107, 255 n., 320 n.
Avesta Khordah, 66 n., 68.
Axenus, 143 n.
Aiyar, 77, 79, 80.
Azor, 239.

Index.

335

B.

Baal, 143 n., 203, 214, 247, 254, 269.
Baalpeor, 206, 212 n., 213, 214, 268.
Baaltis, 203, 204, 205.
Babel, 206, 207, 208, 209, 242, 247 n. ,
266, 305, 317.
Babylon, 45, 48 n., 55, 68, 70, 71, 83,
109, 154, 198, 199 n., 201, 204 n.,
206, 207, 208, 214, 2i7n., 229, 230,
235, 236, 251, 272.
Bacchantes, 136, 219, 220, 223, 224,
231, 233.
Bacchants, 223, 224.
Bacchus, gin., 135, 136, 137, 143m,
146, 151, 158, 159, 162, 163, 165,
168, 175, 212 n., 213 n., 214, 215,
216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 222, 223,
224, 225, 226, 232, 233, 235, 236,
247 "-. 254, 317.
Bacchus Dionysus, 158.
Bacchus Sabazius, 212, 213, 225, 233,
275, 284, 285, 288.
Bactriana, 16, 24, 43, 317.
Bagdad, 77.
Bagoas, 230, 233.
Bajazet, 206 n.
Balaam, 206, 214.
Barnabas, 304.
Baruch, 200 n.
Bassora, 9.
Bathyllus, 122.
Baudry, 19 n., 125.
Beasts (the City of), 320 n.
Bedouin, 198 n.
Belial, 268.
Bellerophon, 145.
Beluchistan, 69 n.
Benares, 35.
Bengal, 35.
Boetia, 125, 141.
Bernard (Saint), 257.
Berthelot, 20 n.
Bertillon, 255 n.
Bethany, 301 n.
Beys, 190.
Bible (Jewish), vi, 237, 241, 246, 247,
253, 254, 255, 259, 270, 296, 304 n.
Bible (the Greek), 171.
Bible of goodness (the), 2.
Bibles of light (the), v.
Bilhah, 75.
Black Sea, 143.
Bobak, 55 n.
Bochart, 238.
Bonaparte, 227, 229.
Book ofthe dead (the), 189.
Book (the three peoples of the), 321 n.

Bossuet, 313 n.
Botta, 199 n.
Bouvier, 313 n.
Brahma, 1.
Brahman, 1, 27, 28, 29, 31, 35, 39, 41,
42.
Braliminical, 88.
Buddha, 184.
Buddhism, 46- n.
Burkhardt, 75 n.
Burnouf, E., 7, 13, 18, 52, 56, 57,
70 n.
Busiris, 142, 143 n.
Bryant, Jacob, 143 n., 16611., 200 n.
Byblos, 186, 196, 202, 203, 210, 212,
213 n., 261, 268.
Byzantium, 105, 184.

Cabiri, ioi.
Caboul, 24.
Cadmilus, 135.
Cadmus, 129 n.
Gssar, 274, 275, 276, 279, 284, 285,
3°6, 307, 308, 309, 315, 317.
Casars (the), 233, 235, 236.
Cahen, 260 n. , 296 n.
Caillaud, 1S2 n., 194 n., 281.
Cain, 241, 249.
Callimachus, 129 n.
Callipyges, 218.
CaUisthenes, 227, 232.
Callydicians, 312 n.
Calypso, 107.
Campana (the collection), 90 n.
Canaan, 246, 254.
Canaanites, 238 n.
Cappadocia, 200 n.
Caracalla, 231.
Caramania, 69 n.
Carlovingian friars, 320.
Carmel, 264 n.
Carthage, v, vi, 159, 198, 199, 212,
222, 238, 275, 276, 277, 283, 311 n.
Cashmere, 12, 34, 139 n.
Cassandra, 171.
Cassianus, 299.
Castalia, 126.
Castile, 321 n.
Castor, 122.
Casuists, 324,
Cato, 282.
Catullus, 202 n., 273, 289 n.
Caucasus, 115, 143, 154, 165, 167,
169.
Cayapa, 139 n.

336

Index.

Celtica, 316.
Celtic forest, 144,
Centaurs, 134, 139, 146, 147, 150,
222, 230.
Central Asia, 239 n.
Cephissus, 136.
Ceraunii mountains, 223.
Cerberus, 148.
.Ceres, 84, 85, 86, 87, 89, 90, 91, 92,
93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, »°', "7,
i32, '35, 145, 147, 162, 163, 215,
217, 222, 312.
Ceylon, 35, 42.
Chalcedonia, 311 n.
Chaldea, 53, 71, 242, 245, 252, 274.
Chaldeans, 82.
Champollion, 7, 182, 190, 193 n.,
194 n.
Charity, 296.
Charlemagne, 103, 235.
Charles the Bald, 254.
Charon, 139 n., 148.
Chatrya, 32, 35.
Cheiron, 107, 121, 139 m, 146.
Cherbuliez, 123 n.
Cheronea, 155, 221, 226.
Cherubim, 294.
Chians, 1 1 3 n.
China, 26.
Chloe, 303.
Choephores, 161.
Chrishna, 121.
Christ, 303 n. , 304.
Christendom, 174.
Christian carols, 323, 324.
Christian centuries, 193.
Christianity, 169 n., 291, 313 n.
Christian legends, 320.
Christian monuments, 319.
Christian myths, 189.
Christians, 97, 105, 255 n., 257, 278,
291, 315, 3r7, 321 "•
Christmas songs, 299.
Chrysippus, 281.
Church (Eastern), 291.
Church (the fathers of the), 283, 284.
Church of Justice, 332.
Church (Latin), 294.
Church (Reformed), 304 n.
Church (Western), 293.
Cicero, 278, 282, 285.
Cidarim, 236.
Cilicia, 305.
Cimon, 154, 161.
Circassia, 278 n.
Circes, 19, 107.
Claudius, 300, 306, 307.
Cleitus, 231.

Clement of Alexandria, 129 n., 163 n.,
310 n., 319.
Cleoles, 287.
Cleon, 168.
Cleonthes, 282.
Cleopatra, 275, 285.
Cleophas, 301.
Clerotes, 1 12.
Cloud (the), mother of the Centaurs,
146.
Clitarchus, 229.
Cluny Museum, 156 n.
Clymene, 167.
Clytemnestra, 106, 161.
Cocks, C, 328 n.
Cobi (desert of), 58.
Colchis, 166.
Colonus, 157, 165, 166, 167.
Conception (Immaculate), 291.
Conde, 229.
Confucius, 295.
Conon, 202 n.
Conscience, 331.
Consentes (gods), 277.
Constant, Benj., 99 n., ioSn., 300 n.
Constantine, 318.
Corinth, 173, 304, 305.
Corinthians (Epistle to the), 97 n.,
302 n., 303, 304 n., 306 n.
Cornelia, 274.
Cow-mother, 184.
Cramer, 121 n.
Crete, 112, 117, 143 n., 214.
Croesus, 155, 162.
Ctesias, 207 n.
Cybele, 135, 143, 172, 210, 224, 284,
3°7-
Cyclades, 272, 273.
Cyclops, 101.
Cycnus, 143 n.
Cynsegirus, 152.
Cynosarges, 280.
Cyprian (Saint), 314.
Cyprus, 113, 200, 272.
Cyrus, 118.
Cythera, 173, 200.

D.

Daqaratha, 33.
Daedalus, 145.
Daevas, 55 n., 58.
Dagon, 246 n.
Dagobert, 320.
Dakiki, 79.
Dakoka, 55 n., 68 n.
Dalmatia, 316.

Index.

337

Damascus, 12, 264.
Daniel, 55, 68, 208 n., 209 n., 242,
271, 2S9 n., 300.
Dante, 325, 329.
Daphne, 126.
Daphnis, 285 n.
Danube, 315.
Dargaud, 266 n.
Darwands, 58, 61.
Dasyas, 36.
Daumer, 214 n.
David, 302, 241 n., 246, 249, 253.
Dead Sea, 144^,179, 201, 245,246^,
273-
Deborah, 206.
Dejanira, 149, 150.
Delia, 273, 274.
Delilah, 267.
Delos, 117, 128, 130.
Delphi, 120, 125, 126, 127, 130, ijr,
i33> 134, 136, 137. 159. 162, 224,
227.
Delphos, 96, 220.
De-Meter, 84, 85, 125, 129 n., 135,
143 n., 159, 215, 222.
Demetrios, 195, 222.
Demodocus, 100.
Denis, 222, 280, 282.
Denis, the little, 3 1 1 n.
Denmark, 278 n.
Derceto, 199, 206.
De Rouge, 193 n., 194 n., 197 n.
Dervish, 80.
Desire (the god), 206, 216, 268.
Despoina, 86.
Despois, 313.
Destiny, 169.
Deuteronomy, 240, 241 n.
Diana, 108, 129 n.
Diana of Birmo, 143.
Didot, 304 n.
Diodorus, 137 n., 145 n., 183, 190,
191, 206, 207 n., 215 n., 236 n.
Diogenes, 173, 280, 281.
Diomedes, 143 n.
Dionysus, 136 n., 159, 213, 222.
Docetae, 292.
Dodona, 87, 223.
Dodwell, 315 n.
Dominic (Saint), 291.
Dorian invasions, 103, 107, 112.
Dorians, 84, 85, 116, 117, 128, 131,
141.
Doryxenes, in.
Dove (incarnation of the), 290.
Druses, 269.
Drusilla, 273 n.
Dryden, 276 n., 285 n.
22

Dumesnil, 67 u.
Duns Scot, 300 n.

