“Nay, there is a sufficiency in the evidence, and a fulness in this testimony, of which none other history can boast.  What book is that, my lord?”

“The Anabasis.”

“By whom?”

“Surely thou art in j’est.  ’Tis Xenophon’s.”

“How?  Xenophon!” said the divine; “methinks thou speakest unadvisedly.  My reason or apprehension knoweth not of such a man, or that he writ this book, and yet thou boldly affirmest the history to be true!”

“I know not that it was ever doubted,” replied the other.  “The common consent and belief of mankind, the transmission of the record from remote ages, are of themselves no mean evidence of its truth.  But there must have been a time when it was first written, and as he appeals in it to facts, to matters which were then of recent occurrence, and to the public knowledge and belief of those facts, surely every of these statements would have insured detection, especially if put forth at or about the time when the events took place.  Would it not have been madness to appeal to eye-witnesses of transactions which never happened, which witnesses were then alive, and could easily have belied such an impudent and furtive attempt at imposture?  The idea seems almost too absurd to refute.”

“Thou judgest well.  It would be madness and absurdity in the extreme to deny the existence of thy historian, or the events to which he refers; and yet a record which to thee is of the greatest moment, wherein thine own interests are for ever involved, and to the truth of which there is much more clear and irrefragable testimony, thou rejectest as a fraud and an imposture.”

“What proof can its promulgers give me of the infallibility of their doctrines, even supposing these events to be true?”

“Miracles, acknowledged to be such, contravening and transcending the common course of nature,—­these, I reckon, will be a sufficient warranty that the message is from the great Author of all things Himself.”

“I own these are the strongest evidences that I could require, and I would admit them if I had witnessed their performance.”

“Good.  Now to the proof.  It is impossible that any simple fact could be imposed, or that a number of persons could be made to believe they had witnessed such fact, unless it had actually taken place.  For instance, if I were to assert that I had divided the waters of this river here, in the presence of the inhabitants, and that I had once led the whole of them over dryshod, the waters standing like a wall on each side, to guard their path, appealing to them at the same time in proof of my testimony; it would be impossible, I say, to convince those people it were true, provided the event had not happened.  Every person would be at hand to contradict me, and consequently it would be impossible that such an imposition could be put upon them against the direct evidence of their senses.”

“Granted,” replied the baron.  “But this tale I am not too bold to infer might be invented when that generation had passed, when the credulity of coming ages might lead men to believe in such foolish and monstrous imaginings, like the labours of Hercules, the amours of Jove, and the cannibal exploits of Saturn.”