as Pir, for instance, are literally interpreted old man—­if we note in Hebrew records how primeval is the ascribed superiority of the first-born, how great the authority of elders, and how sacred the memory of patriarchs—­and if, then, we remember that among divine titles are “Ancient of Days,” and “Father of Gods and men;”—­we see how completely these facts harmonise with the hypothesis, that the aboriginal god is the first man sufficiently great to become a tradition, the earliest whose power and deeds made him remembered; that hence antiquity unavoidably became associated with superiority, and age with nearness in blood to “the powerful one;” that so there naturally arose that domination of the eldest which characterises all history, and that theory of human degeneracy which even yet survives.

We might further dwell on the facts, that Lord signifies high-born, or, as the same root gives a word meaning heaven, possibly heaven-born; that, before it became common, Sir or Sire, as well as Father, was the distinction of a priest; that worship, originally worth-ship—­a term of respect that has been used commonly, as well as to magistrates—­is also our term for the act of attributing greatness or worth to the Deity; so that to ascribe worth-ship to a man is to worship him.  We might make much of the evidence that all early governments are more or less distinctly theocratic; and that among ancient Eastern nations even the commonest forms and customs appear to have been influenced by religion.  We might enforce our argument respecting the derivation of ceremonies, by tracing out the aboriginal obeisance made by putting dust on the head, which probably symbolises putting the head in the dust:  by affiliating the practice prevailing among certain tribes, of doing another honour by presenting him with a portion of hair torn from the head—­an act which seems tantamount to saying, “I am your slave;” by investigating the Oriental custom of giving to a visitor any object he speaks of admiringly, which is pretty clearly a carrying out of the compliment, “All I have is yours.”

Without enlarging, however, on these and many minor facts, we venture to think that the evidence already assigned is sufficient to justify our position.  Had the proofs been few or of one kind, little faith could have been placed in the inference.  But numerous as they are, alike in the case of titles, in that of complimentary phrases, and in that of salutes—­similar and simultaneous, too, as the process of depreciation has been in all of these; the evidences become strong by mutual confirmation.  And when we recollect, also, that not only have the results of this process been visible in various nations and in all times, but that they are occurring among ourselves at the present moment, and that the causes assigned for previous depreciations may be seen daily working out other ones—­when we recollect this, it becomes scarcely possible to doubt that the process has been as alleged; and that our ordinary words, acts, and phrases of civility were originally acknowledgments of submission to another’s omnipotence.