Human Life

CHAPTER VI
Religion and Ethics

Those who have noticed little children playing contentedly in the early evening, when one of their number suggested the change of amusement to the game of bugoo-bear, could not have failed to see the almost immediate alteration in the infantile mind from the most happy placidity to the most tense apprehension. Although the lights still burned at their utmost brilliancy and the game was entered into with perfect good faith by the children, nevertheless it was a matter of but a short while until all were thoroughly scared and expected the bugoo-bear to appear in any dark or shadowed place. This phenomenon has always seemed to be a very close analogy to just what happens with grown persons who are working up a religious fervor. Just as the darker the room is, the more apprehensive the children become, so the deeper the ignorance of natural science is which engulfs the mature human individuals, directly in that proportion will be their capacity for religious fanaticism. The consciousness of man that he is dependent upon some supernatural being, has been and always will be the only basis upon which religious belief can be postulated. If we insert the idea of natural causes in place of the supernatural being in the foregoing sentence, then instead of a religious belief, we have the foundation for a system of ethics.

The dissemination of scientific knowledge in the last century has done more to break down religious caste and hatred than all other influences combined previous to that time. The authority of age has been appreciably lessened, the significance of miracles as certain proofs of divinity on the part of religious teachers has changed, the reasonableness or expediency of any system of vicarious atonement as a means of attaining either spiritual or moral “grace,” and the realization of humanity in general that the individual expiates his physical crimes by bodily suffering, and his moral sins by the tortures of a guilty conscience, are all verifications of what has occurred in the spiritual and moral world recently. The enormous strides made in proselyting by monism within the last few decades, speak volumes upon this topic. The statement has recently been made, as the result of an ecclesiastical census conducted by one of the largest Christian denominations, that less than twenty-five per cent. of our people in this country regularly attend church service. The demand of the age for demonstration does not well accord with the credulity insisted upon by the powerful religious organizations of to-day. Religious beliefs are of necessity mere matters of superstition, and are based very largely upon the tendency of the human mind to bow down before authority, particularly, if it is insolent, and the power of a falsehood to put on the appearance of a truth, if it can but gain sufficient repetition. “Credidi propter quod, locutus sum.” The brazenness of this in much of the literature of religious revelation, particularly in the Hebrew, Christian, and Mohammedan collections, is most readily apparent to the most cursory critic. In fact, no strictly religious literature at the time of the supremacy of the belief is free from it.

It is true of all religions that into the warp of superstition the woof of a code of ethics is interwoven. In the earlier stages of culture it has long been one of the accepted criteria of any faith whether its accompanying science of duty, as developed in it, was relatively good or bad. That there is a logical connection between these two elements no one can doubt, but this inter-relation is more frequently accidental than it is essential. Facts show that the instituters and early promulgators of all of the great religions of which we have knowledge, have seized with avidity upon any moral stipulations which were necessary for their locality or condition of life, and that if capital could be made out of these peculiar provincial circumstances, they were not slow in coining them to their advantage. An instance of this will be readily recognized in the inculcating within their tenets such doctrines as the existence of an omnipresent and omniscient deity, whose favor may be won by supplication, humility, or sacrifice, or that of a personal immortality for each individual in a pleasurable condition as one of the rewards for belief and an endless existence of pain for its lack. As the number of converts increased, there has, in almost every case, grown up a powerful and wealthy sacerdotal class having special privileges. This cult of priesthood is soon corrupted by idleness and luxury, and the great influence which is attached to it by virtue of its vocation, has sooner or later been largely exerted to keep its parishioners under its control by means of ignorance and superstition. No matter how pure and sincere may have been its founder, or how elevating or altruistic its doctrines might be, practically all religions have suffered from the infamy and gross selfishness of their priesthoods, who by their short-sighted policies of opposing all adjustment of its dogma to newly-discovered facts, or their advancement along with contemporary civilizations, have but precipitated their downfall. From one to another of the gods of heaven has the “sceptre of power and the purple of authority” passed with advancing ages, until it is no wonder that thinking people are asking, “Who will next occupy the old throne?”

