fferings of an innocent man; common sense
tells him that while men object to having their pockets picked and
their throats cut, they want no divine command against theft and murder;
common sense tells him that God never ordered the committal of such
atrocities as those ascribed to him in the Bible; and common sense tells
him that a God of mercy never made a hell.

Yes, all this is perfectly clear, and the priests know it. That is
why they cry out Blasphemy! every time they meet it. But that is also
precisely the reason why we should employ it against them. The best
antidote to superstition, the worst enemy of priestcraft, and the best
friend of man, is (to parody Danton's famous formula) Common Sense, and
again Common Sense, and for ever Common Sense.

THE LORD OF LORDS. *

* Written in August, 1884.

We are in the midst of a political crisis. The House of Lords opposes a
reform unanimously voted by the House of Commons. Great demonstrations
are being held all over the country, to insist on the popular will
being carried into effect, and there is a growing cry of "Down with the
Lords." A spectator from another planet might wonder at all the fuss.
He might marvel how forty millions of people needed to stamp and
gesticulate against a handful of obstructives. He might imagine that
they had only to decree a thing and it would immediately be; that all
opposition to their sovereign will would melt away the moment they
declared it. This traveller, however, would soon be undeceived. A little
study would show him that the people are kept in check by faith and
custom. He would learn that the nation is tied down like Gulliver was,
by ligatures springing from its own head. Behind the King there is a
King of Kings; behind the Lords there is a Lord of Lords. Behind every
earthly despotism there is a heavenly one. The rulers of mankind overawe
the people by religious terrors. They keep a body of men in their pay,
the black army of theology, whose business it is to frighten people from
their rights by means of a ghost behind the curtain. Nobody has ever
seen the bogie, but we are taught to believe in it from our infancy, and
faith supplies the deficiencies of sight. Thus we are enslaved by our
own consent. Our will is suborned against our interests. We wear no
chains to remind us of our servitude, but our liberty is restrained by
the subtle web of superstition, which is so fine as to be imperceptible
except to keen and w