"What, has a priest turned flatterer, can a priest speak to an opponent in fair, well-seeming words? You know well to whom you speak-one who will not kneel in the dust before you-one who fears neither you nor your gods, but whose soul abhors you both, and is free from your superstition and the slavish submission it begets, else we should have had thunder from 'God's mouthpiece,' and not the mellifluous tones breathing softly--'Korihor, your speech ill becomes your intelligence;' but go on, speak as is your wont, I despise your flattery as I defy your power." "Think not I meant to flatter," continued the High Priest, unmoved by the rude interruption, "for I meant to say, had you listened patiently, that your utterances are but the vain repetition of what others of like temperament have said before you. You scarcely do more that repeat, parrot-like, the catch phrases of Nehor and Amlici, your immediate predecessors in this ribaldry of blasphemy." This was a conclusion of the sentence Korihor had scarcely expected, and the scoffer felt that his impetuosity had placed him at a disadvantage. "Why do you go about to destroy the people's belief in God and their hope in Christ?" continued the High Priest. "To undeceive them, to free them from a groveling superstition, which bows down their souls that they dare not assert their rights and liberties, nor raise their heads in manly pride, nor gratify their appetites, lest they offend the God of your tradition--a being who never has been seen or known, nor ever will be. I seek to strike off the servile chains, with which your priests have loaded them, in order to bring to pass your own designs--that you may glut yourselves with the labors of their hands, and hold them at your mercy. I would see men free from superstition, acknowledging no power more potent than their own, I would teach them that intelligent management is providence, that genius is God; that this life--so far as we know--terminates existence, and therefore they should encompass all the pleasure possible, by enjoying what the appetites and passions crave. I tell thee, proud priest, now playing at humility," he exclaimed with sudden vehemence, "your religion is slavery; your priesthood, a fraud; your Christ, a delusion: your God, a lie!" The great audience grew breathless at the fierce denunciation, and then the calm but strong voice of the High Priest rang through the hall--"Could a deception, a lie produce such supreme joy in the hearts of men as the faith of this people in God does?" "Yea it could, and the proof of it is in that it does; but the joy this people think they have is not joy; man never tastes joy until he breaks away from all restraint, and feels himself accountable to no one for his actions, then and then only is he capable of joy."