E.
Ecclesiastes, 267, 268, 270, 298.
Ecclesiasticus, 324 n.
Echetus, 143 n.
Eckstein, 300 n.
Education, 120.
Egypt, 4, 8, 29, 50, 71, 100, 123 n.,
129 n., 144 n., 151, 153, 155, 175,
179, 180, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187,
189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 195, 196,
198, 200 n., 205, 214, 216 n., 217 n.,
227, 232, 238, 239 n.,242, 243, 252,
274, 275, 284, 287, 294, 295, 300,
317-
Egyptians, 135, 193.
Elagabalus, 317.
Elea, 157.
Eleans, 133.
Eleusis, 87, 91 n., 96, 98, 117, 159,
160, 163 n., 165, 215, 220.
Eleuthereus, 219.
Elis, 141.
Elijah, 290.
Elizabeth, 297, 298, 299.
Elkanah, 75 n.
Elohe, 247.
Elohim, 247.
Elysian Fields, no.
Emilius Paulus, 283.
Emilius (Rousseau's), 330.
Emir, 244 n.
English (the), 321 n.
Enna, 98.
Epaminondas, 127, 141, 215 n., 226.
Ephesus, 129 n.
Epiphane, 294.
Epiphanius, 293.
Epirus, 221, 222, 223, 224, 227, 232,
233, 235, 236.
Epistle to the Romans, 305, 306 n. ,
307 n., 309 m
Epopt, 303 n.
Equity, 329.
Erastus, 305, 306.
Erectheus, 143 n.
Eros, 217, 218.
Erymanthus, 140.
Eryx, 143 n.
Esau, 241, 242, 249.
Esculapius, 233.
Esdras, 253, 272 n.
Esquimaus, 320.

33§

Index.

Esther, 206, 236 n., 265, 270, 272,
273, 294.
Estia, 87, 101.
Eternal Justice, 311, 322.
Etruria, 287.
Eumenides, 130, 157, 161, 162, 164,
165, 167, 168, 170, 171.
Eumeus, 107, in.
Eumolpus, 129 n.
Euphrates, 55, 58, 199, 206, 208,
213, 3J5-
Euridice, 106.
Euripides, 153, 157, 202 n.
Europa, 89.
Europe, 83, 100, 143 n., 180, 183,
234, 235, 255 n., 283.
Euryclee, 108.
Eurystheus, 121, 140, 147, 148, 149,
280, 281.
Eusebius, 319.
Eutiphron, 217 n., 252, 281.
Euxine, 143.
Eve, 119 n., 177, 320.
Eve (Hindoo), 39.
Evhemerus, 104, 234.
Ever, 328.
Evian hymn, 136 n.
Ezekiel, 214, 240 n., 251, 255, 273,
277, 300 n.

Faith (deep), 331.
Fallah, 194.
Fatalism, 169 n.
Father (God the), 321.
Fathers of the Church, 293.
Fathers of the Greek Church, 325.
Fauche, 30 n.
Feast of a thousand years, 323.
Ferouer, 58, 62, 70.
Firdusi, 72, 73, 74, 77, 78, 79, 80.
Flagellants, 211.
Flandres, 299.
Fouche d'Obsonville, 14 n.
Fortunatus, 314 n.
France, 22g.
France (College of), 7, 330.
France of the Revolution (the), 286.
Franck, 257 n.
Fraternity, 332.
Fravashi, 62, 75.
Fredegaire, 320.
Frederick, 229.
French Revolution (History of the),
328.
Friesland, 285.
Furies, 165.

Gabriel, 67.
Gades, 143.
Gaia, 86.
Gaius, 316.
Galatians, 313 n.
Galienus, 215 n.
Galilea, vii.
Galilee, 240, 296 n., 30 1 n.
Galileo, 173.
Galli, 298 n. , 307.
Gallus, 274.
Ganges, 2, 3, 24, 25, 68.
Gaza, 230, 239.
Gazelle, 3, 34, 40, 267.
Gelon, 159, 222.
Genesis (book of), 206, 314, 249 n.,
254, 260 n.
Genghis, 184.
Genius of sleep, 218.
Genoa, 321 n.
Gerhard, Ed., 213 n.
Germania (Tacitus), 315.
Germany, 99 n., 117.
Geryon, 142, 143 n.
Gheber, 60, 72, 73, 78, 79.
Ghillany, 214 n.
Ghilo, 86 n.
Gingras, 202, 203.
Gnosticism, 294.
God tempts man, 325 n.
Golconda, 9.
Goliath, 249.
Good Luck, 230.
Gorgias, 163.
Gorresio, 30 n.
Gospel, 325, 329.
Gospel of the Carpenter, 322.
Gospel of Mary, 293, 299.
Gospels (official), 300, 301.
Goths, 320.
Goujon, 156.
Grace, 168, 170, 248, 255, 271, 276,
z94, 3°', 3°2, 305, 306, 310, 326,
327, 329-
Graces, 129 n.
Great Synagogue, 253.
Greece, v, 2, 24, 69, 82, 83, 85, 86,
87, 90, 91, 92, 97, 98 n., 99, 100,
101, 102, 103, 105, 106, 107, 109,
no, in, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116,
117, 119, 120, 121, 123 n., 125,
126, 127, 128, 129 n., 130, 131,
132. 133, '34, 138, 141, 142, 143 n->
144, 15°, 151, '55. 156, 158, 159,
163, 169 n., 170, 172, 173, 174,
'75, l7b> '98, 208, 210, 212, 213,

hidex.

339

217, 221, 222, 224, 225, 226, 228,
229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 251, 261,
276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 2S4, 286,
300 n., 302 n., 305, 311 n.
Greece (education in), 120.
Greco- Byzantine, 321 n.
Gregory of Nyssa, 293.
Guignaut, 98 n., 210 n.
Guinea, 68.
Gustasp, 70 n., 74, 75, 78, 138.
Gymnasium, 122, 124, 125.

H.
Hades, 141.
Hagar, 75.
Ham, 266 n.
Hannibal, 276.
Hanuman, 45, 46, 140.
Habina, 256.
Harems of the East, 186.
Harmodius, 155.
Harmonia, 129 n.
Harpocrates, 205, 275.
Hastings, 278.
Havet, 296 n.
Hebi?, 129 n., 151.
Hebrew records, 144 n.
Hector, 124.
Hedjaz, 244.
Heifer (worship of the), 246, 247.
Hekate, 92.
Hela, 114.
Helen, 89, 124 n.
Heliogabolus, 233.
Hellenic gods, 280.
Hellenic religion, 112.
Hellenization of the East, 226.
Hell, 147, 148, 149.
Helos, 133.
Helotes, 113.
Hengstenberg, 243 n.
Hephasstion, 233.
Hephaistos, 166.
Heraclides, 117.
Herakles, 144 n.
Hercules, 44, 82, 84, 93, 101, 103,
117, 119, 121, 127, 133, 134, 137,
138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144,
145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151,
155, '57, 158, 170, 177, 218, 223,
280, 281, 282.
Hercules (Porch of), 281, 285.
Here, 102.
Heri-culyus, 139 n.
Herman, 121 11.
Hermaphrodite, 203.

Hermas, 319.
Hermes, 117, 119, 121, 122, 124,
125. 127, 129 n., 135 n.
Herodias, 267.
Herodotus, 57, 152, 154, 162, 163,
183 n., 200 n., 206, 207 n., 214 n.,
30011.
Hesiod, 103 n., 115, 141, 167, 278.
Hesione, 89.
Hezekiah, 293 n.
Hierapolis, 200 n.
Hieronimus, 239 n.
Hik-sos, 129 n., 238 n., 239 n., 242,
243-
Hilaire (Saint), 214 n.
Hilarius, 314.
Hillel, 295, 296.
Himalaya, 25, 35.
Hindoos, 2, 12, 44, 54, 55, 56, 68,
87, 88, 120.
Hindostan, 25, 42, 43.
Hippa, 86 n., 143 n.
Hippocrates, 173, 200 n., 316.
Hippolytus, 136.
Hislop, 143 n.
Hittites, 238 n., 243 n.
Hivites, 238 n.
Hoa, 246 n.
Holophernes, 272.
Holy Alliance, 255 n.
Holy of Holies, 298.
Holy Ghost, 290, 311 n, 313 n.
H6ma, 52, 53, 70.
Homer, 84, 85, 89, 91 n., 97, 108,
112, 119, 124 m, 127, 128 n., 144,
145, 148, 152, 171, 176, 218, 230,
279, 300 11.
Horace, 279, 282, 286.
Horus, 129 n., 184, 275.
Hubioula, 9.
Humboldt, 139 n.
Hyde, 236 n. I.
Iacchus, 135, 162, 215.
Iao, 245, 246 n., 247 n.
Iberia, 142.
Icarus, 145.
Ida, 103.
Idumea, 244.
Idumeans, 294.
Ignatius (Saint), 314, 326 n.
Ikswaha, 339 n.
Iliad, 2, 85, 87, 103 n., no, 115, 116,
123, 124, 139.
Ilissus, 136 n.
Ilium, 230.

340

Index.

