guage of the East-Grecian anchorites, Askesis meant simply endeavor, and that endeavor was an effort to tear the human mind from the roots of its earthly sympathies. The doctrines which his successors veiled in mystery, the hermit of Nepaul proclaimed with stern directness: absolute abstinence from all pleasures whatever, complete suppression of all earthly instincts and desires. He who would hope to reach the goal of salvation must court sorrow and affliction as others woo the smiles of Fortune. He must avoid everything that could reconcile him to life and lure him back to the delusions of earthly pursuits. He must despise worldly knowledge, the great object of life being the suppression of our natural inclinations, and, if possible, of our natural thoughts and feelings. He must have no fixed habitation, and must avoid sleeping twice under the same tree, lest an undue affection for any earthly object should hinder his spirit in the progress of its emancipation from the vanities of life!
The question remains, How could delusions of that sort ever assume an epidemic form? Upon which germ in the instincts of the human mind could the gospel of renunciation ingraft its monstrous dogmas? There is a significant tradition that Buddha Sakyamuni entered upon his mission only after exhausting the pleasures of wealth and luxury. It is an equally suggestive circumstance that the chief success of that mission was attained among the most effete nations of the overpopulated East—the Chinese, the Siamese, and the soul-sick pariahs of the Indian Peninsula. The doctrines of Buddhism recommended themselves to the pessimistic bias of a worn-out generation; moribund Impotence pleased herself in the idea that her lot is preferable to that of the survivors. Anti-naturalism is an appeal to the life-weary instincts of decrepitude.
In the evening twilight of life Nature relaxes the bonds of vitality, in order to reconcile her children to the prospects of the coming change. The weariness of a toilsome day sweetens the rest even of a dreamless sleep. To the germ of that instinct the doctrine of renunciation applies its fomenting stimulus. Quietism is a precocious senility. It is the premature development of an instinct that should assert itself only as a concomitant of superannuation. Hence the antagonism its dogmas encountered in the homes of health, hence the opposition of pagan philosophy and the latent protestantism of all manly nations. Hence, its concomitance with disease and decrepitude, its popularity in the bond-house of Despotism, its revival in the world-renouncing zeal of caged criminals, worn-out sensualists, and superannuated coquettes. Hence, also, the unparalleled progress of mankind since the time when the sluice-gates of Asceticism were finally forced by the explosion of the Protestant Revolt. Like the floods of a dam-breaking river, the energies of the Caucasian race are rushing down the long-forsaken channels of their former activity, and in all essential respects the triumphs of our boasted civilization have but followed