The earliest religion of which we have any knowledge was that prevailing in the Valley of the Nile over seven, and perhaps as long as ten, thousand years ago. The origin of these Egyptian Aborigines we do not know—some have supposed that they came from a mixture of conquering Lybians, with the early dwellers along the lower courses of the river. Time has effaced all record of any religious texts which they may have possessed, yet we can tell from the manner in which they buried their dead, when not dismembered, with their faces always to the south, and lying upon their left side, while the corpse was wrapped in the skins of gazelles or in grass mats—that their ideas of a future life were tolerably well-defined. The civilization of this people was modified by the arrival of the conquering immigrants who probably came from Asia, either by way of Arabia or across the Red Sea, and who, in turn, engrafted upon the religion of the conquered certain tenets of their own, and in this way formed a new system, the records of which we find in “The Book of the Dead,” which is not only the oldest book extant, but also the most antiquated collection of sacred literature of which we have knowledge. Exploration in Egyptian burying-grounds plainly shows that between the time of the disposition of the dead, as first noted, and the date of the supremacy of the “Book of the Dead,” that there existed civilizations in this valley who no longer buried their dead whole, with crude attempts at embalming with bitumen, but who burned their corpses more or less completely, and threw the remaining bones into a shallow pit. After this came a race who dismembered the bodies of their dead, burying the hands and feet in one place, while the trunk and the rest of the arms and legs were placed in a grave, separate again from the head. It is impossible, of course, to even guess at the length of time necessary to effect such changes in the customs of people, but we do know that at least seventy centuries ago the ritual contained in the “Book of the Dead” was generally accepted. And from this remote pre-dynastic time down to the seventh century after Christ, mummifying was, in some form or other, continually practiced in the Valley of the Nile. At the earliest time of which we have record, we find the Egyptians worshiping a number of autochthonic gods, of whom Osiris and his sister Isis were the chief. Their ideas of the deities were entirely anthropomorphic. Osiris having lived and suffered death and mutilation, and having been embalmed, was by his sisters, Isis and Nephthys, provided with a series of charms, by which he was protected from all evil and harm in the future life, and who had recited certain magical formulæ which had, in the world to come, given him everlasting life. It is certain that the practice of this belief changed in minor details many times as the semi-barbarous and sensual North Africans were subjected to the influence of their more highly moral and spiritual Asiatic conquerors. Their tombs changed from shallow pits to brick sepulchres, and these were in turn replaced, by those who could afford it, by pyramids—the most substantial form of human architecture left by historic races. As showing the height of the civilization reached by the ancient Egyptians, it is worthy of note that the great Pyramid of Cheops is not only the most gigantic tomb ever built, but that it was designed to serve also as an astronomical observatory, and that its Orientation for this purpose is very accurate, when we consider that the Egyptians had no transits or other instruments such as we have now. Consequently, in the location of this work, they were forced to either use the shadow or polar method, and the latter being the most accurate was, in fact, selected by them. Had they known anything of the refraction of light as it passes from space into our atmosphere, and been able to make the correction for horizontal parallax, their location would have been accurate. The purposes of their astronomical observations, as made from this pyramid, were astrological undoubtedly, as the completion of the tomb shut off the galleries which had been so carefully located.

According to the “Book of the Dead,” the human economy was composed of nine different integral parts, all of which, except the “ren” or name, are comprised broadly within our idea of body and soul. The judgment of each individual took place after death, before the tribunal of Osiris, and in his Hall of Judgment. Here the soul, stripped of all chance of deceit or subterfuge, was forced to make, as his address to Osiris, the justly famous “Negative Confession,” and the truth being apparent to Osiris and his forty-two associates, judgment was given impartially and upon an absolute basis of fact. The standard of ethics demanded of the individual can be realized from the fragments quoted from this address:—“In truth I have come to thee and I have brought right and truth to thee, and I have destroyed wickedness for thee. I have not brought forward my name for exaltation to honors. I have had no association with worthless men. I have not uttered evil words against any man. I have not stirred up strife. I have not judged hastily. I have not made haughty my voice, nor behaved with insolence. I have not ill-treated servants. I have not caused harm to be done to the servant by his master. I have not made to be the first consideration of each day that excessive labor should be performed for me. I have not oppressed the members of my family. I have not defrauded the oppressed one of his property. I have neither filched away land, nor have I encroached upon the fields of others. I have not diminished from the bushel, nor have I misread the pointer of the scales nor added to the weights. I have not carried away the milk from the mouths of children. I have caused no man to suffer hunger. I have made no one to weep. I have not acted deceitfully. I have not uttered falsehood. I have not wrought evil in the place of right and truth. I have not committed theft. I have not done violence to any man. I have done no murder. I have ordered no murder done for me. I have not caused pain. I have not done iniquity. I have not defiled the wife of any man. I have not committed fornication, nor have I lain with any man. I have not done evil to mankind. I have not committed any sin against purity. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure.” Those who were condemned before this tribunal were instantly devoured by the “Eater of the Dead,” while the good were admitted into the realm of Osiris to enjoy everlasting happiness and life.