India, I, 4, 5, 6, 8, 13, 26, 27, 28,
29, 38, 39, 43, 52> 53, 62, 69, 78,
82, 85, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105,
151, 159, 184, 189, 213, 218, 226,
232, 235, 314, 320, 321 n., 331.
Indian art, 8, 89.
Indra, 19 n., 24 n., 53, 55, 102, 103.
Indus, 2, 35.
Inman, 238.
Inquisition, 326 n.
Io, 89, 169.
Iole, 149.
Ionia, 84, 87, 97, IJ5-, 157, 158, 162,
1 66, 200.
Ionian, 129 n.
Ionic, 131.
Iphigenia, 120, 311.
Iran, 55, 56, 58, 71, 317.
Ireland, 89.
Ireneus, 319.
Iris, 94, 143 n.
Isaac, 239 n.
Isaiah, 153, 171, 242, 248, 250, 295.
Isfendiar, 75.
Ishmael, 249.
Isis, 90, 135 n., 182, 183, 185, 186,
187, 188, 192, 195, 196, 205, 275,
284.
Isis-Athor, 184.
Isis-Osiris, 184.
Islamism, 313 n.
Isodetes, 219.
Israel, 208, 238 n., 240, 241.
Italian genius, 277.
Italians, 316.
Italy, 87, 200 n., 210, 221, 229, 276,
279, 283, 284, 288.
Ithaca, 107.

J-

Jacob, 75 n., 241, 242, 243, 248,
249, 250, 253, 267.
Jagernat, 314.
Jahel, 206.
James, 293, 298.
James the Just, 295 n.
Jebusites, 238 n.
Jehoshaphat, 240.
Jehovah, 239 n., 243 n., 244, 245,
246, 247, 252, 256.
Jemshid, 75.
Jephtha, 143 n.
Jeremiah, 135 n., 241, 251, 255.
Jericho, 268, 272 n.
Jerome (Saint), 202 n. , 260 n. , 272 n. ,
3'9-

Jerusalem, vii, 1, 240, 251, 294, 295.
Jesus, 193, 284, 286, 289, 292, 293,
294, 295, 296, 300, 301, 302, 307,
310 n., 311, 312 n., 319, 323.
Jesus son of Sirach, 300 n.
Jewish high priest, 236 n.
Jewish monuments, 319.
Jewish novels, 294.
Jewish patriarchs, 239 n.
Jewish women, 272.
Jews, 193, 198, 202m, 208, 237, 238,
239 n., 240, 241, 242, 245, 246,
249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254,
255 n., 256, 257, 259, 260, 270,
274, 287, 294, 295, 296, 300 n.,
306, 307, 320, 324.
Jezebel, 206, 267.
Job, 244, 245, 296 n.
John (Saint), 294, 301, 325 n.
John the Baptist, 295, 297.
Jordan, 246 11. , 239, 240.
Joseph, 190, 242, 248, 249, 253, 270,
293, 298, 299, 323-
Joshua, 238, 254.
Jove, 331.
Jowett, 304 n.
Juda, 298.
Judah, 200 n. , 208, 239 n. , 240, 248,
249.
Judaism, no.
Judea, 2, 68, 69, 174, 237, 238, 239,
240, 242, 245, 246, 247, 264, 293,
296 n., 299, 302 n., 321 n.
Judges (book of), 239 n., 248, 254.
Judgment, 327, 328.
Judith, 206, 272.
Julian law, 310.
Julien (Stanislas), 26 n.
Julius Caesar, 285 n.
Julius II., 153.
Juno, 102, 103, 117, 137 n., 169.
Jupiter, 86, 92, 101, 102, 103, 104,
109, 112, 115, 121, 123 n., 125,
126 n., 127, 140, 141, 142, 146,
147, 148, 154, 158, 162, 165, 166,
167, 168, 169, 170, 217, 231, 281,
284.
Jupiter-Bacchus, 167.
Jurist, 306, 308, 309, 310, 317.
Juvenal, 279 n., 316.

K.

Kadesha. 249 n.
Kadeshim, 298 n.
Kadeshuth, 298 n.
Kane, 320.

Index.

341

Keto, 246 n.
Kings (book of), 240 n., 241, 254.
Koenigsberg, 98 n.
Koran, 313 n.
Kore, 95 n.
Krasinski, 242 n.
Kreuzer, 98 n., 210 n., 214 n., 216 n.
Kuhn (Ad.), 19 n.

L.
Labbe, 311 n.
Labeon, 283, 306.
Lacedaemonians, 113.
Laconia, 113.
Lactantius, 315 n.
Laertes, 107, 108, in.
Laestrygones, 143 n.
Laferriere, 283 n.
Laksmana, 33.
Lamartine, 272 n.
Lamise, 200 n.
Langlois, 17, 19 n.
Lanka, 45, 46.
Laodicea, 311 n.
Larroque (P.), 297.
Latona, 101, 128, 129 n.
Law, 306, 308, 309, 315, 326, 331.
Law (Mosaic), 296, 302.
Layard, 199 n., 212 n.
Leah, 267.
Lebanon, 260 n., 264.
Leda, 234.
Lefevre, 260 n.
Leonidas, 226.
Lepsius, 190, 194 n.
Lerna (Hydra of), 150.
Lesbia, 273.
Lesbos, 174, 175.
Lesley, 239 n. , 243 n.
Leto, 129 n.
Letronne, 191 n.
Leucadia, 175 n.
Levi, 249.
Leviathan, 244.
Leviticus, 143 n., 240 n., 260 n., 295.
Libya, 179, 191, 198, 285.
Likaon, 87, no, 145 n.
Lima, 262.
Linus, 121.
Lobeck, 98 n., 213 n. , 215 n., 224a
Locrians, in.
Logos, 289, 296 n. , 302 n.
Loiseleur, 27 n.
Lolo (the songs of), 299.
Lot, 201, 202, 253, 266, 274 n.
Louis (Saint), 32 n., 271 n.

Louis XIV., 235, 271 n.
Louvre, 189, 218 n.
Love, 324, 325, 326, 332.
Love (cadet brother of), 214.
Love (Plato's mediator), 216.
Loxias, 162.
Luaios, 136.
Lucan, 283 n.
Lucian, 1 29 n.
Lucretius, 278.
Luke 'Saint), 297 n., 301 n., 325 n.
Luynes, 90 n.
Lyaeos, 219.
Lycoris, 274, 285.
Lycurgus, 113.
Lydia, 149, 162, 202, 210, 303.
Lyguria, 316.
Lysios, 219.
Lysippus, 225.
Lysistratus, 220 n.

M.
Macarius, 320.
Macchabees, 294, 302.
Macchiavellianism (Spartan), 114.
Macedonia, 155, 221, 222, 303.
Macedonians, 228.
Maecenas, 288.
Magdalene. 263, 267, 301, 312.
Magi (Chaldean), 206, 207 n., 208.
Magianism, 48.
Magians, 207, 209, 212, 231, 235,
236, 266, 287.
Mahabarata, 4, 7, 13, 28.
Maha Lakshmi, 85 n.
Mahmoud (the Gaznevide), 77, 78, 79,
80.
Malagamba (Miss), 272 n.
Manasseh, 298 n.
Mandakini, 33.
Mansi, 311 n.
Manu, 27, 28, 29, 295.
Marathon, 83, 122, 127, 141, 151,
152, 155, 156, 158, 161, 164.
Marculf, 286 n.
Marcus-Aurelius, 177, 282, 316.
Mardocheus, 242.
Marius, 143 n., 283, 315.
Mark (Saint), 294, 325 n.
Marozia, 275.
Mars, 116, 129 n., 143, 203, 287.
Mars (hill), 163 n.
Marsyas, 216.
Martha, 301 11., 302.
Martial, 273 n.
Mary of Magdala, 287, 301, 303.

342

Index.

Mary (the Virgin), 291, 292, 293, 294,
298, 299, 312 n.
Mary (wife of Cleophas), 301, 302.
Matthew (Saint), 307 n., 315 n., 325.
Maury (Alfred), 98 n., 99 n., 134 n.
Mayence, 311 n.
Medea, 19, 213, 223, 316.
Medes, 71.
Median wars, 136.
Mediterranean, 144, 317, 321 n.
Meister, 283 n.
Melkarth, 144 n.
Menard (Louis), 104 n., 112 n., 169
n. , 300 n.
Mendicants (order of), 325 n.
Menelaus, 124 n.
Menes, 144 n.
Menippes, 281.
Mercury, 94, 170.
Merlin, 241.
Mesopotamia, 239 n.
Messana, 133.
Messena, 114.
Messiah, 308.
Messiah (Polish), 297.
Messiah ^Russian), 297.
Messiahnism, 288, 2S9.
Messiahs, 299.
Messianic epidemic, 228.
Messianic foolishness, 234.
Metella, 286.
Michael Angelo, 153.
Mickiewicg, 242 n.
Middle Ages, 146, 193, 207 n., 213,
215, 269 n., 275, 299, 308, 313,
321, 322, 323, 325 n., 327, 329,
33°, 33 1-
Midianites, 246.
Miletus, 157, 162, 219 n.
Miltiades, 127, 161.
Mimallone, 220.
Mimosa, 195, 196 n.
Minerva, 101, 115, 121, 130, 141,
148, 154, 155, 164, 284.
Minotaur, 89, 117, 157, 214.
Mithraic ceremonies, 307 n., 317.
Mithraic doctrines, 302 n.
Mithraism, 318.
Mithras, 216, 236, 284, 286, 308,
317, 3'8.
Mithras-Venus, 212 n.
Mithridates, 317.
Mitra, 23.
Moab, 202 n.
Mohammed, 73, 77.
Mohammedan, 321 n.
Moira, 1 14, 145 n.
Molh, 74.

Molinos, 304.
Moloch, 83, 200, 203, 205, 212, 221,
247, 24S, 276.
Mongols, 55.
Monimus, 281.
Montesquieu, 56, 232.
Mordocai, 272.
Morocco, 321 11.
Mosaic Law, 306.
Moses, 238 11., 245, 250, 256, 271,
300.
Mother Earth, 321 n.
Movers, 204 n., 212 n., 2i4n., 224m,
238, 245.
Muller (Max), 22 n., 31 n., 102.
Muller (Ottfried), 165 n.
Munk, 239 n. , 300.
Munter, 23S.
Muses, 128.
Mussulmans, 72, 73, 74, 79, 80, 81,
169 n.
Mylitta, 200 n., 209, 210, 212 n.,
217 n., 236, 247 n.
Myrrh, 274 n.
Myrrha, 201, 202, 266.

