their natures, so that it may be supposed that they were heavenly
incarnations and not mortal like other men.

This process of euhemerisation, as it is called, or the making of men
into gods and gods into men, sometimes, though more rarely, begins
during the life of the hero, but usually after death. The true history
of his life is gradually amplified and decorated with fanciful
incidents, to fit it to the new character which has been posthumously
given him. Omens and portents are now made to attend his earthly
avaṭāra: his precocity is described as superhuman: as a babe or
lisping child he silences the wisest logicians by his divine
knowledge: miracles he produces as other boys do soap-bubbles: the
terrible energies of nature are his playthings: the gods, angels, and
demons are his habitual attendants: the sun, moon, and all the starry
host wheel around his cradle in joyful measures, and the earth thrills
with joy at having borne such a prodigy: and at his last hour of
mortal life the whole universe shakes with conflicting emotions.

Why need I use the few moments at my disposal to marshal before you
the various personages of whom these fables have been written? Let it
suffice to recall the interesting fact to your notice, and invite you
to compare the respective biographies of the Brāhmaṇical
Kṛṣhṇa, the Persian Zoroaster, the Egyptian Hermes, the
Indian Gauṭama, and the canonical, especially the apocryphal,
Jesus. Taking Kṛṣhṇa or Zoroaster, as you please, as the most
ancient, and coming down the chronological line of descent, you will
find them all made after the same pattern. The real personage is all
covered up and concealed under the embroidered veils of the romancer
and the enthusiastic historiographer. What is surprising to me is that
this tendency to exaggeration and hyperbole is not more commonly