We turn now from the Valley of the Nile to that of the Tigris and Euphrates, lying about one thousand miles eastward. Here we find the home of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires, and interwoven with their religion we find many of the old myths which, in a corrupted form, occur in our own Bible. As the papyri of Egypt have been forced to give up their secrets, so have the clay cylinders of Mesopotamia. These, now lying in the British and Berlin Museums, tell in a purer and more primitive form than that found in the Old Testament, the story of the fall of man, and upon an old cylinder seal we have it illustrated, apple tree, woman, serpent, and all. The story of the deluge is also there taken from the library of Sardanapalus at Nineveh, just as it was written upon the cylinder more than two thousand years before Christ. All that is required to duplicate this deluge as far as the valley of Mesopotamia is concerned, is a tremendous downpour of water, coincident with a tornado blowing up the Persian Gulf, just as some thirty years ago, in the delta of the Ganges, nearly a quarter of a million persons perished during a like phenomenon in the Bay of Bengal. Here also we find the creation myth, and how after a terrible struggle with the engulfing waters, Marduk finally cut them in twain, and out of one-half made the roof of heaven, while out of the other half he made the earth. Then, too, out of mingled clay and celestial blood, he made the first two human beings, man and woman. The Babylonians and Assyrians believed in the immortality of the soul, dependent, of course, upon the mode in which it lived here. Thus, we find the fifth, sixth, and seventh commandments just as we have them in the Pentateuch, together with injunctions of humanity, charity, mercy, and love on the part of the follower of Babel. Speaking the truth and keeping one’s word, as well as freedom from deceit, are also commanded, and infringements of these were regarded as sins punishable by human afflictions and ailments of all sorts, including death. Their idea of heaven was fairly well-developed, very greatly in excess of that of the Hebrews. Their heaven was a place of delight and ease, while Sheol was a place full of thirst and discomfort. It is also interesting to know that the Jews got their ideas of angels from the Babylonians, with whom, as far as we know, this idea was original, inasmuch as we find no mention of them in the Egyptian religious system.

Considering now the civilization which existed in the valleys of Mesopotamia from five to six thousand years ago, the first thing which arrests our attention is their knowledge of astronomy. In place of the Egyptian pyramid, with its sides Oriented toward the cardinal points, we find the ziggurat pointing the angles instead. This one fact shows that Chaldea did not borrow from Egypt, but developed her science independently of her western neighbor. The planets were all known and named, eclipses were foretold with accuracy, and to Accadia we owe not only our observance of Sunday, but our angular duodecimal scale. What length of time must have been required to admit of such a highly-developed civilization as this, with such advanced religious and ethical ideas, is beyond the faintest conjecture. Far more remote than that time, however, were the first settlements on the alluvial plains by the rude aborigines of the highlands.

On the plateau of Iran, in Central Asia, we find the location of the oldest known habitation of the Aryan race. Here, in the earliest twilight of our history, we find tribes of human beings who possessed well-developed religious and ethical ideas, and whose descendants, moving toward the southeast and into the valleys of the Himalayas, formulated the hymns which, when compiled, constitute the Vedas or the sacred literature of the Aryan Indians, while the portion who remained behind, became the progenitors of the Aryan Iranians whose religious lore we find in that wonderful collection known as the Avesta. In these two literatures, both of which are worthy of the deepest investigation and maturest deliberation, we have, so far as is known, the oldest idea of a non-anthropomorphic deity. His attributes with the Indian were so subdivided and abstracted as to allow this one god essence to almost fill a panthenon. Their worship took the form of adoration for the striking grandeurs of nature, each of whom they regarded as a separate personal consciousness possessed of superhuman powers. Their religion seems to the superficial investigator to be but an exceptionally pure form of pantheism, but this is not, in fact, the case, since philologists to-day recognize that the overwhelming spontaneous impulse which forces the barbaric human mentality to give utterance to its deepest emotions, is a certain index of a crude monotheistic conception. It is Brahma who is the universal self-existent soul, and who comprises, in his infinity, both the god and the adorer. Of course, as time went on, these ideas became more gross, until, with the introduction of caste, the ancient Vedic religion had lost much of its beauty and purity. The religious system had become both dogmatic and pretentious, and particularly insolent in its authority with the rise in power of the sacerdotal class, the Brahmans. While the Vedic religion is imbued with a spirit of strong belief in the efficacy of sacrifice and prayer, we find that this steadily increases in domination as we approach modern times. To all, except the Sudras or Serfs, a course of life conduct is prescribed consisting of four stages, viz.: as a religious student, as a householder, as an anchorite, and last, as a religious mendicant. Corresponding to these, there were four sacred debts, viz.: that due to the gods and paid by worship; that due to the ancient sages and discharged by Vedic study; that which he owes to his manes, and which he relieves himself of by the perpetuation of his name in a son; and last, that which he owes to mankind, and which demands his incessantly practicing kindness and hospitality. They believed in the immortality of the soul and through metempsychosis, in its reward or punishment, according to its existence here.