N.
Nabi, 208.
Nabis, 317.
Nabuchodonosor, 208, 209.
Naplous, 240.
Narcissus, 306, 307.
Nausicaa, 108, 160.
Nautch-girls, 307.
Nazarene, 290.
Nearchus, 227.
Negroes, 198 n.
Nehemiah, 294.
Nemesis, 115, 145, 154, 155.
Nephthys, 189 n.
Neptune, 109, 115, 117, 123, 145,
160.
Nero, 218, 306, 307, 308, 309, 317.
Nessus, 150.
Nestor, 107.
Never, 328.
Newfoundland, 320.
Newton, 173.
Nialsaga, 107.
Nicolas (Michel), 48, 300 n.
Niebelungen, 140, 241.
Nile, 50, 68, 179, 180, 182, 183, 186,
187, 197 n., 198.
Nimrod, 144 n.
Nineveh, 70, 109, 201, 206.
Ninus, 206.

Index.

343

Nitocris, 209.
Noah, 266.
Noel (Eugenius), 320 n.
Nova, 95 n.
Novel (apparition of the) 270.
Nyktelian rites, 129 n.
Nyssa, 293.

O.
Oasis, 180.
Octavius, 279.
Odyssey, 100, 108, in, 115, 124, 139.
OLdipus, 107, 153, 157, 165, 167.
<Eta, 137, 151.
Oiorpata, 143 n.
Old Testament, 325.
Olympia, 96, 127, 133, 134, 141, 142.
Olympian, 156, 163 n., 174.
Olympias, 224, 225, 226, 227.
Olympus, 97, 100, 102, 103 n., 109,
123 n., 144, 148, 149, 150, 151,
158, 162.
Omphale (the queen), 149.
One Day, 328.
Oresteia, 153, 161.
Orestes, 129, 161, 162, 164, 165.
Origen, 202 n., 293.
Ormuzd, 57, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 66,
70, 75, 209, 247 n., 256.
Orpheus, 106, 137, 163, 216, 289.
Ortloff, 283.
Osiris, 90, 135, 151, 163 n., 184, 185,
186, 187, 188, 190, 196, 205, 235,
275.
Ostrogoths, 319.
Ouranos, 86.
Ovid, 105.

Pacific (islands of the), 143 n.
Palestine,. 135 n., 238 n., 239 n., 243,
246 n. , 247 n. , 300.
Palm-tree, 194.
Pallakies, 307.
Pallas, 85, 116, 127, 135, 158, 166,
177, 312.
Pallas-Athene, 103, 106, 109.
Pan, 134.
Panathensea, 123, 134.
Pandora, 120.
Pannychis, 1 29 n.
Pantheon, 284, 311.
Paphos, 129 n.
Papinianus, 316.
Paradise (the river of), 2.

Parcae, 115, 169, 255 n.
Paria, i.
Parian marble, 85.
Paris, 1 24 n.
Parnassus, 125, 126, 220.
Parsees, 6, 60, 72, 74, 79.
Parthenogenesis, 201.
Parthia, 317.
Parthians, 232.
Parysatis, 75, 202 n.
Passover, 259.
Pathemata, 214.
Patroclus, no, 124.
Paul (Saint), 97, 287, 296, 300, 302,
3°4, 3°5, 3°6, 3°7, 3", 3'3 n-»
325-
Paula, 286, 287.
Pausanias, 86, 126 n., 159, 221 n.
Pehlvi (book), 79.
Peisistratidaa, 124 n., 155, 169.
Pelasgi, 85, 87, 129 n., 166.
Pelasgians, 141.
Peleiades, 129 n.
Peloponnesus, 114, 133, 272.
Penelope, 107, 108 n.
Penestes, 112.
Peninnah, 75 n.
Pericles, 154, 157, 158, 159, 164, 168,
171.
Perizzites, 238 n.
Persephone, 86.
Persepolis, 71, 229.
Persia, 29, 48, 50, 52, 53/56, 57, 61,
62, 63, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72,
73, 74, 75, 77, 78, 80, 82, 133, 139,
151, 172, 195, 209, 212, 217 n.,
238, 239 n., 247 n., 256, 320,
321 n.,331.
Persians, 138, 162, 222, 229, 230,
231, 234.
Peter (Saint), 307.
Peyrat, 297 n.
Pharaohs, 183, 190, 197 n., 259.
Pharisees, 255, 295, 302.
Pheidias, 86, 90 11., 154, 155, 156,
158, 172, 174.
Phemius, 100.
Pherecydes, 216 n.
Phigalea, 86 n.
Philip, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227,
228.
Philistines, 239, 246.
Philo, 202 n., 289, 293, 300.
Philoctetes, 157.
Phocis, 134.
Phocians, m.
Phoebe, 287, 304, 305, 306, 307, 309,
310, 311.

344

Index.

Phcebus, 101, 117, 126, 128, 129 n.,
162.
Phoenicia, 88, 98 n., 129 n., 135, 173,
186, 199, 212 n., 216 n., 238, 245.
Phoenicians, 99, 239, 242 n., 252.
Phoenix, 121.
Pholus, 146.
Photius, 202 n.
Phra, 317.
Phrygia, 131, 134, 151, 172, 196 n.,
206, 2IO, 212, 220, 221, 223, 234,
284, 317.
Phrygian orgies, 223.
Phyrrus, 283.
Pindar, 127, 130, 141, 160.
Pisistratus, 159.
Pithom, 243 n.
Platea, 83, 127, 151, 159.
Plato, 66 n., 118, 121 n., 125, 129 n.,
172, 173, '75, '92 "•, 2H n-, 216,
217 n. , 300 11.
Plutarch, 105, 116, 189 11., 195 n.,
229 n. , 232, 236 n., 279 n.
Pluto, 91, 92, 94, 99, 109, 122, 147,
148, 216, 220, 275.
Poland, 278 n.
Polias (Minerva), 154.
Polonius, 329.
Polyaen, 223 n.
Poly crates, 155.
Polykleitus, 168, 217.
Polyphemus, 143 n.
Pompey, 305, 317.
Pontus, 302 n.
Pontus Euxinus, 317.
Poseidon, 86 n.
Postel, 294.
Praetor, 283, 303, 306.
Predestination, 325.
Preller, 317.
Priapus, 213, 214.
Priapic orgies, 288.
Primitive Gospel, 322.
Procla, 273 n.
Procurators, 303, 306.
Prometheus, 82,98, 101, 103 n., 109,
"5, 152, 153, 154, 165, 166, 167,
168, 169, 170, 171, 177, 281, 300.
Propertius, 273, 274 n.
Proserpina, 86, 87, 89, 90, 94, 95, 99,
132, 133, 144, 148, 176, 215, 288.
Pro-sileni, 85.
Protagoras, 158.
Proteus, 214.
Proverbs (book of), 267, 268 n., 269,
303, 308 n., 324 n.
Psalms (book of), 243.
Psalmist, 323.

Ptolemaeus, 232, 294.
Ptolemies, 190.
Ptolemy, 175 n.
Punic wars, 276.
Pyramids, 191, 243.
Pyrenees, 143.
Pyrrho, 227, 234.
Pythagoras, 216, 289.
Pythias, 88 n.
Python, 126, 134, 138.

Q.
QUATREMERE, 1 26 n.
Quinet (Edgar), 58, 61, 71, 169 n.,
284 n.

R.
Rabbis, 258, 289, 295, 296, 301.
Rachel, 75, 202 n., 267.
Racine, 262 n.
Rajas, 30, 36.
RSma, 33, 34, 35> 36> 39, 4°, 4', 42,
44, 45, 46, 265, 320.
Rama Parasu, 29, 30.
Ramayana, v, I, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 11,38,
39, 42, 44, 45, 46, H°, 241, 295.
Rameses, 191, 243.
Raphael, 246 n.
Raphaim, 246 n.
Ravaisson, 280.
Ravana, 41, 45, 46, 92.
Rawlinson, 199 n., 260 n.
Reason, 302, 310, 331.
Rebecca, 242, 260 n.
Rectitude, 332.
Red Sea, 144 n.
Religions, 39.
Renan (Ernest), 20 n., 98 n., 293,
296 n. , 297.
Rennell, 206, 214 n.
Reville, 317 n.
Revolution, 328.
Reynaud (Jean), 60.
Rhea, 94 n. , 135 n.
Rhine, 310, 315.
Rig-Veda, 7, n, 15, 16, 17, 21 n.,
24 n., 25, 30, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37.
Right, 331.
Rishis, 34, 42, 53.
Roland, 70 n. , 241.
Roily, 214 n.
Roman Lady, 286.
Romans, 303, 315.
Roma-Sa, 18

Index.

