II. Can the justice of this conclusion be denied? Can anyone refuse to allow a religion, properly so called, to these peoples, to recognise as true divinities beings who receive a tribute of affection or terror, homage and prayers on the part of populations, who either fear or trust in them? It is possible. Here again our European pride seems to me to have often led to false conclusions. Believers or unbelievers, freethinkers or zealous Christians, savants and philosophers have been too much under the influence of the idea of the Deity as conceived by our most cultivated classes. Often when this idea is even slightly degraded or modified, they no longer acknowledge its existence; when the conclusions drawn from it upon the origin, nature, and destiny of man or of the universe, differ even slightly from those which they admit themselves, or have been accustomed to hear, they refuse them the name of religion.

I can only explain in this manner the judgment passed upon a very considerable portion of mankind by a number of savants and eminent thinkers, amongst whom we must reckon the illustrious Orientalist Burnouf. In his opinion Buddhism is true atheism. In a work which has been deservedly successful, M. Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire has supported this view with incontestable talent and learning. He has, moreover, placed on an equality with Buddhist beliefs, and perhaps even below them, those which had preceded them among the Mongols, Chinese, and Japanese. Thus, in the opinion of this eminent writer, nearly all the yellow races, much more than the third of mankind, are atheists.

But, in formulating this conclusion, the learned author of Buddah chiefly consulted his own reason and conceptions. “Buddhists,” he says, “may without any injustice be regarded as atheists. I do not mean that they profess atheism, that they glory in their incredulity with that boasting of which more than one example might be quoted amongst ourselves; I only mean that these nations have not been able to rise in their noblest thoughts to the conception of God.”

In these few lines the idea of the book and the cause of the disagreement which separates me from M. Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire is clearly evident. The Buddhists, who everywhere give a place to gods in their legends, who have everywhere raised temples consecrated to these deities, who fear and worship them, who have made prayer an institution, who admit the dogma of future life and of remuneration, have not formed that idea of God to which we have all more or less attained; they are therefore atheists. This is evidently the prepossession under the influence of which this work has been written, which, however, should be read by all who are desirous of gaining correct impressions concerning some of the grave questions so hotly disputed at the present day.

The savant who considered Buddhism as atheism would with still greater reason make the same estimate of the ancient beliefs of Japan, China, and Mongolia. Nevertheless, there was in this case also a belief in numerous divinities, always subordinated to one supreme, uncreated and creating God. In Japan, we are told by Siebolt, there were counted no less than seven celestial gods, and eight million kamis, or spirits, of which 492 were superior gods. The inferior Kamis, to the number of 2640, were deified men. In China, the aim of the reform of Lao-tseu and of Khoung-tseu was, partly, the destruction of idolatry, and idolatry is not atheism. The populations of northern and central Asia have in almost all cases been accused by travellers especially of superstition, and not of atheism. They also have their idols. The case is similar with all northern populations. In the sacred island of Waygatz, near to the straits of the same name, the missionaries burnt, in 1827, 420 images collected upon the promontory of Haye-Salye alone. Throughout this vast area, the inhabitants believed, or still believe, in spirits dwelling in rocks, trees, mountains, or the celestial bodies, and offered to them an interested homage.

Still, however, there was an universal belief in a Supreme God, who had created these very spirits, and was the Preserver of all living things. The Lapps and Samoyedes had, or still have on this point, the same conceptions as the ancient Chinese. Their Jubmel, and their Num answer exactly to the Chang-ti of Khoung-tseu himself, while popular idioms show that they regard him as the first dispenser of all good. Num tad (may Num grant), and Num arka (thanks be to Num), are apparently of frequent occurrence in the language of the Samoyedes. This belief in a Supreme God and in secondary spirits, of vast number, but still presenting a kind of hierarchy, is a very ancient one in China, for we find the emperor Chun 2225 years before our era “offering sacrifices to the Supreme Sovereign of Heaven, and the usual ceremonies to the six great spirits, as those usually offered to mountains, streams, and spirits in general.”

Possessing beliefs of this kind, attested and sanctioned by public acts, can they be regarded as atheists? If so, we must at least allow that this is a very different atheism from that which has been professed, and is still professed, by certain European schools of philosophy.

III. I might make similar observations upon the subject of the opinions published by Sir John Lubbock in the two works which have gained for him in anthropology a reputation equal to that which he already enjoyed as a naturalist. “It is difficult,” he says, “to suppose that savages so rude as not to be able to count their own fingers, should have acquired intellectual conceptions sufficiently advanced to possess a system of belief worthy of the name of religion.”

Leaving on one side what the author here says about numeration, which rests, I think, upon a false assumption, do not these words, “worthy of the name of religion,” show us that, like M. B. Saint-Hilaire, Sir John Lubbock takes his own conceptions in religious matters as a criterion of those of savages?