In the sixth century before Christ, there lived in India a member of the Brahman class who was destined to more than restore Brahmanism to its pristine purity. Gautama Buddha was born as the son of a local ruler and his wife, whose conception was accomplished by her falling into a trance and dreaming that the future Buddha had become a superb white elephant, who, walking around her and striking her upon the right side with a lotus flower, entered her womb. Such is the Hindoo myth. This reformer altogether denied the existence of the soul, as an entity or substance possessing immortality in the individual sense, and he taught that the soul’s future happiness in the abstract was entirely dependent upon its performance while here, as distinguished from any recollection or effect of its previous existences. He denied the authority of the Veda and the efficacy of prayer—in fact, his creed is best shown by a quotation from his gospel: “Rituals have no efficacy, prayers are but vain repetitions, and incantations have no saving power. But to abandon covetousness and lust, to become free from all evil passions, and to give up all hatred and ill-will; that is the right sacrifice and the true worship.” This is the kernel of the pure Buddhistic belief, and this declaration at once reduces his system from a religious to a purely ethical one. Excepting the myth of his conception, his life was a perfectly natural one. Nothing could be more real than his discovery of sorrow and misery, and his inquiry after its cause; nothing can be more touching than his parting from his wife and son, whom he loved so much that he could not hazard the pleasure of a last farewell. And under the stress of this situation, we are particularly told that he was human enough to give way to tears. No ethics could be higher in the aggregate than his—not once, but time and again, does he speak thus: “Indulge in lust but little, and lust, like a child, will grow. Charity is rich in returns; charity is the greatest wealth, for though it scatters, it brings no repentance. Better than sovereignty over the earth, better than living in heaven, better than lordship over all the worlds, is the fruit of holiness. For seeking true religion, there is never a time that can be inopportune. The present reaps what the past has sown, and the future is the product of the present. Far better is it to revere the truth than try to appease the gods by the shedding of blood. What love can a man possess who believes that the destruction of life will atone for evil deeds? Can a new wrong expiate old wrongs? And can the slaughter of an innocent victim take away the sins of mankind? This is practicing religion by the neglect of moral conduct. The sensual man is the slave of his passions, and pleasure-seeking is degrading and vulgar. But to satisfy the necessities of life is not evil. To keep the body in good health is a duty, for otherwise we shall not be able to trim the lamp of wisdom, and keep our mind strong and clear. There is no savior in the world except in truth; there is no immortality except in truth. The truth is best as it is, have faith in the truth and live it. Not by birth does one become an outcast; not by birth does one become a Brahman; by deeds one becomes an outcast and by deeds one becomes a Brahman.” What could more strongly emphasize the position of Buddha in regard to the infamy of the caste system, as it has been developed in India, than the parable of the low-caste girl at the well who had been asked by the disciple Ananda for a drink. This girl, seeing that he was a Brahman, or member of the highest caste, replied that she could not give him even a drink of water without contaminating his holiness. To this, Ananda promptly replied: “I ask not for caste, but for water.” And when she came to Buddha with her heart full of gratitude and love for Ananda, he spoke to her in the following language: “Verily, there is great merit in the generosity of a king when he is kind to a slave, but there is greater merit in the slave when, ignoring the wrongs which he suffers, he cherishes kindness and good-will to all mankind. He will cease to hate his oppressors, and even when powerless to resist their usurpation will, with compassion, pity their arrogance and supercilious demeanor. Blessed are thou, Prakrita, for although you are of low caste, you will be a model for noblemen and noblewomen. You are of low caste, but Brahmans will learn a lesson from you. Swerve not from the path of justice and righteousness, and you will outshine the royal glory of queens.”

Very little wonder is it that, from North Hindustan, the doctrines of Buddha soon largely prevailed over Central, Southern, and Eastern Asia. Of the almost numberless sects into which Buddhism is divided, all go back for their inspiration to his teachings. In fact, he left little for his disciples to do in the matter of enunciating a pure and virtuous system of ethics, so thoroughly did he cover the ground himself. When we remember that Confucius was living in China at almost the identical time that Buddha was preaching in Hindustan, we cannot help but wonder at the strangeness of the occurrence—both enunciating a philosophy or system of ethics which was destined to affect the conduct of so large a portion of the human race. As we read Lao-Tse’s injunction to “requite hatred with goodness,” it seems that he must have drawn his inspiration from an Indian source.