345

Rome, 57, 70 n., 84, go n., 103,
143 n., 274, 275, 276, 278, 279,
280, 283, 284, 285, 286, 295, 306,
307, 308, 317, 331.
Romish Mythology, 317 n.
Ronchaud (de), 156 n.
Rosen, 7, 17.
Rossellini, 190.
Roumania, 317.
Rousseau, 116, 330.
Roxbury, 19 n.
Ruinart, 315 n.
Russell (H), 9.
Russia, 90 n., 255 n.
Rustam, 74.
Ruth, 202 n., 253, 270, 271.
S.
Sabaoth, 212.
Sabazius, 163, 218, 223, 224, 227,
231.
Sacy, 7, 269 n.
Sagas, 80.
Saint Galb, 254.
Saint Hilaire, 13, 118 n., 135 n.,
136 n.
Saint Pierre (Bemardin de), 9.
Sakuntala, 35.
Salambo, 203, 204.
Salamis, 71, 83, 117, 151, 152, 155,
159, 162, 163 n., 164.
Salome, 310 n.
Samalkis, 203.
Samaria, 240.
Samothracea, 87.
Samothracians, 135 n.
Samuel, 75 n.
Samson, 246.
Sanskrit, 52.
Sappho, 175, 176.
Sarah, 202 n., 263, 267.
Sarai, 75 n.
Sassanides, 71, 72.
Satan, 59, 243 n., 303, 329.
Satou, 196 n., 197 n.
Saturn, 107.
Satyrs, 219.
Saul, 241 n.
Savaresi, 260 n.
Savary, 260 n.
Scandinavia, 107.
Schoolmen, 191, 257.
Schwartz, 69 n.
Science, 331.
Scipio, 238.
Scribes, 257, 295 n.

Scythia, 144 n.
Seidon, 199, 239, 240.
Seine, 315.
Selden, 238.
Seleni, 85 n.
Semele, 104, 174, 224.
Semiramis, 201, 206, 207, 209, 235.
Seneca, 2S6, 308.
Septuagint, 256.
Serapis, 275, 286, 317.
Servia, 123 n.
Sesostris, 235, 243, 270.
Sestus Empiricus, 202 n.
Seven Sages, 222.
Shah Nameh, vii, 35, 55, 72, 74, 79,
139 n., 241.
Shakespeare, 161, 176, 329.
Sheba, 269 n.
Sheik, 244 n.
Shulamite, 259, 260, 265.
Siberia, 330.
Sibyl, 120, 288, 311.
Sicily, 87, 90, 91, 98 n., 115, 143 n.,
171, 175 n., 217 n., 220, 221, 222.
Siegfried, 140.
Silenus, 2ig.
Simon the Pharisee, 301 n.
Simon the Leper, 301 n.
Sinai, I7g, 198 n.
Sirens, 143 n., 200 n.
Sistine Chapel, 153.
SitS, 33, 34, 35, 36, 40, 41, 44, 46,
92, 265.
Siva, 185.
Slavery, 313 n.
Smyrna, 129 n.
Socrates, 99, 116, 158, 215 n., 216,
217, 234, 252, 280, 281, 306.
Sogdiana, 16.
Solomon, 202, 239, 259 n., 261, 267,
268, 269, 303, 308 n., 324 n.
Solon, 75 n., 112, 280.
Soma, 19, 21, 22, 23, 52, 213.
Song of Songs (the), 203, 259, 260,
261, 267, 268, 269, 274 n., 292.
Sons of the Star, 290.
Sophia, 296 n., 302 n.
Sophistes, 164, 171, 172.
Sophocles, 122, 153, 154, 155, 156,
157, 158, 160, 161, 166 n., 171,
172, 173.
Soteira, 87.
Spain, 316.
Sparta, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117, 118,
"9, '33, 136, Hi, '59-
Sphinx, 101, 153, 172, 180.
Spiegel, 66 n.
Spielberg, 330.

346

Index.

Steevenson, ig n.
Steinthall, 125 n.
Stephen (Saint), 302.
Sterne, 271 n.
Stoa, 281.
Stoic, 105, 154, 170, 281, 285, 295,
30S, 309.
Stoicism, 282.
Strabo, 200 n., 202 n., 232, 240.
Strasbourg, 207 n.
Strauss, 98 n. , 293.
Stromata, 310 n.
Sudras, 32.
Suez, 1 98, 243 n.
Sultans, 190.
Surya, 62.
Susa, 272.
Susiana, 69 n.
Sylla, 275, 283.
Syracuse, 159, 212.
Syria, 69 n., 135 n., 151, 172, 182,
186, 196, 198, 199, 200 n., 203,
204, 205,212, 213, 214, 220, 234,
238, 239 u., 240, 257, 259, 260,
261, 268, 269, 273, 274, 285, 290,
303, 317-
Syrian orgies, 223.
Syrian women, 199, 201, 203, 205,
214, 267, 269, 272, 273.
T.
Tacitus, 117, 315, 316.
Taenarus, 148.
Talmud, 236 n. , 295 n.
Talmudists, 214 n.
Tamar, 200 n., 249.
Tantalus, 88.
Tarsus, 302.
Tartar races, 144 n.
Tartarus, 148.
Tauris, 142.
Taurobolia, 307.
Taygetus, 136, 272.
Tchinevat, 65.
Tchitrakouta, 33.
Telemachus, 107, 108 n.
Tempe, 139, 147.
Teneriffe, 196 n.
Terebinth, 240.
Terra-mater, 84, 85, 145.
Tertullian, 312 n., 314, 315 n.
Teutomaniacs, 315.
Thammuz-Adonis, 135.
Thargelia, 157.
Thebans, 228.
Thebes, 87, 109, 143 n., 191, 221,
230.

Thekla, 302, 304.
Themis, 87, 101, 167, 231, 281, 331.
Themistocles, 117, 127, 154, 155,
162, 225.
Theocritus, 268.
Theognis, 115.
Theophrastus, 227.
Theopompus, 113 n.
Theoxemies, 134 n.
Thermopile, 87, 125, 132.
Theseus, 101, 117, 141, 161, 177.
Thesmophoria, 75 n., 95, 174 m, 215.
Thessalonians, 112.
Thessaly, 125, 128, 137, 139, 141,
147, 221, 222, 223.
Thomas (Saint), 292, 329.
Thoth, 192, 193.
Thrace, 142, 172, 221, 223.
Thracia, 213 n., 220, 221, 222.
Thrasea, 279.
Thucydides, 116, 155, 174.
Thyades, 136, 220.
Tiberius, 275, 308, 315.
Tibullus, 273, 274 n.
Tilly, 283.
Titan, 86, 165, 166, 167, 168, 170.
Titans, 100, 102, 218.
Tithonous, m.
Tityrus, 242 n.
Tobias, 242, 267.
Tobit (book of), 263, 270.
Tournier, 115 n., 145 n.
Trajan, 317.
Transylvania, 317.
Triptolemus, 95, 101, 160.
Troy, 106, 107, 128, 141, 230, 275.
Truce (the god of), 133.
Tubal-cain, 242.
Tullia, 274.
Tunis, 321 n.
Turan, 55, 68.
Turkomans, 72.
Typhon, 186, 188, 189 n., 190, 245.
Tyre, 199 n., 238, 239, 240.
Tyro, 285. U.
Ulloa, 262.
Ulpian, 316.
Ulysses, 46, 107, 108, in, 115, 124,
127, 139, 225, 230.
United States of America, 255 n.

Vacherot, 280 n.
Valmiki, ii, 38.

Index.

347

Vannozza, 275.
VSrouna, 23.
Vedas, v, 7, 26, 27, 28, 31, 36, 45,
46, 54, 62, 82, 87, 101, 107, 213,
231-
Veins, 320.
Venus, 165, 200, 216 n., 233.
Venus- Aphrodite, 129 n.
Venus-Ashtoreth, 135 n.
Venus-Astarte, 173.
Venus-Ery-cina, 307.
Venus-Euploaa, 200 n.
Venus of Babel, 207, 209.
Venus- Urania, 95 n., 298 n.
Verres, 277.
Vesta, 87.
Vestal, 311.
Vesya, 32.
Vico, 270.
Victory (the statue of), 318.
Vicvamitra, 31, 36, 53.
Vincent de Paul, 326 n.
Vincent of Beauvais, 300 n.
Virgil, 242 n., 268, 274, 276 n., 278,
285, 288.
Virgin Mary, 301.
Visconti, 175 n.
Vishnu, 4, 14, 29, 30, 34.
Visigoths, 3ig.
Vivien de St. Martin, 25 n.
Volney, 7.
Volumnia, 274.
Vulcan, 101, 102, log, 166, 168.
Vulture, 184. W.
Wallenstein, 283.
Wallon, 313 n.

Walter Scott, 116.
Wette (De), 271, 272.
Winckelman, 156.
Wisdom, 289, 310, 311.
Wisdom (book of), 270.
Word (the), 256, 321.

X.
Xanthus, 202 n..
Xenophon, 107, 108 n., 112, 116, 118,
121 n., 123 n., 125, 227, 229, 234.
Xerxes, 152, 183.

Y.

Yaqna, 61.
Yadoo, 239 n.
Yama, 63.
Yazatas, 58.
Yima, 75.

Z.

Zacharias, 298.
Zagreus, 163, 172, 215.
Zechariah, 135 n.
Zend, 52.
Zeno, 157, 232, 281, 282, 306, 309.
Zeus, 82, 86, 88 n., 91, 102, 103, 104,
129 n., 165, 166 n., 168, 216.
Zeus-Sabazius, 225.
Zoroaster, 23, 60, 61, 75, 78, 80.
Zoroastrian, 73, 239 n.
Zohah, 68.

IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS

PUBLISHED and for sale by

J. W. BOUTON, 706 Broadway.

Uniform in Style with Lubke's and Mrs. Jameson's Art Wdrks.
MONUMENTAL CHRISTIANITY;
Or, the Art and Symbolism of the Primitive Church, as
Witnesses and Teachers of the one Catholic Faith and
Practice. By John P. LUNDY, Presbyter. 1 vol. demy
4to. Beautifully printed on superior paper, with over 200
illustrations throughout the text, and numerous large
folding plates. Cloth, gilt top, $7.50. Half morocco extra
gilt top, $10.00. Full morocco extra, or tree calf, $15.00.
ANCIENT ART AND MYTHOLOGY.
The Symbolical Language of Ancient Art and Mythology.
By Richard Payne Knight, author of the " Worship of
Priapus." Edited, with Intoduction, additional Notes, Glos-
say, etc., etc., by Alexander Wilder, M.D. 8vo, cloth,
$3.00. NEW VOLUME OF DR. INMAN'S GREAT WORK.
ANCIENT FAITHS AND MODERN.
A Dissertation upon Worships, Legends, and Devotions,
in Central and Western Asia, Europe, and Elsewhere,
before the Christian Era. Showing their relations to
Religious Customs as they now exist. By THOMAS INMAN,
M. D., author of "Ancient. Faiths and Modern," etc.
1 vol., 8vo, cloth, $5.00.
ANCIENT PAGAN AND MODERN CHRISTIAN SYM
BOLISM. By THOMAS Inman, M.D. Second Edition, Revised
and Enlarged, with an Essay on Baal Worship, on the
Assyrian Sacred "Grove," and other allied Symbols.
Profusely illustrated. 8vo, cloth, $3.00.

NEW EDITION OF HIGGINS' GREAT WORK.
THE ANACALYPSIS.
An attempt to draw aside the Veil of the Sai'tic Isis, or an
Inquiry into the Origin of Languages, Nations, and Relig
ions. By Godfrey Higgins, Esq. Illustrated. To be
completed in 4 vols. 8vo, vol. 1., nearly ready.
The extreme rarity, and consequent high price of the "Anacalypsis" has
hitherto placed it beyond the reach of many scholars and students. The new edition
will be issued in a much more convenient form, and will be sold at less than ons
fourth of the price of the original.
FU-SANG ;
Or, the Discovery of America by Chinese Buddhist Priests
in the Fifth Century. Containing a Translation of Profes
sor Carl Neumann's work on the subject, made under
supervision of the Author; a letter by Colonel Barclay
Kennon, late of the U. S. North Coast Pacific Survey, on
the Possibility of an Easy Passage from China to Califor
nia ; and a R£sum6 of the Arguments of De Guigues,
Klaproth, Gustave D'Eichthal, and Dr. Bretschneider on,
the Narrative of Hoei-Shin, with other Contributions and
Comments, by Charles G. Leland. i vol. i2mo, cloth,
$1.75.
ANTIQUITIES OF LONG ISLAND.
By Gabriel Furman. With a Bibliography by Henry
Onderdonk, Jr. To which is added Notes, Geographical
and Historical, relating to the town of Brooklyn, in Kings
County, on Long Island. 1 vol. large i2mo, cloth, $3.00.
THE STORY OF THE STICK
In all Ages and all Lands. A Philosophical History and
Lively Chronicle of the Stick as the Friend and the Foe
of Man. Its Uses and Abuses. As Sceptre and as Crook.
As the Warrior's Weapon and the Wizard's Wand. As
Stay, as Stimulus, and as Scourge. Translated and adapt
ed from the French of Anthony Real (Fernand Michel).
I vol., square i6mo, extra cloth, $1.50.
EXAMPLES OF MODERN ETCHING.
With notes by Philip Gilbert Hamerton. Illustrated
with twenty Etchings by Fourier, Bodmer, Bracquemond,
Flameng, Seymour Hayden, Hamerton, Lalane, Legros,
Rajon, Veyrasset, Laguellermie, Haseltine, Feyon-Perrin,
Lucas, Chattick, etc. 1 vol., small folio, extra cloth, gilt
edges, $10.00.

THE ELEUSINIAN AND BACCHIC MYSTERIES.
A Dissertation, by THOMAS TAYLOR, Translator of
"Plato," "Plotinus," "Porphyry," " Iamblichus," " Pro-
clus," " Aristotle," &c., &c. Third edition. Edited, with
Introduction, Notes, Emendations, and Glossary, by
Alexander Wilder, M.D. i vol. 8vo, cloth, $3.00.
" As there is nothing more celebrated than the Mysteries of the ancients, so
there is perhaps nothing which has hitherto been less solidly known. Of the truth
of this observation, the liberal reader will, I persuade myself, be fully convinced,
from an attentive perusal of the following sheets ; in which the secret meaning of
the Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries is unfolded, from authority the most respect
able, and from a philosophy of all others the most venerable and august. The
authority, indeed, is principally derived from manuscript writings, which are of
course in the possession of but a few ; but its respectability is no more lessened by
its concealment, than the value of a diamond when secluded from the light. And
as to the philosophy, by whose assistance these Mysteries are developed, it is coeval
with the universe itself ; and however its continuity may be broken by opposing
systems, it will make its appearance at different periods of time, as long as the sun
himself shall continue to illuminate the world. It has, indeed, and may hereafter,
be vielently assaulted by delusive opinions ; but the opposition will be just as im
becile as that of the waves of the sea against a temple built on a rock, which ma
jestically pours them back.
" 'Broken and vanquished foaming to the main.' "
Thomas Taylor's Preface to the original edition.
NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION.
ANCIENT SYMBOL WORSHIP.
Influence of the Phallic Idea in the Religions of Antiquity.
By Hodder M. Westropp and C. Staniland Wake.
With an Introduction, Additional Notes, and Appendix,
by Alexander Wilder, M.D. New Edition, with Eleven
Full-Page Illustrations. 1 volume 8vo, cloth, $3.00.
The favor with which this treatise has been received has induced the publisher
to bring out a new edition. It makes a valuable addition to our knowledge, en
abling us to acquire a more accurate preception of the ancient-world religions. We
may now understand Phallism, not as a subject of ribaldry and leering pruriency,
but as a matter of veneration and respect. The Biblical student, desirous to under
stand the nature and character of the idolatry of the Israelites during the Common
wealth and Monarchy, the missionary to heathen lands fitting for his work, and the
classic scholar endeavoring to comprehend the ideas and principles which underlie
Mythology, will find their curiosity gratified ; and Ihey will be enabled at the same
time to preceive how not only many of our modern systems of religion, but our arts
¦and architecture, are to be traced to the same archaic source. The books examined
and quoted by the authors constitute a library by themselves, and their writers are
among the ripest scholars of their time. Science is rending asunder the veil that
conceals the adytum of every temple, and revealing to men the sanctities revered
so confidingly during the world's childhood. With these disclosures, there may be
¦somewhat of the awe removed with which we have regarded the symbols, mysteries,
*nd usage* of that period ; but the true mind will not be vulgarized by the spectacle.

IRELAND'S SHAKSPEARE FORGERIES.
The Confessions of William Henry Ireland, containing the
Particulars of his Fabrication of the Shakspeare Manu
scripts ; together with Anecdotes and Opinions of many
Distinguished Persons in the Literary, Political, and The
atrical World. A new edition, with additional Facsimiles,
and an Introduction by Richard Grant White, i vol
ume i2mo, vellum cloth, uncut edges, $2.00 ; or on Large
and Thick paper, 8vo, $3.50. Edition limited to 300 copies.
ORIGINAL LISTS OF PERSONS OF QUALITY.
Emigrants ; Religious Exiles ; Political Rebels ; Serving-
men Sold for a Term of Years ; Apprentices ; Children
Stolen ; Maidens Pressed ; and others who went from
Great Britain to the American Plantations, 1600-1700.
With their Ages, the Localities where they formerly Lived
in the Mother Country, Names of the Ships in which they
embarked, and other interesting particulars. From MSS.
preserved in the State Paper Department of Her Majesty's
Public Record Office, England. Edited by JOHN CAMDEN
Hotten. A very handsome volume, crown 4to, 700
pages, elegantly bound in half roxburgh morocco, gilt top,
$10.00. A few Large Paper copies have been printed, small folio,
$17.50.
THE LOST BEAUTIES OF THE ENGLISH LAN
GUAGE.
An Appeal to Authors, Poets, Clergymen, and Public
Speakers. ByCHAS. MACKAY, LL.D. i vol. i2mo, cloth
extra, $1.75.
This is a perfect treasure of " Lost Beauties." Words change as well as men
sometimes from no longer meeting the new wants of the people, but oftener from the
attraction of novelty which impels everybody to change. A dictionary of obsolete
words, and terms becoming obsolete, is a valuable reminder of the treasures which
we are parting with ; not always wisely, for in them are comprised a wealth of ex
pression, idiom, and even history, which the new words cannot acquire. Dr.
Mackay has placed a host of such on record, with quotations to illustrate how they
were read by the classical writers of the English language, not many centuries ago,
and enables us to read those authors more understandingly. If he could induce us
to recall some of them back to life, it would be a great boon to literature ; but hard
as it might have been for Caesar to add a new word to his native Latin language, it
would have been infinitely more difficult to resuscitate an obsolete one, however
more expressive and desirable. Many of the terms embalmed in this treatise are
not dead as yet ; and others of them belong to that prolific department of our
spoken language that does not get into dictionaries. But we all need to know
them ; and they really are more homogeneous to our people than their successors,
the stilted foreign-born and alien English, that " the Best is laboring to naturalize
into our language. The old words, like old shoes and well-worn apparel, sit most
comfortably.

RARE AND VALUABLE BOOKS
ON
ANCIENT RELIGIONS, TREE, SERPENT,
AND PHALLIC WORSHIP, DRUIDISM,
MYSTERIES OF THE CABIRI, ROS-
ICRUCIANS, AND OTHER SE
CRET AND SACERDOTAL
ORDERS, PARSEE AND
PAGAN SACRED
BOOKS, Etc.
For Sale by
J. W. BOUTON, 706 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.

