are blinded; their ears are stopped and their hearts are
turned to stone by the infinite selfishness of joy. The saved mariner
is too happy when he touches the shore to give a moment's thought to
his drowning brothers. With the indifference of happiness, with the
contempt of bliss, heaven barely glances at the miseries of earth.
Cities are devoured by the rushing lava; the earth opens and thousands
perish; women raise their clasped hands towards heaven, but the gods
are too happy to aid their children. The smiles of the deities are
unacquainted with the tears of men. The shouts of heaven drown the
sobs of earth.

Having shown how man created gods, and how he became the trembling
slave of his own creation, the questions naturally arise: How did he
free himself even a little, from these monarchs of the sky, from these
despots of the clouds, from this aristocracy of the air? How did he,
even to the extent that he has, outgrow his ignorant, abject terror,
and throw off, the yoke of superstition?

Probably, the first thing that tended to disabuse his mind was the
discovery of order, of regularity, of periodicity in the universe. From
this he began to suspect that everything did not happen purely with
reference to him. He noticed, that whatever he might do, the motions
of the planets were always the same; that eclipses were periodical, and
that even comets came at certain intervals. This convinced him that
eclipses and comets had nothing to do with him, and that his conduct
had nothing to do with them. He perceived that they were not caused
for his benefit or injury. He thus learned to regard them with
admiration instead of fear. He began to suspect that famine was not
sent by some enraged and revengeful deity but resulted often from the
neglect and ignorance of man. He learned that diseases were not
produced by evil spirits. He found that sickness was occasioned by
natural causes, and would be cured by natural means. He demonstrated,
to his own satisfaction at least, that prayer is not a medicine. He
found by sad experience that his gods were of no practical use, as they
never assisted him, except when he was perfectly able to help himself.
At last, he began to discover that his individual action had nothing
whatever to do with strange appearances in the heavens; that it was
impossible for him to be bad enough to cause a whirlwind, or good
enough to stop one. After many centuries of thought, he about half
conc