We return now to the location in Central Asia, and to the remote antiquity from which we digressed. At the same time the Indians in the southeast have been developing their religion, the Iranians have not remained quiescent. Their great sage, Zarathustra, or Zoroaster, had been teaching his dualism—in many respects the most subtle religious philosophy ever promulgated. From what little of the Zend lore that has escaped the ravages of time, we are able to-day to trace the outlines of a religion and philosophy based upon primal polarities. Ahura is to Zoroaster the great Life-Spirit-Lord, the Great Creator, the Great Wise One. His six characteristics are the fundamental laws of a righteous universe; simple, clear, and pure. Ahura creates the world during six periods: in the first, heaven; in the second, water; in the third, earth; in the fourth, plants; in the fifth, animals; and in the sixth, man. All of the human race is descended from a primitive pair. There is a deluge, and one man is selected to save and protect representatives of each species so that the earth may be repeopled with a better race. Zoroaster questions Ahura on the Mount of Holy Conversations, and receives from him answers. So far, the parallel between Zoroastrianism and Judaism is complete. The difference now appears, for the former held that the world was to last four periods—during the first two, Ahura has complete authority. Then comes Ahriman, the self-existent evil-principle, and their conflict fills the third period. The fourth period, which opens with the advent of Zoroaster, ends with the downfall of Ahriman, and the resurrection of the soul for a future life. It is entirely within the power of the individual as to whether he wishes to come under the power of the Good or Evil Spirit, and with whom he chooses to ally himself. But the struggle is incessant, and watchfulness must always be maintained. So much for the religion—now for the ethics. To the Zoroastrian, the natural and normal in life is not derided and scorned, nor is woman looked upon as “a necessary evil,” as is the case in Buddhism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism. Here is a quotation from the Zend Avesta from the mouth of Ahura himself: “Verily, I say unto you, the man who has a wife is far above him who lives in continence; he who keeps a house is far above him who has none; he who has children is far above him who is childless; he who has riches is far above him who has none.” If we can use the moral code of the only remaining Zoroastrians in the world to-day, the Parsees, as a criterion to judge by, we must acknowledge that no religion enjoys a purer and more perfect course of conduct. Dr. Haug tells us that the following are strictly denounced by its code: Murder, infanticide, poisoning, adultery on the part of men as well as of women, sorcery, sodomy, cheating in weight and measure, breach of promise, regardless of to whom made, deception of any kind, false covenants, slander and calumny, perjury, dishonest appropriation of wealth, taking bribes, keeping back the wages of laborers, misappropriation of religious property, removal of a boundary stone, turning people out of their property, maladministration and defrauding, apostasy, heresy, and rebellion. Besides these, there are a number of special precepts relating to the enforcement of sanitary regulations, kindness to animals, hospitality to strangers, respect to superiors, and help to the poor and needy. The following are especially condemned—abandoning the husband, not acknowledging the children on the part of the father, cruelty toward subjects on the part of a ruler, avarice, laziness, illiberality, egotism, and envy. Here we find a system of religion whose predominating symbolism was the worship of fire as the nearest human concept of Ahura, and well it might be, for those primitive people who had so sacredly to cherish it. In the Greek mythology, Prometheus was inconceivably tortured for filching from heaven the divine fire and carrying it to mortals. But according to the Zoroastrian philosophy, Ahura has placed all good within the reach of man, and it is for him to choose whether he will avail himself of this or become a slave of Ahriman. It seems strange that from Bactria, either from the old Mazdaism or through Zoroaster, the world should have conceived its only monotheistic conception reasonably free from anthropomorphism, and whose associated code of ethics was so reasonable, firm and pure. There is in Zoroastrianism no thought of dogmatic bigotry any more than there is in ancient Buddhism, and its philosophy of primitive polarity well corresponds with what modern science has taught us within the last five decades. Both of these systems are meditative rather than militant, and, consequently, have not exercised the influence over the destiny of the human race which Judaism has.

In the consideration of the Jewish religion and its descendants, Christianity and Mohammedanism, we are face to face with the most warlike and combative monotheism which history has recorded. In the earlier form, and as in the Hebrew worship of to-day, Jehovah shares his authority with no one—in the Christian system, God and Christ are equally powerful, while with Islam it would seem that Mahomet had slightly the balance of power, notwithstanding the oft-repeated declaration that “there is no God but Allah.” Here we have the idea of a chosen people of God carried to its logical conclusion; the jealousy of Jehovah being in no wise an efficient operative cause for the terrible butcheries of men, women, and children, such as we have described in the Old Testament, as having befallen the enemies of the Hebrews when they were victorious. This wild and fanatical worship of a suspicious and revengeful God, although it called for the waging of countless wars upon his supposed orders, and even for the immolation upon the sacrificial altar of one’s own children; yet it did not promise, until the rise of the Pharisees into potent influence; the pleasure of a personal immortality for his followers, or the punishment by endless torture for his non-adherents. The effect of the selfish idea of God-ownership we see inherited by Christianity with the ancient heredity qualification changed to one of faith. There can be no question that the historical Christ was, perhaps, next to Buddha, the greatest religious reformer whom the world has known, if we accept as a criterion the number of individuals affected, and the nature of their work. As the enunciator of a system of ethics, it is impossible to see how the Jew could be regarded as the equal of the Indian; although no estimate of Christ can be consistently formed from the St. James version of the Bible, owing to the many and important interpolations of recent church enthusiasts. The plan of vicarious atonement is one of the most immoral doctrines of which the world has a record, and the contempt for woman which the Hebrew shows is not equalled by Buddha, although he, too, was filled with that eastern asceticism which looked with disdain upon intersexual affection. The narrowness and bigotry which can regard an omnipresent and omniscient deity as working for the benefit of but a few followers as against the great proportion of human beings who have passed through an earthly existence entirely in ignorance of Him, and who, on account of this, have to suffer eternal torture, has been responsible for no less than ten million murders in the name of Christ alone, to say nothing of the numberless victims of war and famine who have perished as a result of the insatiable thirst of Jehovah, Christ, and Mahomet for more influence in terrestrial affairs and an augmentation of adherents. The code of ethics prescribed by the Jewish régime was good—far in advance of that of the greater portion of their neighbors. But Egypt and Chaldea both played a very important part in this matter, as we must remember that Hebrew chronology only places the creation some four thousand years ago, and we now know that at least three and perhaps five thousand years previous to the possession of the Garden of Eden by Adam and Eve, the Valley of the Nile was teeming with a well-developed civilization. Christianity in the Egyptian City of the Greeks, through Philo, became deeply imbued with the spirit of Zoroaster, and the aid thus derived has been of incalculable value to it. The religion of Islam remains much as Mahomet left it, and it has been, and now is, well suited for much of the territory over which it has dominion. While its code of ethics is reasonably high, its conceptions are usually grossly sensual, and, unfortunately, since shortly after the death of its founder, the institution of the church and the political organization of the various countries where it prevails, have both been under the same head, and are both, consequently, full of corruption.