TREE AND SERPENT WORSHIP;
OR, ILLUSTRATIONS OF MYTHOLOGY AND ART IN INDIA,
in the First and Fourth Centuries after Christ. From the Sculptures of the
Buddhist Topes at Sanchi and Amravati, prepared under the Authority of the
Secretary of State for India. With Introductory Essays and Descriptions of
the Plates, by James Ferguson, Esq., F.R.S., etc., author of " History of
Architecture," etc. Illustrated with 99 Full-page Photographic and Litho
graphic Plates, and numerous Woodcuts throughout the Text. One thick
royal 4to volume, beautifully printed on heavy paper, and substantially bound
in half morocco, gilt top. $40.00. London, Printed for the India Office, 1873.
" There are few things which at first sight appear to us at the present day so strange,, or less
•easy to account for, than that worship which was once so generally offered to the Serpent-God.
If not the oldest, it ranks at least among the earliest forms through which the human intellect
sought to propitiate the unknown powers,
"In so far as such glimmerings as we possess enable us to guess the locality of its origin, I
would feel inclined to say that it came from the mud ofthe Lower Euphrates, among a people
of Turanian origin, and spread thence as irom a centre to every country or land of the Old
World in which a Turanian people settled. Apparently no Semitic, or no people of Aryan
race, ever adopted it as foim of faith. It is true, we find it in Judea, but almost certainly it
was there an outcrop from the older underlying strata of the population. We find it also in
Greece and in Scandinavia, among people whom we know principally as Aryan, but t there,
too, it is like the tares of a previous crop springing up among the stems of a badly cultivated
field of wheat. The essence of Serpent- worship is as diametrically opposed to the spirit of
the Veda, or of the Bible, as is possible to conceive two faiths to be ; and, with varying degrees
of dilution, the spirit of these two works pervades in a greater or less extent all the forms of
the religions of tne Aryan or Semitic races. On the other hand, any form of Animal worship
'is perfectly consistent with the lower intellectual status of the Turanian races ; and all history
teRs us that it is among them, and essentially among them only, that Serpent-Worship is really
found to prevail." — Extract from Introduction.
FABER'S ORIGIN OF PAGAN IDOLATRY,
Ascertained from Historical Testimony and Circumstantial Evidence. Map
and plates. 3 vols, 4to, half calf, neat. $50.00. Very Scarce. London, 1816.
This important, and now scarce work, represents all the Religious Systems of Antiquity.

Rare and Valuable Books,
ANCIENT FAITHS
EMBODIED IN ANCIENT NAMES ; or, An Attempt to trace the Reli
gious Belief, Sacred Rites, and Holy Emblems of certain Nations, by an In-
teipretatiou of the Names given to Children by Priestly Authority, or assumed
by Prophets, Kings, and Hierarchs. By Thomas Inman, M.D. 2 thick
volumes, upward of 1,000 pp. each. Profusely illustrated with Engravings
on Wood. $20.00. London, Printed for the Author^ 1868-70.
Only 500 copies printed.
'l Dr. Inman's present at'empt to trace the religious belief, sacred rites, and holy emblems of
certain nations, has opened up to him many hitherto unexplored fields of research, or, at least,
fields that have not been over-cultivated, and the result is a most curious and miscellaneous
harvest of facts. The ideas on priapism developed in a former volume receive further exten
sion in this Dr. Inman. as will be seen, does not fear to touch subjects usually considered
sacred, in an independent manner, and some of the results at which he has arrived are such
as will undoubtedly startle, if not shock, the orthodox. Hut this is what the author expects,
and for this he has thoroughly prepared himself. In illustration of his peculiar views, he has
ransacked a vast variety of historical storehouses, and with great trouble and at considerable
cost he places the conclusions at which he has arrived before the world. With the arguments
employed the majority of readers will, we expect, disagree ; even when the facts adduced
will remain undisputed. Ihcir application is frequently inconsequent. In showing the absurdity
of a narrative or an event in which he disbelieves, the Doctor is powerful • but when he him
self ventures upon a chain of arguments or propounds doctrines, positive or negative, he
M<5iially appears to disadvantage No expense h^s been spared on the volume, which, like the
previous one, i« -.yell and fullv illustrated, and contains a good index." — Bookseller.
A most Important Contribution to Archaeological Science,
A DISCOURSE ON THE WORSHIP OF PRIAPUS,
and its connecection with the Mystic Theology ofthe Ancients. By Richard
Payne Knight, Esq. A New Edition. To which is added AN ESSAY
ON THE WORSHIP OF THE GENERATIVE POWERS DURING
THE MIDDLE AGES OF WESTERN EUROPE. Illustrated with 138
1- ngravings (many of which are full-page), from Ancient Gems, Coins, Medals,
Bronzes, Sculpture. Egyptian Figures, Ornaments, Monuments, etc. Printed,
nn heavy paper, at the Chiswick Press. 1 vol. 4to. half Roxburghe morocco,
gilt top. $35.00. London, privately printed, 1871,.
*' This is a very extraordinary volume upon a subject that is now attracting the almost uni
versal attention of the learned and curious in Europe.
" Ever i"ce the revival of learning, strange objects have from time to time been discovered
— objects which, although they mav amaze or anvse the weak-minded, have induced earnest
stuiiert1* to inquire into their origin and true meaning. Various matters and discoveries
rissKt'^d in rlea-ing up the mystery ; the emblems and symbols gradually explained their full
meaning, a"d the outlines of an extraordinary creed unfolded itself. It was the DIV1NITE
it'. N'KRATRlC!-1 — the worship or adoration of the God PRIAPUS — the ancient symbol of
federation and fertility. 'I he Rou^d Towers in Ireland ; similar buildings in India ; the May-
pol- in Knir'and. and even 'he tfitres rfoi/r churches * are itoiu sh"wi to be nothing' more nor
le s thnn xistinr symbols "f :his pagxn and strarge -worship. Almost all the great relics of
antiquity bear traces of this impious adoration— the rock caves of Elephanta, near Bombay,
the e.irth and stone mounds of Europe. A^ia, and America the Druidical piles and the remains
of the so-called Fire-worshippers in '"very pait of the world. Even existing popular customs
ard beliefs are full of remnants of this extravagant devotion.
'• R. P Knight, the writer ofthe fir t l hssa*.-, was a Fellow ofthe Royal Societv, a Member
of the ' ntish Parliament, and one of the most learned antiquaries of his time. His Museum
of I'l'.pllic objects is now most careful] v preserved in the London British Musuem. The
secon-l • Efsav.' bringing our knovvledae of the worship of Priapus down to the present time,
so as to include the more recent discoveries throwing any light upon the matter, is said_ to>
be hy one of the most distinguished English antiquaries — the author of numerous works which
are held in high esteem. He was assisted, it is understood, by two prominent Fellows of the-
Royal Society, one of whom has recently presented a wonderful collection of Phallic objects
to the British Museum authorities,"

Rare and Valuable Books.
THE ROSICRUCIANS:
THEIR RITES AND MYSTERIES. With Chapters on th Ancient Fire-
and Serpent-Worshippers, and Explanations of the Mystic symbols repre
sented in the Monuments and Talismans of the primeval Philosophers. By
Hargrave Jennings. Crown 8vo, 316 wood-engravings. $3.00. London, 1870.
A volume of startling facts and opinions upon this very mysterious subject.
HIGGINS'S ANACALYPSIS:
An attempt to draw aside the veil of the Sai'tic Isis, or an Inquiry into the
Origin of Languages, Nations, and Religions. 3 vols, in 1. 4to, morocco, gilt.
Plates. Very scarce. $75.00. London, 1833-36.
On page vii. of the Preface this passage occurs : il I have printed only 200 copies of this
work ; of these 200 only a few got at hrst into circulation. The tendency of the work is to
overturn all the established systems of religion, to destroy received notions upon subjects
generally considered sacred, and to substitute a simple unsacerdotal worship. Names hitkerto
looked upon with veneration by the world are stripped of their honors, and others are lifted
from opprobrium to a position of reverence."
HIGGINS'S CELTIC DRUIDS:
An attempt to show that the Druids were the Priests of Oriental Colonies, who
emigrated from India. 45 fine plates of Druidical Remains, on India Paper,
and numerous vignettes. 4to, half calf. $22.50. London, 1829.
BHAGVAT GEETA;
or, Dialogues of Kreeshna and Arjoon ; in 18 Lectures, with Notes,
translated from the Original Sanskreet by Charles Wilkins. 8vo, hand
somely printed on fine paper. $3 . 00 London, 1785, reprinted New York, 1867.
Only 161 copies.
Contains curious details of the Manners, Customs, Mythology, Worship, &c, of the
Hindoos. The princiDal design of these dialogues seems to have been to unite all the prevailing modes
of worship of those days ; the Brahmins esteem it to contain all the grand mysteries ot their
religion, and have exercised particular care to conceal it from the knowledge of those of a
different persuasion.
AVESTA: THE RELIGIOUS BOOKS OF THE PAR-
SEES.
From Professor Spiegel's German Translation of the Original Manuscripts,
by A. H. Bleeck. 3v0ls.ini. 8vo, cloth. $7.50 London, 1864.
English scholars, who wish to become acquainted with the " Bible of the Parsees," now for
the first time published in English, should secure this work.
To thinkers the " Avesta " will be a most valuable work ; they will now have an opportunity
to compare its Truths with those of the Bible the Koran, and the Vkes.
COLEMAN'S MYTHOLOGY OF THE HINDUS,
with Notices of various Mountain and Island Tribes inhabiting the two Pen
insulas of India. Numerous engravings of Hindoo Deities. 4to, half calf, neat.
Scarce. $11.00. London, 1832.
The Appendix in this valuable work comprises the Minor Avatars and the-terms used in the
Worship and Ceremonies of the Hindus.

Rare and Valuable Books.
A SUPPLEMENT TO PAYNE KNIGHT'S "WORSHIP OF PRIAPUS."

APHRODISIACS AND ANTI-APHRODISIACS.
Three Essays on the Powers of Reproduction ; with some account of the Judi
cial "Congress" as practiced in France during the Seventeenth Century. By
John Davenport. With eight full-page illustrations.
Printed on toned paper, and only One Hundred Copies for private distribution,
Small 4to, half morocco, gilt top. $12.00. London, 1870.
Before the Aryan and the Semitic races had made a record in history, aboriginal peoples
occupied India, Arabia, and the countries of the Mediterranean. They were not barbarous,
for their monumental remains show that their knowledge of architecture, the mechanic arts,
and astronomy, has not been exceeded in subsequent time. Their civilization, however, was
peculiar ; for the religious comprehended the political system, and worship made science and
art its ministers Unconscious of harm or immodesty, they adored the Supreme Being as the
Essential Principle of Life ; and expressed their veneration by symbols which, in their simple
apprehension, best expressed the Divine Functions. The Sun, possessing and diffusing the
triune potencies of Heat. Light, and Actinism, was a universal emblem of God • as was the
Hull, the zodiacal sign which indicated the vernal equinox and the resuscitation of Time. With
equal aptness and propriety the human organs of sex, as representing Divine Love and the
Perpetuation of Animated Existence, were also adopted as symbols of the Deity, and models
of them employed at all religious festivals.
Those symbols were adopted by the Aryan conquerors of India, and incorporated into the
Brahmin worship ; and we find remains of the pre-historical religion in modern creeds, super
stitions, and architecture. The Monumental Shaft, the Cross, the Church-Spire, appear to
have been derived from the archiac worship just noted, and mean alike the virile symbol and
the life everlasting.
Mr. Davenport has given these matters a due explanation, and his work is a rare as well as
a valuable contribution to literature. Mr. Davenport 's New Work.
CURIOSITATES EROTICA PHYSIOLOGIA;
or, Tabooed Subjects Truly Treated. In six Essays. Viz. — I. Generation ; 2,
Chastity and Modesty ; 3. Marriage ; 4. Circumcision ; 5. Eunuchism ; 6. Herma-
phrodism ; and followed by a closing Essay on Death. By John Davenport.
I vol. 4to, half morocco, gilt top. $12.00. London, Privately printed, 1875.
THE DABISTAN, OR SCHOOL OF MANNERS.
Translated from the Original Persian, with Notes and Illustrations by David
Shea and Anthony Trover. 3 vols. 8vo, new cloth. $7.50.
Oriental Society, London, 1843.
An interesting account of the Religions of the world, written Dy an unknown writer, of the
greatest interest to Oriental scholars and comparative mythologists.
WILKINSON'S ANCIENT EGYPTIANS,
The Manners and Customs of. Both Series, with numerous engravings,
many of which are colored. 6 vols. 8vo, tree calf extra, gilt top, edges uncut,
scarce. $90.00 London, 1837-41.
A Beautiful Copy. Best Edition.
ZEND-AVESTA,
Ouvrage de Zoroastre, con ten ant ses idees theologiques, physiques, et morales,
le culte religieux qu'il a etabli, et plusieurs traites Sur l'ancienne histoire des
Perses ; traduit en Francais, avec des remarques, &c, par Anquetil du Per
ron. 2 vols, in 3, 4to, plates, old French calf gilt. $35.00. Paris, 1771.

Rare and Valuable Books.
BRYANT'S SYSTEM OF ANTIENT MYTHOLOGY.
3d Edition; with Life ofthe Author, Index, &c. Porhait and Plates. 6 vols.
8vo, cf. gilt. $15.00. London, 1807.
DAVIES' MYTHOLOGY AND RITES OF THE BRIT
ISH DRUIDS,
Ascertained by National Documents, with Appendix, &c, &c. Royal 8vo,
half calf. $6.00. London, 1809.
r
" Davier. of Olverton. whose Celtic Researches and Mythology of the Druids are full of that
curious information which is preserved nowhere but in Welsh remains." — Southey.
FABER'S DISSERTATION ON THE MYSTERIES OF
THE CABIRI;
Or, The great Gods of Phoenicia, Egypt, Troas, Greece, &c, &c. Front. 2 vols.
Svo, calf, neat. $9.00. Printed for the Author, Oxford, 1803.
" This work establishes the justice of the remark made ou the author's profound acquaint
ance with A .tiquity. Iu this respect, it is second only lo the Ancient Mythology of Brvanr,"
—Bibl Bib.
THORPE'S NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY;
The Popular Traditions and Superstitions of Scandinavia. North Germany, and
the Netherlands ; a View of German Mythology, or Popular Belief, from the
North of Norway to Belgium, and from the Earliest Times down to the Pre
sent. Selected and Translated. 3 vols, small 8vo, half morocco. $6.00.
London, 1852.
MOOR'S HINDU PANTHEON.
451 pages of text, and upwards of 100 fine plates of Hindoo Deities. Thick
royal 4to, full Russia neat. $37.50. London, 1810.
A valuable work, now quite scarce.
HERCULANUM ET POMPEII.
Recueil General des Peintures, Bronzes, Mosaiques, &c, decouverts
jusqu'a ce jour et reproduits d'apres tous les ouvrages publie's jusqu'a pre'sent,
avec un Texte explicatif de M. Barre, with 700 fine engravings, 8 vols, impe
rial 8vo (including the Musee Secrete), French bds., lettered. $45.00.
Paris, Didot, 1863.
This is the most complei e work on the discoveries at Herculaneum and Pompeii, exhibiting
all the paintings, bronzes, miniatures, &c, hitherto published in rare or expensive works, with
the addition ot many others which have not previously appeared.
MAURICE'S INDIAN ANTIQUITIES.
Numerous plates, chiefly illustrative of the Ancient Worships of India. 7
vols. 8vo, half morocco, gilt top. $20.00. London, 1800.
A very curious work, containing Dissertations relative to the ancient geographical divisions,
the pure system of primeval theology, the grand code of civil laws, the original form ot gov
ernment the widely extended commerce, and the various and profound literature of Hindostan;
compared throughout with the religion, laws, government, and literature of Persia, Egypt,
and Greece, the whole intended as introductory to the history of Hindostan, upon a compre
hensive scale.

Rare and Valuable Books.
PETRIE'S ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE OF
IRELAND,
Anterior to the Anglo-Norman invasion. Numerous engravings of the Rou>D
Towers and other Architecture. 4to, cloth. $20.00. London, 1845.
Lar^k paper, scarce.
This work comprises the Prize Essay on the Origin and Uses of the Round Towers of Ire
land, greatly enlarged ; and distinct Essays on ancient Stone Churches, &c, of cotempora-
neous ages.
UPHAM'S BUDDHISM,
History and Doctrine of, populary illustrated with Notices of Kappoo-
ism, OF Demon-Worship, and ofthe Bali or Planetary Incantations of Ceylon,
43 pi ates from Singalese Designs. Folio, half calf neat. $19.00.
Scarce. London, 1829.
SECRET MUSEUM OF NAPLES.
Being an account of the Erotic Paintings, Bi-onzes, and Statues contained in
that famous " Cabinet Secret." , By Colonel Fanin. Now first translated
from the French. With sixty full-pago illustrations, mostly colored. I vol.,
medium 4to, half polished morocco, gilt top. $40.00. London, 1872.
These relics, in which science takes so live*..*/ an im.eiest, have survived the lapse of centu
ries. They have been preserved in the womb of che e^tli to transmit to future generations
the lessons of history. Those which we have chosen j form the subject of this bock were
discovered in some of those towns situated on the side of Vesuvius which had been buried
under its volcanic ashes: — we allude to Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabia.
During more than sixteen hundred years even the sites of these destroyed cities were un
known ; learned men were still at controversy on the subject .\t the beginning of the eighteenth
century when chance led to the discovery in a country-seat of the Duke of Lorraine, at Por-.
tici, of a fruitful mine of objects of Art and Antiquities of all kinds. The king of the two
Sicilies caused excavations to be made, and in the month of December, 1738, the theatre of
Herculaneum was found. The excavations made at this period, and continued down to our
days, have furnished the Neapolitan government with the richest, most instructive, and most
interesting collection of antiquities.
This work was originally published by the Italian government, and given to men of science
and learned institutions only. It is now for the first time presented in an English translation,
with all of the illustrations of the original edition.
ASIATIC RESEARCHES;
or, Transactions of the Society for inquiring into the History, Antiquities, Arts,
Literature, etc. of Asia, hy the most eminent Oriental Scholars. 12 vols. 8vo,
Russia gilt. $20.00. London, i8oi-6-
Contains the learned Essays by Colebrooke, Sir William Jones, Carey, Strachey, Dr. Wal-
lich, Roxburgh, &c.
KING (C. VV.), THE GNOSTICS
And their Remains, Ancient and Medieval. Profusely illustrated. 8vo,
new cloth gilt. $7.50. London, 1864.
#*+ The only English work on the subject. Out 0/ print and scarce.
VISHNU PURANA,
A system of Hindu Mythology and Tradition translated from the original
Sanscrit, and illustrated by Notes derived chiefly from other Puianas, by
H. II. Wilson. Thick 4to, cloth. $25.03. London, 1840.
The " Vishnu I'urana" embodies the real doctrine ofthe Indian Scripture, the u Unity ot tho
Deity." This edition was published by the Oriental Translation Society, but is quite out of
mint and raic.

TAtt UNIVERSITY