Akbar was the greatest among the Moghul emperors of India. He began in his fourteenth year a reign environed by war and rebellion. After having vanquished all his enemies and established peace and security around him, he turned his attention to religion. He soon found it right to grant unlimited toleration to all religions in his empire. Called the “shade of God,” he took the resolution to realise in himself the otherwise vain title bestowed by slavish flattery upon all sovereigns of Asia, and to imitate, according to his faculties, him who bestows the blessings of his merciful providence on all creatures without distinction. This he declared to his fanatic son Jehangir, who did not conceal his discontent about the building of an Hindu temple in Benares: “Are not,” said Akbar, “five-sixths of all mankind either Hindus or unbelievers? If I were actuated by motives similar to those which thou ownest, what would remain to me but to destroy them all?” The inquisitive emperor was acquainted with the religious history of the Persian empire; he surrounded himself with men of all religions――Muhammedans of all sects, Hindus, Jews, and Christians, as well as with philosophers free from superstition; he liked to question them all, and to encourage public polemical discussions in his presence. The Sonnites and Shiâhs reviled reciprocally the chief personages of their adherence, the three first khalifs and Ali; Muhammed himself was not more spared than his companions and successors. The errors of their doctrine, the vices of their character, and the irregularities of their conduct were freely exposed, severely blamed, and wittily ridiculed. If Muhammedism was treated in such a manner, other religions could not claim more indulgence. The dramatic form, which Mohsan Fani gives to the religious controversies, is certainly curious; we can scarce suppose his having known the dialogues of Lucian, nor is it in the least probable that a late French author ever saw the Dabistán and took from this book the idea of the twenty-first chapter of his celebrated work, entitled “Problem of religious “contradictions.”[174] The object aimed at by these three authors was the same; but their compositions differ from each other as much as the genius and character of the Greeks, French, and Persians, in whose language each of them respectively wrote. In whatsoever point Mohsan Fani may yield to the Greco-Syrian, or to the French author, he, certainly, I will venture to say, equals them in force, boldness, and sincerity; and perhaps surpasses either in pointed application of truth. His objections are not vague attempts of witticism with the intention to ridicule: they are special and serious, directed to real and patent falsehood or prejudice; he does not fence with imaginary shadowy adversaries, but he strikes a present and tangible foe; his style, never tainted by affectation, is plain and blunt, such as becomes a reformer combating popular superstition.