Before taking up the possibility of a religious conception based upon the best knowledge we have, there is an interesting point to be considered. Between the two dates of 650 B. C., and 650 A. D., we have the work of Buddha, Confucius, Mencius, Christ, Philo, and Mahomet, as well as a score of lesser lights; in fact, all the great religious reformers who have been instrumental in shaping the beliefs of the majority of mankind since their time. And, stranger still, that since Mahomet, the world has seen no reformer who could wrest a following of any note from the established religions, although now, with modern facilities for publication, it would seem to be a much easier task than formerly. And so it would be, were it not for the dissemination of knowledge, and the influence of the scientific system which has come about during the last century, so that now there is not that fanaticism prevalent concerning religious matters which was so rife at almost all stages of the world’s history until recently. More and more are people beginning to realize the truth which Pope so well expressed in his Alexandrine:

About 1850 A. D., there began to be felt among scientific men a possibility that perhaps all of the natural phenomena of which we have knowledge are so inter-related that all of our observations are but different views of a few fundamental primary laws. These so-called laws or statements of facts in their natural order of sequence were always, and under all conditions, operative in natural affairs, had been quite thoroughly understood since Humboldt’s time. But it remained for Herbert Spencer in England, and Ernest Haeckel in Germany, to correlate the vast quantity of facts gained from experiment and observation along the various lines of scientific research. Particularly has the latter been a most potent factor in formulating the new and necessarily predominating theology of the future—a system of belief which is in accordance with everything which the individual knows, and which is always ready to accept a new fact upon demonstration, although its reception may revolutionize even its fundamental concepts. This doctrine, which has been most aptly termed “monism,” stands squarely upon its basis of “empirical investigation of facts, and the rational study of their efficient causes.” In place of worshiping the trinities of the old superstitions, it holds for reverence the “good, the true, and the beautiful” wherever found, and in antithesis to the sacredness of Sabbath and the church, it holds that for the contemplation of the objects of its trinity, “all seasons to be summer and all climates June.” While denying the existence of a God outside of Nature, the freedom of the human will and the possibility of an immortality for the individual human soul, as usually understood, it does insist upon the sequence of effect upon cause, and shows that here, in this earthly existence, we are forced to be virtuous if we would be happy, and that although we are not completely masters of our fates, yet it fundamentally lies with us, in the vast majority of cases, to so conduct our lives that either misery or happiness will result therefrom.

Monistic ethics differ from those of any religious system, from the fact that the good of all is selected and digested into a code which looks toward the “greatest good to the greatest number.” In doing this, individual effort is lauded and not proscribed, and altruism and egotism are developed with equal emphasis. The pleasures of this life are not forfeited to gain delectation in another, nor is the “illitative sense” considered a safe guide for conduct. Woman is not looked upon as fundamentally “unclean,” nor is she denied any right or any privilege which man enjoys. The righteousness of intersexual love and association is maintained, when in operation within a proper constraint, and the family is not only the social and political unit, but the religious as well. Love is held to be more potent than hate, and justice more beneficial than charity. There is no such thing as either the forgiveness or remission of sins—the responsibility of our actions is ours, and ours alone, and can be assumed by no other. The result is the same whether our acts come through ignorance or intention—it is for the individual to know before doing.

In the foregoing, a very brief outline of the progress which humanity has made in historic times in religion and ethics has been attempted, and, if an interest has been aroused in this subject, its purpose will have been fulfilled. No matter what creed we hold, we cannot afford to be bigoted, as simple investigation will show that in many ways we are but little in advance of our progenitors of seven thousand years ago. Only in the matter that we have a scientific basis to work upon, and a vast accumulation of observed facts, have we any reason for pride. And this has been gained, at almost all times, against every obstacle which the church, as established at the moment, could bring into potency.

CHAPTER VII
Love

Without doubt, the greatest source of happiness, as known to human beings, is love. Scott voiced the sentiment of all rational and normal persons when he said:

It is owing to the fact that we cannot enjoy anything to the fullest extent alone, since our nature is so constituted that we must have company in our pleasures, that friends are indispensable. Cicero realized this over two thousand years ago when he said that, “The fruit of talent, and worth, and every excellence, is gathered most fully when it is bestowed upon every one most nearly connected with us.” Appreciating this, nature has given us the love and friendship of parents in our childhood; of the companions of our youth as we grow older; of our life-partner at a later period, and last, the love of our children and grandchildren, so that, by an interest in their lives, we may become ourselves rejuvenated. In this, as in everything else of a physical or mental character, we start at the bottom, and, by a crescendo movement, reach the acme of the condition which with age diminishes, but in this instance the quality does not deteriorate. Our likelihood of forming acquaintances and friends in later years is very much less than in youth, and, certainly, with our habits and idiosyncrasies established, as they are after middle age, the possibility of forming intimate friendships is very much decreased. In childhood and youth, we are more imaginative and less practical, and, consequently, our inclinations in the line of friendships will be more natural and less influenced by considerations alien to friendship itself. Nothing can be more true than the axiom of Cicero, “Friendship does not follow upon advantage, but advantage upon friendship.” Clearly demonstrated as this is, but few people seem to realize it. For the fundamental truth at the bottom of this matter is, as he further states, “the basis of that steadfastness and constancy which we seek in friendship is sincerity. For nothing is enduring which is insincere.”

Of all virtues, sincerity is the greatest, yet, broadly speaking, how extremely rare! There is almost no trouble and pains which people will not take to make the world think that they are something other than they really are, when but a fraction of the cost might make them what they are trying to seem to be. The reciprocal relation of friendship demands sincerity, just in proportion as it becomes intimate, and this applies to all friendships, of whatsoever character.

The love of children is perhaps the greatest of all affections in the aggregate, because experience has not taught them to doubt and impugn the motives of others, since everything to them is just what it superficially appears to be. Our most violent heartaches come through dissimulation toward others, and nothing tends to make so callous and blunt our finer sensibilities as this. But just in proportion as we are sincere, must we be careful as to who arouses an interest of more than passing moment within us, as after affection is once started and nurtured into luxuriance, it is not within our power to control it. While love, when reciprocated, can afford an ecstasy and happiness, otherwise unknown, it can, also, when not returned by the object of our affection, become the most potent cause of superlative pain and anguish. The expression of this truth by the greatest of all English poets, would, in itself, make his name forever immortal had he never written another line, and constitutes not only the soundest philosophy, but the most sublime of all sentiments evolved from the human mind:

If all the race thoroughly understood the truth of these words, how much more happiness there would be in the world! It is our trifling with our affections, or the reckless manner in which we bestow them upon others, which causes us our deepest sorrows. In childhood, with ordinarily kind parents, we have such experiences as afford us pleasant memories throughout life, simply because we lived in accordance with nature’s law, which she makes easy for us at this age to follow, when we have no experience or reason by which we may be guided; but as we grow older, we form those habits of dissimulation which lead us into all sorts of trouble; simply because we can do certain things without our friends and acquaintances becoming cognizant of our actions, we are foolish enough to think that no harm can be done. If we would use our intelligence at all, we would see at once, that while it may be possible to deceive others in the matter of our thoughts and actions, we cannot delude ourselves. We would also realize that our actions and our thoughts are efficient causes in the making of our own characters. We would further see that in order to get any real enjoyment out of a friendship, of even the most Platonic kind, we must be able to play our part sincerely; in other words, we must be all that we attempt to make our friends think we are. The old proverb which tells us that we should go courting in our old clothes, is true in the largest sense in which we can apply it.

When we consider how much we are dependent upon our after-affections and their outcome for our happiness, we see that Coleridge resorted to no hyperbole when he wrote:

Nor did he overestimate the bearing which each and every act of our life has upon our ability to either love or to be loved, since it is only when we are capable of returning affection as pure and unsullied as is given us, that we achieve the acme of delight. It is on account of the necessity of the possession of these qualities which we have found to constitute the only possible basis for really lasting love, that we are so much interested in those of great affection. Emerson truly said that “all mankind loves a lover,” and equally valid is his observation that “Love is not for levity, but for the total worth of man.” It is the affection of any human being which constitutes his life and his friendships, both as living and when coming into his companionship, and when dead, as forming the memories upon which the imagination will fondly dwell, and that bring into his life whatever real satisfaction he may have. As a means of æsthetic development, nothing is of higher value than the affections, and, as a stimulant for action along this line, they are without an equal. We have only to remember the story of Damon and Pythias, to see that the ancients fully realized the power of affection; or to read what Plato puts into the mouth of Phœdrus, when he has him say, “Love will make men dare to die for their beloved, and women as well as men.”

What we have noted, heretofore, refers to all affections. Now we come to the culmination of all affairs of friendship,—that relationship which is known as marriage. Upon the immensity of the importance of this ceremony have almost all of the religious ideas of man been built, and in many cases, if not in all, to the utter profanation of the thing itself.

In the old tribal civilization which prevailed, the idea of marriage was ill-defined, and it was only as the desire for the ownership of children grew that moral ideas in this relation became at all definite. The fact that men wished to leave to their children property and chattels, which they might not have the opportunity of disposing of satisfactorily before their death, brought about a desire for marriage upon the monogamous and monandrous basis; and the fact that man was the owner of the property, and that the wife, until recently, had no inherent right therein, made the matter of the ownership of the children of primal importance, so that the wishes of the father in regard to the inheritance might be fulfilled. It was on account of the supremacy of man in his own home that the family became the unit upon which the State is built, just as the male individual was the unit upon which the family was built, and citizenship was primarily evolved and applicable only to the male portion of the population, inasmuch as they were necessary to the State both as tax-payers and as warriors. This idea of the ownership of children enforced upon woman the moral code under which she lives in Occidental countries to-day; and, at the same time, and for the reasons above stated, kept man immune from it.

The significance attached to the sexual desire in this relationship is and has been greatly overestimated, to the greatest disadvantage of mankind at large. The most distinguishing feature about connubial affection as compared with Platonic friendship, is that in matrimony there is the added unification of the parties thereto, owing to the community of interest between them. Their individualities are merged into one another; their development must be along similar or parallel lines. Richter has given us a good account of what a man should select in the character of his wife “to whom he may be able to give readings concerning the more essential principles of psychology and astronomy without her bringing up the subject of his stockings in the middle of his loftiest and fullest flights of enthusiasm; yet he will be well content should one possessed of moderate excellencies fall to his lot—one who shall be capable of accompanying him, side by side, in his flights so far as they extend—whose eyes and heart may be able to take in the blooming earth and the shining heavens, in great, grand masses at a time, and not in mere infinitesimal particles; one for whom this universe may be something higher than a nursery or ball-room, and one who, with feelings delicate and tender, both pious and wide, will be continually making her husband better and holier.” Since the time of Jean Paul Richter, woman has been allowed educational advantages more nearly equal to those of her brothers than heretofore; and, as a consequence, in many instances and quite often, do we find the lady not only the better but the larger half of the home, intellectually.

As Geoffrey Mortimer has well shown, love among cultured people is largely dependent upon the imagination. In savages and in the human race, primarily, when at this period of their existence, it took the form of hedonism, or even the more gross sex-worship, and it was not until mankind was removed far from the brute that his imagination developed, and his mind was capable of abstract thought, that his æsthetic nature began to develop. As his intellect became more profound, and his mental range wider, his power of abstract thinking was accordingly augmented, until to-day, with the average human being, love is only, in a restricted sense, dependent upon physical gratification. Herbert Spencer has given a very sure test of love, based upon its dependence upon the imaginative faculty. According to him, when we are absent from the one we love, the mental picture which we form of her, and the attributes which we at that time give her, are all found in her when in her actual presence. Then, we are really in love with the person whose faults we cannot see. The truth of the old adage, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” still further shows the part which the imagination plays in love. There is no human being who has been so fortunate as to marry the first object upon which his affections settled, providing, of course, that his previous life has been spent so that he can enter into this relationship equitably, who did not find that if his love was reciprocated, life possessed a transcendent charm which words cannot express. Such an affection is necessarily based upon a most profound respect, and can only continue when this deferential regard exists. While feeling a security in its sense of ownership of the one loved, yet it asks and demands nothing, and can only bud, blossom, and ripen into its fullness in the atmosphere of kindness and absolute liberty. While sensual gratification, in the earlier stages, has been the means of nature in perpetuating the species, it is also the most powerful factor in the evolution of that community of interest which is the very soul of this attachment. The infinite number of little incidents which are never to be forgotten by any real lover, are all of a purely physical nature, but, in the aggregate, they form the nucleus of that “amazement of love and friendship and intimacy” which is like the melodious harmony of the sweetest sounds, which lead us into an ecstasy in every way supersensual. It is in the realization of such delight that Gay remarks, “Not to know love, is not to live.”

We can best understand the real potency of sensual gratification in love, if we consider that those moments which are the subject of our most pleasant memories, are not those in which our desires were gratified, but those in which we ourselves practiced the most ascetic self-denial. Well has Schlegel expressed this sentiment when he says, in his essay upon the Limits of the Beautiful:—“Those who yield their souls captive to the brief intoxication of (sensual) love, if no higher and holier feeling mingle with and consecrate their dreams of bliss, will shrink tremblingly from the pangs which attend their awakening.” But nature has here so arranged her course, that after marriage, our children’s, or, in their absence, our lovers’ affairs, become a part and parcel of our lives, and thus, what began as selfish interest, from the pleasure which we obtain from the presence of our loved one, is transmuted into altruism of the highest type. To those who love, there is nothing of the spirit of boasting in the words of “Valentine,” when he says: