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BOBtCa HANT. tllHTaa TO titl UBI»«MITT 



Z^t (Bifforb Btdutte 


IN 1893 



rouuoi HKiuu a> t«> nnm ■■rrmra 






A ^'1^323 


'T^HE (Uscovpry of God, tlio diHOOvory of Llio ftoiil, 

-'■ And tb« di»oov«ry of tho onuitim of Ood luxl t)i» 

Soul. 9aoh have b«en thn thrtw pritioipol thunm <jf 

my OiSbrd Lectures, and 1 have vanturuil to mako 

at \e»Bl an attempt to treat each of tJiDin, not niniply 

aa a philosopher, bat as an butorlaii. Whik> tha 

pbitoaophy of rvligion trcoti the boHnf in a l''irai 

CatiM of the UDivetw, and in an "Efft or ttuit, atid in tbv 

tme relation between the two, a* matteia of jjayebo- 

I logical development, or of logical conaecoUoa, It wan 

r my porpose to show, not w)tat the pnam of eaeb of 

[tbeae diacoreriM may or uuBt bavo boun, but what it 

bean In tha hiirtory of the w^rld, ko far aa it b 

i known to us at preMnL 1 am folly awaru thai tbii 

' hiatofical natbod ia bc»e( with gnvn difll'iuItiiM, and 

'has tn eooaeqaenee fooad but little favour in the vym 

of apceolatiTe pfa3aM|ih«n. So long ■• we look on 

^ (h« btatovy «f the bontaa mev aa aotuthltif thai 

iB%^ Boi hava beca. w« easnot wcaAtr 

timi iha WpJat of nligioa abould prefier to form bU 

I of (he antoi* of fdigiMi tad tha Iswi «f it« 

oa the mtttwrmnk of Hin— ■ Aqnbaa, 

the BmrnrntaSmtroit naoCajnoc athar than tfjot tha 

"asauiMi? in ih« cyee^ 
ler also a lucJtuiiig Knd a valu<t farbuyoi: 
ons of wen ibe most eDtightened and Ic 

lOb ignorant of the daogcn of such an ui 
Old pB-infully oooscioua of the imperfccf 
A in a tirat atteiupt. The chief dan^ 
iUv voTy pruou k> find in thi; fact 
lh« Ii»uiOU which wo wish to find. It! 
uwu how tnlMlvu'litij; tho Hegelian me 
b'od, hecauae, dilfering in thin rcijieol; 
and from the bistoncal bcIiooI in g^n« 
ras bent on seeing in thu tu^tory 
[what owjfit to be there according to 
logical neouwity ill tho devolopint-iit 
if not of til© psycholopcal growth of ■ 
lind. Thu nstult has boun t}iat Uie hitstori 
legel'fl Philosophy of K^li^nn ia aim 
itrustn-orthy. My endeavour haii been 
ry to yield to no presumptions, but 
facts only, xuch rm wo find them in ' 
Loks of Uio EtuiU to try to decipher a 
tlicni aw wi- try to di-eiphi-r and und 
gL-ol(j{{ical oimals of tho liarth, .^ 




when we cttn follow the gruwtli of religious idewi, aa 
U wore, from itou to fntlior, frODi pupil to teacher, 
from the negElive to the poaitive stage. But where 
this is impoBHible, the uiialogical method also has itit 
advaatagcii, eiiablui^ us to watch the same dognios 
Bpringing up itidop(;u<ioDtly in various places, and to 
dt-Hcover from thvtr KimihuitiM and di»Minilarittes 
what IK due to our commoa natarcand what must be 
attributed to the influence of individual thinkers. 
Quod temper, ftuW ufnqiie, quod ab omnihun is nut 
uoMBmrily what is truv, but it is what is uatural, il 
constitutvH wliatwu have accustomed ourselvt^ to call 
Natural Religion, tliougli few historical uludonts would 
now maiatain thai Supcniaturu) Kvltgion ha» no right 
to the name of Natural lleligion. or that it forms no 
of the Divine Drama of Man as ncied from ago 
tt Ago on th(t historical sta^^u of the world. 

It hoa been my ohject in theae threo oonaeoutive 
courses of Lectures on Physical, Antliiopological, and 
Psychological religion to prove that what in my first 
volume I put forward as a preliminary definition of 
religion in it* widest Konste, namely thi- Perception of 
tlie Intinite, can be shown by liiistorical evidence to 
have been the one element cihared in common by all 
religions^ Only wo roust not forget that, like ever>* 
other concept, that of the Iniinit« also bad to pass 
throogh many pliaM-s in its historical evolution, he- 
giiining with the simple negation of what is finite-, 
•ad the as-ieition of an invisible Beyond, and Icailing 
Qp to a perceptive belief in that most real Infiniti.- in 
which we live and move and have our being. This 




hUtoricol evolution of Uie concept of the objective 
Infinite I tried to trace in niy Lectured on Physic&l 
Religion, that of the concept of the subjective Infiiiit« 
in my Lectures on Anthropological R«ligion, while 
this Iwt volume was rc8i.Tvc(l for the tttudy of tlie 
disociveiy of the oneness of the objective God and the 
subjective Son) which fonns the final consumnrntion of 
all religion and all philosophy. 

The JtQ perfections to which a first attempt in a 
compomtJvo fttudy of religions is liable arise from the 
cDonnouii amount of the materinlH that have to he 
eonntilted, and from the ever-inen-JiNing number of 
hooks devoted to their interpretation. The amount 
of reading that would be required in ordt^r to treat 
this subject as it ought to be treated is more than any 
single scholar can possibly force into the small span of 
his life It in oaoy to tiud fault and say. Qui trap 
emi>nt98e, mal Anint, but in eomparative studivs it 
is impoaaible U> cinbraoe too much, and oritios must 
luni to be reaAonahlit and not expect from & scholar 
engaged in a comparative study of many religiona 
the Bam« thorough acquaintance with every on« of 
iJietn which thoy hav» a right to expect from a 
Kpeoialist. No one ha» felt mure k«only than myself 
Hie annoyanec whenever I had to be satisfied with 
a mere rtluta nfero, or had to accept the judgmentt 
of otliers, even when I knew that they were better 
(jualiUcd to judge than my.self. 

This applies more particularly to roy concluding 
I-ecturce, Lect. XII to XV in this volume. These Lec- 
tures oontain the key to the whole s«riea, and they 



formed from the very beginiung my finftl aim, Tliuy 
WQ nMAnt M Uiu coping-stono of Uiu arch tiiat rests 
on the two pillani of Phjwcal and Anthropological 
Religion, and uniteii the two into the true gate of the 
templu of the «■ ligion of the future. They are to show 
that from a purely historical point of view ChrtstiAnity 
is not a more continuiitioD or ev^n reform of Judaiem, 
but that, porticulitrly iu its thi-olugy or theoeophy it 
rcprenents a syntiivAui of Semitic and Aryan thought 
which forma tta real fttn-jigth and its power of satis- 
fying not only the n:?qiiirementa of the heart, but 
likewise the postulates of reason. 

Hy object W&8 to ehow that there is a cotiBtant 
action and reaction ia the growth of religious ideae, 
and that the tintt action by which the Divine was 
sopatmted from and placed almost K-yond the reach 
of the human mind, was followed by a rcuctioa 
which tried to reunite the two. This process, 
though viflible in many religions, more particularly 
in that of tho Vcdanta, was most pronounced in 
Judaiem in it» transition to Obria'tJamly. Nowhere 
bad tlio inviaiblij God been further removed from 
the visible world tltun in tho ancient Jewish re- 
ligion, and nowhere have the two Loc-n so closely 
drawn tc^ether again and made one as by that 
fondamental doctrine of Christianity, the divine 
eon»hip of man. It baa been my chief object to 
show that this ruiction was produced or at least 
««oelerat«'<l by the historical contact between Semitic 
and Ai^i'an thought, chiefly at Alexandria, and ou this 
point I have to confess that I have ventured to go far 


beyond Hamack, DrummoDcl, 'Westeotf, aad others. 
They seem to me to aaciibe too little importance to 
the influence of Greek philosophy in the formation of 
the earliest Christian theology, while I fcvl convinced 
that without tliut iiitluiiiico, tlic theology of Alexandria 
would havi: been aimply impoNKible, or would prohfthly 
never have udvanood beyond that of the Talmud. What 
weighs with me more than anything else in forming 
this opinion are the facts of language, the philoso- 
phical torniinolo^ which both Jews like Philo and 
OlimliuiiK like St.Olomont employ, and which is clcoily 
token over from Greek philosophy. Whoever uses 
Bu«b words aa Logos, the Word, Mano'jm^i: the Only- 
bc^otbcn, JPrototokot. the Firvt-bom, i/^ios tou tlitxnt, 
the Son of God, haa borrowed the very germs of his 
religious thoughts from Creek philosophy. To suppoMt 
that the Fathers of the Church took thenc words 
without borrowing the ideas, is like supposing that 
savages would citrry away fire-armB without getting 
at the same time ]>owder and shot for tiring them. 
Words may l>o borrowed and their idtais may be 
modified, pui'itied, mngnitied by Uie borrower, but the 
subatanoe is always the same, and the gold that is 
in a gold coin will always remain the same gold, 
even though it is turned into a divine image. I 
have tried to show tliat tho doctrine of the Logos, the 
very life-blood of Christinnity, is exclusively Aryan, 
and that it in one of tho simpleist an<t tniest conclu- 
sions at which the human mind can orriva, if tbi; 
pRSOneo of Reason or reasons in the world has onoe 
been reoogniscil. 


W« all know Urn words of Lucretius : 

*PtMl«r*ii OMli ntioDM «Tilitir Mito 
Et raria aunonim ccrncbnul tomporn rertu' (t. 1183>) 

If the bunuui reason has once recognised Reason or 
reaeons (logoi) in the univcrso, Lucretius may call it 
a fatal error to ascribe them to tiw gods, but are they 
to be aaoribetl U) no onci U the Kciksou ur the Logos 
in the world nothing but a name, a mere generaliaa- 
tion or abatractioa, or ia it a real power, and, if so, 
whose power ia it? If the Klaniaths, a Uibe of Red 
Indians, declared tliat tho wurld watt thought and 
willed by the Old One on high, the Greeks wvnt only 
one al«p further by riiaint«iaiDg that thiH thought of 
the Supreme Being, this LogOB, as thuy culled it, waa 
the issue, the offapriug, the Son of Ood, and that it 
oonaisted of tho Iggoi or ideas or, as we now say. 
the typos uf all created things. The hij^hcst of the«c 
types being the type of manhood, tho Alexandrian 
Fathers of the Church iu calling Christ tho Logos 
or the Woi-d or the Son of Ood, were bestowing 
the higher predicnte which they poHt(-M»ed in their 
vocabulary on Christ, in whom they beiicved that tlio 
divine thought of manhood had been realised iu all 
its fuhtMs. That predicate, however, was not of their 
own workmoiisliip, nor wiw it a mere niodiiicatton of 
the Semitic Wisdom, which in the beginning waa with 
Ood. That Wisdom a feminine, may be rboogoiDod 
< (be Bpist^m^ or knowlcdgi^ with which the Father 
eta the Son. but it cannot be taken at tho sMUtM- 
lime as the prototype of the miisculine Lugos or the 
apoken Word or the Son of God. 

l^onal piety addfesw^a 
the Fatlior of all the eoiiH of tiuiu. ' Sd 
nppliiy) to Jiieus, loseii ihs true tncftniDg u 
it in itb idiomatic Greek eonse, w the Ixigoi 
we leiim to imdfrotaud vhat Uie Fathers 
had fully understood, that the Logos or 
Gvd could become matiifcfit to majikind 
only, tiamoly, in that of man, tlic id<.'iil or 
I am quite williug to admit, on thu oth' 
An oxprcwion Hudt ta ' Son of Man ' i.' 
growtli. It 18 a soteoiitm even when trai 
Greek. No Greek would over have said 
in the Benxe of tnan, as little aa any Ro 
ever have spoken of Agnus Dei, except 
influence of Jewish thought. Son of t 
himply man, Iwfoni it was applied to tl 
ThuR only can we tuidenstand tlie entitt 
meets us aa early as the first centur)-, ' the I 
not the eon of man '.' 

If wo have once entered into the thougl 
mid St. Clunicnt as the rcprvsunlativea of 
ChriatioQ thvology nt Alexandria, we ithii 
liow closely the doctrine of the incamat 
nocted will) that of the I.ogOB, and receii 





It was OD]y on the strength of their old belief 
in the Logos that tho enrlifst Greek converts oould 
Tith perfect hoiii-^ty, an<l, in spit« of the gneers of 
Cslsus and other Orook philosophcni, bring them- 
i*elve8 to accept Jc«us of NazareUi ns the in«imate 
LogM, a» tlie Word or the Son of Ood. If tbey bud 
taken any lower view of Christ, if they had been 
satisfied with a mythological Son of Ood, or with a 
Daxareno Christy and if Uiuy bod held, m some theo- 
logians held afu-rvrnrds, nay as eomo hold even now. 
Uiat there was bt'twoen Ohrini and H'ln brethren what 
they call a difference of kind, not of degree, however 
wide, they could not have answered the taunta of 
their fonner fellow-gtudenta, they conid not have 
joined the Catecbetiool School at Alexandria or 
followed Nuch teachei's as Athenagoras, Pontaenus, 
St Clement, and Origun. 

What Atbonagoma, one of the earliest apologet«t of 
Cbristiiuiity, thought about the Son of Ood, wq can 
learn froni his dffenee which wan addressed to 
Uaroua Aurelius, where he aaya (cap. x) : ' Let no 
one think it ridiculous that God should have a »ou. 
For though the poot« in their ficUuns rcprt'^ciit the 
gods as no butter than men (that is, aa begetting sons), 
our mode of thinking iii not the i«amo as theirs, concern- 
ing either God the Father or the Son. But the Son of 
Ood is the Logos of the Father, in idea and in opera- 
tion ; for after the pattern of Him and by Him were 
all things made, thti Father and tbu Sou being one.' 

All this refers to Christian tlicology or theosophy 
only, and not lo what wc dkoiu by Christian religion. 

early Bial6ry~orX7Krwtia,n 
muKl novcr fgrgot that the Greek philos 
joined the Christian oominunity, after tlii^ 
made their peaco with tliuir philosophical 
veoame true di»ciple« of ChriRt ati<i ac^^p 
their heart Uie moral law which He had 
the law of love on which hang all His 
inonte. What that personality was they 
known far better than wo can, tor Clotnoi 
;beeQ liom in the middlu of the second con 
no«Bilily have known Fftpiiw or some of hi 
rwbo know tlie ApoBtIe«i, and hi^ certainly ki 
|Christian writings which are lost to ua *. T 
the image of that personality must bo left to 
ie%'or in Chri&t, according to the ideals of i 
nitid iM capable, and according to hiscapaeit 
iri-hending the deep aignificanoe of the few 
hriftt that have been preserved to us by the 
nd their disciples. What interests the histo 
ndcrsland how tho belief of a small broth 
aliloan fishcnnen and tlieir devotion to the 
uld have influencx-d, as they did, the religio 
id the phili'Mipliicjil oonvictions of the wht 
iciont world, Tho key to that riddle a 



the facts only, without any bias wliethor of orthodoxy, 
of rationalism, or of s^osticism. To the biBtorian 
orthodoxy has no existence. He has to deal with facts 
only.iiDtt with deductions that con he justified by facts, 
r cannot givo hero tho namt^ of all thu l>ooks 
whidi Imvo bt-en of use to mc in propttrtng tluHu 
Leotur«K. Many of them ar« quoted in the notiw. 
Myeorlicflt aci'|iminttuio« ivitli (he subject treated in 
this volume goea bark to tho lectures of Weiaao, Lotue, 
Mtd Niedner at Leipzig, and of Scheming and Ncander 
at Borlin, which I attended moru than ftfVy yunrs n^, 
^cv thon tho additions to our knowlcdgo of anciont 
religions, and of Christianity in itn roost ancient 
form, bare been so enormous that even a biblio- 
graphical index would form a volume I oonnot, 
however, conclude this prefaoo without acknowledging 
my olilig&tions to the authors of Houie of tho more 
recent works which have been of tho gri'atest tnio to 
me, I feci deeply grateful to Professor Hamnck, 
■viiu3t»Ifogm«n-'/cj^fii<fitK.\i*S8,i3 the most inarvellouu 
storobousD of well -an tbcnti Gated facts in tbe hi.ftory 
oC tbe Christian Church, to Dr. Charles Bigg, whate 
learned Bampton Leelurea on the Christian Platonieia, 
1888, make us regret that thoy were never continued, 
and to Dr. James Drummond, whose work on I'hito 
Juda«u, 1888, liOH supplied mc not only with most 
volnablfl evidence, but likewi.'te with the most careful 
analysis of whatever evidence there exists in illus- 
tratioQ of the epoch of Philo Judaeus. Tliat epoch 
waa an epoch in the true senso of thu word, for it 
made both Greeks and Jews pause for a time before 

urcb. and oppncd tbcir cy 

I tnitli in the inspired writings of Muhos 

K>h«t«, nn<1 likon-ise in the inspired writin, 

pd ArislotJe. It was a n-al epoch in tho huf 

irorld, if we are right in supposing that we 

philosophical defenders of the Cht^tiaQ fai 

dria the final victory of Christian phUoHo 

ristian religion ov»r the nligiou and philofiop' 

irhole Roman Empire. 

ght, pcirhaps, to explain why, to thu title 

pigical RtUgitmt originally chosen for tl 

■I course of Gilford Lectures, 1 have add 

I Thtodophy. It seemed \o me that this vener. 

ne, so well known among early Christii 

s, as expressing the hi-jht-st conwption of G( 

h« reach of (he human mind, has of late been > 

nisappropriatvd that it was high time to resto 

proper funetiou. It should be known onoe fi 

one may call onwelf a thoosopbiat, witboi 

speot«d of believing in spirit-rappings, tabl 

, or any other occult soicuoes and black arte 

painfully awaro that at seventy my oycs a; 

ecn as they wore at seventeen, and I mu 

lude this preface without CTaving the 



119, 119 H. 

— Ui* OMwa. Ill ■. 
Knma-lnviai FUhoi, IQt, li)). 

t>*m of God. li, ili, xii •-. 404. 

— ^ TtttoHiM • dcfloiiiaii, 461. 
•• ^ Mid hunuiQU V , oaciwu uid 

Mitran dI^ 536. 

— vfman. xU. 
Sanji> of tMouMt. )^ 
fnM «f Oo<l, 16c. .<4i. 
ttofiliik 0* E(iul«iiig, 4OJ H., 406. 

Soul. toj, 447. 

— Nlura of, M Ood >tUr dcadi, 

anJ(:ad,9i,g], 3;6. 

— mij UmMlM T^v of. 94. 

— NH>'pi*i(tti>t liow <>r. 94. 

^^— to G<d, (oulilns of ttw t'|wiii- 
^^m riuvli on ilii nUtion of Uie. 

^r ■)>- 

P — TwUnto IhiKiriMoii tW, 113. 

— it* Morn lo tiie Losct tnhmui. 

■ 14. 

— is diDnnrliU of Brnlinian. 116. 

— ^iMilloanl by iku luona. 1 16^ I ] t . 

— ik Ui* mooo, I4II. 147, 

— Mt«n hj lb« D«vw, 146, 147. 

— man of, to nrlli la rvia, 134, 

— clrai ctniMpt of, in tbo Upkui' 
«fcad>, 154. 

— parias iDto twin- Jtc. tSf- tfA. 

— dodI atuln B fODil triili. ijiS. 
I -- bad, boeoiiM ki<iiiiklii. 15C1, 

^^^ dwwv* of, wliim It liu tftllen u 

^^^^ wimumom ia it* dnMtit. isj. 
^K- muMftaKtjr of the ij8. 

^^^ bl lb* A*«(l«. uuinorUlltf ct, 
■ 19a 

— Mtltof, JDttwVnlieHTniDs'^o 

— Ma of, M Ow ponal nauirrv* 

ud bajy, alflfe bMwM^ in Uie 
KlB«d, aei. 

tkml.arriTKl of, tiffor* BsbiuMi und 

— •flcr pwung iho iGnrU laid^jt, 


lAlDofthc, }IO. 

— Imniuruditf of, MHOtMl bjPlftti^ 

110, lit. 

— naniM for tho, 148. 

— I)M inaaj' infanioK*, 149. 

— who or whkl liM •, )J7. 

— fint conicption of, frum ihailow, 


— &ni. Hat, of, aroiB fioin drcuiii, 


— tru« raUtlon of, (o Bntbnua, iGj. 

— VoiliBllrt *i»w. J71, 

— triio n*li>ra of iho indiiMiikl, ifig. 

— InillviHitiil mill ■iii(imn'', i;i. 

— noi > or»tfd ibirie. i;j, 

^ HcDFv Mow'i Vtr4i4 on, 376, 

— riotiniu on, iSo. 

— ulur* of. and >b> NlAtion l» th« 

IHrin* Boiiif, ifloi, 

— uiil Kralimaa, idmlilj of, lS), 

»8j, 384. 

— dll&rBnt atalc* of tho. 307, 30$. 

~- peraDDalltv «f, 
— the IndlTldtuI, 

*f^ 310. 

— In \U bra* «Maan i* Ood, Jlj. 

— ftnd Cod in ttuHlnm, 3J7, jjSi, 

iJ5. JI47. jSj- 

— in VwltntimTi, jjR. 

— JfilM t"l'lln no, 3f7. 

— indiiidual anil (ro6, J^t. 

— ratani from tho viiiUo to tho 

InTiiiblo world, jfii. 

— of tb* iitoloi, 39s. 

— iminnal. 399. 

— Pliiln indiitincl on lU rela^COta 

Ua<l, 41S. 

— it* wiilrr iiinnine l" Philo, 418. 

— it* thrrofoM ditiiion, 418. 

— ill Hiinfold diviiiun, 4I9. 

— peri iliablc and imperithftblajikHa, 


— OU Tisumtnt taaohliiK <">• 4il'> 


— M cominit bom ud nluTiiiiif W 

Uo.1, 4*3. 414. 

slMn^QiiraHted in, 51S. 
laa clmnent in the, ji6. 
hof UwSaDiiillic, S16. 
■tied bj EoUliwt nn th* 1)1- 
M QrouAd. 51 j. 
JU erwUd form MpKiaud 

gjMba to Ood •ooordiag to 

t «f dl Gna, g. 


Hit maOfhot or ^ ina'* 

J". Sfo- 

f death, Joarmy «f tb*, 113 


— pkaam** traxa ihg Upuii- 

Kdi, 1144! itj. 

V mat by ons of tlu fMitliful, 

fn., lien. 

^wtaAtringt of. i^j. 

■Ifcnc ■toge* in tha Upul- 

-lint *U)^ :50, 

-WMinil DUfC*, igo, 

- tblrd ito^, 151. 

- ZoroulTuii Mulling un, 

- Pluto'i vicwt. )03, J09. 

- ■Il«acc at Bnddlift on, i^j. 
' nil etliv nllfluui on, iJJ. 
tdglilog <if, 167. 

ng Uia nivcin. ii;g. 

e ■rorldottlief.-nd*, 15(1. 

s tho thronu of llmliniMi, 

^ ■inked, Ute of, igS. 

earth nmong tho lliki- 


in Goil, 5. 
S]>edoi, (Boi, j86, jS8. 

— erolQlLon of, .1S7, 

— the iiiuiii of I'Jjtto, 39 
l^[>conlatiiin> 1111 llmhiun 
SiHwnimii* whiKil, 
S|ppivli, uiiittir'*). Ji^. 
S|«nMjr, <id»« of, js.i. 
>>l*iiU Aminiti, 106. 

iSj, 184. 

— — b*«*mo a nuus 

inuda. 18^. 
tfnpfuruoi, 39!). 
iF^fwi<l7>, 137. 
i)pli(iT*, ooQMpt of the p» 
Hpi*(;«). 46 n., 4S n. 
l^lHiima, 10). 
tt|)irii World, namnfar.u 

noilan*, 11 8. 
A|iirtl. u Woivl, lt«a*OD, a 

8piHti«n, 153. 
Sjdriliw, Tarlullian'* nt* 1 
SpitAma Zjtnthuihtn, to 
Spn!nt,-er, 344 n. 
."fraddadhai), andidi, 79. 
^dilha, 904. 
Sriddhu, 191. 
StAtb, 101, 101. 
£ruli, or Inni^iMlon, t^a^ 

14I, l(iK, 171 

— in til* VoiU, 101. 

— ditRoultio* tfraaidl bjr, 

— Bnhmana* arc. (41. 

— unlir romuTca n<wjleac4 
St. Auguitiiio, 4g;, 46J, 



St. B*^, Ml dliti!nct!<in twtWMa 
mf^^ra Mid t^itara, ^1. 

tiU E«n»rU, i4J, «:, *&j, 486-488, 


— on tiM Chri*tiMi lifs, 469. 

— hi* Kwlub, 490. 

— iwcimUm tlta TadUtiiU 


K«o-F1atonb1«. 49:. 

— him poMai In tha Cliunh and 

Sum, 4<)1. 

— Mill AbcUrd, 4g>. 

— bit Uiecrltf f *nil liK*, 491, 

— aad thi OuhuIm, 49*. 
S4. CkcpiwUiai. 509. 
" Ctctnoil of AIeiudrl». lii, illi, 

>97. 384. 43J. 4J4. 434 » . I^J. 

— (iiDifilKiai of plkGiarlani, 371. 

— (cperior U> St. l^ul. 4S5. 

~ shy h« bcnoie » Chriaiiati, 4}^. 

— bii Muter, 4J& 

— U> bilk In Uio Old Toluaaut, 


— hl« alUitrdcal iottrgitrUiioa of 

tha Kn T«aUiii«ni, 4 j6. 

— TrinU; rf, 436. 411;, 441. 

— Lditm «*, 437. 439, 444- 

— nowniwd Jau* m iIib Ix>g«t, 

^ Ui4y (ihoat or, 440, 441. 

— Ui td«n of ptnuiialily, 44J. 

— antnmt al tha liuuisn uul lUrin* 

aunrM, 443. 444' 

— bb ids o( t^irift, 444. 

— ba tMohing fur liabi*. 445. 
^ hi) hiriiar Kacbliig. 445. 

— ksvwlMgo «c Gnada, ^kj. 

— Pi»f Mw tbo Vcdlnta tMcbiog 

•dd Bol Siiftlun, 44g. 

— <n gnda uul ungMK 471. 

— Ml w* MiMtial and urtMy bier- 

nrcUa*, 478 h. 

— oaeMMoiMd. 454, 456^ 488. 

— so tbo btbenr, 4^6. 
St. Cjril. 463. 
at. SmIi. a»d DhmjMiu tbo Areo- 


St. Joroma on new wotSt, 46a 
St. Fttiil mil I'lnihiiim. 94- 

— aplii1<iiiiji1iitiiiliipDlDt;oUi>fChrit- 

linuily, 43}, 

St, TIlCIT'll. ^(,2. 

tit. Viator*, the twcs £(£. 

SthnlniiLrlrai the nuiine bod;, apt 

Htoa. 3S4. 

StoliMiu. .^90. 

Sto<cil dlvUlon of tbo Soul. 419. 

Si.,W, 37J, j77. 38c, 384. 3(,6. 

— Itnuon or Loigoa of, 397, 396, 


— HyU, niittteT, of Ibt, J97. 

— God of Ibf , 397. 

— trus Pantheiita, 397. 

— the Loeni "f. 397. 358. 

— eitomal and Intcniai Lugo*, 398, 

— iDul livintf aftsr death. 398, 

— iinlvmst *oul, 3[)H. 

— Mid Ncn-l'laCDUiil*, 4]4-4>7. 

— KUil God, 4)6. 
^adra cane. (47. 
SWraa, 163. 

— iMi aliidj tb* Vodlnta, 330, 
Siili, tnn of tbo aUMB, 160. 

— Kaklr, Darwtnh, 344. 

— poeC«. rilrMt) trim, 3S4-361. 

— iloriratjcin of. 338, 3.!9, 344. 

— doctrine*, nbitrbcl of. 339, 

— IlaMa tbc uarliuC, 340. 

— ternia darlTtd (rum (JlirUtltnUy, 


— four tUtgrt of lb*, J48, 

Siifiistn, ill nri^n. 33 J. 

— not ^nealok;i«l]y>laaceBdad fiem 

Vedlrtiiln, 3.17. 

— •on] and God in, 337. 

— Tboluik on, 3 38. 

— Maliiiniinedaii In origin, 338. 

— ImtiuM on. 348. 

— Paniau InllLiviin* on. Hi. 

~ its iHinii«ci>»D witb oaj'ly Cbri» 
Uanily. 34J, 34J, 

— thv (bnnitcr of, 343. 

— poetical Unguagouf, 34^ 

— moraJit)- of. 35,4. 

— may almoat be called Cbrlttlaa, 


of I'liit^iUtiii iktnong tlifii 
botli ID PeniMi anil A nhi^, 

^ (tan. 345- 
like live*. <L4f. 
Cddhi on tliv Itue. j^fL 

Otfitofx ''^- 3JJ- 

lo J (Kill, 360. 

MRni, tbo •ubOn (ulnl f) 

iplilii* »n'i. J05. 

»olBtii-», MS- 

I ftjktiB <>r til* Pilri), 145, 

Oaii tbo Pflnin. t4f. 

llttf<Uni.ii, .^^13. 

■ njt, moutiltur or tlio, 


ml nltj{laii. vtl. 

n til* \piluw JO. 
■|>hnHf 1 nil, 50^ 

loth Jov» and Orccki 
fian mto, 379. 

DiMiicaii, 4IO-4II, 
JoplWr. 4*3, 
ml. «;i. 

with *vi. 16S. 


8>ni>iiiii. Iliihop, j;j. 
Myn»l of Adliocli, 411. 

^ ■'( TiHfl. f 03. 

TAIIITIAN hMted, m8. 

— r&iiii, 131. 

Tkluiud and CbrUtiMi ilnou 


— tin liriJg* to uothfr life I 

— >(H (r betimn (nul uiil hn 
TKngiis, irioi-wogd tnc f>'(^ 

TnrUnit. iiT. 

Til tvsiu Mi. lOf , *», 1II5, 

Tiulor. 4J7, 41*7. 506, 536. 

— hii trriiitint, $u6. 

— bomiwtil frnm Eokhut, fC 
—■ (tilliHB uid idlenw laogj 

— dlaoontagod cxtrame 


— Icil kn iiDllv* life, 519. 

— on ognfnnan, jjO. 

— on vi*U>ri>. f ji. 

— 00 Knlewnrva, f JJ. 
Tvtniu;. Mt.. 99 a. 
Tcmrlc, IJr., on the pcnoim 

TcrliilUiiD. 4.V4. 4(>a. 

— Lla LAita cifuiT^enta Ibr . 


— nn tli« 8nn o( Ood, 461, 

— hi* a>e iif ipirilni, 461. 
^Tuufrroc Wo, ]I4. 






— Dirtlio and whoIutlD, 481. 

TWalKHupat, 45. 

TW». ^47. 

Mt and i Mf, 4^, 459. 
Mwni, ^1, 4S), 4Bm. 
TbMMpUe, 9t. 

— phficMphy of th« VfdftiitUt, nut 

of On Sue*, J4& 
Tlinaophj', 91, 9}, 106, J41, 

— On* mf p in y uf, ivi, ' 

— Ik ChriKianilj, 44$, - 

— UtJb«M Umdh of. 539> 
nnapNUl, tbo, 464. 
TUhaat, 99, 100. »;) ■. 

— OS IUbUIiiu^. 313. 
■ThbklBff umI wlUI&s,' 383. 
TUfd nt nU rctii, 130. 

— PwMBof UiaTrioitv, 441. 
noteblf a J«wi(ti id**, 44 1 . 

— — Orig*B'* vww, 4f ». 
'n'ii'd', 4$3, 4^7 . 

— aaSuUnn. 334. 

— iMtByMdm. 484. 
TbiMM* AquiuM, V, 197, 461, 4CA, 

474. 4W- 499. S09. S'»- 514. 

^ Etilloin anil dcpenda 00 
UontiiBt. 4*^. 49S- 

— '^ on Cailh ami ki"iwl«d^e, 494. 

— — not a ln» mjalic. 4V4- 

— — IHi<n«aa I4, aoi oaengM willi 

fM« fren Uwolagieal pn- 

JBdin, 496, 

— — knowlolfK of God, 496. 

^ ^ f aiellflTlaaJ TiidoD, 497^ 

— ^aacretUaa, 514. 
'KMBa, 174 a. 

' Tbva an Ihal,' 168, tKf. 
Thwifbi of Gwl, 4t), 
'rhao^laaiiil wocdi.iialicokfii ohalD 

of, JIJ. 

Thna qwtlitiea, th?. ifii. 

— Patw, Et Ufore th*, ng. 
HiroM^ 475- 
Tibk, B. O.. iha afitlqaitjt of the 

V«lai, 145. 

Tin-til-, loni of, 14. 
Twlwy briili^ to another liGi amen)* 
Hi«, t;j|. 

— h«a*on and hell, I74. 
rJ If ml Til fv, 1.17. 

rJ iv. 7S. 16S, 17S, 331, 534, 410, 

447. 46«. 
tO vrttti Sr, 379. 
TnunUtion trum VollntaKdlrkS 

117 rl trr. 
IVanuiiiiErntinn in tlia Lawi "t 

Mmiu. 161. 

— oinv rlaHci of. 163. 

— no trace of, in Uutcrn Pacifli-, 

Trior, Synod of, 503. 
TriuiQiU. 141, 14J. 

Ti'luitr of Ki. CUiiiwe, 4J& 

— ot 1^10, 440. 

— of Numcniua, 440, 

— ofOrinn, 4J;). 
Trujiisi [rf Porphynun, 144. 

— M tcalM l-T (he Koul, 145, 
Ttdc, the (^tvaiu), IIJ. 

— cuuUng back to tha, ifiR. 
Truth, nut afrvad b; aoMrtfun*, J. 

— uiiitviaallly of, jl. 

— imtlprlyini; mjrth, jji. 

— tuiii-hfltouc of, JJ5^ 
Tundaliu, poem of, 1 70, 

T«o gn(«, or two inuiitha, 144. 

primeval prinmpi**. 1K4. 

l-iBisnt «v«D ill Ahufaiutiwla, 

1H4' '85- 
Trior, 7J. 
Typ«, wbenoo Ihoy uritt^ 387, 


— Huiley'a Idoa of, 38;, j88. 

cient U4U. II I. 

Unlvui, not unlji«nltu«, 411, 
tlniun, nut kliurplioii, iya. 
Union with Uod,LiiuD7iin> 00,479 


— tnjnitio, 479. 

flvu nlaffea of, 4S0L 

CninnilSel'f. 160. 

— Sonl, JIO. 

«I'. »93» '96. 303. 305. 

I7 natdane*. jo<i. 

I doctrtno, BD euly Bud 

nmrih of, 113. 

1*5. lor, 108, ji* 13* 

(7«. S.W- 

pnenu, gli. 

It mcijuiiu of iba b»- 

?ln th(% 96. 
lt-1 truirlatv, 109. 
Ky obacura, 1 1 o. 
■ tnn'Ution uf, iiol 

rclBtioo of Uia mdI to 

rent itMamonU nn Ihit In 


•oul sftar J«nth, 114 tt 

pngnai in Iha, 

Itn harmnnlH tha dltttt- 
heuunw in ihi-, ItJ. 
buiMii; with tha MatitiBi^ 

|]ii ti> 1i&ni<on>M llivHi 
1 ICIirllitig of ihc Vcilat, 

I of thouyht w to the 

*l lannDBi^ Intei^ 


lurn of Moll to auth. 

— aqalvocaTi 

— rtnKig* to u^j 

— eamu of Bud 

— tb*ir doeUina cnlleil 

Mcr*t, JJ9- 

— iliidj of, iwlricWJ. i>g. I 

— the p^Tohotnificitl prul'leiil 

upperanwl, 3J5. 

— )tiiuy of. n holp to r(iuli>1 

llut. 511. 
lIpU in Aitomi* tr[ili, 64 a. ' 
Unl, woll of, 169. 
L'tkrAnii, BKodii* of Iha *uul.| 
Ultkii AlliiilimtB, <))>, 99. 


Vtouuioflna, 131, 
Viiiriiu, lot. 
V*i. joi, 
VainiAiukik dailiat, r<S3, j 

Vaifva-OMte, HJ. I 

Vuijiiu, 156, ] 

Vftiuvraiil, Ilia river. 170, I 
V»i. 70. 1 

Vftlcnti QiMu. iho, i;9>^ 
VklkbM, iir Viili>H«l» I, 39. 

— prwarrad Uia AvaaUt Aiid i 

Vantintnrar Niiik, {IS. 
VMona, 16, 17. Ill, 130. 133, 

— not OuniiioiL, 7J, 

— aboTs tbo li|jbtniliE> I3I1 


— AhiinmuudB, a dtTelopmei 

VauKliBii, IloHTi leilh tkt Mji 

49' "■ 



nt Kit nijralml >e>i 

. knmltdge, «T Uajfuajv, to}. 
ia AYnti, 104. 

ftbeok wilb KTcn Hali, 111. 
'-~ Urtcftel OAirth nr, 141. 

— *milU wr li1t[hn fiM of ilio 

Golh««il in. 13;. 

— th» Soplvina Btuojf In, tjq. (40. 

— MAdj *( rMtrioldl, 3^0. 

-> asd Areata, clow ocanuctiQii <if 
Lngiugc* of. i8ck 

— •nuuci tliami in wmmon. iBi. 

— ctUiuioD lM>ck);rMUiul of, IQJ. 

— ItUnlwv. ihn- [■TinU nf, 101 . 

— wlMola, twn. 107, MA. 114, 

— ibMtM* on it* MUl, 113, \i6, 

#6*. 363. 

— fcoahil Oft SnU, 141. 

— ' iIwMIm on ImmoTMlitj. 134. 

— H • |itlk«i>pbjc»1 tyUin, iSa. 

— MUl . i«liKfoti, J14- 

— motml o)wnut«r of. itj.. 

— MhginfiU lEBinirt liwiu*, 316. 

— nul Mid G«J In. .1,^6, 
' iniMfH Ufbert luiowIcH^, 193. 
'pUleMphy, «, 77, icj, 104. 

lojL, 107, loS. 
' ^ on Uii^ Ml, lofi. 
hiuUutiutal |<riDcIp1e nt, JS4. 

' — difli*nfrDmiii)«tio|ihiloMpby, 

> — ORatwn in Um, igS. 

■ ^ flcb Ib liiDilMk 314. 

— — no raMtolon <o tk« (tiuly of, 


(UonoM brtweni, 366, 159. 

— il* pwirth, 369, 370. 
VedtM^Mtnu, t(7t 9^, 101, 107, 

■08, 134. 190,311. 
uuiubor nt. gS, 

■ — UBinai Of, 9N. 

- USMUtiuU' at, 1(4 «, dA. 

- uaiHihli'in of Anl Satn of iliinl 
Uuj^of fbuitb Bwk, ii^rtKf. 

VoiUaU'ltAtnii, lovo ur God w&nt- 
fni;(Q. 191. 

*bcrrt •imiinAry iif. 3 1 7. 

VwllLDlitin, 11 il thu ori{^li of Suli- 

"•n ' 337- 

— likeiMM 10 taylic Cbriitiimitr, 

VtuUudn, >, on Idonlily klt<rd(*(l>, 

— on [|i« DU]ui[u« wllh Pntjitpali, 


— on tba indmdual nau], iri. 

— ulmiM no didorenoe botwcrn 

MOM and offwt. 303. 
llonmui Mntto. jHo, 

— pmnnal Ood uf tliu, ito. 

— two ktnJii of raality tu llie, 31O1, 

— Cralur or Ibo, Jio. 

— atluQ tb» tun* pnil xKutg^Jt. 

— gn union *ritli BnhmM) ia thi* 

life. S33- , 
Vnllc |ir»ycr*, 1 0, 17. 

— Hyiiiii*. |aih uf ihu «iml in. 190. 
tDvooalion of Cbs Fklbcn in, 


— pODla Bod nUluHinhen kdTknoed 

boyond Undr nlu ttiih coninuin 
wlib tho Zuroutrlanji. 1S9. 
~ SuHbrlt (Uflloull. I J^. 

— duiiiM. ■oma oeciir u dvlnotu In 

iha AvnU. 1S9. 
VcnJldld uid Mini, 41. 

— or Mnifiil, 4), 43. 

— Sld.b. 43. 

— •«• of, 4*. 

— hrtdtc* ••( JTInvnf in tbo, 171. 

— Owl »iiil Uio Hi'til ID tlio, 11)3. 
Vvrbal oo|iiilii. 7;. 

VvrbiUD. vri'db, word, l^i. 

Veat*. j6. 

Vibhu, ball of Brabnuui, 111, 111. 

Vid, tti knuw, 3}. 

V'i^iuii Tivi:r. |}i, ill, 114. 

— iiiuaii'i a^ltw. I4J. 170, 111. 
V'UukihBHi, tbroDD, Di, llj, 114. 

— tba fe«t UUl >ide> of, 111. 
ViroftMut, ijo, 151, m, 160. 




^'ixliiiii, 140, 

Viaiiini uF uodlo*, 5>B, sgt. 

ViiiiirKl, llio, 4.V 

— opt of ibo, j6. 

TI«tiup, nurnct book* of ZutvuXat 

vullcetcd CDilar, 38. 
VlftkkuiMn, }47. 
ViruU, jgS. 
Vlv«rU<*bl>, 317. 
Visuwlu, tha fiinil, Iji, 194. 
V«Ji(iiuu>0, good tliuuglit. 44, 49, 

fS, rSS, 10.1. 

— > |«mllal Id (he IIolj Ghal, 57. 
VfirwWUuiiir, jKj. 

Vriilli, J41. 

VrttrkbM, Vail* ■• VtrvtlintfFhiin. 

AVMlk, iBj. 
VjJMMiatrM, 98. 

WACKERKAOEL ud Wdnhold, 

W.IW. 7i. 
WaldtiKiftiu, joj. 
VVw.ilJ.w, >J t>. 
WftMr tha bt^nnlng of M thlngt, 

80, 85. 
Wkiiti^ Kad wnnlng of tho moon. 

147. 148. 
Webei, 99 B., iftfi, l6j n. 
WflcliinK of •<><i]>, 167. 

— <>r llio UduI lu tbe MInoUiirwd. 


— bj KMbuCI, 101. 
W.|«e, i>. 
Wcllhiknioii. sj. 
Wcligwdilcblo, iitdu VTdtgvrichv 

Wo*t, Dr. 41, 4;, 5; a. 

— lib tmutation nf Iha PInkknf, 

WMICOll, 104, 110 ».. *M 0. 

— oa Uia Lof^ of Uib Poonh 

OwprI, 4 1 4. 

— (tory of bioofiiuM the Artoptk- 

— on th* nftta Mniury, 478. 
W«t'0>(lialier DItu, 337, 

* Wlui (boa ut, UiM wu I,' 160. 


WblnfUId m Imi'lullMw of Orwk 
book* fntn AnibK', 341. 

— tnkntlnlion* fnim Uig ACwoitvt, 

Wiokc'l. panubaidiu of, in Minn, 

— ' ounbt find tbc p»th ofthc Faibcia 

or Otxlt. 171. 

— burnt by flmiiBi. 171. 17J. 

— bU of, kfler d*klli. ■•>)). iqg. 
Widnw-bomiii^,k|ipaBl lo Inlbniiki, 

WifoofGod, 401. 
Wilford, Si. 

Will, lumnder of oar. 541. 
Wladnm, tbe 8tnilllii nut tb« nun* 

M the l>D(;i». li. 

— «fUoil,40i, 40&. 

— p«noDi fixation of. 405. 

— ur Sopbia, 406. 

— of thti IVotrrbi, 406. 

— H (lie Fntber, 497. 
Wonl, 14]. 

— u Bimbman, 141. 143. 

— or Luun^ 301, Jgl. 

— nntinvre lound but IhoilKbl, 3^ I , 


— knd thought itiiiD|Anl>l(, 384. 

— of God. 404. 405. 411. 

— of tlio Fitbrr, 313- 

— hu lott Itn Dieuiiug. 311. 
Wonb kud th»UKliu^«oiiiiiion.\r}rui 

•lovk «(, 71. 
Wuilt*, blvntdnix* kuiiitrinj bj. I4IS, 
rtlutn w wirih, I48. 

— arv s>b*n'-l*il, 130. 

World of Agiii, V'iyu. *(., Ill, 1.13, 

— o.>onei.'ttJ wilh loka. 13J, 135. 

— M Wutil Hid thouglit, J4J, 

— 1« Urnltuutii, jiu. 

— th* ialollijiil'U u IIk Lii|r'*> 


— kad all in it, lb* tro* t>«n, 


— - ptnoct of enjoyioml, 133, 

— -ipiril of I'lntcs 44O, 

— .wida truthi, 10, II. 
Wiit!n|[. ua nurd for, in Ved» or 

AvMta, 31. 


■^^^^^ '^1 

^^^^ INDEX. 585 1 

Writing ktio»nJaK>msboak* of the 

Zamhoihtra'i acoonnt of Ahurn 

UU Touuisnt, 31. 

MitiUk, ft. 

— InU with Aliun MiuiU, £4, ;;>;. 

— Mluwoiv ulijurin^ tlwir fwtn lu 

X £NOPHA N EM .in one (In,l, gi> 

— m the Sujirciuc liclug, IJJ, 

tin HovM, IHH. 


a r«J liinliiriu »»»nt, iSt), tSi). 

— PUio aDil Ctc«o on, 331. 

Zamaityii, oil oF. loS, )il. 

— likeneu of bi* teaching to the 

Z«ller, Z>>< Fhilo-ophU ilrr 

Upuiidiaai. 33<^ 331. JJJ, 333. 

Gritrhni,fi\, 81,83.84,107 n . 

— ScIlUl UD, 33]. 


— jiliplckl |>liiliuu|ih]p of, 33*. 

Zond Avait«.errailenii>iiamv,3£,3& 

— mnitatcit inui (ircnk, yi. 

— pmari'vid b]r Vnlnj^Mv* I, 39l ^^^H 

YAMA, 100, 10), 1J4. 
— mliuof, 137, 140. 

— Iwi^tin^fi-, 43. ^^H 

— fint «I luorlklt. 1 39. 

ZCQO. ^^H 

— lilt miMD, not the aiin, 13S *. 

— on Iha Logni, 4G0, ^^^H 

— M«r Um ictuns ana, 1 39. 

Z«ai, 111,447. ^^H 

— totiMatar ot tb* wiokeci, 166. 

— liaui, briglil. 19. ^^H 

-~ pull of, 169. 

— ur .1 u|>llcr, leMon of, 19. ^^^H 

— and VamiUi I'jo. 

— ^^H 

— on tin &i« o( lbs vlokcJ, itj, 

— Tifiig deriotiun from [ipr, 7], ^^^| 


— ol XcDopbniiB*. .130> 331. ^^H 

— in tho world of tlio father^ )>j. 

> r'^nonal dettjr, 331. ^^H 


Cicero on, 331. ^^H 

YwiiBlakk, 146. 

— ul Ari>t;itle, 393. ^^^H 

Yubt*. (be. 43. 

Zlniuiir, 139 n. ^^H 

— iig» at, ^i. 

K^iT\m*\vv, Hiialir*ift of hi< bonkfl liy 

Ymo*, th*, 43. 

HeriTiijjpii*, 83. 

^_ — ths old Mul lalT, 4& 

— t»i:1ic< neithvt Firo-wonhip niir 

^B Vmt, rium, to tlm winil, 13a 

Dualiim. iSo. 

^r TtaUihik, mniouili, ill, id. 

— imd iho Vodio Buhis, nll^jium 

Vi-jBtUtru, 317. 

of, iSi. 

Vxj^u. 317. 

— DkDio knowa tu PUlu anil Ati- 

Yiilfc iIm, 3ij. 

lltills, Hj. 

ZiTOULrina prajxr, 19. 

— raligjco, Itii* of uiaiiy I'ciuk*, 5^. 

KAOTAB. liotAT, «j. 

Zumlhuditn, 36, loS. 

— IdM of k (piritiol and iitatcrlal 

— ntbeT of tha t.litti<M, 44. 

OTMlJaii, ;6, sj. 
— ponllcl to the LofiM, 37. ^^H 

^P iSi. 

— Mudayniaian. \^i. ^^^| 

^^ — Im Numotbdim. 1S3. 

ZuroutrliJiltiD loviTed li)> Iho Su- ^^H 

1 — tiM l« (olla tbo (imbleni of th« 

■anlaoa, 40. H 

1 txbtaiuoofaiill, 1H4. 

ZonwlTian* in loma point* iii->rw H 

1 — qnntloDMl fjj uu* of the ita- 

•iniiilv tliaii tha Vadie pl'U'an- 1 

L^ IMiMl, 19S. 

jihen, iSj. ^^B 

^^^^L THE ^^^^ 



OOitPllSD Br M. w. 

Ilitopade^a. Eine site indiecbe Fabelfititnmlung. aus 
dem Sanfikrit zum crsten Mai ins DcutBclio iibcr- 
setzt. 1844. (Out of print.) 

Meghadfita, der Wulkciibotc, dcm Killidaea iiacbgo- 
dichtet. 1847. (Out of print.) 

On tlie Relation of tbo Bengali to tho Arytm nnd 
Aboriginal lAii^ag:eB of India. ii<47- ('rmiin- 
Mtions of the British Aosoeifttion for 1847.) 

Rig-Veda-SambitA. The S^acred Hymna of the Brilh- 
mans, to^'ether with the Cotninentary of Sfi,j a«tt- 
jf&r>-a, «ditod by F. M. M. dvolfi. 4to. ii<49-i873. 

On tliu Turanian Languagvs. letter to Cbuvalier 
KuDMii. 1853. (Out of print.) (In Buneen's 
Cbriatisnity and Mankind, vol. Ill, pp. 263 seq.) 

Od Indian Logic (in ThomHon's 'Laws of Tbougbt'). 

Proposals for a Cniform Missionary Alpbabot. 1854. 
Su^lMtiooa for tLu Assistanvo uf OfHcors in Learning 

tha Languages of the Scat uf War in the East. 


The Languages of the Seat of War in the East : with 

a Survey of the thiee Families of Laiiguagu, 

Si>DiHic, Aryan, and Turanian. Second Edition. 

With an Ap]>eDdix oii the Miiisionary Al]>hahet 

and an Ethnological Map by A. Pktkkmanm. 

1855. (Out of print.) 
Comparative Mjtliology. 18,5^. (Reprinted in 'Chips 

from a German Workf^hop.') 
DoutKohu Liebe. Aus den Papiuroa einea Fromdlings. 

i«57. Ninth Edition, \HH>). 
Buddhism and Ruddhi.-^t Pilgrims. 1857. (Reprinted 

in ' Cliipit from a Genuan Workshop.') 
The German Clasiiica from the Fourth to the Nine- 

teenth Century. iKj8. Now Kditiun, by F. 

Lichten§tein. 2 vols. Oxford, 18K6. 
Correspondence relating to the Establishment of an 

Oriental College in Loudon. (Reprinted from 

Tke Times, 1858.) 
A HiHtory of Ancient Sauekrit Literature. 1859. 

Second F^lition, 1860. (Out of print.) 
Andent Hindu Astronomy and Chronology- 1861. 

(From fourth volume of the Rig-Veda.) 
Lectui^B on the Science of Language, delivered at the 

Royal Institution of Great Britain. Vol. I, 1861. 

Vol. U, 1H67. Fourto^-nth Edition, 1886. 
Hiti^padem. San.<«krit Text with Interlinear Trans- 
literation, Grammatical Analysis, and Englinli 

Translation. 1866. 
A Sanskrit Grammar for Boginners. 1866. Second 

Edition, 1870. New luid abrid^d Edition, by 

A. A. Macdun'Kll. 1886. 



[Chipe from a Gennan Workshop. 4 vols. 
J 875. Second Kdition. Vols. I, II. 


(Out of print. A soluction published under the 
title of ' Selected Kssayst.') 

VuLCH* I. 

LMFiuni on th« VotUn, or the Baorcd Book* of the Brtli- 
tnaOK dvlivcml at Lcadi. iBfij. ■ 

ChrUt •»(! othM" HMtora. 1858. 
Tlia Veda and Zond-Avuta, 1S53. 
Th* AllaroT-a-Br&limsiut, iS&t. 
On tlM Study of (he Zvnd'AvnU in tii^ia. i8Ca> 
Pn>gT«a«(ZuicISoholanhip. 1865. 
G*nin* and tli* Zcnd-ATMii, 1864. 
Tbi» Uodvm Pania, 1869^ 
Buddhiun. 1861. 
Buddbidt Hl^riini, 1857. 
TbeUaanin'gof Kirrftna. 1857. 
CklnMaTnuulatloniiofSaiikkiirruita, tS6i. 
TU« WorltMurf^nfiioiuis 1861. 
Popol V«h, 1863. 
SMnltio Moniilhoiim, 1860. 

VoLrBl It. 

CnaipnratWc Uyl1i<i1ii(;y, 185A. 

Ornok Ujlln.l.^y, iBje, 

0»*k Leicsnda, r&fi-;. 

Ballaroiphon, 185,^. 

Th« Honam^n in IvoUitd, iOs& 

FnllfLofiS 1663. 

Zulo Ilun»ry TaU«. 1867. 

IHiptUar T^ln from Ihe Nono, rS;^ 

TalMofthaWcrtUlghlandN i86(. 

On Uaiinoni aiid Ouatotda, 186^ 

Our Ftfuroi, 1863. 

Cut*, 183& 

ToLrn m. 
0«nB*B literal uns 1858. 
OM Oennau Um^oa^, 1858. 

Y« Scbypp* of FOoUl, i&s8i 

Lifoof SohiUer, 1839. 

Williolin Mmior. 1838. 

On Iho [^nguagc nod Poetry of Schl«>wlg-tIo1iteln, 1M4. 

JoLnvillo, 1866. 

Th«JouTn«l iltMtSftvaoUand tl)«Jeuriiald«TT4Toax, ■&6& 

CbMot, 18316. 

ShftkoipcBro, 1864. 

BlaOD In ticnnony. iSj^, 

A 0*riniin Trimtlnr in Kogliuid ^ d. 1598, tZ$^, 

Cornith AiiU'iiiiliiMs tB6^■ 

At* there Jevn in Cornwiill 7 1B67. 

The Inialatlon of St. MIcbiitl'ii Mount, 1867. 

Bunurn, 1868. 

Ltttun from Bunxm to M*x MQIInr in tli* y«ara 1S48 to 

TotvKK rv. 

luugunkl Leotura, On tlia Value or Campanltin flillolasf 

a* a bnnoh of Academic Study, dulivvrod bvfoTa tlia 

VnivonityofOirorJ, 1B6S. 
note A. On thu Pinal Di>Dtal of the Prooomlnal 8t«n (uit. 
Noto It. Did Fomlnlno Duo* la d tako a In tha Nomina* 

tlTo Singular t 
]lot«C Gramroatioal Pnrma tn 8an»krlt oorrovpondiaR la 

ao-onlltid InDnitivMi lu (In.i'k and I^tin. 

Bade Lcetiiro, Part I. On tbo StratiB«alion of Lan^uaga, 
doliverail iMfivo tlio Unlvanalty of Cambridgu, 1668. 

BeJfr Laotun. Part 11. On Ourtiua' Uhronology of t>i« 
Inda-Qormauiv Laiikuoom, 1873. 

Lcoturo on the Migration of Pablo*, dcliverH at tlio Royot 
Inutitution, June 3, I6^» {COntfmiwnay Ibricw, Ju]y, i8)o . 

Appoudix. On Prut-'idor Bunfay'a Dlnoowry of a Syrlae 
l^wialation of ttiu iudian Pnbloa. 


Laoturo en tlio lUsnlta of tbo SeioneB of Languago. de- 
llverod boforo tlia QniTondty of Sbiuaburg, May ag, 
187B [Qtnltnipitary Rrrine, Jiuia, 187B}. 

Kota A. 9ti< and Deiu. 



VaU B. The Tocallvo of DjrrtlU bikI Ztvt. 
ir«to C. Aryan Word* occurring lu Ziinil Iiul not In 0HW 

I««tnrF <ai Miiuioii>i, dolirerod in WMtuiiuotiir Abb«y. 

DniDinber 3, i8i3- 
Nolir A. PMMigo* khawlng thn Mlulonaiy Spirit «f 

K«to B. TbeAohitm iti thv Bmlinm-HjunAj. 
Vttto CL EslnoU friuii Kocliuh Chuiidur Sin's lyirtum. 
Pr. Stanlojr*!! Iiitrvduolorr Scmioli on ChriBtiiiti MiuioD*. 
On thu Vllslitjr of IlrfthmniiUiu, po%t*cnft ta Ibu Lociura 

OD UliHli>n> I. JVlHi|iIi'/|i /t<ri>it. July, iS;4 . 

A4cln>wi on tlio Iin|K>rlun(>>< of OrionUl StitJic*, <lulirt<r»d 
at Ihu tntuniatiunal Coagtvaa of Orlniitiiliiita in Lonitoa, 


Life of Culobrnoke, with Extrncla ttara hia ManiiiK-Tl|>t 
Kotea on Companttivu I'lillology ^AVinbuivA Jfinrw, 
Oeiobar, ift^aj. 

Kapl; tff Ur. Dnnrin (Conltmixnny Jtannc, January, 187^. 

lu 9(>lf-I>vr«nco. 

Index 10 Vol.. III. and IV. 

On tlic Sti-atitication of I>a»jjuage. Sir Koln-rt Redu's 
Lactare, delivered at Cambridge. iH6)i. 

Rig>Voda-SnnihitA. The Snored Hyniim of tin.* RMh- 
nanii. Ti'Ati-iliLtod and explaitiud hy F. M. M. 
Vol. 1 : IKinns to the Maruta. 1H69. 

Rig-Vcdn^Pritiwikhyn: Uuh iiltfenlc Lidirbuch dur 
Vcdiitdion Phonelik. Haiiskrit Taxt rait Ueber- 
settling und Anraerkungcn. Leipzig, 1869. 

Biid<l)tagl)oshn.'ii Forablvs traiifdatocl front Bunnoso by 
Captain T. KonKits. with an IntiWuction enii- 
tainiiig Boddiui'H Dliaiumapada, translated frvm 
PAliby F. M. M. iSjo. 

I Ae Vs5 bet 

■BO nanee, I 


L D. F. SknM^ r. 3Ux WUkr, ud 



^^■iA St ibe 1 

Scran P«Me FmUtsI in LoodoD. 

S^. ]|i;t. 

'*T^ 1871. 

Ijiilur dit KiMil 

■te^farffuMfcihwmliilt VorlD- 

ri«V<S7>. ■ 

On Willi III! ft 

LmBbi* dafivvnd in WcstaiinsSP 

MA^. vnk «n bcndoEtaty StiBon (7 A. P. 
StMl^. IdBdon, 1873. (OiA of print.} 
IheHynaB •Tthe Big-Veda te the SmUa and Ptdk 
IboHL (Beprinted frm O* Etfitio Prinoepft.) 
Avah. 187J. 

«■ Mr. Dftrris's FhUaaepbr of I^iii^age, 

4dhi««d M the Itc>>-*1 ImcitBtMO in March sad 

1S75. (Oot^pcint.) 

I to ti»e Scient« of Bdigiaa: Four Lectnrai 

I u liM Ko^ la Bl ifli iBn. 1873. Mew 


r.J.& (M.U.'sp«*tgnBdfallMr).«Biogn^5, 

Sttahrt firi«r«Mba(i mil Henog Cbmtian rm 

SoUwiri^UalMein. 1875. 
Uvlnr AMkU\v Kiir d init LocftUvbedentung (J&hr- 

bU«W (Ur Pbi)olDgi«. iK.A Heft 10, 'Sftbekd 

On H|N'IUiiK, UniUui Mxl ItAth. it«76. i^«6. 

l#HiifMi nil lltii (h'lx'o **■>■' (<rowih of R«U 
llliiNtfnlOfl )tf till' H> )'(iions of Itwiia, 
t*f\»ttm, |N;N, IjiHi Kilittgn, 1891. 

Tlic Upauishadii. (ran8liitc<l. (SkcfmI Books of tb« 

EiMt, Vol. 1. 1879; Vol. XV, 1884.) 
Selected fisiwys on Language, Mythology, anil Ho- 

Itgion. 2 voIr. i^8t. 
Immanael Kant's Criti<}ue of Pure Ri>a»on, in Com- 

memoraUoQ of the Centenarj' of its First Pub- 

licati'>n. Tnuielnted hy U. M., with Introduction 

by 1^ Noini. i«8i. 
The Dhauiniapa<lii. tranittatcd IVom P&Ii. 18S1. (Vol. 

X, Part I of Sacrp<J Books of tht Ka«t.) 
[Buddhist Texts from Japan, edited in the Aryan Series 

of the Anecdota Oxoniensia, I, i. i8!ii. 

'Sacred Books of the Ktutt. U-tter to the Very Rev. 

iLe, Deao of Christ Chureh. Oxford, 18K1. 
Sukh&s-atJvyi'iha. Description of SiikhAvat!, Tlie Land 

of Bliss, edited by F, M. M, and Bunyiu Nanjio. 

(Anecdota Oxonit-niiia, Vol. L Part 11. 1883.) 
India. What can it Tiiich ust A Cuuruc of Lectures 

delivered beforv the University of Cambridge. 

1882. New Edition, 1892. 

Biographical Kasaya. [»ndon, 1884. 

mjah ItAinninhiia Roj', iT7t'i683 (writton tSSj). 
Kitihub Chundrr Sea. 1838 1B84 (wrilloii iSO^). 
Daj'lnacila Mururutl, 1897-1883 (wiillon 18S4). 
Bnnjrla Kanjlo. 1&19, and Kunjiu K>uini>. i&st-iSSj 

(wrlttra i8&4'- 
OskbrookD, 1165-1837 r£r(i>ib»ri/1 Uftitir, OcL 1S73; *Chlpi 

friMi a tivruuB WorkiJi«p,' iv, 377). 
Nobl, 1800-1876 :n»>iF«!poruiry/f((4««, Ang 1678). 
BaaMn, 1791-1860 cCbip* from a Ocrninii VTurkahop,' 

lii. asflj. 
Kliigul*}', iBoD-iS)] (IVaiiiilaUidfram Itoutoch* RuDtUcbau. 


Tbo Ancient Palm-Leavea, oonUiaing tbo PmgnA- 
Paramitil-Hn'daya-Sitra and the U.-shriiKlia- 
Vi;/ttja-Dbnrani, ediU-d by F. M. M. and Bttnyiu 
Nejijio, witb an Appcudix by 0. Bilhler. {Anec- 
dota Oxonienfua. Aryan Series. Vol. I, Part ttl. 

The Dhanna-Samgralia. An Ancient Collection of 
Buddhist Tecbnical Terms. Prepared for pubU- 
eatinn by Konjiii Ka^an'ara, and after hia death 
edited by F. M. M. and H. Weuwd. (Anocdota 
Oxonienftia. Ai^-an Series. Vol. I, Partv, i«85.) 

Introduction to Book III of ■ The Hundi-ed Omateet 
Men.' By F. M. M. and E. Kenan. 1885. 

Mullcr. Wilbclm (M. M.'a father), a Biography, in 
AUgemtiiie Dnderhe Biogrtiphie, 1 8X5. 

Sobcrcr's HLstory of German Literature, Translated 
by Mm. Conybcar«. Edited by F. M. M. 1885. 
New Edition, 1891. 

Hymn to the Storm-QodH. Rig-Veda I, i6il, is the 
' Etudes arcb('o1ogique8 dt^i^ea * h Mr. le dr. C. 
IxMMuauH. Leide, 1883. 

Ooetbc and Carlyle. An Inaugural Address at the 
Knglinh Goetlu^ Society. 1HH6. 

The Science of Thought. 1887. 

La Caritil of Auilrea del Sarto in the Thiostro dello 
Scalzo at Florence. With throe Illusti-ations. 1887. 

Biographies of Words, and the Home of tbo Aryan. 

Throo Inlroductorj- Lectures on the Science of Thought, 
delivered at the Royal Institution. 1 88K. 


liiatigural A<MrcHA at the opening of th<! School for 
HoderD (}rli>ntfil Lnn^agtw, <<iitahhBhe<l by the 
Imperial Institute, l}!!90. 

Giflord t^cturen delivorod biiforo thi; University of 
tilosgow, 1KH8 1892. 

I. Natural lUligion. 18K9. New Edition, 189Z. 

3, Fbyoical Reli^on. 1891. 
5- AutliropoloL^icnl RoHgion. i^<)2. 

4. FsydioloyicHl Religion. (In tlio Press.) 
Deutsche Lieho. Au» den f apiercn ein<-H Froindling». 

With Notes for the use of Schools. i««8. 
Rig-Vwia-Samhita. The Sacred Hymns of tho BrAh- 

mana, togcllier with SiyaTio's Commentary. 

New Edition, critically rcviHwI. Four volx. 

Three Lectures on the Soienoe of Language. 1K89. 

New Edition, with a Supplement, 'My Prcde- 

cecBOTB.' 1891. 
"Die Science of Langun^ : founded on Lectures de- 
livered at the Koyal Institution in 1861 and 

11(63, ^ ^'''''- •'*9i- 
Address to the Anthropological Section of the British 

Aaaociation, CanlifT, 1891. 
Vedic Hymns, translated. P&rt I: Hymns to tho 

^faruttf. Itudia, VAyn, and VAtii. (Sacred Books 

of the Kast. Vol. XXXII.) 1891. 
Apastamba-Yay/la-I'aribhaBhA-Sfliraa. Translated. 

(Part of Vol. XXX of Sncrcd Hooks of tho East.) 
Three lectures on the VeilAnUi - Philosophy delivered 

at Uic Royal Instllutiou, 1^194. 


Chips from a German Workshop, new and reii'iscd 

edition, vol. I, Recent ICssajs and Addresses, 
1894; vol. II, Eiograptdcal Essays, 1 895 ; vol. Ill, 
Essays on Language and Literature, 1S95; voL 
IV (in tlie Pi-ess), 




Tii« HiBTOHicAi. Stcdt or Bxuaioir. 

Dia Waligaohichto ut dw Weltsoricht.— Tb« FandmnMnUl 
lirtnelpU of ibo IllHorictl .Suliuul, — MUlory of ICclijn"" itlheTru* 
FUtMophji of EUliiiioa. — Nat»r«l Kvlli^mi llio FaiioiJalina of our 
Briiaf la O0J. — Tbo Ko&l TurpoH of ihc BJogiBptt; of Agni. — 

Mktiira) lUnUtJon Tbo True Object vt caoifoiiag thu CliHatiui 

uul olber Rol!gloii*. — Andtiit Pttjttt. — Ruy]>littii, Acciullaii, 
BklijLwilAU, Vailia, AvHlin. Githu. Chinnn, Motumiuetlaii, 
U<i4mi Umda Pnjen. — Mo«n uid the SIiciibcnL — Ailvaala(^ 
of ■ Cmpkntin Study of lUligioiw 1-^ 

"bE Titcx Valck or tiik Bached Books Examikbi}. 

^^^ BMorickl UoeumniU for Studyinx tl)> Or>f{{it of R«li£l4n. — 
^^B B*Ug4«u lABgn^^ — Litcmrj DooommU. — Hodarn Dkm of 
^^m Batni Book*.— Fragnwaurj Cluusctcr of the ^orod Booki of 



bdbi.— LeM «f l^ tWrMl Liunlon M Pom.— TW BdaUos 
bMwMBtba AvmUuuI tbcOUTmumnl.— 'IukUmi I wa' 27-57 


Tax U16TOBICAL RELATioysBir of Avcirxt Bzuoion < 

AKD pHlU>60FIII>a. 

Sow to MDfHe AMtel B«UgioM mJ AndMt PhilcMfUM^ 
OooiaMi BBnuMlf. — Commaa I*agn^».— ^«im ni BUM17,— 
Hwiw Nttcbbonthiaod.— B*1aUm betwcoi iba Btli^CM of 
Indlft ud Putk.— InJepMdcai Ouikm of ImUu PMlMgfcT-— 
The Indiui Vin> of Life.— LM^mgv, Uw Cmmi'v BKkgtonnJ of 
ftofaphj.— CoMiuia Attm R^Jglon and Hj:1faolac7^-CbMitM 
— BmIWi— Tb* UUr Grtnttk of FbBoMphT— li*l|t dcrtvW by 
FklMspby froM ta^MC*.— InJtpaJtat OMaotir of IwIIm 

PUlMSrhT-— ^X t^TMll PluloMpbj bOTMWti &«■ tte EmCI— 

lodin rUUMp)^ ■aMcbthMtw »$-8l 



The CoMtltorM Elemenu e( lUHgioa.— M7 own UvMin.— 
Tb«»tub««rP9(l)aloKkalIU%iMu— L ftMsntofUMSwil (■> 
Ood. >a<r dMtb.— U. Kk«1«<^ of the aait; of IW Of two aod 
Ike HoMML— VeituHl Vnd^ttU-— Pp*ntih*ih — VodtwatteM. 
— Compwury by ^eBkertJKi^ft. — Comairalary b; KiaAai^o. — 
ntee Pwiudi of VmUsU lilaninra.— FeeafiM- lluactw of 
ladUn PUbMopby.— Philofophr bcpu vith doubting tbe Eiv 
iltwe ef lb« lieiuM.— AnU «r Iiufnntiaa.-~T*t tTkn »»L— 
TooVMUnlaScfaMb.— TbeUpMkhMUdaBeultlotMMlMe ST-ltS 





DIAnint Stetommtt Trim tli« l'|iauT>hiu]>. — PMi*f{«* frniii the 
UpaaUitdiL — DlffloiiltiM of Intcrpteutioii. — Hiitorivkl Prognn 
ik lk« U|«iiitFha(t*. — AtUnipU to humonlK the ditl«reat Sia1«- 
OMBta of lh« Uptniihul*. — VodtDU-SQlTM. — I DdB|i«Ddeal Stats- 
■nanti ht ike Mkntnu.— Mjptbolo^wl ),an{;ua^ lultunduslMKl.— 
The Devkfknk or P»tli of tLe Godi,- MrtempiiTchad*.— Koliiy 
et Inrklbln Tblngi. — A.b»Dm of lldla. — TranimigTatloii u ooa- 
tcaT*d ia lh« Lawi at Uanii. — The Thtve Qualttlo, Dhrkuu*, 
Actiritjr. kOil OiHxIaaw. — llw Nina dane*. — PuDithinent* of 
Um WickmL— Briil^-ei It3-1» 

Tom EsciiiToi.oOK or tmk Avesta. 

0«n(tBl Rlnilluiti** In Eichatolagieal Lagnids. — PfoulJai t*- 
iMivO bMWMS the lt«li|!lona of Indtn aiid PenU. — ZoroHtef 
tabcbn naitlifir Ilro-wnntiip uur iJuiilUm. — The Prublcia of Itio 
Origin of E*il.— The Angelt. <iri(:ia>11j ([uolilie* of Oriiiiud. — 
A>arH anii Satu.— Abjumioii of Owlva Wonliipi, — Iiiivi<jrtality 
of iL* SiHtl lo Uio Aviut*.— Tb* Pltrla at Falbcn at conMiTed in 
tka Vtdia Hynian.— Fate of tha IndiniJunl Soul a.c tho (mieTal 
nvniwUds. — Itowanb wid Fcmiilinirtiiii itft*r Du>th.— Oood 
Work* in the iliape of » Bwiatifal Maiilm. — InHuincpon Mohua- 
■Mdaalnd.— Uilraei bma tlw MliiokUred on the Weighing of 
lb* Daad. — Anjrd at thu KodI twibtw the tlmne uf Ualimmu and 
AkaraDMfdt. — Camnwo backK i ound of Arnta and V»da.— Pitan*, 
Ibt FMbvn la th« V«da, the FraTasbia in tha AvaaU.— Widrr 

WMWl« «f P^Mahl 1T7-S0T 




EcciiATOl.otiY or Fl.ATn. 

PIkto'* AiithorSl;.— P1>U>> ktytlidofflckl lAiii;uii^.— The Tale 
«f Ibe SodI.— Die Clurintver and th» Hare*. — Tliv Prootation oT 
theGodf. — BelieFin mctrmpsjolKaii in Pluto and Ui*Upin>>hkdi. — 
The Nine CIumoi of I'lalo and Manu- — Iliinuin SouU inigrMlnK 
lalo AcinuLl UoJiot. — Tliu Story of Er. — l^iflnddcDoe* luiij Ulf- 
farenou. — IVuth und«'l;rl"ti' Myth.— Tha Haliht* im llio Inimor- 
tAlitj of Iho Soul. — The Polynniani on ths Immortailily of the 
SooL-Tbe U*t rwuU of rbpdcal fUIli^ion ... 908 233 

LECTniE vm. 

Tkcb I«moetai.itt. 

jDihtim knd Iltiddliiam.— The VtiUnta Doelrina on Trtic 
Inmonallty. — Penoimllty, a Llmiutiun of llio lii>ilh«ul. — 
Struggle tor btgh«r coocepUoa of the Gixtlicad. — Xame for the 
Ugrlieil Oodhoad, Brahnun, Pnrusha, PiAna, Spint.— Otlieir 
NwDca of the Sapreme Being. SktmUia.— Kamei for ihe SoiiL — 
Ab«ni, £|[0. — Atmiin. — I>iklu^ui- fr<im the A'A&ndiyva-UpaniiiiBd. 
— Daduotion* lirrni the Dialogue — ttaAkan'* Hoiiiark*,— Tlie Trae 
Nmon of th( ItuliTirlonI Smil. — The PhmmDenal and the Real. — 
The Atinan nndiangeil amidst tlic ehangc* of the Wintld.— 
Noricnoo or ATidjfl th? Cauae of Phoii"iiieiik1 SomUnnce^ — 
SjitjralihcdaTlltIa and IIli<diibh*Hava(ta.— Tlio .approach of the 
Bonl to Brabmui. — I.«tar ^poculatlout — Iilralitj ut the !*o<il 
wSUi fiMbmnn S3$-SSI 


Tim TanSyTA-PKiLosoriiT, 

The 7eHlnt> >• a Philoiophioal Syiuia. — Identity of Soul ftnd 
BrahfflKJi. — DiiJ<<gue from the f iUn(logy»-UpaiilBliad. — Union, not 
Abeorplion. — Knowlcd([e, not L^ve of Uod. — Ariilyl or NdCienM. 


— BtaImmii w •*!, u ilit, urtA «■ AnaDila.— PhllMoph; flod 
Rdipon. — Tbc Sapnaie Lnnl or tivnrn. — UpTidhiii, HAkitbinMUIn, 
•ml Bthfkluuln.— -CrrBtion or Emnimtion. — Knlinut Mil Avidjt 
Uie CkWn ft the Phenomenal World.— -The Kwenoe of Man. — 
KMiBkn iir Apdnn. — Diffsmit StkUa uT tlu Soul. — Kmaanmktt. 
OliMUBukti.^l'tnuiultty of th* Soul .... 2tl2-311 

Tin Two S011001.H OF THR Vkd^xta. 

EqnivoMl PuMgei in the L'l'iuiiiliwli. — Suhluirii unl Riininu^ 
— Blmtany*.— £ftAk*rK.~-MorKl ClwTuUn' at lli« VpiUiiu. — 
AMttie PimUmb^— boleiia DoctiiuM. — OifTrtciuie Iwlwwii lodia 
taAQMm 812-330 



■diliw, STitcn of R«latiaiu baiv«tn Mu uid Go^. — .Snlit«m, 
Im OHcIb.— Afcitnct of Snfi DocIKdm.— BabiB. the urli«t Soli.— 
ConiMolion of Suftiim «itb Kul; ('lir<9t!uiitv.~Abu Sniil Aliul 
ChrJT, FousdeT of Suniiin. — Abu Yil-UI slid .1 uti»id. — SiiH, Kxktr, 
DanrUh.— AMKtioiniD.— Tbu llamevi. — Muliitmnii-d't Otiini"ii. — 
thn Poar StagM.^'The Poetical l^angukgc of Su&itm. — Mvratit; 
4f SvBboi.— EitrMU from SoH PooU .... SSfr-SCO 


Thx Loaoi. 

B*lijtinn » DrUlcn iMtwstii the Vi«b1e and the Intiiible.— 
Orimtal Influenoei in Tariy CtirkLlnoUj.— Burrow Inu of lUUifloDt 
Tlwaghto^— PUlo and hi* Alli^riAl InUiT|irM4t)on. — SytiMiu*. 




(it SBdIiiffdjiditc ifi tat ©cltflctittit — this U one of 
Llioae pregnant sayings of Sc/iifl*r'ii which have 
K fur wiiliT «pj>1Ic»tion Uian wu nt tirst suspect. It 
is didicult to translate these words literally, without 
depriving them of their idioniatio foi'ci!. LitorAlly 
Umn^liiU-d tbey mean. ' the history of tho world is the 
[ judgin*nt of the world.' But in Qerman, the jiidg> 
iii«nt uf the woi'ld ineanit at the same timet ' the diiy 
of jadgmciit,' or " doom'st diiy.' 

What Schiller meant therefore was that eviu-y day 
lA a day of doom, that the history of tho world, if 
ruiiipnOicudccl an n wliok-, la t)>e Iruo jud^nipnt of 
tJiH world, and that wc mast Icnrn to underataud that 
judgment, and to accept it as right, if we adopt 
tbis view of Schillttr'a, and Icorn to look upon tho 
history of tho world lus an unbroken ^-indication of 
llw highest wisdom, and of the most perfect justice 
which, in spite of all appeai^nces to the contrary, 
govern tho wurld, it would follow that what applies 
lo th« hiKtory of tho world in geiK-ml, must likewise 
apply to all ihat constitutes that history. Schiller's 


dictum would in faet express in g«&er&] terms what I 
hkve Uied to explitin to you in my former lectures as 
tbe fundomeDtal priDciplu of tlie HUtoricAl Scliool. 

Vh* raadMBCBtd PiiJUilpto tt Ut* ■latoHt^ Sokool. 

The followora of that school bol<] with SchUIer that 
the history of religion, for iostance, is the truest 
vindication of religion, the history of philusophy the 
heet judgment of philonophy, iho history of art tho 
highest and final teet of art If in thb spirit we study 
Ihfl history of Uio world, or any part uf it, wc Khali 
learn that many tliingH may hpv in wrong for tJw time 
being, and may, nay must be right for the time to 
oome, fur all time or for eternity. Many things which 
seem impcrrvctr arc seen to be most perfect, if only 
understood as a prcpaiatioD for higher objects. If 
wa have once brought ourselvt^ to »e« that then is an 
unbroken continuity, a constant ascentt or an eternal 
porpofte, not only a mechanical development, in llie 
history of the world, w<: ftlmll ci^aiii; to fmd fault with 
what is as yet an imperfect germ only, and not yet 
tbo perfect flower or the final fruit; we shall not 
despiM tlie childhood of the world, nor the childhood 
of the i«)igiona of the world, though wo cannot 
discover therein that matare and perfect manhood 
which we admire in later periods of history. We 
eball learn to understand tlie imperfect or less perfect 
as a necessary preparation for the more perfect. No 
doubt such a view of the history of the world rtrqiiirm 
faith ; we have often to V-lieve, even though we 
cannot prove, simply from a firm conviction that it 
cannot be otherwise, thai there must be law and 
order and purpo&e in the world, and that there muat 


be goodnesB and justice in the Godhead. Thnt faitb 
was expressed by Friedrii;h Lngnti in thu w^U-known 
vene, a* truiHUted by Lu»);rpllow, ' Though the luitls 
of God grind slowly, yot they grind exceeding sm&ll.' 
And the Biun« faith found utterance long ago in 
Euripides olno, wb«n h« snid : * 'Tis true tho working 
of tlte gods is slow, but it is sure and strong'.' 

Anyhow, thoAO philosophers who bavo l>ecome 
reconciU) to the Jdcn of tlie Burvivnl of th« fittest, 
owl bantly object to the principle that what is, is tit, 
and will in tlie end prove right, or, to put it into 
SohiUer's words, that thi- * Weltijaieliichte ist das 

XUtotr of B«Uk1os la Vh» Tro* Fkilosophy of Ballffloii. 

VoQ will nodfr»tand now why I felt so strongly 
^at thv uic«t Eiitisfautor^' way of carrying out tho 
intentions of the founder of this lectureship, the only 
effective way of studying what is called tlio philo- 
sophy of religion, or tlie philui«ophiciJ criliuism of 
religion, is to study the history of religion. History 
sifts and tesUi all fumis and varieties of religion far 
more cfTectively than any single philuaopher could 
possibly hopu to do. I do not mean to say that a 
purely theoretic as distinguished from an bietorioal 
Ireatinvnt of religion, is utterly uwli-ss. Par from 
it. I know thttt Kant scouts tho idua that tho history 
of philosophy ts itself philosophy. But is not Kant's 
own philosophy by this time part and parcel of the 
history of pbilo«ophy t It vn quite true ttwt wu can 
study a science apart from its luBtory. We can, 
for iwttiuiov, study tlie soience of Pulilical Economy 

BmvIumi, 683, 'Qft^nt ^u, iU' iitui tiaiit ri -p diior otirat. 

Ikat a»aa. taofi tbat the; u* Itdag Imd bj tb* 
«r bi«ai7, I7 iMte. br fai^ fer statMi 
. wUeb them ■ m appnl. n^ «« mj vilb ' 
I pUkaopbns ' taiU pia pvmr Im/milaC or ' lamt pU 

A Ntntcgiit in hk itiidjr imt koow all tbe nilea of j 
ibo tatnet of ww, bat tb« gnml ganvnl mmt know 
Itow these mlea h&ve etood tbe test of history: be 
matt *tui]^- tti« utu&I battles that have K-en fou^bU 
and tbiu li-am to weouot for titr vietnri«a and the 
dirfcata of tbe greatest oommaiidere. In tb« same 
way tbeo, at tbe trse Maeoee of war ta tbe bUtorjr of 
war, the trtio ncienoe of religion U, 1 believe, the 
hutorjr of religion. 

Satanl B*U«l«a tk« TovatetlM of out BtUaC la ao<. 

Tu Htiow that, givoD the human mind such aa it is, 
and ito ravironin«nt 8ueh as it i», the coQOcpt of Ood 
aiid a hnliitf in God would Iw iiievitahle, is iMtnething. 
DO dou>it- Still you know how all the proofs of the 
aiJHteneo of Ootl that have hcen framed by the numt 
itniiiionl philoiophcfB and tbeologintiH haw )iv<-t) con- 
ttovottod by equally eminent philosiiphcn* and theolo- 
giuiia. You kDow that there aurvive even now some 



linlf-potrifiod phitoitOplicrB and tlit'ologiftns who cull it 
heresy to believe that uoassifiled human reason could 
ever attain to r oiiticapt of or a belief in God, who 
iiiainlAin Dmt a spociitl ri:vclutJon is aK^oltitdy ucclk- 
i»ry for that piirpoeo. but that such a revelation was 
gratiled to the huumn race twice only, onoe in the 
Obi, and once lu the New TistJiinenl. Tbcy point 
tjiumpbantly to Kant'a Critique of Pure Season 
which haa deiuolitihed onci for all. tht^y say, iiuob poor 
hutnan cobwelM us the cosinologiral, tbo Uiloologioali 
and tho ontoloj^itaJ proofs of the exiatonce of a Divine 
Being, and batt thua proved, from a <]uite unexpected 
qiuirtor, that uunssiated huiuiui rousoncnunot possibly 
attain to a sure knowledge even of ibe more cxistenoe 
of Ood. 

It may bo said that aueb views are mere survivals, 
aod not exactly survivals of the titteat. Thoae wbo 
tuaiutuin them, certainly know not what tlioy do. 
But such views, though really subversive of all true 
religion, are very often preaclit^d aa ei^Hi-^ntial to Cbrix- 
tianity, and many who know not the history of religion, 
are deceived by their reiterated assertion. 

You know that in a court of law a clever pleader 
can di-Fund almost aiiytliiug ; and in tho court of 
pbilosopby also, I boliove tbut pleaders can alwaya 
be found to argue moat eloquently whether for the 
plaintitr or for tlic dofendnnl. 'IIk! only evidcnou, 
however, which safely tclU in the end, consi&tu in 

Tba B*aJ Pnipo** «f tba Blocrmpfajr of AriO. 

That being the case, I devoted the princiji&l part of 
my Mcooud couise of lectures to placing hefuru you 
facts, — facta which catmot be controverted, or whtcb. 




ftt b31 fivcnts. have uot boon coiiti-ovcrted, siid which 
shoiv how the humao mind. un&sM^tod by what is 
enlled special revelation, fouiid its way step by Bt«p 
from tlio lowtst pi-rccption of somctlting maU'rial and 
visible to the highest concept of a supreme and 
invisible Qod. I chose for that purpose what X 
called the Biography of A^ni or fire, that is the 
bUcccHeion of tlio various iik-its calk-d forth in the 
hunian mind by the various aspeclH of fire, which be- 
ginning with tlie 0impl<:at perception of tlie fire on the 
hearth, as k'^'^K wiinnth and light and llfo to young 
And old, culminated in the concept of ^j;»i as the god 
of light, the creator and ruler of the whole world. 

This was au arduouu tai^ik, and it may ha%'c proved 
as tedious to uy bearers ae it proved laborious to 
myself. Still, Umiv wua uo other way of ailcucing 
all gaiiisaycrs onco for nil. If any so-called Christian 
Divine doubts the fact that in times past ' Qod did not 
Ivavo hiin.ielf without witness, in that he did good, and 
gave ua rain from heaven, and lire also, that is light 
and warmth, from heaven, and fruitful seasons, tilling 
our hcarti« with food and gladm-sN ' (Actst xiv. 17), 
what I call the biography of Agni will in future supply 
evidence that ought to convince both those who believe 
and those who diabt-lievo the wordti of St. Paul and 
Bamabos, and that anyhow cannot bo gainsayod. I 
con quite undereland the anger that haa been roused 
by the production of this cvidencv, tliough I cannot 
admire the eSbrts that have been made to discredit it. 
It ie quite possible that in putting together thia 
biography of Agni, I may have loft out aomc paasages 
from the Veda which would have been helpful for my 
purpose. Let them be produced, and I shall be most 


fmt«ful. It is quite posailile also that here and tbera 
I ni&y have misapjirchcnilvd tlic I'xnot meoDing of a 
vcrK«i InkcD rrum the Veila. Af^ain. let it bo proved, 
and I shftll be most ^^ruteful. I sin the last roan to 
claim infalliliility, cot wen in the inU-ipretation of 
the Veda. But if p«u{)lo wisb to controvert any 
stateoienta of mine of whinh they disapprove, they 
ought to know ttiat Uurrw arc- two wnvH only of doing 
it. Tti«y muKt show either that my facts arc wrong, 
or that my deductions from theae facta are faulty. la 
either case>. no one will frol morr grnlcrul t^ tlieoi 
than I myself. For, if they con show that my facta 
were wrong, they will of course supply us at the same 
time with tlio true &cts, and if my condusionH wi-re 
fftulty, that can bo settled once for all by the rule* of 
logic If eritios would confine thomst'lven to these 
two biaVa. Uiey would he ooufcrring a t>eiu-fit on ws 
for which every true scholar would be ti-uly grateful. 
But if tbey deal, aa so many do, in mere rhetoric or 
invective, they muat not be ufTbndcd if no notice 
is taken of their rage and vain imaginings. These 
matters are far too serious, nay, to my mind, far too 
Kaor«d for mere wrangling. Though sonio excellent 
diviiuta may differ from me, they ou^jbt to know that 
the cause of trath ia never served by mere assertions, 
sUU lc0a by iiiKinuations, and that such in«iinuati«na 
are tar more dishonouring to those who utter them 
than they could possibly be to those a^^ainst whom 
they are uttered. 

ImaJnta)n,th<Terope,unliInny ofmyBtatcmcntshave 
be«n refuted by facts, that wo can see in the history of 
Vodifi Religion, how the human mind was led l>y a 

8 isrnoDccToRY lecture. 

naturn] rovelation. Car more convincing than any «►- 
called special revelation, fruin the perception of tl>e 
great phi nomena of nature to the couci'plioii of ngr-iUa 
behind thi-Bc plK-noniena, The cose of Agni or fire was 
chosen by me as a typical eaae. aa but one out of 
many, all showing hovr Llicplicnoiiioiia of nature forced 
the buinan mind with a power irrcBi^tible to humiin 
reason, to tho ooucfplion of and a bi:li«f in agents 
behind nature, and in the end to a belief in one Agent 
behind or above all thcso agi'Ul«; to a Iwlicf in One 
God of Nature, a bolicf in a cosmic or objective 
Deity. Here was my answer to the etatcmont repeated 
again and again, that the human mind, unassisted by 
a spccift] revelation, wAft incnpablfi of conceiving a 
Sapreme Being. My answer was not an argument, 
nor a mere asHertion. My answer con.-iii^ted in his- 
torical facts, in chapter and verse quoted from tliv 
Veda : and thcee facts are stubborn tilings, not to be 
annihilated by mere clamour and ohiding. 

Tlia Tma ObJ*ot of eomp*Ti>i( tba carlkUAa »n4 oUi*t 

I mart confeea, however, that I did not expect that 
the attacki) on what I called the historical proof of tht^ 
oxtKtenco of a Supreme Being would have come fireiii 
the quarters from which tlicy camo. I thought tliat 
those who profess and call themselvea CbriBtians 
would have welcomed the facts which con6nu tb« 
teaching of St. Paul. I hupttd they would have seen 
that the facta which I collected from the ancient 
raligioDs of the world formed in reality the only safe 
foundation of Natural Kt-ligion. and indirectly the 
strongest confirmation of the truth of the Christian 


religion. That religion, I nay onoe more, ahooM 
ohalloogv rather tbaa deprecate coiiipurison. If we 
find cvTtaiD iloctriQfiB whicli we tbou^bt the cxclusivv 
property uf C'ltrihtianity in other ri'Iigioos also, does 
Clinstianity lovr ttierehy, or is the truth of theftn 
doctrines impaii'ed by being recognised by other 
teachers also 1 V'ou know that it baa often been said 
tliat alniOMt every ChriMtiuii doctrine could be traeed 
back to the Talmud. lam aojudgeoDthntGubJL-ot ; but 
if it were bo, what should we lose 7 All I can say is that 
I have never met in the (extracts from thi- Talmud with 
the roost charaetcriHtic, nay. the fundamental doetriiie 
of Chriatianity, the recogniUon of Ihe divine element 
is man. or the divine (lunnliip of man. Many things 
whicb OhriHtianity eharcb in common with th» Talmud, 
it aharcs in ooromon, as we know now, with othei* 
religiona lik<-wi»«e. It in true that Hilhd, whtin aaked 
to dcecribo the ridigioo of the J<?ws in n fi»w words, 
replied. ' What thou wouldst not have done to thee, do 
Dot that to others. Thi^ is the whole law : all tlie 
xtti is but intvrprvtutign. Go. then, and learn what it 
nteana *.' But it is well known by this time that the 
same doctrine occurs in almost every religion. Con- 
fucius said : ' What I do not wi»h men to do to me, I 
alsu wiiih not to do to men.' We read in the Mah&bh&- 
mta : 'Hear tlie sum total of duties, and having heard, 
be»r it in mind— Thuu slialt not do to others what is 
disagreeable to thysGH' (Pandit, 1871. p. 238). Why 
then should Christians wish to claim an exclusive 
property in this truth 1 

The Talmud, we must remrmber, sprang from the 

same hinturioal soil as Chj'ii>tianity, its authors breathe^] 

■ Talnuii UUl, SBUutii, fol. SI L KueutniQlUart LmMtm, p.Sll. 



puq>0!>c tliAt WHS in the^ divine names from the 
bvginDJng. and which tliu best among the pagans never 
fsUcd to rocugDise ? 

Anelaat FT«y«n. 

It has often been Bnid tliat what we mean by 
praycT (loea not or oven canuut vxht in any of the 
pagan religions. It may be tnie that the loving re- 
lation 1>ctween man and Qod is absent in the prayers 
of the heathen world. It is certainly true that th<tre ant 
some religions unravoorable to prayer, particularly if 
prayer is taken in tlio sense of praying for worldly 
blesBings. The Buddbiiits in general know of no 
prayer addressed to a superintendent deity, because 
they deny the existence of such a deity ; but even 
prayers addressed to tho Buddha« or Buddbint SoJnte 
are never allowed to assume the character of petitions. 
They are praiiiia and meditations rather than nolicita* 
tions. Prti.^ ers iu tho Bonsc of petitions are couiudored 
actually sinful by the Sin-shiu sect of Buddhists in 
Japan. It is different with the followers of Confuoius 
They believe in a God to whom prayers might Iw 
addi'CBScd. But Professor Leggo tells us ihat we look 
in vain for real prayers in their ancient litei'aturei and 
this is most likely duo to that Keu»e of awe atid 
reverence which Confucius himself expressed when hi> 
said that we should respect spiritual beings, but keep 
aloof from them '. 

It in trite aUo that when man has once arrived at 
a philosophical conception of the Deity, bis praycm 
assume a form very different from the prayers ad- 
di-esaed by a ehild to his Father in lieiiveii- Still ovoa 
such prayers arc full of interest. Almost the last 
' Oanfucina AnoleoU, VI. 30. 



word which Grc«k philosophy hiw eiud to the world, 
is a prayer wbich we find at the end of the commeD- 
tftry of StrapliduA on KpieteliiH, 4^ray<t]- full of honeat 

'I beaeech Thee, Lord, Uie Father, Guide of our 
reason, >o make uh mimlful of the noble origin Thou 
\uuft thought worthy to confor upon us; and Co A«Rist 
us to set iM bcctiiuGS free a^'ent^ ; that wc may h» 
cleansed from the irrational paKtinni^ of tlte body and 
may Mu)>dnu and yovism the mmn, using thi;m a» in- 
strtitnents in a titling manner : and to assist us to the 
ri(;bt direction of tlio reason that is in us, and to its 
participation in what is real by the light of Inith, 
And thirdly. I beseech Thee, my Saviour, cntiri-ly to 
n>mi>ve ti>e from tlie cyo--< of our souK in 
ordiT Uiat wc may know aright, as Homor says, both 
CJ(«1 and men.' (See J. A. Fairer, Paganism antt 
t'hrii-tiinity, p. 4-t.) 

I shall devote the rest of this inlrochtctorj- lecture 
to it-s<ling some exiractx which will show. 1 hope, 
that the heathen also could utter prayers, and some 
prayent n-hidi require but littlft modification before 

I ourwlves can join in them. 

' llsil to TUee, mnkc'r of nil ht-iiigo. [.nril of law. Father 
of tb« Qcd»; maker of men, or^nlor of l>eut»; Lord of 

gnuna, making foml for t)ie beaat* of the Grid The 

Oiis aloae without a xr-cnnd Kio^ nloiifi. ninglc nraeng 

the Ooda ; of taauy nuniM, uiikuown i» ibeir number. 

I come to Tbi'C. O Lard of the Goda. who liujt exioled Imm 
the beginning, eternal (led. who bast made all tilings that 
are. Thy name be my pnjtei-tion ; ])roliing luy term of life 



to a good aga ; majr my son bo in mj- place (a(t«r me) ; may 
my diftnity rmtuii) with liiro (and lii*) for eror, ai is dona to 
the righteuua, vrlio in KloriouB lu tlie houi« of hJH Lord. 

Who tlieu art Thou, O my fallior Amou t Dotli a fnthcir 
foi'gel his fon } Surely a nrotdied lot await«tli bim who 
oppose* Tliy will ; Init lileised in ho who knowcth ThM, for 
Tbr d««de proceed from o Iwort fuJl of lo*e. I cull upon 
Thee, my father Amon ! behold m« in Ibe midst of many 
pmp1c8, unknown to mo; all mitions are united against me, 
and [ am alone; no other in with mc. )Iy many WMTton 
hiive abatidoued me. nouu of my horBemi-ii halh looked 
towards me ; and wh<-n 1 called tliem, none hath liatcDed to 
my voice. But I bolicve thnt Amon is worth more to mt 
thou a million of wiirriura, than u hundred thousand horse- 
men and ten thousands of brotijers and v>n». even w<>ro 
they all gathered tngetUcr. The work of muny men it 
nought ; Amon will prevail over tlit'in.* 

[From Lo I'ap> RHnouf, mbbtrl Uctva, p. M7.) 
Ab AecBdlaii VHTer. 
"O my Ood, llie lord of prayer, may my prayer addnw 

my goddcsF, the lady of supplication, may my supplica- 
tion nildro«s thee! 
Mut6 (Mitu), the lord of the mountain, may my prayer 

address tlice ! 
Guhuriu, hilly of Kdeu (»io), may my pniyrr addrcM tbec I 
Lord of heaven and earth, lord of £rida, may my 

supplication address tlice ! 
Merodnch (Asnr-mulii-dng), lord of Tin-tir (Babylon) 

may my prayer address thee! 
vifc of him, (the princely offspring (1) of heaven and 

earth), may my supplication nddreii* thee I 
O (metaenger of the spirit) of the frul who proclaims [the 

good name), may my prayer address thcc I 



O (briAe, El>^bonl of) Um (t), cnay my supplication 

•dclreM theal 
O (ImIj. who binds Ui« ImUIe (?) mouth), may my prayer 

ttidnta Ibe* I 
(flialteil one, the great ^ddeii, my lady Nana) may 

luy Bu^ptinkiiou tddrem tbeel 
May it uy to theo: '(Dirvct thine «y« kindly unto tne).' 
May it MT to (lir>': '(Turn thy fnre kindly to mo).' 
(May it a*y to tliep : " Lei thy lieiirt rest.') 
(May it My to Uie«: 'Iiet thy liv«r he qaivted.') 
(May it wy to the* : ' I.nt thy hrart, like the brart of a 

tnolbcr who hn* borno children, be gladdened.') 
('Aa a mnllier who liiu honiL' children, ns a fntlier who 

hu begotleu a child, l«t it l« gladdened.') " 

(Saj-na, HMmI Utikm, p. 88S.) 

A aktTlealui Pnkjrar. 
'0 tny God who art vivkiit (o^'uiii^t mo), receive (my 

my Ooddeae, thou who art fierce (towards we), accept 

(my prayer). 
Accept my pmyer, (may tliy liver be <]uictcd). 
my lord, lotiK-tufTeiliig (and) merciful, (may thy heart 

be Rp]ieu**d). 
By d«y, directing onto death tliut which dcetroy* me, O 

my God, interpret (tbe visIonV 
my goddeasi look upon mc aud accept n>y |<rayor. 
May my ain ht forgiven, may my traixgre:"!"!! he clcanied. 
Let the yoke he uiilwuDd, the duin be loosed. 
May the Bcvn winds c*n7 away my groaning. 
May I (trip off my evil ta tliat tlm bird bear (it) up to 

May the finh orry away my trouble, may tii» tiitr bear 

(it) along. 
May the reptile of the field receive (it) from me; may 

the watei^a of the riwr cleanM me as they Bow. 



ii»k« me shine ua a nuuik if ft^ld. 

Hay I b« procious in tby sight u a goblet (T) of rIam. 

Itum np(t) iny evil, knit to^'^ther my life; bind log«lher 

thy ullar, ihiit 1 mny tict ilp (liino imngvi. 
Let in^ ptiHs from my tvil, nnd let mc \k kt-jit mill Ihec. 
Ktilightcii ine hii<1 let me tlrtnm « bvourable drwjn. 
May the dtmm ihnt I dream be f ivouraUo i may tlie 

divani Unit I dr<-nm, be ertablinhcd. 
Tuiai the dn-uin tlmt 1 dream into a bleMitip. 
May Mnkhir Uio god of dreams fmI upon my he«d, 
Yen, l«t mo enter into E<Sagil, the jinlnoe of the god*,' 

the t«m|)Ie of life. 
To McrwlDch. the mercifnl. to bleaaeduega, to prospering 

hnndfi, entrurt top. 
Let me exalt thy greatnenA, let me niu£;uirj tliy divinity. 
Let tlie meo of my city hotiODr thy mi!;hly deedH.' 

(Sayeo, HObtri LKtun, p. 9!^) 

A Vtdle PraTWT. 
Hig-Tcdft VII. 8<l: 

1. Let me not yet, Vaniiut, entvi' into the house of 
clay: have mercy, almighty, have m<^'cy! 

2. If I go along ircmhiing, like a cloud driven by 
llie wind; have mercy, almi^ihty, liuvo mi^rvyl 

3. Throii[.'li want of strength, thoo etroD» and bri.trht 
Ifod, have 1 gone to the wrong thnro; have mercy, idmighty, 
have mercy ! 

4. Thirst came upun tlie worshipper, thouj^ii he atood 
III tlui midat of tlie wnten ; have mercy, alroj|;hty, have 
mercy I 

&. Whenever we rant), O Varuna, commit an nffenc* 
before the beiiveiily boat ; whi'iicver we Uri'iik the law 
tliTviugh tliougbtleMiiea* ; hurl ua not, Gud, fur tliia cffonce I 
(It. M., Hitlorf tf Jnatnl SQH^irU litrntun, p. SIO.) 




AaMlMt ▼•die Tny»T. 

BB he bl««ed in lliy acrvicv, O VarutM, for vn 
tliink of Uiee ood piniai' lliee, greeting tliee duy 
by dajr, Itko the fitva lighted on tlie nltar, at the approach 
of the rich dawn*.' 2. 

' O Varuna. our guide, let oa stand in Uiy kccpiop, tkou 
vho art rich in heroes and praitcd Tar and wide 1 And ,vou. 
niKoaqaerod wna of Aditi, dcigu to accept us aa your fricudc^ 
0((Ddat' 9. 

'Adilja, the ruler, mot forth thoEC rivera; they follow 
lh« law of Vnruiui. Tliey tire not, they ccnac not ; like Uida 
tbey fly quickly everywhere!.' 4. 

'Take from me my sin, like a fetter, and ire shall increase. 
Vanuia, the spring of thy hv. Let not the thread (of 
lifo) ba cat while I wcuvu my song ! Lot nut the form of tlie 
voilniMn bnttk before the time I ' 5. 

'Take far away from luc this terror, O Varuna ! Thou, 
rigblcous king, have mercy on inu ! Likf na a rope from n 
calf, remove from me my tin ; for away from theti I urn not 
lUBiter eren of the twinkling of an eye.' G. 

' Do not (trik« us, VariiMa, with vreapons which nt thy will 
hart tlto evil-doer. Let us not go where the light has 
nnitlMd ! Hcatter our enemies, Ihat we may live.' 7. 

'We did formerly, O Vnrunn, niid do now, and ahalt in 
futui>e also, uug i rai:es to thee, O mighty one I For on 
thee, onoonqucrablc hero, rest all statutes, imraovnble, oa if 
eitahlLthed on a roclc.' 8. 

'Move tar airny from me all self-committed guilt, and 
may 1 not, king, snftcr for what others hnvo committed I 
linaj dawna bave not yot dawued ; grant us to live in them, 
O Vanuui.' 9. 

(H. U., ImU*. p. 19S. bom JUs-vcJa II. IS.) 




An AtmUo Frajaci 

1. 'BlesBed i» be, btesaed ia every one, to vliom Ahnra- 
iniucdo. ruling by lit« own will, shall grant th« two ever- 
InatJDg power* (licnlth nmi immortolitj). For tliia very 
good I bcBeecb Tliee. Mnyest Thou through Thy ntigel of 
piety, give me happinoas, the good true thioge, and tlie 
poeaewion of tho good mind. 

2. I beUer« Thcc to be the befct Ikid^ of oil, the aource of 
light for the world. Every cDe ahall helievo iu Tliee ns 
the aource of light ; Thoc, O Mnitliv. mast beneficent aplritt 
Thou crentcdat all good true thing* by incoiia of the power 
of Thy good mind st any time, and promiaedat us a long life. 

4. I will believe Thee to bo the powerful b^orfaetor, O 
Maidal For Thou givMt with Thy hnnd. Sited with helps, 
good to tlie righteona man, u well na to tho triolted, by 
meana of the wanuth of the fire atrengtlieniug the ([ood 
thiogfl. For this leaaoa the vigour of the good mind bM' 
fallen to my lot. 

&. Thua I believed in Thee, Aburamazdat ea the 
fiutlierar of what ia good ; becnuw I beheld Thee to b« the 
primeval caiue of life in the creation ; for Tlioa, who hart 
rewards for dveila and worde. hast given evil to the bad and 
good to the good. I will bcliove in "Him, O Abnral in tbe 
laat period of the world. 

e. In whate\-er period of my life I believed in TW, 
Maida, munificent apirit ! in that Thoa earnest with wealth, 
and with the good miud through whose octioni our settle- 
acuta thrin 

(U. Bans, Btiawt mt M« Panit. p. lU no,, from Tuna iCtni 
1-S ; SM «Jk> Hill), S. 0. £., Tvl. sxxi. p. 93J 


T«t*M from lorouMr'a Qitli««. 


"Hiia I uk Thee. O Abun ! t«U me Anght: When praiie 
in to be offend, hotr (nhall 1 complete) the praise of Oue 
like Ton. Unxilnl Lnt omi like Thee dvclftrc it earDertly 
to tht bitoA who la such its I, thm throuf^h Thy rigliteoun- 
nen to offer frieuJly lielp to us, so that One like The« ro»5 
dnw DeM- ue through Thjr good miod. I. 

Thit I wk Thee, O Ahum I tell me uright: Who by gcneni- 
lion WM the flrat Esther of the righteous order I Who pove 
the (recnrriDg) san mi atara tboir (iindf'viating) way t Who 
Mt*bli*hu(l that whereby t)io moon wueit, nnd whereby the 
wutee, SAve TIim t Theee thiiigs, Great Creator! would I 
know, and others likewise itilL 3. 

This I uk Thee, O Ahural tell me aright; Who from 
beneath hath suslnincd the earth and the clouds above that 
they do not fall? Whomade tli« wati^reaodthe plantf t Who 
to the wind has yoked on the storm-clouds, the swift aud 
fleetest T Who, Groat Crvntor .' is the in»pirer of the good 
ibongkts (within our noul*) t 1. 

Thia I a«k Tbe«, Ahural telt me aright: Wlio, as a 
skilful arttun, hath made the lights and tlie darkness 1 
Wbo, as thus ekilfiil. ha« made sl*^ and the test (of waking 
houn) t Wbo t|.rcwt the dawus, the nooutide;!, and tlie mid- 
night, nMitiilora to discerning (man), duty'e true (guides) t 5. 

This I ask Thee, O Ahural tell me aright : These things 
which I »liall *pe«k forth, if they are truly thus. Doth the 
piety (which we cherish) iucreaw in reality the sacred 

IordcrlincH within our actions t To tliese Thy true sunta 
hath she givMi the realm tlirough the Good Alind. For 
whom hast Tboa made the mother-kine, the producer of 
joyt 6. 
Thia I ask Tht*, Ahum I tdl me aright, that I may 
jWiKler thcae which are Tby revelatioDs, O Maxda ! and the 
I : 

(TmmXUTi L.ILKIlh.S.K£,«U. 

P^KXTL Tb' ^^■P'V^O^nM WTt^tXm 

W/T,» Hm. O ■ij ilq iuiMlj .wAiBg lUk>r, I ImJ 
4ka|M> Baw nBp«rial b the «x|wiHm trA, wfce 
J lwOtil . . . T^ MTVmBt, I MD bat • reed or vilk 
iMlt (■ b«i M thU o< M rat ; rtt have I nair 
hiramriaf dacrae, apfoiatbg Be to Ui« gorcMtMl 
■■pi f ». I Aetfly ehariA • MOM of mj iguomtn ux 
■•■^ »lti »■■ «ft«id l*at 1 pDTC ottwortbf of 11^ 
fatowiL Tbcndora will I otMcrve kU Uie nika tai ■ 
rtriring, \ampMmtA bi I un. to diKharge my loyi 
Par iliilut Iwn, I lonk op to liy brttTcnlj |ialKe, 
iu tlij [itwMKM dwriot to the eller. Thj Berrant, 
mj htw) ta Ike Mrth, rcnrcDtlj vspeetiag Ttuiu «l 
Unn. All iBjr offionv w* here wrugcd along w 
yijtitWj wor*lii[>{i4iiK iefure Tbeu. All tli« gpirite 
iMir TbM ■• Kurda, ^"'""r '**? ah) fmai^b^iii 



^H ' Thon liut rouchiafed, Ood. to Lear u», for Thou 
^f regardeftt ub aa a Fftther. I, Thy child, dull tuiit unen- 
1^^ lightcDvd, nm uiinhJc to show foi'th my dutiful feeling)!. I 

thauk Tli«Q tliikt Tliou lioat ii«c<?i)t«d the intimation. 

llououreble is Thy great iiame. With reverence we spread 

out tJm« gems and silks, und, im swallowf lojoicing in the 

spring, pnise Thine abuudiuit lore.' 

(Fron tbn Iiuporlol PrajrMsbook In the time oTtlia Emperor Kcb- 
liAag, Sue Jaiiuix l.i'u;it. On Ch SMent i/ On dint** caumini) Qml and 
Dpinii, Ilone-ltoiis, les^ p. U. The ddW uf tlils prayer U mMlern.) 

M ohannxdui PiofaiUoa. 

Quran, n. 255-250: 

' O je who hcliev«l expend in abns of what wo have be* 
■lowed upon you, before the day comes in whJeh ia au barter, 
and no lr>cnd»hip, and 00 intercession; and the misboUevers, 
they are the unjust. 

God, there is uo (tml but He, tlie living, the sclf-snlf 
datent Slumber lakes iiim not, nor eleep. His is whtit is 
in t^e li««reDs and what is in the enrtb. Who is it that 
intercedea with Him tave by Hix ponniesiont He knows 
what is before them and vhat behind them, and they com* 
prelund not augtit of his Icnowledge but of what Ho pleasds. 
Mia tlumue extends over tha heavens nad th<- earlb, and it 
tins Him not to guard them bolfa, for Be is high and grand.' 

(f^alner, B. B. S., vl. SO smj.) 

lIodarB Sl&As Vrayer. 

1. ' Wbatsoevcr hath been made, tiod made. Whatsoever is 
to bo node, God will make. Whatsoever is, Ood msketb, — 
then why do any of ye aftlict yourBelvi-s) 

2, Dadu aayeth, Thou, God I art the author of all 
tilings which Iiare been made, and from thee will originate 
all things which ate 1o be made. Thou art the maker, and 
the cauie ol all things made. There b none otJier but Tlicc 

^ vruv Iff u«v WKi 

;reation ; onA who providrth for all. 

6. I believe tlint <Jod niNde mvi, kdi) that be 
irerylhing. He is my frii*iul. 

I 6. Let faitb in Ood characterize all your tboBghti 
ind actionn. He who nervoth Ood, ploccii confic 
lothing the. 

7. If tho remembruice of God be in your hearU 
le able to accomplish things whicli aro impruticab 
.hose who neek the pathK of God are few I 

8. He who understandeth how to render hiscalltDg 
iliull bo hiippy in thot calling, provitlrd be lie with ( 

9. foolbh uue ! Ood in not far from you. He 
faa. You are ignorant, but be kuoweth overythi 
■ careful ia bestowing. 

10. WhatOTer i* the will of God, will nKHunM^ly 1 
herefore do not destroy younelre* by auxiT'ty, but U 

11. Adveraity is good, if on account of God; b 
iMlean to [Hun the body. Without Ood, the eom 
reolth are unprofitable. 

12. He that hcUeveth not iu the one Oi>d, hath 
titM miud ; ho will be in Borrow, though in t 
Mxiou of ncbea: but Ood ia wttliout prioe. 

13. God ia my clothing and my dwelling. lit 
ulcr, my body, and my soul, 

M. God erer f<iBt«rcth lus crunturos; oven as a 
31-vua her oflk urine, aoid kwineth it - fwm Immi. 



I oonfess that my heart beata with joy whenever I 
nvet with axuHi utt«riuiocs in the Sacred Boobs of the 
East. A euddcn brigfatiiees Eci-ms to spread over th« 
darkest valleys of thfl earth. We team that no human 
soul was cvor quit« forgotten, and that there ai« no 
clouds of suporstition through which the rays of 
eternal truth cannot pierce. Such momenta are the beet 
rewards to the student of the rcligionii of the world — 
tbey are momenta of true revelation, rovealUig the fact 
that Cod has not forxakcn any of hia children, if only 
thoy fcvl aft4:r Him, if haply they may find him. I 
am quite aware how eaay it is to find fault with these 
chiMiflh gropingfl, and how readily people join in a 
Eaugti wh«) BOmo strange and to us grotcsc]tie exprcs- 
aioD is pointed out in the prayers of tho old world. 
W« know bow easy it is to pass from tho sublime to 
the ridiculous, and nowhere is this more the case than 
in religion. Perfaapn JelAleddin's lesson in his Mcsnevi 
may not be thrown away even on modem scoffers. 

Moaas knd tli* Sbaphard. 
" Moses once heard a slic^pherd praying a.i follows ; 
' O Ood, show mo where Thou art, Uiat I may become 
Thy servant. I will clean Thy shoes and comb Thy 
hair, and sew Thy clothes, and fetch Thee milk.' 
When Mo8«8 hcnT<l him praying in this sonsclera 
manner, he rebuked him, saying. 'O foolish one, 
though your father was a Musaulman, you have be- 
eome an infidel. God is a Spirit, and needs not such 
gross ministnUions as, in your i^oranco, you suppose.' 
The shepherd was abashed at his rebuke, and tore bis 
G]<»tbes and fled away into the desert. Then a voice 
from heaven was heard, saying, ' Uoeoe, wherefore 
have you driven away my servant 1 Your ofKce is to 

of tliiir prnisei), b^Dg exftlt«d ftboTe iM 
needs. I regard not the words tliKt uv »poll 
the heart that olfcrs them. I do not roqui 
-words, but a burning heAit. Men's wax's of ebon 
voticD to mc aro Tariouii,butao long as the del 
are genuine, they arc accepted.' " I 

P AdvosUc** of k CenpaiKtlv* Btady ol It«llrl«Bl 

1 have never disguised tny conviction tliat J 

P&rativo study of the roli);ions of the worldJ 

from undermining the faith in oor own religion,! 

only to make ub see more clearly what is the disU 

and nacntiftl chArnctor of Chiiitt's teaching, and 

us to diecover the strong rock on which tho Chi 

as well as every other religion must be founded 

But aa & good gcm-rul, if be wiitbes to dof 

fortri-ss, has often to iiiHist that the surrounding 

I and pleasure grounda should be razed, so as i 

I tterve as a protection to the enemy, thof-e als( 

I wish to der<.-nd the stronghold of their own re 

I have often to inHist on destroying the outlyll 

Itrenchments and u°ieless ramparts which, thoug) 

Imay be dear to many from long aa.sooiaUon, of 

Ircal security, nay, aro dangerous oa lending a si: 

■^o the enemy, that is to eaj 



tioDofa miracle. If Comparative Theology bostnught 
Qs anything, it has taught ua that a belief in miracles, 
BO far from being impossible, is almost inevitable, and 
that it springs everywhere from the same source, a 
de«p veneration felt by men, tromcn, and childrea 
for the fountU'i's and teachers of their religion. This 
gives to all miracles a new, it may be, a more profound 
meaning. It relicvvit us at once from the never-ending 
discuaoions of what is possible, probable, or real, of 
whatis rational, irrational, natural, or HUpematuraL It 
gives OS true nii'ru. instead of small mlrucuta.ii makes 
Its honest towards ouriielvcs, and lionost towards the 
founder of our on-n religion. It places ua in a new and 
real world n-hcro all in miraciilou.'i, all ia admirable, 
but where there is no room for small surpriscB, a world 
in which no aparrow can fall to the ground without the 
Father, a world of faith, and not of sight'. If we 
compare the treatment which miracles received from 
Hume with the treatment which they now receive from 
idudeuts of Comparative Theology, wesco (hnt, after 
all, the world is moving, nay even the theological world. 
Few only will now deny that Chtisliana can be Chris- 
tians without what wan callod a belief in miraolea; 
nay, few will deny that they are better Christians 
without, than with that belief. What the students 
of C-omparativc Theology- take away with one hand, 
they restore a hundredfold with the other. That in 
onr time a man like Professor Huxley should have 
had to waAte his time on disproving the miracle of 
thu Gergcecnes by sciculiiio arguments, will rank 
hereafter aa one of the most curious survivals in the 
history of theology. 
* G(v win* •XMllMit rvmiirk* «n tlii* point la tbs Itov. Qwrtca 

0«rD'* litmpU-n LttOirtt, p. lliO, 

iCTimc isnTiQBS sua impsmKiii.^ iii \ivmnmfg 
.ianity by showing how, if only properly unde 
b is infinitely superior bo all other rt-llgioaa. . 
cause and a aacrod cause doea not gain, it i 
[iamsged, by a diidjon(>9t dofenc*. atul I do not 
those who object to s Christian Advucatv, au of 
lately maintained at Cambridge, pleading the c 
Christianity sgaintit all otlicr roligtons. It is i 
account that iho attacks of ci-rtnin Cliri;a(ian ] 
hsvo really been most welcome to me, for the 
shown at all events that I hold no brief fron 
and that if I and thoKO who honestly share o 
victions claim a perfect right to the name of 
tians, wo do so with a good conscience. We ha 
jccted ChriMtiniiity bo the scvort-st criticism an 
not found it wanting. Wo have done what 9 
exhorta every Christian to do, we have provec 
thing, wo have not l>ecn afra-id to compare Chri 
with any other religion, and if wo have rvtainc 
have done so, because we found it best All n 
Christianity nob excepted, seem really to have 
far more from their dvfendcj* than from thei: 
ants, and I cerUtinly know no greater da 
Christianity than that contempt of Natural 1 
which has of lato booQ expressed wilh ao mJ 



XlMortml SooiUDaiiU for StadjlDLC til* OrtcUt af Kallctev. 

ORIENTAL Bcholai'8 liave often been ch&t^d with 
exaggt-ntling tho v&luo of Uio Sacred Books 
of the East for Btudying the origin and growth of 
reli^on. It ouinot be dcniud that thiMto booka ai'e 
uuoh less perfect than we could wiah thorn to be 
They are poor &agmeota only, and the time when 
they were collected and ruduced to writing is in 
ouwt caacs lar removed from the date of thoir oiiginal 
compoaition, still more irom the timea which they 
profeas to describe. All this is true ; but my critics 
ought to havo known that, so far from wisLiu;; to 
hide these facU. I have myaelf been the firet to call 
attention to them again and a^ain. Wherever we 
moet with a religion, it has always long paoHcd it« 
childhood ; it is generally full-grown, and presup- 
poses A past which is far beyond tho reach of any 
faitstorical plummet. Even with regai-d to modem 
religions, such as Christianity and Islam, we know 
very Uttto indeed about their real historical begin- 
nings or antecedents. Though we may know their 
eradl« and those who stood around it, the powerful 

lion"fte"«hBreIy new, as nmliy lUmnniffVP 

Irl, though no bistorical religion cau evt?r bu tl 

to ignore bU historical influeacee that are 

Ik in forming thu mind of the real founder of 
arical rvlif^ion '. With rc^nl to moro anei 
pons, we hardly ever reach their deepest eprii 

hittle as we ean hope to reach the loweat Bti 
eient langungM. And yet religion, like langui 

^bite everjwhere the clear traces of historical 
ients and of a continuous developmeuL 

BbUsIoqi Luiciiac*. 


[t haa been my object in my fonner lectorei 
)w tliat there is but one way by which wo i 
i, so to say, behind that phase of a religion wj 
represented to na in ita sacred or canonical b* 
mo of the mast valuable hiHtorical document 
igion lie really imbedded in tJie language of 
ioQ. in the naroeH of the various deities, and ii 
me which sur%-ive« id the end as that of the 
le God. Certain exprcBsions for sacriBco alst 
, for breath and soul and all the rest, disclose 
nally eomo of the religious thoughta of tlu p 
iDDg whom these Sacred Books grew up. I 


ancient India sbeda the most welcome li^bt on 
many of the religious exprcnaionH that have lieoomo 
u1»)purc or altogether unmeaning even in Orcok and 

How should we have known that Zou8 meant 
originally the bright light of the sky, and that deiia 
was at firiit an aJjectivo meaning bright, hut for thi- 
vridonce supplied to us in the Voda? This Ictutou 
of ZetiB or Jupiter cannot be dinned too often into 
tbo cars of the incredulous, or rather the ignorant, 
who fail to SCO that ttio Pantheon of Ziius cannot be 
xepnrati^ from Zeus himsc^lf, and that the other Olym- 
pian gods miiHt have bad the (uiine physical beginninga 
as Zeus, the father of gods and men. There ore still a 
fow unbelievers lof^ who shake their wise beads when 
ihoy are tuld ihat Eriny» meant the dawn, Agnl 
fire, and MarutorMars the stormwind, quite aa cer- 
tainly as that Eos meant the dawn. Helios the sun, 
and Selene the moon. If they did not, what did 
these natiH-s mi.^n. unlese they meant nothing at all I 

When we have once gained in this, the earliest 
gennioal stage of religiouK thought and language, a 
real hiHtorical background for the religions of India, 
Greece, and Home, we have leamt a lesnon which we 
uiay aafply apply to other religions oIho, though no 
doubt with certain modifications, namely that there 
is a meaning in ever>- divine name, and that an 
intimate relation exists between a religion and tlie 
language in which it wax bora and sent out into 
tbe world. When that is done, we may procei'd to 
the Sacred Books and collect from them as much in- 
formation as we can concerning the gre^t religions of 
tbo worhl in tbcir uubeequunt historical development. 

more safvly be relied upon than tlio litflj 
tnente which eome of the ancient reli^o 
vrorld have left ua, and which were recc 
aiithoritaUve hy the anci<^nU thcmselve 
mat«ria]0 have become accessible of late y 
and it baa been ray object, with the ait.tii)tau< 
of my friends, to bring out a very large 
of translations of these Sacred Books of 
That collection amounbi now to forty-two 
and will in future cuabit; every studunt of Co 
Theology to judge for himBolf of the true nat 
religious beliefs of the principal nations of 

ll«da>il Dkt* ot Bkcrad Books. 
If people like to call these books modem 
do so, but let them remember tliat at all ev* 
is nothing wore anci«nt in any liu-mture. 
every country it may bo said that tJie 1 
literature begio§ with Sacred Books, nay, tha 
idea of literature took its origin from th«i 
Books. Litcraturo, at Icaat a written liters 
moHt of all, a literature in alphabetic n 
according to ita very nature, a very mode 
tioD. There can bo no doubt that the orij 

fhfi lUimxTit, Tflinnnnii nt thi, t^i-U tri-u^ T 


century B.C. I know that I stand almost 
alone in dating the existence of a written literature, 
of rc*l books that were meant to be read hy the 
people at large, from ao late a period. But I do 
not know of any facts that enable us to speak with 
confidence of a liUrrature, in the true Henne of the 
wort), boforo that date. I have boon told that the 
very latest date unanimously assigned by all com- 
petent Semitic Etcholars to the £ ducumcsUi of the 
O.T. is 750 B.C. But no one has ahown in what alpha- 
bet, nay, even in what dialect they were then written. 
I have bi'cn n-mimled also of the much tarlier date of 
ao Egyptian and Babylonian lit4.-rature. bat I thought 
I bad carefully guaided against such a romindcT, 
by speaking of books in alphabetic writing only. 
Books presuppose the existence not only of people 
wtio can writes hut likewise of people who can road, 
and their number in the year 750 B.C. must have 
been very small indeed. 

To thow who aro not acquainted with the powers 
of the human memory when well disciplined, or rather 
wlien not systematically ruined, as onra has been, it 
may oecm almoNt incredible that so much of tlis 
ancient traditional literature should have been com- 
posed, and should have sarvived during so many 
ocnturic«, before it was finally consigned to writing. 
Still we have got so far. that eveiybody now admita 
that the poete of the Veda did not write their hymns, 
and that Zoroaster did not leave any written documents. 
There la no word for writing in the Veda, neither is 
there, as Dr. Uaug (EsBays on tfie Parsis, p. 13G n.) 
has shown, in the Avest». I have my»olf pointed out 
how familiartho idea of writing seems to have been to 

lune offioon are munUoncd a^un in 2 Kings xv 
it tbe ooart of Hczokiah, while in the reign of 
ve actu&lly read of the discovery of the Book 
Law. But we find the same anachronifims olso 
rbrones and Bccptrea are asoribod to kings who 
ud tbom, and in the Shlhn&ineb (910, 5} wo 
Feridun as having not only hiiilt a fire-tem 
Baibend, but as having deposited thcro a copy 
\vcsUt writtoD in golden (cuneifonn 1) l6tt«rs. 
{atb-eepher, the city of leUors, mentioned in th( 
)f Joshua XV. 15, refers probably to soioe inscr 
in tho neighbourhood, not to books. 

Of Buddha alBO it tnny now he aaaerted witboi 
)f contradiction that he never left any USS. 
liscouracs'. If it hod been otherwise, it woal 
ainly have been mentioned, aa so many less imp' 
hingM concerning Buddha's daily life and occup 
lavc bet^n mentioned in the Buddhist canon. 
.Ithougb to UB it may seem almost impossibl 
OQ^ compositions in poetry, nay even in 
hould have bucn elaborated and handvd do^ 
iral tradition only, it is important to ohscrvi 
he ancients themselves never express any au 
,t tlie extraordinary achievements of the I; 
aomory, wbcrows the very idea of an alphat 


of aacred lit«niture in writing ia comparatively 
■tiodern : *bto ihat it roprosenta a very small por- 
tion only of what originally exUtod. Wc know that 
even after a book Iiad bcun writtou, thu dangor of 
lona was by no meana past. We know how much of 
Greek and Latin literature that was aoliially consigned 
to writing huit been lost. AL«c!iyluM is Maid to have 
compoMd ninety playe. Vi'e poeaesa MSS. of seven 
only. Aq<1 what ha^ become of the works of Berosus, 
Manetho. SancliouiaUian ? Vf'hat of the complete 
MSS. of PolybiuB, Diodorna Siculus, Dionyaiua of 
Halicarna&Kua, Dio OaetaiuR? what of those of Livy 
an'l Tavitus 1 

If therefore people will have it that what we possess 
of Hftcrcd hooka is modem, I do not object, if only 
they will define what they mean by modem. And 
if tbey insist on calling what has been saved out of 
tho general xhipwreck more flotsam and jetsam, we 
need not quarrel about such names. Much has been 
loat of the ancient lilerary monuments of almost 
every reli^non, but that makes what is left all tlie 
more valuable to ns. 

m^rventuy C^MT^ettx at tlM 9»ar%A So«k> at laOU. 

b Sanskrit lit«rature we frequently meet with 
reference* to lost books. It ui not an uncommon 
practice in theological controversy in Indtn, to appeal 
to lost iSSkh&s of the Veda, particularly when customs 
for which there is no authority in the existing Vedoa 
have to be defondod. When, for instance, European 
acfaolara had proved that there was no authority for 
the bumin;; of widows in tlio Veda, as known to u». 
Dative scholars appealed to lost iSUkhila of the Veda 
(4) D 

eourl M ft wilni'BH, as iippnnl to n lust 
tbv Veda in Huppurt of any pr^'vaillng 
doctrine. Mk)i& means a branch, and ai 
in ofUiu rcpri'4uutv(l u ft trcu, ii iSakhA o 
is what we aUo migbt call a branch of the 

We muttt not iinngine, howevvr, that wl 
poitju^sx of Vodic litvrattin! u all that over 
that it con give ub anj'tbing like a comple 
Vedic religion. 

The Buddhists arc liken'iHO in the habit 
of eome of the words or sayings of Buddl 
lost, or not recorded. 

In tho Old Testament wo have the 
allusions to the Book of Jash^r (3 Sam. 
tlie Want of Ood (Num. xxi. 14), tlie G 
David, and thu Act« of Solomon, whicl 
former existonco, if not of bookK, at least 
songs and legends under tboeie titles. 

And with regard to the New TcRtanie 
only does St. Luke tell us that ' many h 
hand to draw up a narrative concerning t 
which have been fulfilled among ua, e 
deliTcred thom unto us, which from th 
were eyewitnessta and ministers of the 

-_;-•--» ?^ 4t. - — 




Hulircwa an<l the Ej^'ptiAOS, iho Acts of An<lrow, 
John, anJ Thomas, the EpiRtleR of St. Paul to the 
I.aoiliceans, the KpiHtloi of Hamulias and of St. 
Clctnvut, &0.' Wo riNid beektes, at the end of the 
Fourth Qospel, that 'there were a1»o many other 
thiii^ vhieh JcsuA did, thi> -which, if they i>hou1d \m 
written ovoiy one, I BUppose that even the world 
itaelf would not contain thn bookn that sJiould be 
written.' TliiB inay l)c an ttsn-gpTiition, Imt it ought 
to bf at tb« same time a warning against the supposi* 
tion that the New Testament can ever ^ve us a com- 
plete account of the religious teaohinjj of Christ. 

!«>■ oT tb* B*cr*d IilUrftlnr* of F«imlB. 

There is no religion, however, where wc con study 
thv loss of a ^eal portion of its sacred literature so 
doaety as in the religion of Zoroaster and his disetplos, 
and it is well llmt wo should h-arn a Ivswia from it. 
What by a very cn-oneou(> name wo call the Zend 
Avi'stA is a book of vt^ry moderate dimenaious. I 
explained to yon, I Iwlii-ve, in a former lecture, why 
Zend Avi-ata i* an erroneous name. The Persiaus call 
their sacred writings not Zend Aveeto. but Avesta 
Zend, or in Pohlevi Avistilk va Zund, and this 
means simply text and commentary. Avesta is tho 
text, Z*-nd the commentary, Avesta ia probably 
derived from vid, to know, fi'om which, you may 
remember, wc have also tbo name Veda*. But 
Ivesta is a participle passive, originally A-t-vista 
(for vid-ta), and meant therefore what ie known or 

■ Sm J. K. CfttpMitor, n« FutI JTmt Cdf^vli. p. $. 
* l>|>jiMt '^Jtum, JiiiaL, 18(3, Hnrch; cumpiinii tha old tVrtliii 
ibatU, law. 

bfcMriM kaomittigt v ■ndovtaadbg id' 
iWluk B*jit* w»» iHed M tfaa atmBoti 

Zead WW sppKed to 
at Ibow Mcrad texts, mad 
[to tbe trwial«b«(u and expUuUioos of 
]3n P«blcvi or PablftTi, the Penus 
npekas in tba S«^uiud lutigdoni. In Kpi^ 
'it baa beeotne the castom U> call the aocientl 
Iflf Zmrmthaabtt* Zcod. lilenUjr, eommrsi 
M*««k of what ia left lu of tbe navA 
I^Bartriaas m tbe Z^nJ Aveata. This 
HKl atUtalM* whidi it will be difficult U 
I ot; telioUn wen to haro agreed to mm 
iiMTH«t)I«. and they wQI probably conttaoe I 
[of tbe Ztod Av«?Ata. and of tbe Zend language 
[wnlen, wbo evidently imagine that ZoroasI 
J)if>|MMl the fire in^iti-ad of Ormasd, bia sapm 
jtd wbu HUpjKMU tbat Vesta was originally 
of the Sre, have actually gone ao far aa to spe 
. oa if Vi.-«la waa tJiit name of the saorod fi 
lia. If wv wiAb to hv oorroct. wc shoold i 
I Aveota as tho .ancient t«xt« of Zaratbaab 
labould call Zend all that baa t>c«n writ 
time, wlietlior in the ancJoiit Aveatic 


of psrthsT, the nunc of tho P&rlliianB who wcro the 
rui«ra of Persia for nearly five hundred years (256 
ii.c'.-22(> A. v.). But though Pchlevi would thua seem 
U> mean the Inn^-uiigo of t]io Partliitinn, it is r«ally 
the D&me of the: Persian language, as spoken in Pereia 
when undor Poiiliiiui rule. It is an Aryan langua^ 
written in a peculiar Semitic alphnbct and mixvd 
with many Semitic words. The first traces of Pehlevi 
havft been discovered on coins referred to tlie third 
or fourth century b.c., possibly even on Bomo tablote 
foand in Nineveh, and ascribed to the seventh century 
B.C. (Huug's Ks-says, p. 81). \Vc find Pehlevi written 
in two alphubcts, lui in the fnmoiis inHoriptions of 
U&jidb&d (third C4?ntnry A-D.), found netir tho ruins of 
Porsopolis'. Hesides tlie languor of the Ave^ta, 
which we call Zt-nd. and the language of the glosses 
and translationH, which we call Pehlevi, there is th^ 
Pueud, originally not tlie name of a language, as 
little as Zend wa». hut tho name of a commentary on 
a eommentary. There are such Pazenda written in 
Avestic* or in Pehlevi. But when used an tho name ofa 
language, Pazcnd moanM mediaeTal Iranian, used diiefiy 
in the transcriptions of Pehlevi texts, written either 
in Avestic or P^tntian cliaractcrs, and freed from all 
Semitio ingrtdiente. In fact tho language of ihi 
great epic poet Firdusi (KWO a.i>.) does not difier 
much fix>m that of Pazond ; and both are the lineal 
deMM-ndantM of Pehlevi and ancient Persian. 

One thing, however, is quite certain, namely, that 
the sacred literature which onoo exiAttid in thewe throe 

' ScoHtng; 1. e. i>.B7,uulFnitdrioliMQller, MtHiAlMriinKAriffHi 
rm HadMUa. 
■ lUug, I. e, p. 1!!2. 



ftueoosuTc lAnguag«8, Aveattc, Pohlevi, and P&KCJid. 
must havo beon infiniteiy Urgor tlinii wliat we now 

It itf important to observe tlinl the cxUtcnce of Uiis 
tnuoh larger ancient sacrod literature in Persia waa 
known even to Greeks and Roiiiatm, such as Uer- 
inippos ', wbo wrote his book • On the Magi " while 
residing at Smyrna. Ho lived in the middle of the 
third eentury ii.a Though this book is lost, it ia 
quoted by FluUircli, Uio^ncti Lavrtius, an<l Pliny. 
Pliny (if. N. xxx. 2) tells us that Hcrmippos stuilJod 
the books of Zoroaster, which were then said to 
comprise two milliouti of Iiuo8. Evim so late an 
authority as Abu Jafir Attavari (an Arabic historian) 
aiitiures us that Zoroikstur'N wntings cavured twulvo 
hundred cowhides (parchments). 

These statements of classical wnters are contirmed 
to a great ext<'nt liy the traditiun.s cui-rciit among tiie 
followers of Zoroast4:r in Pi-rsia, who agiec in accusing 
Alexander the Great of having destroyed or carried 
oif their siici-ed M-SS. We niad in Uju i)ijika«i(Wo8t, 
p. 412) that the fii'st collection of the sacred tcxto of 
Zoroaster took place at the time of Vit.tasp, the 
mythical rulrr who accept<^^d the religion of Zoroaster. 
Ailerwords, we are told, Danii commanded that two 
complete oopies of the whole Avesta and Zt-nd should 
be presorvod, on*: in liie treasury of Shniiigun, and 
one in the fortress of written documents. This Darfii 
is likewise roori; or less mythical, but he ia generally 
considered by the Pei-cian poets as the pri-dccessor of 
Alexnndcr. We are on more historical ground when 
we are told in the UinkaTvI (West, p. xsxi) that the 

' Diugenc* Liwrtius, Proootn. A. 


MS. whidt was in tlio fortrras of documents comb to 
bo burnt, while that in the treafliiry of Shapfg&n fell 
into tho bunil:* of llio Oi\!i.*k« mi-1 was translated by or 
for Alexander into the Greek language, as ' infonniition 
oonneot«tl with anciont timeK.' Now ttie fact th&t the 
Royal Palace at PerHepolis wrk burnt by Alttxandt^r 
in a drunken frolic is contirmed by Greek historiani*. 
thongh nothing i» .saitl by them of a Gi-eek translation 
of the Avwtic writiiijp. It is quite poBsibie, however, 
that Hermippoe bad before hiin tbo very MS, tliat 
had been carried away from the treaaury of Shapignn 
by Ab-xander'K soldiers. 

We bear nothing more about the Avesla till wo 
come to the time of Valkhaa. evidently a Vologeses, 
poHfitblyVologeseBljthe contemporary of Nero. Though 
be was a Parthian ruler, we are told in the DtnkarrI 
tlint be ordered 'the can^ful pri'^ervation and making 
of memoranda for the royal city, of the Avesta and 
Zend as it had purely come unto them, and aIho of 
wbmtevcr instruction, due to it, had remained written 
about, B» well as deliverable by tlie tongue through a 
high-prieat, in a scattered atate in tlie country of 
Irin, owinj; to the ravage*! and lU'viLiitiitiunH of Alex- 
ander, aud the cavalry and infantry of the ArClmans 

Whatever the exact meaning of those words may 
be, tbey clearly imply that an attempt bad been made, 
even before the rii<e of tbo Saaeianian dynaitty, to 
collect wlmt could »till be collected of tlie old snored 
writiugs, either from scattered fragments of MSS. or 
&om oral tradition. It doea not appear that any 
attempt of the oame kind bad been niailo boforo that 
time, and after tJie devastations ascribed to Alexander. 




.lH«c«d tlicm. TltUM while CoQstanttne and Atha- 
aasios •ottlcd th« orthodox doctrines of Christianity at 
Miokea,325 a.d., Sbabpubar II &nd Atftrp&d. the rod of 
U&nupai>d.irere cngngi'>l in P-inia in extinguiHliing the 
h«re«y of Mi'int &nd restoring; Mimlaiitm to its original 
purity. The collecting of the Nasks and the num- 
bering of tbeni a» twenty-one, ia ascribed to Atdrpjitl. 
Prof. Damifittctcr (Inlrod. p. xxxix) Biippoaes that at 
bis time it was still possible to make additions to the 
Avestic texts, and be points oat pa»8agc« in the 
Vetididid which may have refcivnce to the schism of 
Mani, if not even to Cbristianity, as known in the 

At a siill taUr time, under Kbflsrd! (Ehosroee). 
flailed An6shsruv&n, the son of Eav&d (A.D. 531-571>), 
we r«ad that new h<^re.iies had to be suppressed, and 
that a new command was ^ven for 'the proper con- 
nderation of the Avwta and Zcud of the primitivf 
Uagian statements' 

Soon afUr followed the Arab oonqmat, when we 
•re told that the archives and treaauies of the ri.-alm 
were once more devastated. Still the &Iohamntedan 
conquerors xeem to have been far less barbarous than 
Alexander and h'm Qrvok soldierti. for when, after the 
Iap6e of three ccnturie;*. a new effort was made to 
colk'ot the Aveetic writings, At&r-fambngi Furukho- 
xA<fin was able to make a very complete collection of 
the ancient Nesks. Nay, even at the end of the ninOi 
century, when another high-priest, AtiilrpAd, tlie son 
of Htmtd, the author, or, at all evenbt, the finisher of 
the Dtnkard, made a Unnl ct<\\itcl'wn of the Avesta 
and Zend, HSS. of all the Niisks seem to have been 
forthcoming with very few exceptions, whether in the 



ancient Ave&Uc language or in Pehlevi, so tliat Atiirpftd 
could give in his Dlnkamf an almost complete ac- 
count of the Zoroostrinn religion and its eacifd 
literature. Aecording to some authorities it was 
Attir-faniluigt Kanikho-ziVMn who began the Dinkan/, 
whilu Atfiq>iU1, the son of liiuiid. tiniiJicd it. This 
would place the work between 820 and 800 A.D. 
Atdrp&d, or whoever ho wats iipcaka of tho twenty-one 
Nosks or Iiooks of the Avi'stn, an if he had ruad them 
cither in the original language or in tbcir fehlevi 
translation. Hiu only Nonk he fiiilrd to obtain tc88 
till.' Va»(tag Nosk, and the Pchkvi version of the Nfidar 
Nusk. Wo owe all this information partly toDr. Haug. 
partly to I>r. Went, who has rocoveroil lar^e portions 
of the HS. of the Dtnkarii and ti-anelatcd them in 
volume xjtxvii of the Saereil Books of the Ea»t. 

Of these twenty-one Nasks which, nincc the days 
of Atfirpild, the son of AfArofipand, constituted tiio 
Avestic canon, and which are reckoned to have con- 
BiBted of 3«,7O0 wonla in Zend, and of 2.n&4,20l> 
worda of Pehlovi (West, L o. p. xlv), three only, the 
14th, lOth, and 2Ut. have been saved complete. VV« 
aretoldinoncof thcPei'sian Kivi'iyat» (.5. B.E. xxxvii. 
p. Wt), that oven at the time when the tiret attempt 
was made to Collect tho sacred literature which had 
escaped the soldiers of AU-xander, portions only of 
ead) Nosk were forthcoming, and none in itx original 
coiiiplctoncss. except tho Vindad, ie. the Vendidiid. If 
we could trust to this statement, it would prove that 
the division in the Nask» existed oven before the time 
of AtCkrpJUl, the son of M^raspand (3^5 A.U.), and w&.s 
]>oe8ibIy of Achaemenian origin. 

There are fj'ngiucnts of somo other NaAke in exist- 


eocc, such B8 the Vi«ti\sp snetd, HJu^&khtS and Bftk5, 
biit what the Fareis now cooaider as tbeir sacred 
canon, oomisU, besides the VvndUUd, of d« more than 
the Yaana, Tuporod, Taobto. &c.. wbicli cuiitaiii the 
liulk of the two other extant Nasks, the Stod and 
Bttkitit YaiilitH. 

Tbo Vcndiclad contains religious laws and old 
leigenda. The Vispered oontuna litanies, chiefly for 
thu celebration of tlie nix season-fralivalfi, tho so-collvd 
OabAnbcus. Tho Vasna also contains litanies, but its 
most important portion conM;Hts of the famous Gd.that> 
(stem g&tbA, noiu. mihj^. gutlm), niL-tricul portious, 
written in a more ancient dialect, probably the oldest 
noolous round whii^h all th<3 rest of the Avi-slic litera- 
ture g»th6rod. Tlie U&tlios aro found in the Yastia, 
xxTiiUxxxiv, xllii-xlvi, xlvii-1, li, and liii. Each of 
UiotiC tlinw ooUuctioUM, tho V«ndt<)ad, Viitpert^d, and 
Vsjins, if they aro copied singly, are generally accom- 
panied by a Pehlevi translation and glosses, the so- 
cftlk-d Zund. But if thvy aro all copied together, 
according to the order in which they aie retiulivd 
for liturgical purposes, they are without the Pehlevi 
tratLHljvtion, and tho whole cuIU-ction in tlii-n calk-<I tli« 
Vcudtdnd Saditb, i.i-. the Vvndidnd pure and Himpiv, 
i. e. without commentaiy. 

The remaining frugukviitH arc comprohonded under 
thv name of Khorda Aveeta. or Small Avesta. They 
consist chiefly of piaji.Ts such a^ the live Gab, tho 
SIrOKcb, thu three Afriii^ihi. the five Nytlyish, thi- 
Yashts. lit. acta of worship, hymns addrcsiwd to the 
thirty Ixad.i. of whiolt twenty only have been prc- 
Kcrvod, and uoinu othi:r fragment), for tn.ttftncv, the 
UftdhAkht Xaak {S. S. B. iv. p. xxx ; xxiii. p. \). 


Th^ Parsis eomebicnea divide the twenty-one Nasks 
into three elasa^s : (1) the Oftthio. (2) the Hadlis- 
miitlino, (3) tbu Lavr. Thu GAthic portion rcpri'^enut 
the highor Bptrituol knowledge auJ epiritual duty, the 
Law the lower worldly duty, lUid the Uadha-mithrie 
whut in hutwocn the two (Dinkanf, VIIL 1. 5). In 
■nany cases, however, these subjects are mixed. 

The G&UiM ai* cvid^nUy the ohU^t frugtncnU of 
the Avestic religion, whoa it consisted as yet in a 
simple belief in Ahuramasda aa the Supreme Spirit, 
and in a donial of thi- Dn^vas, most of tlii>m known to 
U8 as worshipped by the poets of the Veda, If Zura- 
thusbtra was the name of tlie founder or reformer of 
this ancient n-ligiun, these GiUlias may \m a^ribed to 
hitn. As their language difTvra dialoctically from that 
of the Achacmenian iuncriptions, and as the Pehlevi 
int«rpretent, Uiough couvcrsanl with Uio ordinary 
Aveetio language, found it ditficult to interpret these 
GAtbas, we are jtuttificd in suppoung that the O&thic 
dial(;fit may have IxM-'n originally the dialect of Mt^dia. 
for it was from Media that the &Iagi ', or the teachers 
and preachers of the religion of Ahurauiti^da, aresftid] 
to have come '. It has been pointed out tlmt certain 
deities, well known in the Veda, and in later Avestic 
text4,ar« alwcut from the (iiUhaa ; for instance, Mithra 
and Hotna ; also AnAhita and the title of AmeshaspeutA 
(Haug, l.c. p. 25!'). Many aUitract concepts, such a« 
Asha, rii^hteousncss, VohClmano. good thought, have 
not yet assumed a definite mythological pcrHonoiity in 

' Unci, Urn Hboiivu of th* (IBtlui. tho Uasu-iti in (h* cutioifarm 
iiiKription. tha liog of ljit<ir timpa. Haug. p. 109 n,, pofubl^r ihf 
nb molt of Januu. xnii. 8. 

' DnrDiciiotKr, .1. B. £., iv. p. xlvi, girt* all Iho arldoDM for 
■algnlng lliu origin of Zaro*jit»r*i religion to ModiL 


tlie chapUrs eomposed in the O&Uuo dialect (Haug, 
]i. 171). And wtiAt itt more importfttit still, tlin Angrd 
Mttinyu or Ahriman or Ui« Inter Avcstic writings hiM 
in tJio CAtha« not yet been invested with the charaeter 
of the Evil Spirit, the Devil, th« coniitAnt opponent 
ofAhuinma/iift' (Haug, Lc. pp. 303^) I call thi» 
important, bcuiiiso in the cuneiform insrriptiona also 
this charactf r does not, and we may probably be jusli- 
lieil in raying. d«o» not yi^t occur, Tlic early GrwW 
wrilerfl also, such as Uerodotos. Tbeopompoa, and Her- 
■tiippoo, though actjiininted with the Jtn^rian doctrine 
of a doolism in nature and even in the goilhead. do 
not seem to have known the name of Ahriman. Plato 
knew tho name of Ahurama»lii, for he calif) Zorojiater 
the Hon of Oromaaus. which mui^t bo meant for Ahura- 
itiAxda, but tie too never mentii'DH the name of Angni 
Mainyu or Ammanioit. Aristotle may liavu known 
the name of Areimanios as well as that of Oromaades. 
though we have only the authority of Diogenea Laer- 
tiu8 (Prooem. c 81 for it, lAtcr writcra, both Greek 
and Roman, are well acquainted with both names. 

I mention all this chiefly in order to abow that there 
are signs of hintoricitl growth uid hiHtorioaJ decay in 
the various portions of what we call Avcstic literature 
If with Dr Hang wo place the earliest Qkthn literature 
in about 1000 tii l:iOO h.c, which of coui-se iHapurely 
hypothetical date, wo can imy at all events that tho 
(].^thas are in thought, if not in language also, older 
than the inHcriptions of Darius; tbat they belonged to 
Media, and ejusted thoro probably before the time of 
Cyrus and hia eonqaest of tho Persian empire. 

When we oome to the time of Alexander, we aee 
' Abgn oteun In Uia UMhu In dio mom otmfQ. 



Lbat there existed then so Inrgo an nmotint of SMred 
itti^raturo. that wo cinanot bo far wronj; in ascribing' 
the wholo of the twenty-oue Nasks to a pre-Achae- 
menian period, before SOO fi.c. Hore vfK can diit- 
tinguwh again bclwcon th« old and the later Yaeno. 
ITie Vendidad, Viapered. the Yashta, and the smallerj 
prayers may \k aHcribcl to thu end of the Avc«tJo' 
period. Dr. Haug places the larger portion of the 
original VentlSdAd at about lOOO-ilOO a. a., the com- 
poeition of tho later Ya-tiia at about 80n~7(X) B.C. 

TUo Pohlovi literature may have begun soon afterj 
Alexander. Linguistic chronology is, no douhc, of i 
very uncertain character. Still, that there ia on his-^ 
torical progrv«8 both in language and thought from the 
G&tha«totho Yaana.and from the VaMnatolhu Yr.slit», 
can hardly be doubtvd. Real historical dates are unfor- ' 
tonately absent, except the mention of Gaotama in the 
Kravardin Yasht(lfi). If Hiia is meant for Gautama, 
the founder of Buddhism, wo can hardly be wrong in 
supposing that this naine of Buddha had reached] 
Bactria during the first ountury after Huddhaa death, 
say 477-3J7 B.O. In latiT tiniiii the pn.'scnce of 
Buddhists in Eactria cannot be doubted '. About thei 
mrav time coins had been striiclc with inscription:! in ' 
Pohlovi, which have beon tlit language of the 

■ The prcwiiMi at Baddlilita in Baolria ia the flnt ovntiur >■«• 
isatlMfUd by Mv^nlautliorSlim. Almndur Poljrhistor, wliowrolo 
betweea 60-60 B.C (aaquolwl by Cj-rillutEontra Julian-XniMitJoiiB 
umons philaaefih»re (ha SunBDjioi amotiK the Peninn Baetriui% , 
the Uagoi unong the PcnianB, and the OymnoBophliti Bmong tbu 
lndl*s>. Thtv Sunnnyi"! wcn> iDonnt for BuddhUla, Later MM', 
CUaaeat <il AlextnATla. Stnm. I. p. 359. ipnak* uf Sninanali>l amoiig 
biut (Proep. Sv. vii. 10) apM&a <if tlioiMUtd* of Bntlininii« ftuiuttf : 
Ini1ian«antl Baetriant. Sm LM*aD, Itul. MlirthunuiM'utr. ii. p. lOTG;] 
8iii«f«], £nm. ^UrrMioMbnfe^ I. 671. 


people About the Umo of Alexander's conquoHta. The 
AvfHtic langii^e, however, cont'iiitied to 1>e undor- 
Btood for & long time ftfler, »o timt, under Ibc Pttrthiuti 
and thv SftSsuDijin dynostioti, interpri^ters could be 
foand. nblo to lianslate and I'XpIain tlie ancient saored 
t«xu. Nay, if Jl. iMrnu-Mtetrr itt right, additions m 
ATfstio continued to bo made as lato as the fourth 
Cf DturjF' i. v.. provided that the paasagen which he baa 
pointed out in the VendliUd rt-for (o Iho Gupprciuuon 
of the here«y of Muu! by king ShahpAr II. 

¥&■ BtUUon batwMB tlM Avasta ksd tb* Old T«Bteia*Bt. 

I thought it nowssary to outer thus fully into the 
history of tJie rise and decline of the aaci'ed literature 
of Pei-sia. bceauttL- I waut<-d to aliow how impoxiuble it 
\a to institute a satisfaotory comparison between the 
PeniAii and any otbvr i-eligioii, unless we ore fully 
•wuv of the hiiitorical growtli of ita Bacred canon. 
Though mucli light had been ahed on this subject by 
Dr. Uaug, it is but htti-ly tlijit the valuable translation 
oftlK; Diukarx/, contributed by Mr. West to nay SiicrM 
B<jok» of the JCiiet, has enabled us to form an indepen- 
deut judgment on Uiat liulijeot. The Fi-^rsian religion 
lias often been the eubject of comparison both with 
the religion of India and with that of tlie Jews, par- 
ticulni'ly ftfu^r tliuir return from the exile. The chief 
doctritiL>s which the Jews arc HtippoiH-d to have bor- 
rowed from the foltowere of Zorooiiter are a belief in 
tiie resurrect i<jii of the body, a belief in the immor- 
tality of the Boul, and a belief in future rewards and 
putuabments. It is well known that these doctrines 
were entirely, or almost cntii'ely, absent from the oldest 
pbaM of religion among the Juw^, no Unit their prL!»ence 


in aoai9 of tha Pmlms aii<1 tlic Prophots hw often 
lieea used as an armimcnb ia support of the later date 
now assigned to Uiesecompngitions- Horc there are no 
dirODological (litIictiltk-». These <Iootriiu-s exist, as we 
shall sue, at Icattt in their germinal Btago, in tlie OfLthae, 
while of the more minute detailH a<)ded to these old 
doctrines in the Inter portions of U» Avesta, or in Uie 
Htill luti?r PeLlovi wntings. there is no traco oven in 
post-exilic books of the Old Testament. This point 
has been well argued by Prof. Chcyne in the Ex/njfi- 
tory Timen, Juno. July, August, IS'.H '. 

But there is another point on which wo can observe 
an even more utriking similarity between tho Old Testa- 
ment and the Avc^ta, namely, the strong asaertioo of 
the om-nesn of Ood. Here, however, it seems to me 
that, if there woe any exchange of thought between 
the followers of Monea and of Zoroastor, it may 
have been the latter who were influviiced. The Hudden 
ebango from the henotheism of the Veda to the mono- 
theism of the Avestft has never boen acMJimtisl for. and 
1 venture to suggest, though uut without hesitation, 
that it may have taken place in Medio, in the original 
home of the Zorrmstrian religion. It was in the cities of 
Media that iv larg^ Jewish population was settled, after 
the king of Assyria had carried away Israel, and put 
them in Hnlah and in Hnhor by tJie river of Gozan, 
and in the citiis of the Mc-dea (2 KirigH xviii. 11). 
Now, however difficult an exchange of religious ideas 
may bo between people speaking different languages, 
tho fact of their worshipping cither ouc God or many 
gods eould hardly fail to attiact attention. If then the 

' Oh FmHNi Ziimulrian Infiamut on On BtU0m q^ ItraA. Bm alw 

BrmtHeh* AUr/iktanikun'lt. •">i. i Jip. llOwiq, I am licit 000- 

Prof, Chsjitu'amiiarhiLin tli« Acaiism^, July, ISUS. p. ti. 

Spl«e*l, £ 
rinvod by 




Jews impressed their noiglibouns with Uio conviction 
that there could be bub one God, a conriotion which 
in spiU; of many baekiOidings, Hcoms nevi>r to liave 
cease*) altogether to form part of the national faith of 
Urael, everything else would naturally have followed, 
exactly m, we find it iu the Avcnla, as compared 
with the Vodu. Ouo of the anciout go<lii, tho Asum 
VaniMs, WA8 taken tm the one and siipromo God, 
the God above all yods, under tho name of Ahura 
Maiula ; the other Devaa, if they claimed to be gods, 
were i-onounoed, and those only who could bo troated 
as Mcondary spirits, were allowed to remain, nay. 
were increased in number by Riich spirit-i or angels 
If Ainerctiit, Haiirvat^t, Vohumand, and all the i->^t. 
I am far from saj'ing that this can be strictly proved, 
either can it be proved that tho l>elief in a resurrec- 
tion and immortality was necessarily borrowed by tho 
Jews from the Zoroastrians. For, after all, people 
who deny the immortality of tho soul, can also ansort 
it. All I iiay is that such a uupposition being his- 
torically poBHible, would help to explain many things 
the Avesta and Its development out of Vedic or 
pre-V«dio elemtnta, that have not yot any Bati»factory 

I wn ttarkt X mm. 


But there is a still more startling coincidence. 
You may remember that tho highest expression of 
lis Supi«mc Being that wa.-; reached in India, was 
•bne found in the Vedic hymns, ' He who above all gods 
is the only God.' 1 doubt whether Pliysicol Reli^'ion 
can tench a higher level. Wu must remember that 

ti individual god hod from the first been invcsti-d 
r4) K 



with a character high above any human d}aracter. 
Indra, Soma, Agni, and wliatever other Dev&s there 
were in the Vvdic Pdntheon, bod liceo described an 
the creatftrs of the world, as the puardians of what 
ia good and right, as all-powerful, all-wise, aod 
victorinuA ovor all tlicir (.•iieinies. What moro tht-n 
could huinim Inngtiago anil rclifpous d<.-votion achieve 
tlian to apo&k of one Supreme Being, high above all 
th<vio gods, and alone worthy of the name of Qod ? 

We saw that in Greccu also a aiiiiilur exalted con- 
ception of the true God had at a very early time fotmd 
expression in a ver»« of Xenoplianes, wlio in tlio face 
of ZouB, and Apollo, and Athene vcuturud to eay. 
'There i« btU one Goil, the le»t among mortate and 
imnuirtait, ruitJier in fumi nor in thuuitht like unto 
nvortaiii^ This again Ecoms to me to mark the lugheet 
altitudewhich human language can reach in its desii-e 
to give an adc<]uate denoription of tlie one true Ood. 
For though tlie existence of other immortals ia 
admitted, yet Ho is supposed to hold his own pre- 
tminent position among or above them, and even a 
similanty with anything human, whether in shape or 
thought, IB distinctly denied, thus excluding all those 
antliropomorphic conceptionH from which even in the 
best of rcli<,'ion!i the Ucity Bocms unable altogether to 
diveat itedf. The Hebrew Psalmist uses the same 
exalt«d language about Jehovah. ^ Among the (fOtU.' 
bo says, as if admitting the possibility of other gods, 
'there is none like unla Thre.' And again he calls 
Jehovah, the grtat King above all godi), using almost 
the same expreeaiouR as the Vedic Kishi and the old 
Greek philosopher. Tho ooncepLion of the Supreme 
Being as we find it in tho Avesta, is by no means 


inferior to that of Jehovah in Uie Old T«at&m«nt. 
Dr. Haug (EMftyn, p. SW) goes so far oti to uiy that 
it is perfectly identical. Ahum Haztla is calktl by 
Zaratbuahlra 'tlio C'rvator of the earthly and Hpiritual 
life, the Lord of the whole iinivorso, in whose hands 
ace all emturee. Be is the Iij,'1it: and thu source of 
light; be is the wisdom and intellect. lie is in 
po«MauoD of all good tliingit. spirilual and worldly, 
such SB iiie ^ood mind (vohu-mnuo), immortalit}' 
(aiiiei*tS(/)> healtb (haurvat4</J, the best truth (a^ha 
vabtshta), devotion and piety (&rmaiti), and abun<lance 
of earthly gnoda (khMmtbra vairya), that in Ui say, ho 
grants all these gifts to the righteous man, who is 
upright in thoaghts, words, and deeds. As the niler 
of tlui whole univorso, ho not only rewards the good, 
hat he is a puniaher of the wicked at the same time. 
All that Li created,good or evil, fortuno or misfortunei 
is his work. A ecpantc evil spirit of equal power 
with Ahora Mazda, and aln-aya opposed to him, is 
foreign to the earlior portions of the Avcsta, though 
the existence of such a belief among the Zoroastrians 

tmay be gathered from sume of the later writings, such 
as the Vendidad.' 
Coiucidcnovs sudi as these oro certainly startling, 
but to a student of comparative theology they only 
prove the ouiversaltty of truth ; they neceai^itate by 
DO raoaaa the admission of a coiumon historical origin 
or the borrowing oo one side or the other. We ought 
in fact r^oiou that with R-gard to these fundamental 
troths the 8o-c&lli;d heathen religions are on a perfect 
level witli the Jewish and the Christian reUgiona, 

But suppose we found the same name, the same 
proper name of the Deity, say Jehovah in thu AveaUi, 




LEorraE ii. 

or Abura Mazda in the Old Tet>tn.ment, what idioutd 
we say? We should at once havi}! to admit a borrowing 
oil one side or the other. Now it is tnio we do not 
find the name of Ahura Mazda in the Old Testament, 
but we find sometliing equally surprising. You tna>f 
renumber how wc nrjoiccd ^vhcn in tbe midet of many . 
imperfect and more or leea anthropoii)oq)hio natnes 
given to tbe deity in Uin Old Tu«t»tnent, wo suddenly 
were met by that eiililimo and exalted name of 
Jehovah, *I am that I am.' It seemed so dillerent 
from tbo ordinary ooncept« of deity among the ancient 
Jews. What then should wosay. if wo met with exactly 
tbe same iiioi>t abeitraot appellatinn of thf^ deity in tbe 
Avcflta? Yet, in the Avi-»Ui also there is among tbo 
twenty sacred names of God. tho name 'Ah mi y&t 
ahmi,' 'I am thai I am.' Shall wo read iu this co- 
incidence also tho old leusoii that God has revealed 
Himself to all who feel after Him, if haply they may 
tiud Him, or itt the coincidence ao minute that we have 
to admit an actual borrowing! And if so, on which 
side is the borrowing likely to have taken place? In 
tho Avc«ta this name ooctim in tbo Vashtn. In tbej 
Old Testament it occurs in Exudus iii. 13. Chrono-' 
logically therefore the Hebrew t«xt is anterior to the 
Avcstic text. In Kxodus wo ri>nd: 

'And MosM said unto God. Bfhold, when I comA.^ 
unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, 
Tho God of your fathers hatli sent me unto you ; and 
they shall say to lue. What it Ins name 1 what fthall 
I aay unto them ? And God said untu Moses, / am ' 
thut I avi: and he Raid. Thus shalt thou say unto tJie 
chitdrcn of loruel, I am hath nent me unto you.* 

This passage, as I am informed by the best autbori- 


ties, is now unanimously referred to llie Elohistic 
sectioQ. Dillmaim, Driver, Knenen,WeIU]aueieii, C'or- 
oill. Kitti'l, &C-, All offw on tlint pfiint. Hut does it 
not look like a foreign thouglil I What we expect aa 
tho Aomver to Uie question of Mofles, is realljr what 
follows ia viT. 15. 'Arid Gotl miid [moreover] >iiito 
Moses, Thus shalt thou say unto tho children of Ii^rnel, 
J«hovah, Uie God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, 
tho Oo<l of Isfuic, and the God of Jacob hath Hcnt nio 
onto you ; this ia my name for ever. . . .' This is what 
we expect, for it was actually in tho name of Jehovah, 
the God of Abraham, Isiuie. and Jacob, that Mosoa 
brought the people out of Egypt ; nor in tliere any 
trace of Mo^es liaving obeyed the divine command 
and having appealed to ■ I am that I am,' as the God 
who eent him. Nay, there is never again any allu^ioa 
to such a namo in the Old TL-»taraent, not «vcn whore 
wo might fully expect to meet with it. 

If we take ver. 14 aa a later addition, and tho 
Rov. J. Entlin Carpenter informs mo tiiat this is 
quite possible, in the Elohistic narrative, everj-thing 
becomes cI^at and natural, and we can liardly doubt 
therefore tlial thiH addition came from an extraneous, 
Bod moiit likely from a Zornaatrian source. In Zend 
the connection between Ahum, the living god, and 
tho Torb tih. to be. mi^^ht have been felt. In Sanskrit 
ftlso tho connt'Ction between aeura and as, to be, could 
hardly have escaped attention, pitrticulaHy as tlicre 
was also tho word an-u, breath. Now it is certainly 
very Btrange that in Ilebrew also e/iyek seems to 
point to the same root h» Jtlwvah, but even if tliis 
etymology were tenable historically, it does not seem 
to have struck the Jewish mind except in this pas.tag«. 




of thin<', O Alinra Haz^a 1 that is the greatest, the best, 
th« fairest, the tnost ofTuetivo,' &c. 

AhuraMaz'ia replied utito him: 'IklynRinc is the One 
of whom queitiioiia are asked, OHoly ZarathuHhtral* 

Now it is curious to observe that Dr. Haug trans- 
lates the samo paesago (reely, but not accuraUrly, by : 
'The tirst name is Ah mi, I am.' 

The text is Frakhshtya niLma nhini, and thit 
tneaos, ' One to be aslted by uame nm L' ' To aek ' 
is the recogni.ied tRrm for asking for revealed truth, so 
that spento fraans, the holy qufstion. iocluding the 
anewer, camo to mean with thu Paii;is almost the saino 
as revelation. Dr. llaug geems to have overlooked 
that word, and bis translatioD has therefore be«i 
wrongly quoted as showing that I om was a name of 
Ahum Miik<1a. 

But when we oomo to the twentieth name we find 
that Haug's translation is more accurate than Daraie- 
st«ter's. The text is vlsSstem6 abmi y&t ahmi 
Mazdau n&ma. This means, 'the twentieth, I am 
what I am, Mazt^Ia by nnmu.' Her« Darmtwtetcr 
tnmstatea : ' Wy twentieth name is Mazda (the all- 
IcDOwiog one)," Dr. Haug more accurately: 'The 
tw«nti«th (nsme is) I nm who I am, Mazda V 

Here then in this twentieth name of Ahura ^(azda, 
' I am tliat I am,' we have probably the snurce of the 
voTBi; in Exodus iti. 14, unless we are prepared to 

* AlMlber (mulalion of lli« won.1« ri.Ji^t<'inA nlimi ynt nli&ll 
Ibzdaa ntm* baa bMn ■DgRectod bjr Wml. A h m i in Zrnd, bu 
wrltM^bBOt only tiw Mmo •■ 8k. ■■mi, I am, but ia uacd nlao 
•a tbo loMtivo of th« flnt ■ptnotttX pronotin. coriospandlng to Ihc 
Sk. BtajL It 1* {KMalblo, thnntTora, to tmnalnto 'tho tw<ntinlh 
naiM for mo I* thut I am Mania.' though moit Mliolant would 
pnfor to t*k« Iho ivio ahmr> for th« luinn. and to tniialat«, ■ Ibu 
i«wll*lb ta I kin what f tm, Ifaid* b]r luiuft' 



ndinit u most extraorditmry coiccidcnce, and that 
under circurnKtnnccs vrhvre a mutual influence, nay 
actual borrowing, was far ft'om difRcult, and whcro J 
tliu chamctur of tlio passage in Kxodiis »ociiis to givoi 
clear indication on which side tho borrowing mustf 
havfl taken place. 

I hope- I liavc thus mado it clear in what tbo real 
value of the Sacred BooIib of the East conai^tfl with 
regai'd to a oomparative atiid; of relitpons. We must 
fr^y admit tliat many literary ducumuuts in which 
wo might have hoped to find the tmcea of the earliest 
growth of a religion, are lo^t to us for ever. I have i 
triod to kIiow how. nior'L- particiilurly in the caM 
the Zoroastrian mtigion, our loss has been very 
great, and tho recent puhlication of tlie Dinkan/ hy . 
Mr. E, W. West {S.B. E., vol. xxxvii) hsH made us rcaliatJ 
more fully how much of the most valuable information 
in lost to ua for ever. We n-ad, for instance (Book ix. 
cap. 81, 18), that in tlie VarntniAnsar Nawk there was 
a chapter on ' the arising of tbo spiritual creation, Uis: 
jint thought of Atiliarma^i/ : and, as to the cre-atui'ea 
of AfiharuiactV, fii-el the spiritual Hcliievomcnt, ajid 
then the material formation and tho mingling of 
spirit with matter: [the advancement of the creatures 
thereby, through his wisdom and the righteoutincHa 
of Vohfiman being lodged in the creatures,] nod all 
the good creatures being goaded thereby into purity 
anil joyfulnens. This too, that a complete under- 
standing of things ariKeit through Vohi!itnan having 
made a home in one's reason (vi^m).' 

To have seen the full treatment of these questions 
in the Avesia would have been of the greatest value 
to the students of the history of religions, whether 



ibf^y admit a direct influence of P«reian on Jewish and 
Chrinliiin thuugbt. or wlivtlier thoy look upon the 
ZoroastrloQ idea of a spiritual followed by a material 
creation aa nimply an inittruclive parallel to the 
Fhiluiiic concirpb of tbo Logos, its reuHsation in tliu 
material wuild, or tbc <raf^, and on VohtltiDan m a 
porallul to tbc Holy Uhoiit. liut tbere ia now no bope 
of our ever rL-covcring wbat bas bcL-n lost so long. Wo 
must admit, therefore, that, witli all the Sacred Books 
of tlie Kftal, our knuwledge of ancient religions will 
always remain very imperfect, and that wc aru often 
forced to depend on writings, the date of which 
as uTitings i.'< very late, if compared with tb« timen 
trhicb tliey profess to describe- It does not follow 
that there may not be ancient relics imbctlded in 
modern books, but it duL-s follow tbat these modern 
books have to bo used with great caution, also that 
their translation can never be too literal. Tbero lit a 
dangeroutt tt'ndency in Oriental .sclioliu-sbip, namely 
an almo«t unconscions inclination to translate certain 
passages in the Veda, the Zend Avesta. or the Ruddbiat 
Canon into langungu taken from the Old or New Tcsla- 
tncnt. In some respects this may be useful, as it brings 
the meaning of such pasnages nearer to ua. But Uiere itt 
a danger also, for such translations are apt to product) 
on imprc«Hion tbat the likeness is greater than it really 
ie, HO great in fact that it could be accounted for by 
actual borrowing only. It is right that wo idiould try 
to bring EoHtem thought and lau^nge as neax aa 
possible to our own thought and language, but we must 
be careful also not to obliterate the minute features 
peculiar t<j Mich, even though the English translation 
may sometamea sound etrange and unidiomatio. 



AMD raiLoaoPQiEa. 

t» eoupftz* Anelast S«Ugl«ra asd Anelut PhQoMpU**. 

WE saw in tlie cjim? of tlic AvcstA ]iow HhsoltiU-Iy 
ncoessLtirj it i-i that we should have formed to 
ourselves a clear eonccptlou or the rclution in which 
the rvligioDs and pbilosopbioa of the ancitnt worM 
stand to each other before yro venture to oompaic 

In former days, vhen little was known of the more 
distant degrees of relationship by which the histoncal 
nations of the world woro bound together, the tempta- 
tion was gn-at, whenever hoiiic eimilurity waH pointed 
out between the beliefs of ditferent nations, to suppoee 
that one had Iwrrowed from the other, llie Greeks, 
M we saw, actually porMuiidcd themselves that they 
bod borrowed the names of some of their gods from 
Eg}-pt, becauKQ they discovered a certain similarity 
between their own deities and thoise of that ancient 
country. But we know now that there was do 
foundation whatever for Buch an opinion. Christian 
theologians, fVoni the days of Clement of Alexandria to 
our own time, were convinced that any staitllng coin- 



cidenoeA between the Bible and Uie f^Acrell Hooks of 
oUier rcligiotui could bo dut; to one- cniiHC only, namely. 
to borrowing on tbc part of tlic Gentiles ; while there 
were not wanting Greek pbilosopht-rs who accused 
Cliristiikn IVAclioivt of having taken Uieir best doctrines 
from Plato and Aristotle. 

W© mast tbexeforo, at the very outset, try to clear 
our mind on this subject. We may diatinguiith, I 
U'lievo. betwtcn four different kinds of relationship. 
The most distant relationship is tbat which is simply 
due to our common humanity. Uoniinea stimus, nihil 
humani a wMt alitn^im, putamu*. Much of what 
is possible in (be Arctic regions va poesible in tfae 
Antarctic regions also; and nothing can be more 
inUretiting than wlun wo RuCcOAd in diJM^overin^ co- 
incidences between beliefs, mperstdti on s, and cu&tcms, 
peculiar to nations ontiioly sepnrntcd from ench other, 
and ehnring notliing but their common humanity. 
Sucb beliefs, suporEtiUona, and customs po^ess a 
peculiar importance in the eye of the psychologist, 
becauce, unless wo oxtond the cliaptcr of aceidcuts 
very fer indeed, they can hardly be deprived of a 
claim of being founded in human nature, and, in that 
easo. of bcinc if not true, at all events, humanly 
spoaking, legilimato. It is (ruo that it has beiQ 
found very dithcult to prove any lelief or any oustein 
to bo (juitc universal. Speech, no doubt, and, in cne 
Hcn^u, ceitaiu proccsscfi of gmmmar too, a conception 
of number and an acceptance of certain numemls, may 
be called universal; a hclicf in gods or supotii&ttitn) 
powers is almost univerml, and bo is ft sense of sbiimc 



with regard to Rex, and a more or less accurate obeor- 
vation of the changes of the moon and the HeaAona 
of the year. 

But there is one point which, as antliropolo^sU, 
wo ouglit never to forg«U We gain nothing, or very 
little, by simply collectin!:; Kimilar superstitions or 
similar customs among clitferent and widely diatnnt 
nations. This amounta to little more than if, as oom- 
parativv philologists, we discover that to he in love is 
in French ainoureux and in Mandshu in Northern 
China amourou. This is curious, but nothing more. 
Or, if wo compare customs, it is wvU known that a 
very strange custom. tJie so-called Couvwlf. has been 
dittoovercd among difforont nations, both in ancient 
and modem times. It consists, as you know, in the 
father being put to bed when the mother bos given 
birth to a child. But, besides the general HkoneHS of 
the custom, which is certainly very extraordinary, its 
local varieties ought to have hvca far mort; c&i'efulty 
studifd than tlR>y hitborto have boen. In some ca«os 
it seems that the husband is most oonsidorately nursed 
and attended to, is others he in tiimply kept rjuiet and 
prevented from making a nci^e in the house. In 
other countries, again, qulto a new element comes in. 
The poor father is treated with the greatest malignity 
— ia actually flogged by the fumale mt-mhers of his 
household, and treated a^ a great ci-imiual, Until we 
can discover the real motive of those strange varieties 
of the same custom, tlio mere fact tliat they have 
been mot with in many places is no nwTO than 
curious. It has no more scientific value than the 
coincidence between Uie Fiench avioureux and the 
llaud»hu miwurou. Or, to take another instance. 



tlie mere la«t that the Seoskrit ffaritas is letter by 
li'lfT lit" Mine w<ird u the Greek Ch<iritfa, teacb» 
U8 Dothtng. It is only when we are kble to khow 
why the Haritaa m lodia aod the Ckarilf* in Greece 
rec«vc<i Um* sam* name, that these outward Himilar- 
itiM gain a tnilr Mi<f»tific Tslue. To say that come- 
thing like the CooTade existed till rery lately in 
Spain and likewise in China explains nothing, or 
only explains iffnotum p^r iyntitiut. Not till we can 
diacover the common motive of a custom or a super* 
Atition. founded in our common hamanity, can n-e 
claim for lln-w studies the name of Anthropoid^, can 
we speak of a nal Scivnoe of Man '. 

The KComl kind of rolalion^ihip is tluit of a commnn 
laogvage. Uost pvoplc would tliink that community 
of Itlood waA a stronger bond than commonity of 
laoguagv. But no one has ever defined what is meant 
by bluud ; it in generally a»cd as a mere metaphur : 
and there remains in most cases the difficulty, or I 
BboDld ratlipr My the impossibility, or proving either 
the purity or thu mixttiru of blood in ihu must ancient 
periods of man's existence on earth. Lastly, wlicu wo 
are ooncentf ) witli l>elivrs and customs, tt is after all 
the intellect that tells and not tlte blood. Now the 
outward or material form of the intclk-ct is language, 
and wtu-n we linve to dvial with nations who belong 
to the same family of language, Semitic or Arj'nn or 
Polynesian, we ought to be prepared for similarities 
in their custome. in their religions, nay in their philo- 
Hophical expressions also. 

■ On tb« Convade *m.- Aca^rmt lia% Vtm. 103V. 10T% 10T5. 



OMUwn Klste^. 

Thirdly, there is what I shoulil call a real hietorical 
rdlatioQBhip, as when nations, whether spvakiog related 
or unrelated languages, have been living together for 
a certain time before Uiey became politically ecparatccl. 
The inhabitonbi oT Iceland, for instance, not only speak 
H dialect closely connected with the Scamlinavian 
languages, but Uiey actually passed through thi; i.-ar1y 
periods of their history under the same political sway 
as the people of Korwny. Cammon cuatomB, there- 
Ion, found in Iceland and Norway admit of an his- 
torical cxpIan&tioiL The name applies to existing 
American customs as compared with earlier English 
or Iiisb custome. 

Different from these threo rolationidiips is that of 
msre neighbourhood which may lead to a borrowing 
of certain thin^ ready made on one side or the other, 
very different from a sliaring in a commoa anecairal 
property. Wo know how much the Fins, for instance, 
have borrowed from their Scandinavian neighboun io 
cu'ttoms, legends, religion, and kngungu. It happens 
not unfrequcnlly that two, if not three, of these rela- 
tionships exist St the same time. Thus, if we take 
the Semitic and the Aryan religions, any coincidescm 
between them can l>o duo to their common humanity 
only, except in cases where we can prove at a later 
time bifitorical contact between an Aryan and a 
Semitic race. No one can doubt that the Phenicians 
were the schoolmasters, or at ieaat the writing masters, 
of th« Gnoks ; also that in several pai-ta of tlie world 

the gMcnl cknaiW of 

and who «M Ibt klNter is 
stiHtlMnafe MneflUM«k««ftr 
ve ■» left in doobc 
. no MUufnetarj Ajtwi ctjrmolitg^' of Apbw 
> has jret been dwooiKTed, jret no one would rlKim 
« Senutic or^in for mch « word, w little as one vouM 
I a dwk ff^motogj- for Malikertsi. It ia dt»> 
Qting wlten w« aee the oM idea of dwiTing Grc«k 
9logieal luunes straight ftvoi Ht-bovw, uol ewu 
Pbeokian, ivvivitd and ooantcnatwod by •» 
a Joanial as tliD JakrbilcAtr /dr W4iWNrAff 
PhiUtogie. In the volume for 18!tS. jip. 177 a«q.. au 
article is published in which Dr. Bciimrh Luwy dorivra 
Elysion from 'EltsUk, one of the four eoua of Javan 
(Oen. X. 4), and eupposed to t)e a npavscntntiw of 
Kdly and Lower Italy *. StippoM it wero to, nni wv to 

Th* Simt w« (UpiKaod by Dr. Uwy U' lu** ilanvu<l tknlr 


1 by Dr. Uwj 
•mo troiB Shlr-cht'ti, •one*' fa*«iiTi J 

kWmi(M ftan ohllMli, 



bolicTe thftt not only the Oi¥«ka, bat other Arytui 
natious abtb, derived their belief in tht; West, as the 
abodeof theBlcBHed. iDHcsporiasnJthe W-irj^iur v^«a<, 
from the Jewel I do not mean to &ay that we have 
a NitiJiifactory etymology of Elysion in Greek ; all 1 
say ie.that there is uuthirif^to suggest a foreign origin- 
Elynion seems to be connected with tJie Greek »jAi/tf 
in ']\v6ov,iipi>a-i'i\vroi,B.nA with Sk. rub. to rise and to 
more. In Sk. wc have both a-ruh, to mount, uid 
ava-ruh, to descend. We actually 6nd Rv. L 62, 0, 
rdhaii am di vAA, the ascent or auuimit of heaven, and 
Rv. I. 105, 1], mlidhyo &ri5dbano divflA. wliei^. if 
we could take rudb for rub, we should have a strong 
analogy of an Elynion, aa a heavenly abode ; while in 
IX. 113. 8, a%'arddhaDsm div&/t is another oxpreK- 
sion for the abode of the blessed. The Greek ^\t><nui' 
would stand for i\\iO'Tiov '. 

We saw in our last lecture that if there are any coin- 
adenoes between the aacieat philosophy of the Greeks 
and that of the Brtkhman.<<, thi'y Bhould I>e accounted 
for by their common humanity only. In some coses 
we may perhaps appeal to the original community 
of language between Brahman and Orook, for language 

tnTailaor liiith; fjite in Artmii X^trom eh6phltfa,th*goilde«i 
of chAph, M«shoT«; (kin Crom Hvbrvnr ohAUm, k wt*i; Arflnv- 
jWton tron 'BlrApbOn. tbs EI of bMling; £ii>]!«dait from Ziir> 
ptdAn, Uto rock <>r iviiruo ; Etmft txtm 'ArUbbl, tho cUikrapd ; 
JffnaifrMii M«au, (ho otdHincr: /Mamanttvj ft«ait Bfido'om«tli, 
ruling In tnilb ; Aitnaitta fTom DOmhoth, rDquiring veuMMira; 
EfJ^mim fniin'ED dimyAn, non-dontruetlon ; A'ninM man Oftrfin, 
tiM Jaw* ; Orim from (iTi.Ti'6a, (lio hiirl«T of itnngtli, or, u wo 
ar* now told, from tb« Aoraditin IJr'ati*, light ol hMnn [AtSt- 
tuuvm. >"n» SS, IW3, p. SIG) ; ,v.r,i< ftvini KI-iyyOIihA. Ui* oura- 
plaElit of til* iwroi-aiilcH ; .linJIon, Etruamn Jjiluii fnini Ablo, (hv 
■on. VTIiKl tliuuld wi> nny (o raoh derinUiona, if Uicj' won unto 
Sanskrit, Aiid not from ni-lirrwf 
' Se* Fiok in K. Z., xix, iml*. 




fonuK a kind of mclined pUnu (letorminiDg tint general 
direction or inelinatioa of any intellectual structure 
erected upon it. Communicntioa, however, or ex- 
change in historical times Boems hero, ho far aa wo can 
judge, to be entirely out of the questicHt. 

■«a«Mpa bttwMii tka BvUkIoui of InOU ud VanU. 

If on the contrary we compare the tmcivut ri^llgious 
and philosophical ideas of India with those of Persia, 
we have to admit not only what may be called an under* 
lying community of language, but an hi»turical com- 
munity between the anccstons of Indiang and Penianii, 
that lasted long after the other Aryan nationa had been 
finally separated. The meroocctirrenceof nuchtecbuicol 
names, for instance, as zaotar, the title of the supreme 
priest, the Vedic hotar, or fttharvan, firi^pricst, the 
Sanskrit Atharvau.orofAumnd.namc of aplantused 
for sacrificial purposes both in the Veda and in the 
AvcAta. while no trace of them oociirs in any of the 
other Arjan hkOj^iia^s, are sitfTicient to show that the 
believers in tbu Vvda and the believers In the Avesta 
remoioed socially united up to a time when a minute 
nacrificial u.Temonial had been fully elaborated. Of a 
lst«r borrowing butweuu the two, except iii ijuito 
modem times, tbero is no evidence whatever. 

A comparison of the ancient Indian and Persian 
religions must thcreforo be of a totally difl'ereut 
character from a comparison of tlie earlit-st religious 
and philosophical ideas in India and Oreece. There 
in the common deep-lving linguistic substmtum in both 
coses, but whereas the Ort-ok and the Indian streams 
of thought became completely separated before thete 
was any attempt at forming definite half-philosophical 
balf-reUgioiis concepts, the Indian and FM^ian atroams 



of thought coQtioued running in the eame bed, long 
aftor the point h&d Itoon reached whore the Greek 
stream hud itepai-ntod from them. 

That being tbo catte, it follows that any coincidences 
that may be discovered between the later phases of 
religious or philosophical thought of Greeks and 
Hindus, should not be accounted for by wiy bii^torical 
contact, while coincidoncea between Indian and Porsiau 
thought, whether religious or philosophical, admit of 
jtuoh an esplauation. 

Xnd«p«UlaBt 0]»ik«t«r «t loOlmii PUloaophy. 

This, from ODC point of view, may »eem disappoint- 
ing. But it lends a now charm to the §ludy of Indian 
philosophy, aj4 compared with Uie philosophy of Greece 
— hL-OHti»u wo can really recognise in it what may be 
called a totally indcpoudont venture ofthe human mind. 

The discovery of a rich philosophical literatiire in 
India ha^ nt^vi-r attracted as yet the attention which 
it deservos. Most of our philoHuphers cannot get over 
the idea that there is one way only of treating 
philosophy, namely that which was fullowefl in 
Greece and wam aflorwordH adopted by most of tbo 
philosophers of Europe. Nearly all oar philosophical 
terminology comea to us from Greece, but without 
wishing to say a word against its excellence, we 
ought not to look upon every other philosophy that 
does not conform to our own formuIoB, as unworthy 
of serious attention. 

I shall try therefore to bring this Indian philosophy, 
and more particularly the VedAnta philosophy, as 
near as I can to our own sphere of philosophical 
tntereata. I shall try to show that it treats the same 


problems which have occupied Uie thoughU of Qreck 
philoflopheiv, nay. which occupy our own thoughts, 
though it tn.^At« thvm in » way that at tinit sight may 
Hocni to ua Htraugo or ovu» rc{>clliint. This very 
ftlrangeneas, however, exerciseH its own ponulior attroo- 
tion,for whatever we possfss of philosophy, whether it 
001008 from Greece or Italy or Germany, or now from 
America aod the mwtt distuut colonics, has houn touched 
directly or indirectly hy the niysof thoHcj^natlumin- 
OfiH timt arofte in Greece in th« fifth century B.o. 
In India alone philoaophy was never, bo far as wo 
know, touched by any external influences. It sprang 
up there apontonoously as it did in Greuco, and if the 
thinkciv of Grocci- strike us as a m&rvel, bccauso we 
know nothing liku tliem in any otlivr part of the 
world, wo art) filled with the name surprise, if wo 
mtiot with eoinpleto systemtt of philosophy south of 
tile Himahiyan mountains, in a country where*, till 
it was oulnlued by nations, superior to the inhabitants 
of India in physical strength and military organisation, 
though hy no means in intellectual vigour or origin- 
ality, religion and ])hilo9ophy seem to have formed 
duiing eenturies the one atisorhing subject of medita- 
tion. If we form our notion of the ancient Aryan 
settlers in India from what they have IcfV us in their 
litorature, no doubt wo have to remember that uearly 
oil wu Iiave comes from one source, or has po-ssud 
through one channel, that of the Brahmans. There 
is therefore do doubt some danger that wo may draw 
too bright, too ideal a pictun; of these Indian Aryas, 
IS if they hud been a natinii conainting entirely of 
pious worshippers of the gods, and of philosophers 
bent on solving the great problems of this life and of 
the realities that lie behind it, or beneath it. There 

V » 



must liave boon dark sides to their lifo also, and wo 
oatoh gliiiipHOft of them «ven in their own sacred litera- 
ture. But il\&n> darker Hides of human life we can 
study everywhere ; — what we can etudy nowhere but 
in India is the all-absorbing influence which religion 
and philosophy may exorcise on the human mind. So 
far as we can judge, a large class of people in India, 
not only the prioatly dn^, but the nobility also, 
not only men but womt-n also, never lookt-d upon 
their life on earth as something real. What was 
real to Uiem was the invinible, the life to ooroe. 
What fonnod the thome of their conversaUons, what 
formed the subject of their meditations, was the real 
that alone lent some kind of reality to this unreal 
phL'nonional world. Whoever was suppoHed to have 
caught a new ray of truth was visited by young and 
okl, woa honoured by princes and kinga, nay, was 
looked upon as holding a position far above that of 
kinga and princes. That ia the side of the life of 
anincnt India, wliich deserves our study, because Uiero 
has been nothing like it in the wholu world, not even 
in Ordoce or in Palestine. 

Tha Indlu VUw of LU^ 

Our idea of lifo on earth has always been that of 
a struggle for existence, a struggle for power and 
dominion, for wealth and enjoyment. Theae ore tho 
ideas which dominate the history of all nations whose 
history ia known to na. Our own sj-mpathies alao are 
almost entirely on that hide. But was man placed on 
this earth for that one purpose only T Can wc not 
imagine a different purpose, particularly under condi- 
tions such as existed for many oentuiies in India aud 



nowhere elael In India the necessaries of life were 
few, and tJioso whidi oxiitt&d wcro supplied without 
much exertion on the part of maji, by «, bountiful DAture. 
ClotJiing, sc&nty as it was, was easily provided. Life 
IB th« op«n air or in the tdiades of the forest was more 
delightful than life in cottages or palacot), The danger 
of inroads from forei),^! countries was never dreamt 
of before th« timo of Darius and Alexander, and tJieu 
on ono tide only, on the north, while more than a silvrr 
Htrealc proteoled all around the far-sU'etching shores 
of the country. Why should the ancient inhabitants of 
India not have iiccL'ptod their lot? Was it 80 vtrry un- 
natural for them, endowed as thev were with a tran- 
scendent intellect, to look upon this life, not as an arena 
for gladiatorial strife and combat, or as a market for 
cheating and huckstering, hub as a resting-plaoe, a mere 
waitiny-room at a etatioa on a journey leading; them 
from the known to the unknonn, bub exciting for that 
very reaaon their utmost curiosity as to whence they 
came, and whither tht-y wcn^f^oing. I know quite well 
that there never can be a whole nation of philosophers 
or mebaphy&ical dreamers. The pleasures of life and 
wasaal enjoyments would in India as elsewhere dull the 
intellect of the many, and make thom saUsfied with a 
mere animal existenoe, not exempt from those struggles 
of oovy and hatred whidi mea share in common wiih 
the beuts. But the ideal life which we find reflectod 
in the ancient literature of India, musb certainly have 
been lived by at least the few, and we must never 
forget that, all through histoTy. it is tho few, not tlie 
many, who impress their character on a nation, and 
have a right to represent it, as a whole. What do we 
know of Greece at the time of the Ionian and Elcatic 

■TMifa^af tbein, 
esee])C tbat the; iud a^eeted lo cnltiTue the ut of 
killing their ad^boosk. Tbef ihaawWiB new 
viilwd br coDqvMt*. th»j Rmply wiriicd to be IcA 

alooe, uul to be allowed to work oat tbetr riev 
of life which was ooot«iaplatiTe and joyful tbuugh 
deSeieot in one pnint, n&mely the art of solf-defimoe 
•nd doetractJOD. Tlioy IuliJ qo ides that a tempoot 
Mold break opon them, and when the black donda 
euM middaoly driving acroas the northern and western 
inountatQ-pMBee, they had do shelter, they weretimply 
Urrnv 4I0WD by auperior bnite foroo. They remmd us 
of Arohinuidce imjiloriog the cruel invader, not to dis- 



I turb his philosophicul cirolD«. but tlicru wiut no help 

I for ibem. Thiit ideal of human life wliich they hiid 

I pictured to themselvea, and which to a certain extent 

I tlicy seemed to have realised licfom thoy were ilis- 

covored and disturbed by the ' outer barbariana,' had 
to be surrendered. It was not to be, the whole world 
was to be a fighting and a hiickEttering world, and 
even the Bolution of the highu«t problcmit of religion 
and philoBophy was in future to be determined, not 
by (ivreet reaHonahlenesa, but by the biggeat hattalionH. 
W« must all loam that U'Skod, but even tu the hardt^ned 
historian it is a ernl lesson to Icam. 

But it may be said. What then are these dreamem 
to u«? We have to learn our lessons of life from 
Greeks and Romans. They are our light and our 
leadera. The blood tbat nins in our veins is the blood 
of vigorous SaxoDs and Normans, not of tlio penstve 
gymnosophists of India. 

Ttdo, and yet these pensive gj'innosophista are not 
entire strangers to us. Whatever the blood may bo 
tbat runs through our veins, the blood that runs 
through our tfaoughta, I mean our language, is the 
SUM M that of the Aryas of India, and tbat langtiago 
bu more to do with ourselves tban tbo blood that 
feeds our body and keeps us alive for a time. 

^nipugs. Ul* Conimon SBCk^eonll oT PlUlo«oph]r. 

Let us therefore try. beforo wo bef^in to compare tho 
philosophy of the Hindus with our own, or with tbat 
of Greeks and liomans, to make it quite clear to our- 
BalvM, firat of all, whether thitru may be a coiumon 
foandatton for both, or secondly whether wo aball 
tnve to adroit a later historical contact between the 



philoftopbetB of th<.- E&st and tliosc of tho West. I 
think people have leamt by this time to appreciate 
how much we are depenileiit in all our Uiougbt^ on 
our longuagii, nay liow much wo aro hclpod. and, of 
course, hindered also by our language in all our 
thoughts, and afterwards in the deeds that follow on 
our thoughts. Still wo must be caruful and diHtin- 
guish between two things — the common stock of 
words and thoughts which the Aryan nations shared 
in common before they neparated, and the systems of 
thought which in later times they elaborated each on 
their own soil. The common intellectual inheritance 
of the Aryan nations is vary considerable. — much 
larger than n-as at one time fupposed. There are 
sufficient words left which, as they are the same in 
Greek and SoRHkrit, must have existt^d before the 
Aryan family bi'oko up into two brauche.8, the one 
marching to the Wcat and North, tlie other to the South 
and East. It is possible with the help of these words 
to dcleniiino tlio exact degrw of what may bo eAllcd 
civilisation, which had been reached before the great 
Aryan separation took plaoe, thousands of years before 
the liegiiiiiing of any history. Wc know tliat the only 
real histoncal background for the religion, the mytho- 
logy and the laws of the Qrceks and Romans has 
been discovered in the fragments left to us of tliti 
common stock of words of the Aryan nattons. 

OBnunoa Axrmu &*ll|rlon uid Mrtbolofj. 

To treat of Greek religion, mytholog>% nay even of 
legal cuBtoms without a oonsideration of their Arj-an 
aiitecedenta, would be lika tieating of Italian without 
a knowledge of Latin. This is now a very old truth. 


tbougfa thcr« are still, I beliove, a few elBsaical echoUra 
left, who are shocked at the ide& that the Greek Zeati 
could have tui^tbiDg to do witli tlie Vtidio Dynus. 
You know that thurc are nouiv people who occasion- 
iilly publifih a pamphlet to show that, after all, the 
i-arth ia not round, and who oven ofler prixcA and 
eliallongo astrononiers tu prove that it is round. It 
is the aamo io Comparative Philology and Religion. 
There are eitill some troglodyleit left wlio xay that Zeus 
may he derived from i;ii; to live, that Varuiia shows 
no aimilarity to Ouranoa, tliat deva, bright and god, 
cannot be the Latin deu», that >S'nrvara is not 
Kerberog, and that Saranyu cnimut be Eriny/i. 
To them Greek mythology in like a lotus Bwiroming 
on the water without any atem, wtlliout any roota. 
I am old enough to nsmombiT tho time when tlw 
world was Htartted for the first time by the discovery 
that the dark itihnbitAiittt of India Hhould more than 
three thousand years ago have c&tled their gods by 
the aaiae names by which the Romans and the 
Romjiuio iiationa etMed Oo<l and atill call Him to the 
prevent day. But tlic world hna oven been more 
startled of late at the recrudescence of this old 
classical prejudice, which looked upon an Aryan 
origin of Greek thought and Grceic language u 
almost an insult to classical scholarship. One of the 
greatest diflcoveriea of fmr century, a dUcovery in 
whi«h men auob aa Hiimljoldt, Bopp, Grimm and 
Kuhn have gained their never-fading laurels, was 
trcatt>d once more aa schocdmasters would trvat the 
hlundere of mJioolIioys, and tlint by men ignorant of 
the rudiments of Sanskrit, ignorant of the very «le. 
menta of Comparative Philology. 1 call it one of the 

t bs8 pJ»oed liiatorical facta, when tcamerW w 
lotbing but gueeaen as to the history of tbe i 
lAtiona, prcvioiiM to their nppLWUUCO on the hist 
itago of Asia nUil Europe. 

I should not venture to say tliftt some mil) 
i&TO Dot been laaijo in tlic rooocurtruction o 
ncturo of tlio Aryan civilisatinn previous to 
ep&ration, or in idi-nlirying tlio namea of ce 
Ii««k and Vedio goib ; but such iiii»tftk««, as «o< 
hoy wor« discovvruJ, have easily been coirc 
SesideB, we know that what were eupposed t 
Distakcfi, were oftc-n uo roUtokos at all. 0»e o 
trongest ar^nicnt« af^inst a comparison of C 
nd Vedic deities has always been tJiat the Oreel 
[omer's time, for iii8Uinee, ha<] no recollection 
eiM WW originally a iiamo of the bright sk; 
Irinye a uamo of thu dawn. Nothing le so eiu 
) disprove what no one has ever wished to pi 
lo Freaoliman la conscious that the name 4picie\ 
uything to do with epeciev, and iu the end, 
lato's )dL^8s; and yet wc know that au unbn 
Utorical chain connects the two names. M3 
igical studies will never gain a safe scientiflo \ 
oless thoy arc huilt up on th« sninc coriiinoii A 
undation on which all l inguietic studies are adm 



but by pajohological speculation. It ia perfectly true 
that tliutc *r© legends, Ntories, cuatoma and provci-ba 
to be found among the South Soa Iflaudt-rs And tho 
inhabitants of the Arctic regions which bear a 
striking likcneets to those of the Arj'&n nations. 
Many such had been collcctixl long ago by anthru- 
pologicU ftuch 08 Bastholni, Klcuini. Waitz, and more 
recently by liontian, Tylor and others. I have myitt^lf 
been one of the carlicTst labourers in this inti-roHliu|; 
field of Psychological Mythology. But the question 
ia, What concluaionei have we a right to draw from 
euch eoiuoidoncvs 1 Firat of all, we know by «ad 
experience bow deceptive such apparent mmilaritiea 
have often proved, for the simple reason that tlioee 
who collected them miBuuderstoud their i-col import. 
Secondly, we must never forget the old rule that if 
two peujilo isay or do the i^aiuo thing, it is not 
always the same. But suppose the similarity is 
complete and well made out, all we have a right to 
Hy is that man, if placed under similar inSiiencox, 
will sometimes react in tho same manner. We have 
no ri^t as yet to speak of universal psychological 
instincts, of innate ideas and all the rest. Payclio- 
logical Mythology is a tleld that requires much more 
careful cultivation than it has hitherto received. 
Hitherto its materials have mostly proved untrunt- 
wortby, and its conclui^ions, in con.-4equcnou, fanciful 
and unstable. 

iWe move in a totally diflerv-nt atmosphere when 
we examine the legentls, stories, custoni>i and proverbs 
of races who speak cognate laugtiago«. \Vi> liave here 
an historical background, wo stand on a tirm historical 

VUi 1 iiyu Ul<i myibologiflarclqaftfion ffaf It) 
Uv. Alt sorts of objcctioDA h&ve beeo rai: 
At, not on« that I hud not considered myself, 
mroposcd it, not one that could for one momc 
pay conviction. If then the Sanskrit Harit 
Mine TTord, consonant by consonant and \ 
vowel, as the Ore«k Charitet or Gracus, hav 
& right to say that these two words must 
thuHame hiKtorieal hoj^inning, and that tiowevc 
tbo special meaning of tho Greek Graces has 
from the special meaning of Ilaritsa in 
tiie«e two diverging lines muHt have atart«d 
common centre? You know that in Sansl 
Haritos are the bright horses of the sun, v 
Greek the Charitea are the lovely compan 
Aphrodite. The common point from which th 
mytbolo^cal conooptiona have started must 
covered and has been discovered in the fact 
lh« Veda HtLritaa meant originally tho bnlliti 
of the rising »uu. Tbiwo in the language of tb 
poets became the borsee of the sun-god, n 
(tri^'t^k mytliolotry they were eonoeivod aa b 
maidens attetidiitg on the orient sun. whethe 
uale or its female charact^ir. If therefore we c 
ho_Vcdio Uoritas with the Greek Charity 



ffruned it hud do recollection, hovuvcr vo^o, of Uie 
Vcdic Haritas, the horses of the Vedic sun-god. 
Tk* UUr Orowth or rui««epkj, 
Nov with n>g»rd to tho c&rly philoeopfay of the 
Greeks no one would venture to say that, 8«ch as we 
koow it. it had been developed previous to the Ar^an 
xeparation. If I say, oo onu, this is perhaps too 
titrong, for how can we guard against occasional out- 
breaks of hallucination, and what strait jacket is there 
to prevent anybody who can drive a pen from ruithing 
into print? Only it is not fair to make a wholu 
Bohool responsible for one or two black sheep. Greek 
philosophy and Indian philosophy arc producu ro- 
Hpeotjvely of the native soil of Qreece and of India, 
and to auppo3« that .similarities such on have been dis- 
coverod bctwovn the ^'(.-dAuta philosophy and that of 
the Ele&tio philoBophers, between the boliuf in mctom- 
payeho«is in the Upanisbada and the same belief in 
the schools of the PytlingorcauB, were due to borrowing 
or to conunoQ Aryan reminiscences, is simply to con- 
found two totally distinct spheres of historical research. 

■«lp HvTlred br PtiUoB<»p&T from Laugtuts*. 
The ntmont we oan say is that tliore is an Aryan 
aliiioHpher« purvaiiing both philosuphit^. ditfcrcut frum 
any Semitic atuiosphcre of thought, that there arc 
certain deep grooves of thought traced by Apr'an 
language in which the tlioughts botli of Indian and 
Gre«k pbilosophura had nocossarily to move. I shall 
mvutiou a few only. You know what an important 
part the verbal copula acta in all philosophical opera- 
tions. There arc Innguages wliich have no verbal 

mative pronoun too ia of imDieDae help fo' 
eoocatenaUon of thought ; »o is thci ftrtjclc, h 
imd indofiaitfl. The reliitive pronouu had 
borfttcd before the Aryans eoparated, t 
•itidd exiflted at least in ita rudimciitAry 
ean hardly imogino ftny philusophicul troat 
iHit the help of m<Ucativc and subjnnctiv 
the eniployment of prepositions with theil 
local and temporal, hut very eoua, causal a 
meanings also, without purticip1«» and i 
vritbout eompaiativea and auperlativos, T 
of the diJliculty which the Romans experi< 
which we ounelvcii vxponence, in finding nn ei 
|for such a participle as ri gv, still more for t1 
iirla. Santikrit but no such difficulty. It > 
< ^c by sat, and ovirfa by sat-tva. All ti 
he common property of Grook and Sanskrit 
ther Aryan languogoa. Them are many i 
Tcdieula of language which wg accept an a ; 
lurse, but which, if we come to consider 
ily have been the rcittilt of a long ia> 
aboration. Such aro. for intttaiice, Uiu fon 
wtract nouns. Without abstract nouns pi 
ould liardly deserve the name of philosopbj 
d inst.ifiixl in Mtvinf t1 


in Oreok and in Sanskrit. Tlio genitive also was 
origitiaily a gea<^ral aiid abdtract term, and \va9 called 
ytviK^ because il expressed tho genus to wliicli wrtnin 
tilings belonged. A bird of tho wtttor was the same 
u an aquatic bird, ' of the water * expressing the claaa 
to vhicli oerUiin birdx belong. There are languages 
dvficii'nt in all or many of thcsu puints, deficient also 
in intiQitivcs and participles, and tbe«e deScienciea 
It&ve olearly provtHl fettent in the progi-eHa of philo- 
HOphical thought, while Aryan philosopliL-ra weru 
supplied by their common Unjiuago with wings for 
their boldest llighu of speoulation. There are even 
certain words which contain the result of philoeophical 
thought, aud which must cloarly havi! existed before 
the Greek language- Reparaled from Sanskrit. Such 
common Aryan words are, for instance, man, to think, 
(fUiMi'a, memini), manas, mind (mu'ov], as distinguifihed 
{torn corpus (Zend Kehrp), t)ody ; n&man, name; vfU;, 
•peech; voda, I know, oUa; <raddndhau, I believe, 
tidi: mrityu, death; amrtt a. immortal 
AU this is true and justiliem ua iu s[)eaking of a 
kind of common Aryan atmosphere pervading tbo 
philosophy of Greeks aud Hindus, — d. common. tliuui;k 
submerged stratum of thought from which alone tho 
materials, whether stone or clay, could lie taken with 
which to build the later tempk-» of ri^ligion, and the 

palaces of philosophy. AU this sliould bo romumbervd [ 

^H but it should not be eza^erated. 

^ R« 

^—^ form 
^B oomp! 

^■F A 

lBiI*p*ad*Qt CbMMiMi of lnai*n VhUoaophj, 

Real Indian philuMOphy, even in tliat embryooio 
form in wliicli wo tiud it io the Upauishods, stands 
completely by itself. We cannot claim for it any 



hiatorical rektionebip with the earliest Greek pkilo* 
sophy. The two are an indvpendent of onofa uthcr as 
tho Greek Cborui, wht-n eha has liecome the wife of 
HepbaistoH, is of tho red honica of tbo Vedic dawn. 

And herein, in thie very iadopciidcncu, in this 
autochthonie chamctor, lies to my mind the real 
charm of Indian philosophy. It sprang up when tho 
Indian mind had no longtr any rocoUi>ction, had no 
longer even an unconaciouB impreseion, of its original 
conaanguinity with the Greek mind. The common 
Aryan period had long vanished from Um uiemory of 
tbo Bpeakore of Sanskrit and Greek, boforo Thalus 
declared that water was the beginning of all things; 
and if we tind in tlie Upaniethads Kucb passsges us 
' In tho beginning all tbie was water,' we must not 
imagine that there was here any hiiitorical borrowing, 
we have iiu right evi^n to appeal to prehistoric Aryan 
niemorioi — all wo bavo a right to say is that tho 
human mind arrived spontaneously at similar con- 
clusions when facing the old problems of the world, 
whether in India or in Gr^roce. Tho more tho horizon 
of our researches is extended, the more we ore driven 
to ailmit lliat what was real in one place woa possible 
in another. 

waa Or*«k TJMioaoghj borrowed ftosi tli* XtMi 
In taking this poKition I know I am opposed to 
men of considerable authority, who bold that the 
ancient Gre«k philosophers borrowed their wittdom 
from tho East, that they travelled in the East, and 
that whenever we find any similarity between early 
Gr«ok and Oriental pbiloKojihy it is the Greeks who 
must be supposed to havu borrowed, whether from 



Egypt or from Babylon, or even from Intlia. Tbis 
qneetion of the poRsibility of any influo-iiCM! linving 
beoo exercised on c&ily Greek [>hilusophy by the 
phitoBopheiB of Kgypt, Persia, Babylon and India 
requirea a mora careful «onHideration before we proceed 
further. It liati been wry fully discusHod by ZcUor iu 
his great work Die Philos>pliie der Qriechen. I en- 
tirely agree with bin conclufti'inj^, and I iilmli try to 
fpve you aa couciscly as possible the rcsulte at whiek 
he has arrived. He shows that the Greeks from very 
varly timea were inclined to arlmit that oo ccrtaiu 
points their own philosophcra bad bucn influenced by 
Oriental philoeophy. But tbt-y admitted this with 
regard to special doctrines only. That the whole of 
Grook philoKophy had come from thu Eo^t was main- 
tained at a later time, particulai-Iy by the priests 
of Egypt after their first intercourse with Greece, and 
by the Jowa of Alexandria oftCT they haiJ become 
ardent students of Greek philosophy. It is curious, 
however, to observe how even Herodotus woa com- 
pletely persuaded by the Egyptian priMts, not indeed 
that Greek philosophy was borrowed from the Nile, 
but that certain goda and forms of worship such as 
that of DIonyKis, and likewise certain religious doc- 
trines such as that of metcmpsychoHis, had actually 
been imported into Greece from Egypt. He went so 
far OS to say that tliu Polni<gian!i had originally wor- 
shipped gods in general only, hut that they bad 
received their names, with few excuptions. from 
£^[ypt. The Egyptian piiests seem to have treated 
Herodotus and other Greek travellers very umel) in 
the Bame way in which Indian priesto treatod Wilford 
and Jacolliot, OHSuring them that everything they 

of the Greek gods were not borrowed from I 

Krantor, e» quoted by Proclus (in Tim. 24 B) 

perhaps tho first who mnintainod that tha fi 

myib told by Plato, that of the Athenians kd 

Atlantidae, wha contojiied in innmplionn Hlill 

in Egypt. Id later timm (400 A. T>.) DiodoniH S 

appealed freely to books supposed to be in tb 

session of Kgyptian priesU, in order to prove 

Orpheus. Musiii.'us, Homvr. Lykurgiis, Solon, 

others bad studied in Egypt ; nay, he adds that : 

of Pythagoras, Plato, Eudoxua. Uomokritus 

ttbown there to attest tlieir foriiRT prcaeDce oi 

ehorcs of the Nile. Pythagoras ia said to have 

quired bis knowledge of geometry and inatbematicc 

hia belief in m^t^Mnpsychosin in I'^ypt ; Duinoki 

bia astronomy; Lykurgus, Solon, and Plato, 1 

knowledge of laws. What was first stated by K 

lian prifsttt from national vanity was afterwi 

wbi-n the Ea»t was gt-ncrally l)oli«vcd to Uava 

tho cradle of all wisdom. willinRly repeated by 

Orir^eka ihemaelven. The Neo-Platonista, more 

tioularly, wtTO convinced that all wiadom hat 

first homi' in tho East. Tho Jews at Alexai 

readily followed their example, trying to prove 
~^u ~e n~..i. ■• ■ .... -. . — — 



ftseribi^d to these statementa. He might hnvo pointed 
out at the a&me time that the more critic&l Greeks 
themwlvos wt-re very doulitful alwiut tlawt travels of 
their early pliiloeopliers and lawgivers in tlio East. 
ThuB Plutarch in his life of Lykur^us saj's that it 
was told that LykurguR travelk-d not only to Crete 
sod Asia Minor, where ho bvcame acquainted for the 
fint time with the poems of Homer, but that he went 
abo to Kgypt. But hero Plutarch bimRelf 8evms 
sceptical, fur he odde that the Ef^yptians tlioinsalves 
say BO, and a few Greek writers, while with regard to 
his travels to Africa, Spain, and India, thoy rest, he 
oddii, on the authority of one writer ouly, jVristuk rates, 
the SOD of Flipparehas. 

On the other hand there scemi! to bo some kind of 
evidence that an Indian philosopher had once visited 
AthenB, and bad some personal intercour«« with 
Sokmten. That Pereians came to Greece and that 
their sacred literature was known in Greece, we can 
gather from tlie fact that Zoroiistor's ntiiiie, im a 
teacher, wax known perfectly well to Plato and 
Aristotle, and that in the third ceuturj' D. c. Her- 
mippiis hftd made an analysis of tlie hooks of Zoro- 
aster. This rests on the authority of Pliuy (Srienet 
of Language, i. p. SSO). As Northern India was 
under Persian sway, it is not impossible that not only 
Persians, hut Imlinns also, ciuoo to Greece and inadu 
there the aoquaintaoco of Qrock philosophers. There 
is certainly one passage whieh deserves more atten- 
tion tliott it has hithi-rto received. Eusebins (Pr«p. 
Ev., xi. 8) <{uotC8 a work ou Platonic Philosophy by 
Aristocles, who sta1«8 therein ou the authority of 
Artstoxenoa, a pupil of Aristotle, that au Indian 



pliilosoplior cAin« to Athonn unl had s diaouBsion 
witli Soki-at«a. There ia nothing in thin (o oscita 
our suspicion, and what ni&kea the statement of Am- 
toiMim moro pliiusil>k- i» the obtunratton itself whidi 
thin ludiftii philosopher Is said tu huve made to 
Hokrattw. For when Sokrat«ft had told him that hU 
pbiloHophy foHsiHtcd in inquiries about the life of 
inan, tbo Indian, philosopher is said to have amiled 
and to liavo rcpliod that no one could nndfreliuid 
things human who did not first understand things 
<livine. Now this is a remark eo thoroughly Indian 
that it iMtvfia the impres&ion on my mind of being 
pOKHibly genuine. 

Hut oven granting tliis isolated easo. I have no 
doubt that all clastiica] gcholars wilt approve of 
Zellin-'n Juilieiuus treatment of this question of the 
origin of Qroolc philosophy. Greek ]ihilo»ophy is 
autoeh(honou8, ftnd requires no Oriental antecedents. 
OfmIc phLloMph«n themselves never say that they 
TMiTowed their doctrines from the Ea*(t. Tiiat Pytha^ 
goi'AB wont to Egypt may be true, that he became 
acquainted then- wiib the solutions of certain goo- 
inatrioal probK'Tits may be true also, hut that he 
borrowed the wholo of his philosophy from Egypt, is 
simply a rhetorical exaggeration of I»okratei«. The 
trawls of DomokrituB are better attested, but tliere is 
no ovidonoe Uiat he was initiated in philosophical 
doctrines by his harharinu friends. That Plato 
travollod in Egypt nood not be douht«d, but that 
ho went to rhoenioia. Chaldaea, and Pci'Hiii to study 
philosophy, i» mure gvcK-Hwork. Wluit Pinto thought 
of tlio Egyptians ho haatoM us himself in the Republic 
(43fi) when be says that the special charactoristic of 


the Groeka is love of knowledge, of the Phoenicians 
Olid Kgyytians love of money. If he borrowed no 
money, ho certainly boiTuwud no philoeopliy fixim Lin 
Efiyptian friends. 

When of late yoars tho uncient literature of Kgypt, 
BubyluQ, Persia, India, and China, cnmu to liu Htudiud, 
there were not waotiuy Orientoi scholnra who thought 
they had discovered some of the Bourccs of Greek 
pbiloAOphy in every one of tliese oouDtriL-H. But ibis 
period also has passed away. The opinions of Bohlon, 
Koth, GladiHch. Lorineor, and others, are no longer 
shared by the best Oriental scholars. They all admit 
tho existence of striking coinddenccs on certain poiota 
and ^pei'iid <l<iotrinm 1ictwi:'en Orii^-ntal and Ocoidental 
philosophical thought, but they deny the neceeuty of 
admitting any actual borrowing. Opinions like those 
of Tlittli-8 tliat water ia the oriyin of all things, of 
Hcroclitus that tlio Divino porvadea all thingtt, of 
Pj-tbagoraa and Plato that the human soul migrates 
through Atiimal bodi(», of Arintotlo that ih'Te are five 
elcmeute, of Empodoklee and the Orphics that aiiiuuil 
food is objectionable, all these may easily be matched 
in Oriental philosophy, but to prove that they were 
borrowed, or rather that they wore dishonestly ap- 
propriated, would require far stronger arguments than 
have yet bei^n produced. 

Let US remember then that the conclusion at which 
wo have arrived euabl<-s an to treat Indian philosophy 
as a pt-rfectly independent witnesi*. It was different 
with Indian religion and mythology. In comparing 
Indian rclig^ and mythology with the religion and 


leotdue in. 

mytiiology of Greeks and Romans, Celts and Teutons, 
Uiv «omtiion Aryan loavcii could still be cluaily per- 
ceived as working in all of them. Their mdimonta 
are the same, however different their individual 
growth. But wiiL-n ww com« to compare Indian 
philosophy with the early philosophies of other Aryan 
nations, the case is different. M. KeWlle, in hia learned 
work on the Ami>ricau religionR, haa remarked how 
the religions of Mexico and Peru comu upon uh like 
the religions of another planet, free from all suspicion 
of any influence having ever lipen exercised l>y the 
thought of the old on the thought of the new world. 
The same applies not indeed to the religion, but to 
the philosophy of India. Apart from the influence 
which belongs to a common language and which must 
never be t^uite neglected, we may treat tho earliest 
philosophy of India a« an cotirvly independent witness, 
as tho philosophy of another planet ; and if on certain 
points Indian and Greek philosophy arrive at the 
»ame results, we may welcome such cnincI<lonce6 as 
astrononuTB welcomed the coincidences bL-tweeu tho 
speculations of Leverrier and Adaina, both working 
independently in their studio at Paiis and Cambridge. 
We may appeal in fact to tlio German ))roverb, Aut 
sweier Zeiigen Mwnd, Wird alle M'aiirheit kutid, 
and look upon a truth «n which B&dai'&yana and 
Phito agree, as not very far fi-om proven. 



Tbs ConstltiiaDt BlBrnVUla ot SwUkIob. 

ONE of the greatest dilliotiltiea in atudj-ing ancient 
ruligions is the entire absence of any systematic 
arraogement in their Sacred Books. We look in vain 
for anything like creed», articlcii of fiuth, or a wcll- 
digoated catechism. It is left therefore to oui-selves 
to reduce the chaos of thoughts which they contain 
to some kind of order. 

This has bct'S attempted in varioux ways. 

SometimHs the doctrines contuned in them have 
be«i arranged in two clajisea, as dogmas to be believed 
(theology), and t» nilvs of oonduut to l>o obeyed 
(ethicej. Sometimea scholars have collected all tJiat 
refers to the outward ceremonial, and have tried to 
separate it from what was Iwlievcd about the gods. 
But in most nibgions it would be alniOHt impossiblfl 
to separate ethics from dogma, while in ita origin at 
least ceremonial is always the outward mani festal ion 
only of rcHf^ioiiH belief. Of lato thcHo outward or 
sacriBcial elements of religion have received great 
attention, and a long controversy has been carried on 

Tliu llicory. supported oliiofly by Profoo 
that saciilice comes tir&t and a belief in 
wards seema to me utU-rly untcnuhlo, it] 
contradictory. An oilVrinfj siiivly cuii ol 
oSbriog to somebody, and even if that sot 
not yet received a name of liis own, he 
lx:<;u conct-ivvd under a goueriil name, such i 
immort«l, divine, powerful, and all the rest ' 

It is no now dii«novcry, for instuncA tha4 
tlie Lyuinn of tlio Uig-vi-<ift prt'supposo the 
of a highly developed ceremonial, but to say 
is the oaae with all, or that no hymns were 
vxccpt as auxiliiiry to a nucnficu, l>etrays i 
iguoranco of palpable facts. Even tbo hym 
were composed for sncrificial purposes pres 
belief in a nutiibcr of gods to wliom eacr 
offered. If a hymn was to bo umvl nt the 
saoritice. that very morning sacrifice owed : 
to a belief in a god manifeMtocl in the rinng i 
a goddess of the dawn. Tlio flacritic waa , 
npfjutaneous as a prayer or a hymn, Ixtfore i 
tmilitional, technical, and purely oeremonlaL 
puint thein ratiiKit be two oplniuns, so loi 
dpal w jfih iacts and n ot with 


partA of all nligions. My first course of Lectures woti 
purely introductory, tund Imd for ita object a defini- 
tion of Natural lidiffion in its widest senno. I also 
thought it necessary, before approachiug th« subject 
i(8>dr, to g^vc on account of the documents from which 
wc may dorivo trustworthy infommlion about Natural 
ReligioQ as it preiietiU itself to um in tlic historical 
growth of the princii)al religions of the world. 

Myteoond ooui-wj.wliich treated oi l'h]f»'nal Relifjion^ 
was inti-ndod to show how ditfuruut natioiut bad 
arrived at a belief in something infinite behind thf 
tinit«, in Hoinolbing invisible behind tlie vihible, in 
many unseen agents or gods of nature, tilt at lant. by 
the natural desire for unity, tboy reached a belief in 
one god abov« all tliusu gods. Wo saw how what I 
c&Ued the Infinite in nature, or that which underlies 
all tbftt i» tiDileand phenomenal in our cosmic oxpcri- 
vnce, became named, individualised, and pei^onifiod, 
kiU in the end it was conceived again as beyond all 

My third course, which treated of Anthropological 
Religion, was intended to show how diH'erent nations 

E arrived at a belief in a soul, how they nunurd its 
various fiiculties, and what they imsgined about its 
fate after death. 
While thus my second course was intended as a 
hiatory of the discovery of the Infinite in nature, my 
thii-d course was intended to explain the discovery 
of tlie Infintt<;t in man. 
It remains for me to treat, in this my last course, of 
the relation between these two Iniinites. if indeed 
there can bo two Infiniteji, or to explain to you tbo 
ideas which some of the principal nations of the world 




have formed on thin rvlatioa bctwcMi the floul aod 
God. It htts been truly eaid, and most emphatically 
by Dr. Newman, that neither a belief in (lod by itself, 
nor A boliof iu the «oul by it«elf, wotilil constitute 
roligion. and that real religion is founded on a tmfi 
peroeption of the lyUition of the iwul to Qod and of 
Cod to the soul. What 1 want to prove U that all this 
14 true, not only a« a poEtulat<>, but an an historical fact. 

Nor can it be doubted that our concept of Qod 
depends to a great extent on our concept of the aoul, 
and it has been romarkud that it would have boon 
better if I had treated Anthropological before Physical 
Itcligion, bccRU!*e a Iwliof in the Iniinito in nature, in 
invisible powi>r8, behind the gioat phenomena of the 
physical world, and at in a aoul of the Universe 
would be iinpoHsiblo, without a previous belief in the 
Lifiait« in man, in an invisible agent behind the acts 
of man, in fact, in a soul or a spirit. The same idea 
wa3 evidently in the mind of Master Eckbart, when 
he 8aid, ' The nearer a man in this hfe approncht'** to 
a knowledge of tho nature of the soul, the nearer he 
approaches to a knowledge of Qod '.' 

From ail historical point of view.however, the great 
phenomena, percoived in the objective world, eeem to 
have been the first to arouse in the human mind the 
idea of something Iieyond, of something inviiuble, yet 
real, of something tnliuite or transoonding tho limits 
of human experience. And it was probably in this 
seate that an old Habbi remarked : ' Qod sees and is 
not soon ; so the soul sees and is not econ '.' The 

' 'Ab vil sill maim'-lia tndlnun lobon mit mtnoni t>«kviiDtni»o jc 
Uher kttmt Jem winiMi d«r •4l», Jo iiAhar «r iit dam buluaatakw 
pttM' (ad. PMffer, p. 617, L S!j. 

' BiKi Bamflan UOtan, pp. S ; 10, n. 3. 


two processes, ]«ading to a botief in ui invisiblo 
Ood, the lufiiiito in its objective character, and to a 
belief in an invisible soal. or tbo Infinite in its sub- 
jective character, are really so intimately cunuectMl 
that it 18 difficult to say which of the two ought to be 
treated first, or which of tliv two came lirst in the 
faifltorical development of religion. What is quit« 
clear, however, is this, that Psychological Religion 
presupposes both Phyitical and Anthmpologicat Keli- 
gion, and that before the soul and God can be brought 
into relation with each other, both the concept of God 
and tho concept of soal had to be elaborate. Nay, 
God had to be conceived as ioul-likv, and the soul of 
man as God-like, for like only can know like, like 
only can love like, like only can be united with like. 

Til* HMaiOac 4f F«r«lMlagtaal BaUglon. 

If I Dse th« name of Pi>ycho1ogical KcIi;rion in older 
to comprehend under it all ntt<.-iiipts at discovering the 
tnie relation between the soul and God. it in beruu.tu 
other namta, such as T/ieo6fi/^iic,Ptii/chic,0Tj\fybtic.]iave 
been 80 much minust-d thiit thoy ore sure to convey 
a fake impreesion, Theosophic conveys the idea of wild 
epeculations un tlie hidden nature of God; Psychic 
reminds us of trances, visions, and ghosts ; Mystic 
leaves the impreeaion of aomething vague, nehiilou^ 
and secret, while to ihc, ntudont of Fnychologioil Reli- 
gion the true relation of tbo two souls, the human 
soul and the divine, is, or ought to be, as clear as the 
most perfect logical syllogiitm. I shall not bu able to 
avoid these nnuivs altogether, bocause thu moatpromi* 
nent repreaentativea of Theoaophy and mystic religion 
have prided themselves on theae names, and they are 

^nse, amJ thus by a more djigoo to condomu 
whicli have been held hj the wisest and bcsti 
This kind of criticism need not deUiin us. or 
from adopting tho name of Thoosuphy for 

In moat of the tvliglons of th« ancient wd 
relaliou li(.-twi>L-u tlio soul and God hns hoe 
eeutod as a return of the eoul to God. A yl 
for God, a kind of divino honie-sicknesii, finds 
»ion in most religions. But the ruad tliat is to I 
borne, and the reception wbich the soul may I 
ID the Father's honse, have been represented 
dilferent waj-s, in different countries and di 

X. kvtnni or tba BoDt to 0«d, kft«r daatli. 

Wo ran divide tbc opinioDa held and the ho] 

led on this subject into two classes. Ace 

aomc religious tcnclior», a return of the soul ' 

possible after death only, and wo shall sew c 

y attempts, erer so many bridges thrown b 

pd faith across tho gulph which seems to w 

Q Ilumnn from the Divine. Most of these b 

wuvt-r. lead only to the home, or to the throne < 

id there leave the soul wrapt in intuition and 

.T1 tifon imt-lklAtA'l I^I^IA 


ftz. Xn«irl*dca of tba unity of th* DtMiu aAd tk« Hudml. 
According to other religiona teacbera, tho final 
hi>Atitudoof the 8i>ul can he acliit-vcd even in ihia life, 
nay must be achieved in tliis life, if it in U) bear fruil 
in the next. That beatitude retiuires no bridges, it 
n-quiiCK knowrledgo ouly, knowledge of the necessary 
imity of what is divine in man with what is divine la 
Qod. The Brahmana call it self-knowledge, that la to 
Bay, tho knowledge Unit our true self, if it is any thing. 
e&Q only be that Serif which in All in All. and beside 
which there is nothing eUe. Sometimes this concep- 
tion of the intimate relation between the human and 
the divine nature comes in suddenly, ait tho result of 
an unexplained intuition or self- recollection. Some- 
times, however, it soenis as if the force of logic bad 
driven the human mind to the same result. If Ood 
had onee been recognised aa the Infinite in natiiru, and 
the iM>ul as the Infinite in man, it seemed to follow 
that there could not be two Infinites. The Elcatjca 
had clearly passed through b. similar phnae of thought 
in their own philosophy. 'If Uieru is an infinite,' they 
said, ' it is one, for if there were two, they could not 
l>e infinite!, but would be finite one towards the other. 
But Uiat wht^ih existe is intinitv. and tliere cannot be 
more such (frfi-To). Therefore that which «xi&t« is 
one '.' 

Nothing can be more decided than this Eleatio 
Monistn, and with it the admission of a souh the Infi- 
nite in man. as different from Qod, tbo Infinite in 
nature, would havo been inconceivable. In India the 

' EJ U SnifUr, Ir it ydfi Ivo ifg, guar ir ivram Suttpa <rHii' dXA* 
tx* ir "ifam rfi-i Sx>:i>jr 4wpor j) fd Ur, oi* ipa <i\im rd Jom' 
tr ifa tJ Jtr. (MoUanii, Fni|rm. S.) 

"ffftt, bein^, ftit, perceiving, 
When it was ofterwardit ili.ico 
of the infinite iu tnaa *lso, Uie soul, or ratlt 
Atman. nothing could bu prcdicatfid except 
triad of qualitiea, being, perceiving, and rtj 
OODOlusion wait almost irrc»ii»tiblu tliat i 
n]lin»n and Atman, were in their m 
•ly Christiana alio, at leaat thone who 
brought up in the scliooU of Neo-platonist \m 
bad a clear perception that, if the soul is in^ 
immortal in ito nature, it cannot be anythii 
Qod or by the side of Ood, but that it must I 
and in Ood. St. Paul gave but his own bol 
ston to the same faith or knowledge, when hi 
the wonirt wliioh have starlloii «o many the< 
' In Him wo live and move and have our bi 
anyone else bad uttered these words, they i 
onoe have been condemned ns pantheirvni. 2< 
tboy are pantheism, and yet they express 1 
key-noto of ChristJaiiity. The divine eonahi] 
IK only a metaphorical cxprcHsion. but it wi 
originally to embody the same idea. Nor ^ 
Bonship from tho firnt restricted to one man! 
only of the IJi^ine. The power at all events t 
t^o sona of Godwas daamed f or alljueii,_^ 

cuabacter or ravoBOLoaiOAL itBLiaioK. 


terifltic (Ufference between thoso two rclif^oiiH, Th« 
ciiiention liow neHcicmce laid hold of the human sout, 
and inadu it iinngino Uiat it could live or move or 
have its true being any wherv but in Bnihnmn. remains 
AS unanswurable in Hindu philosophy as \a ChriHti- 
(inity the question bow ein first iuuiiv tuto the world '. 

T*dK uid ▼•distal 

If for the study of Physical Religion, more par- 
tioularly of tlie initial phases of Physical Rdigion, we 
depended chiefly, if not entirely, on the Veda, you 
will find that for a study of Psychological Religion 
also and iU fintt beginnings, the Veda is likewise, 
oajj oven more, our most important, if not our only 
authority. It is no longer, however, in the hymns 
of thi- Veda tliat we ahnll have to discover the fulk-ftt 
realisation of Psychological Religion, but in what is 
called the VedAnta, the end of the Veda. That is 
the name, as you may remember, given to tlie Upani- 
thads or to the (//liVnakArt'/tt, the knowledge-portion 
as opposed to the Karmak^TK^B., thu work-portion of 
the Veda. It is doubtful whether VedAnta was meant 
originally for the end. i.e. tlio last portion oftlic Vcda^ 
or, as it is sometimes explained, for the end, that is 
the bigheet object of the Veda. Both interpretations 
can be defended. The Upanisliads have really their 
pUce vt the last portiona of the Vedu, but they an 
also looked upon as conveying the iosi and highest 
lesson of the religion and philosophy of the Veda. 

■ llnm.Kk. i. It. 103. Clvmrnn AIvi. (8trom. v. U, 1131 *mt 
pGrax luiMiuF Aatfsuita av/naa^r 4 t^X^ fuAdf tlrai 4«>I, oiuitr filr oiUr 

hs EtuA (ho firot complete tnoislalion of tho 
nost importAtit Upanishnds. Th« diemkctorts 
.Tjre of tlicm, tc vrliicb I wish to call jour at 
toir, 13 their fragnieiitary style. They are n 
wmatio treatises, ttiich as wu u-c accustomed 
3i«ek philowphy, but they are friipmcnts. th 
nsre gaesses at truth, Hontetimcs ascvibotl to 
vhoM Dtunci aro given, soiuotiiiica represtiiitcd 
bnn of dialopues. They arc moetly in proal 
>Uey contain frequent remnants of philoBophioal j 
liso. It is cuiiourt, however, that tlumgh utiKy.stil 
n form, thvy aro not without a sygtuui undvi 
hem all. We often find that the oanie subjeo' 
rcated in a siruilar, nay, Jn Um «ame manner, i 
moft in tho same words, in ditTcrcat Upanii 
■minding us in thia respect of the three syi 
Mpela with their nti-ikin^ itimilaritieEi and tlw 
striking diKifimilaritii'K. lu Komo casCH w 
ren opinions diametrically opposed to each i 
aintained by different authorities. While ti 
acb we road, * In the beginning there was Si 
, we rood in another, ' In the beginning tlicn 
itat,' rh p.ri Si: Other authorities eay, ' In the 1 
g there was darkness ; luUielpct^nnin^her 


iimtoriiils, and yet that is the very thiDg that has 
been aohieved by the builders of what is called ths 
Ved^ta systoiu of philoHophy. 

Tho difBcuItiea of the framcrs of that eyst^m were 
iDcreasod a hundredfold by the fact that they had to 
accupt every word and every aentanoe of the lJ]uiiii- 
shadii as revealed and aa infallible. Howuviu- cuu- 
ti'adictory at first sight, all that was said in the 
UpaniHliadti had to lie accepted, had to be explained, 
had to bo harmonised somehow (saiuanvaya). And 
it was hannunised and welded into a system of philo- 
sophy that for Holidity and unity will bear comparison 
with aay other system of philoi^ophy in tho world. 
This was done in a work which is called tho Ved&nts- 

Sfttra means literally a strin;.;. but it is hero nsod 
as the name of ahorl and almost oniginatieal sentiences 
which oontaio the gist, as it were, of each chapter in 
the most eoneiso language, forming a kind of table of 
contents of the whole system of philoeophy. I do 
not know anything like tliis SQtra-gtyle in any 
literature, while in India thiTC in a whole period of 
literature dui-ing which everything that is elsewhere 
tiMted, either in prono or in |>outry, has been reduced 
to thcao short aphorisms. The earlier of Uiese Sdtras 
are still to a Ct-rtain extent intelligible, though always 
difficult to understand. But after a time they became 
io condensed, ihcir nutliora employed so many merely 
algobraic contrivances, that it M.fmH to mo that by 
themselves they must often have been otl*Tly useless. 
It would aet-tn that they were meant to be learnt by 
heart at first, and then to bo followed by an oral 

])letv<l work. I must Ol&SiU dlil'lfllMJipr t 
were compooed at a time when writing 
unknown, or wlictlioi- thi^y woro mciint nt 
headings of written twatisfS, tbeir (.-lAbum 
to tno far Ixtyand anything that we coo 
now. llioy must have reqiiirtHi a ooncen 
thought which it is difGcuIt fur us to ru! 
works of art they are of course nothing, b 
purpoKe for which they were intended, for 
complete and occuratu outline of a whole 
philoBOphy, they are admirable; for. if pro 
plained, they leave no doubt whatever ain to 
maaning of tho autbom of systems of philo 
any point o(thoir t<!a,diing. The same nppl 
manuals of grammar, of oei-emoniaJ, of juriaj 
and all tho rest, ootnpoaod likewise Id the 

The number of these Sfitras or bcadiugt 
s}'8t«m of the Vctlinta philosophy ainounU 
555. Thoy form four books (adhyAyas), eoc! 
into four cliaptera (pAda). 

beairlea Vedinta-sAtros tliis gigantic worl 
knows by tliu narnu of MlmAifisiWfttras 
namee are Brabma-sfttraa, or .Sari 


Hhn&ma&, the former MtmAmalk being An ati«mpt 
to reduce the ceremonial aaH Uie sacrificial nilcH of 
the Veda to a con§iat«nt svstem, the latter having 
for its object, aa vre saw. the Hyiitematio onttogement 
of tlie Qtteranoes ecatt^rcd about in the Upaaiahada 
and having reference to Brahman as the Self of the 
univerae and at the same time the Self of the soul. 
The S&traa of the former Utmflms& are ascribed to 
Gsimini. those of the latter to Uadai&jaTia. 

Who Biidarij&jia was and when he lived, aa usual 
in Indian lit«r&ture, wo do not kuow. All wo can 
Kay is that hi» Sfttraa prcsappoeo the existence not 
odI; of the principal Upaniahads, bat UkewiBe of a 
nomber of t««cher3 vho are quoted by name, but 
whose works are lost to us. 

Tb* nost fumoua, though ixis^^ibly not the oldest 
VXtent oonmentary on these Stitros is that by iSaAkara 
or AHfikaHLA^rja. He is supposed to have lived in 
the eighth or nevcnUi oontury a. n.' Hia commentary 
has been published several times in Siin^rit, and 
there are two translations of it, one in Gorman by 
Profenor Dcusson, the other in English by Proftmior 
Thibaat, forming the XXXIVth volume of the Sacred 

• Mr. Ptibaka in tba lod. Ant XI, 171. lIxM h<a dat* >• Kal!;ii|ta 
S88> to S93 1-787 ta7B9A.Ck. a dat« ncvriilod by Wat»r [Jlitu^ t/ 
iMteaUlinituri.p.fil^aildotheTiKlioIani. froiikara'abirlhiiBFDonilljr 
aiipi'OWi'l to ham tnkrn pluco at Kolapi in Eorala in Ibo Kalijruca 
jraarSMB, In tho ViknunaycurMb. thnlii about 'SS a.i>. (I>ciu*oii, 
fMm, p. STJ. Ur. Tnlang, howoror, flx«a SaSlcani'a data aa aarijr a> 
B0O *. », and VlMt piiK-M Iho Napalan* King Vnahadan, who Iimw 
Sa&kara and nll«d lil* mb an*r him HafikanilaTa, iMtWMa B<0- 
SS& a. D. (DauBMn, Silm, p. vii). Sm Fl««t in Ini. AtU., Jan. lSd7, 




coDUDeDtaries winch hold their own by its s'uie 
which ditfcr from it on some very essential poiu^ 

Th« bc«t known is the fto-cnlltxi .^-hhiishyi 
RftinAnnr/a, a famous VBishnava theologian wB 
BuppOM^I bo have lived in the twt^lfth oi^ntitry 
He often opposes iSni'ikiira'H theories, nod dueii itl 
in his own name only, but as repivsenting nn alto; 
independent stream of tradition. In India, wl 
even lor^ after the introdtiction of writiii;:, iiilcllve 
Ufoand literary activity continued to run in thel 
icliannetei of oral teaching, we constantly meet wit 
lumber of name* qitoU-d as authorities, though 
ave no reason to sujiposo that they ever left aoytl 
Iq writing. Ramdnutja does not repreaent himnel 
Itartii)); a new theory of tlio ^'e(^inta, but he app 
Podhayana. the author of a vWtti or explanaJ 
kf the Brahm&'S^tras. aa his authority, nay hfi re 
» pri'vious cominewtaries or Vnttiknras on Bodh4yi 
likewise Eupporting Iiis opiiiiona. It has been i 
Qfled that one of these, Dramir/a. the author ( 
►rami(/nbhi\shya or a cwinmontary on Bodhnyi 
thu same as the Dr&vic/a whose BhiUhyaon 



nuuibur of earlier authorities', but it does by no 
means ToUow that there ever existed Sbtras in the 
form of books eumpoec-d by tbcm. 

Tlir»* Parloda of VaiUuiM UMratTU*. 

In Btudying the Vedinta philosophy, we have to 
distinguish tJirve sucocasivv Uiycrs of thought. Wo 
bavo first of all thu Upanbhods, which presuppose a 
large number of teachers, these teaohei-a often diflering 
from each oth<-r on Msontial, and HUt-wiso on trivial 
points. Wf have secondly the SiitniB of GodarilyaTia, 
professing to give the true meaning of the Upanishads, 
reduced to a syat«matic form, but ailmitting the exia- 
tunco of difTi-ri-nt opinions, tuid rvfcrrinjj to certain 
authors as upholding divergent views. We have 
thirdly the commentaries of iSafikara, Bodhiyana, 
B&mauur/a, and many others. These commentaries, 
however, are not mere oommentariea in our a&asa of 
tlw word, they arc really philosophical treatisos, each 
defending an indepoudunt view of the S&traa, and 
indirectly of the Upani»hads. 

F«onll»T OharaottT of Xndlui VhU«aopli7. 

It is not surprisiiii; that plijlusophors. on reading 
for the first time the Upanishads or the Vedanta-eiitras 
should find them etrtinge, and misa in them that close 
ooocatenation of ideas to which tluiy are accustomed 
tn the philosophy of the West. It is diiBcult to over- 
ooms the feeling that the stream of philosophical 
thought, oa wo know it in Kurope, passing from Greece 

' For inatinto. Atrvys, Aminrathyii, Aidolomi, ElislmlsiiiL 
KioiknlMiui, Gumini, UOdnri. Thibaul. XXXIV, j,. xix. 

liOAophy, ftDii to recognise oor own probTems u 
ir pbilowpbicAl and religious difficultiee. Still vn 
kU find tbat bvuMth tho surface then; U a aimilarit 
purpose in tho pbiloeophy of tlio East and of tin 
«t, and tbat it is pobsible for us to Bfmpathiw 
^b the Btruggloa afl«r tntth, even tboagh they av 
gaised under a language that sounds at fint Strang 
itadenta of Arisiuik' and I'latOj of Deeeart«s uu 
inoEa, of Locko and UegeL 

lOMphr bafflaa irtin do«Ml&s th« VvMaao* of Ui* a«MM. 

Soth philosophies, that of the East and that of tbt 
st, start from a eommi'U point, namely from the 
viction that our ordinarj- knowledge la uncertain, 

ot altogether wrong. Tbb revolt uf the liiiiaaq 
id against itself is tlie first step is all philosophy. 
I VcdAnta philosophy rcprc«entfi that revolt in all 

fulness. Our knowledge, according to Hind a 
toiophcrs, depends on two pmuiikKas, tliat is, 

iSDres or anthoritirii, nanifly, pratyaksha, »onsu- 

peic«pliou, and auumana, that is, deduction. 

Sintl «r Isaplrfttloii- 

cnxRAorr-B of pbtcholooical BnuaioK. 

tbat it iH shared by other pbiloeopbers nearer home. 
Stati meanH bearing or what btu been heard, end it i» 
geDsndly oxplniued as meaning eiinply the Ved&. 
The Veda is looked upon, from the earliest timea of 
which wc know anything in India, as superhuman ; 
not as invented and composed, hut only a& soon by 
men, that is, by inspired eeers, as eternal, as infallible, 
a« divine in the highest ncnse. 

We an apt to iningine that the id^a of inspiratioa 
and a beUef in the inspired character of Sncreil Books 
is our own invention, and our own bpircial proporty. 
It is not. and a comparative study of religion teaches 
na thai, like (he idea of th« miraouloua, the idea 
of inHpimtion also is alnoi^t inevitable in certain 
phases in the historical growth of religion. Thia does 
not lower tlie moaning of inspiration, it only givea it 
a Isi^r nnd a deeper meaning. 

If we take Veda in the oixlinaiy sens*; in which it 
is generally taken by Ijtdiau pbilosophcrs. we must 
admit that to place ib* authority on ft level witb the 
evidence of the senses and the oouclueiona of reation, 
setDW dtiBcult to understand. It is reason alone tbat 
calls inspiration iDspiration ; n-ason therefore stands 
high above int^piration. Itut if we take Veda as knuw- 
Iftdgo, or as it fomctimoH is explained as Aptavaiaoo, 
i.e. language, i-ucb as it has boon handed down to us, the 
case is different. The language which haa come down 
to us, the words iu which thought luut been realinod, 
the world of ideas in which we have been brought up, 
form an authority, and exercise a sway over us, second 
only, if second at nil, to the authority of the senses. 
If the Hindu philosopher looks upon the great words 
of our language as eternal, aa communicated from 



truth, but it ia tlie object of the Vedanta philosupbei- 
to explain away thcBU imperfect expresBiona or to 
bring tbem into harmony witb tbu gonoral drift of cho 
Vetl&nta. This i» donn witb all the clovernt-ss of th« 
pbilosopbicfil plcaiinr, tbotigh it oft^n leaves the 
uuprtjudicod student liotibtful whether he should 
follow tile philoHOphicjil pleader, or wliethcr he should 
recognise in these imperfect exproBsioiia tract^s of au 
historical growth, antl of individual eflbrtH which in 
different BrabmiLntc HottlemoutA need not aJwaya have 
been equally saccessfuL 

Tkt tV*lB *■!. 

If we ask what was the bighost piirpoao of the 
teoohing of the Upanii'had.i we can tttate it in three 
words. M it has been statvd by tbu grciatost VedA.nta 
teachers tbomaelves, namely Tat tvam aei. Thi» 
meauA, Thuu art that. T/i«( Ktaiids for what I called 
the la!<t result of I'hysical lic-bgion which in known 
to us under diffi^runt names in different systems of 
ancient and nioilem philottophy. It ts 'Asun or tbe 
Els &t09 or ro &■ in Greccv ; it is wlutt Tlato mi^nt 
by the Eternal Idea, what Agnostica call the Un- 
knowable, what I call the Inrinitc in Nature. This 
is what in Indin is oalkil Tirahmnn, as masculine or 
neuter, the being behind all beings, the power tliat 
emits the univereie. sustains it and draws it back again 
to itself. The 7V«/u i» what 1 ealK-d the Infinite in 
Man, tbo last result of Anthropological Koligion, the 
Soul, the Self, the being buhind everj* bumau Ego, 
free from all bodily fetters, free from passions, free 
from all attachments. The u:!kpresEiion Thou art thftt, 
means Thine Atiiiau, thy soul, thy self is the Brahtnon, 

sabjeci antl ohjt^t of ftll Twrg HhS^ riTT Itnowi 
one Atiil the sumc. TItis in tho gist of what 
Ptyehotogical Rdigion, ot Tbeosophjr, the hi;{hre 
mit of (hought which Uie hiimMi miad has re 
which hiut iituntl didi-rL-nt cxpresiiioDfi iti di 
religions and phUosophies, but nowhere such t 
and powerful luiUiitation ok id the Mioicnt V\yaD 
of lodin. 

For let me add at onoe, thin recognition < 
identity of the thot and tho thov., ia not BstiKficc 
IDCru pouticnl molaphor such aa that the huma 
L-motiAted from tho divine xoul or waa a portion 
no, what is assorted and dcfondi.<<d Bgninel all 
MAyen is the substantial identity of wh&t bai 
lime been wrongly clistingiiiithed as the subjec 
object of tho world. 

The Soir, iaj-B the Vedinta philosopher, oani 
different from Bmhroan, because Bruhmiw co 
bends all reality, iind nothing that really i 
tliorofora bo ditVorent from Brahmnn. Soeondl 
individaal self cannot be conceived as a modili 
of Braliman, lu^cnuso iJrahman by itself cann 
ehanged, wholln-r by itself, )H-causo it is om 
perfect in itMlf. or by ntiything ontsldu it. Hi 
tba VedAntist mor 'tog in exactly the same at 


ElonLics nif^uod, ' If Qod is to be tl>e m^htiest and the 
best, lie must be one ', for if thcro were two or more, 
he vonKl not be the mightiest and best.' Tho ElcAtim 
contiiiui-d their aioiiiKtic nigutnpnt by iihowing that 
this One Isiinito Being cannot be divided, *o tliat 
auything could be called a portion of it, because there 
is so power that could HCj^amte anything from H'. 
Nay, it cannot ovtn have parts, for, as it 1ia.i no 
beginning and no end ^ it can have no parts, for n 
part has a Ix'^dnniiig and an end *, 

Thc«* Elcatic ideas — namely, that there Is and there 
can be only One Absolute Being, infinite, unchange- 
able, witliout a second, without pana and pawdona — 
aro the same ideas which underlie the Upnnishad^ 
and Lave been fully worked out in the Ved&nta- 

Two TcdAata Soboali. 

But they are not adopted by all Ved&ntlsts. Though 
all Ved&ntiata accept the UpaniAha^ln aa inspired and 
infallible, and thouj^h thoy nil recognise the authority 
of Uio Ved&ntS'sfitras, they, like other orthodox 
^uloeopbvrs, claim the freedom of interpretation, nod 
l^ timt freedom, have liecomo divid<.'d into two ecboola 
which to the present day divide tho VcdAntiat philo- 
sophers of India into the followers of .^Akara, and 
tho followers of lUm^nu^ The latter, R&mijii^a, 

* Zril«r, p. 4S3. 

■ ZtUw, p. ITS ; nam. r. 78, 

oiU Ti tJ iiiXXor rimr iCpfcu fur (i^/x'-rfu 
ruU ri xtipi^rtpBir lur St aAiti* tatir iut-rur. 

* Zeller. ii.r.!l, r>itgin. 2. 

* U«lluaii, Fr. in, i, )iir lif Ibti, ti! auri tr itrai- Ir tj lif iH'a^ri 
»ttut p4 fx*"*' *' ^' 'x<x "^X^t 'x"' ^'' fX'PB ■°' oioin i* <!^ Ir. 

Fr. 8, <J U SwifKr, ir- it yip liv ii^, oix Av liiMitTo Jrft/a ibai' 
it-k' Ixoi ir Ttipa^u npit JAAijAif impn ii il Uc, tit tf* t/iiar rd 
Ir dfa ri liir. 

ftn.'bntBralirnan contain* in its.^ll t 
that variety which furiiis tho objuct 
aeuHuouit perception. Tho Brahman of R&m&i>u{ 
almost be callod a personal (ioil, and the soul a: 
vidual being spning Irtim I^nihinitii. Though 
really apart froiii him, it is Buppoeed to renu 
ever & personality by itself. The former, St 
bolda to the tlit;ory of illu.<uon (vivarUi) or no 
(avidyii). Ho also nmintaina that cverythin 
ejciste is Brahman, but he looks upon the worli 
tt» variety of forms and nanma. as the reault of il 
Brahman vrith iVaAkaru is iuipt-i^onal and T 
attributes. It becomes personal (as t^vara, 
Lord) when under tho influonct- of uvidyft, just 
individual soul daems itself personal when 
away from tbi.* highest Urahin&n, hut in never in 
anything cl»e but Brabmnn. The^c two dc 
continue to divide tho Vodiintists to Uil- prt-sc 
and Uio school of llamanu^/a is the more pop 
tho two. For it must not be supposed th 
ancient Ved&nta philosophy i« extinct, or stuf 
professed philosophers only. It is oven now t 
vailing philosophy and almost religion of India, 
one can gain an insight into the Indian mind, \ 
iu thu bi<'Ikost or in tlio lowest ranlcs of sociel 


L neoeesarj to my a fuw words on the difficulty of 

^H rightly uniicrstandiDg tbeso uicicnt sacrod tt'Xts of 

^^ the I!rahman.'<. 
I TiM Pp»nl»1i»<> dtflUnUt to trasaUM. 

I In my lectures on Physical Religion, when qooting 

from the hymns of the Kig-veda, 1 had often to vara 
you that thcro arc many pauagcs in these ajicient 
hymns which ore as yet obscure or extremely difficult 
to tranaUte. The gront hulk of those hymns is dear 
C4iough, hut whether owing to corruptiuns in the text. 
or to the boldness of ancient thou<;ht, all honest 
»cholar» am bound to confeea that their tranBlationa 
do not <]ui(o reach the originals, and are liable to 
oorrection in the future. To an outsider this may 
•c«m to be a dcnpcratk; »tst(i of tliingn, and if he liiids 
two Vodic Bcbolars ditTering from each other, and 
defeoding each his own interpretation with a warmth 
that often ttccin» to arise from conceit ratiier lliaii 
from conviction, be thinks he ia justified in thanking 
God that he is not as other men are. Of course, this 
ia simply childii*!). If we had v.'aited till every 
hioroglyphie taxi had been interpreted from begianing 
to cod, or till every Babylonian iuscriptiuu ha<) Iweu 
fuUy deciphered, before saying anything about the 
ancient religion of the Egyptians and Babylonians, 
we flionld not now possess the excellent works of 
Lepsiua, Brugsch, Mospei-o, of Sclirader, Smith, Sayoe, 
Pinchea and Haupt. The same applies to Vedio 
literature. Here also the better is the cuemy of tlie 
good, and as long as scholars are careful to distinguish 
between what is certais and what is as yet doubtful, 
they need not mind tbejeeraofwould-bu critics, or the 
taunta of obstruct ionists. The honest labourer most not 




wait till he can work in ihe full light of the nooiitid« 
sun — he must get up early, and liiaru to find hU way 
in the dim twilight of the morning alHo. 

I think it right therefore to warn yon that tho 
texts of the Upanitiliails aJso, oix wliich wo shall have 
diiefly to depend in our lectures, arc sometimce very 
obscure, and v«ry difficult to trau&late acoui-atuly into 
English or any other modom language. They often 
lend themselves to different intarpretations, and even 
^fiir ancient native commentaton who have written 
long troatieos on them, often differ from t-ach other. 
Some hold this opinion, they often say, others that, 
and it is not always easy for us to choose sod to say 
positively which of tlic unciunt lutwpreti^rs was right 
and whidi was wrong. When 1 undertook to publish 
the first complete translation of the twelve most im- 
portant Upaninliads, I was well aware that it was no 
eaay task. It had never before been carried out in its 
completeness by any Sanskrit scholar. As I had myself 
pointed out that ct-rtaiu passages It-nt themselvos to 
different explanations, nothing was easier to tho fault- 
finding oritic than to dwell on these passages and to 
point out tliat their translation was doubtful or tliatthe 
rendering I had adoptod was tt-rong, or that at all events 
another rendering waa equally possible. My translation 
has not ettcttped this kind of criticism, but for all 
that^ even my most severe critics havu not bocn able to 
deny that my translation marked a decided progress 
over those that had been hitherto attempted, and this, 
u Profomor Boehtlingk has truly remarked, is after 
all, all that an honest scholar should care for. ^0 
best authority on this subjeat, Professor Doussen, has 
warned our ill-uatured and ill-iafonned critics that m 



the tranalation of the UpanUhads, as la other works 
of tJie same tentaUve character, U fliietu: eat Venntmi 
liu &i«n. Wo oiigl)t to ndvanoe step by step beyond 
our prodeeeKSOTB, well knowing that tboeo who come 
after ua will advance beyond ourse1ve& Nor do I 
wonder tlia-t native 8Gliol«n should be ntnazed at our 
hardihood in venturing to differ from such men as 
iSaAkara, BAmatirtha, and othere, whom they look 
upon aa almost infnllihle. All I can 8ay in Relf-defenoo 
a that even the native comnicututont admit tb« 
possibility of different eipUnations, and that in claim- 
ing for ountclves the right to choose between them, we 
do no more than what thuy would wii*b ii8 to do in 
pving ua the choice. I have a great re-spect for native 
oomm«&tatonf, but I cannot carry my rei«pecl for the«e 
le&rncd men so far ae a native Indian scholar who 
when I aaked him which of two conllioting inter- 
pretations ho hold to be the right one, answered with- 
out any misgivings, that probably both were right, 
and that otherwise they would not have been men- 
tioned by tho ancient commontatorB. 

I have oftoo bwn told that it is not wiao to lay so 
much strvBH on the uncertain tii.-8 ntlaching to the 
translation of Oriental texts, particularly of tlie 
Vedas, that the aanie oncertalnties exist in the inter- 
pretation of the I'ible, nay even of Greek and Liktia 
cUaeics, to say nothing of Greek and l^lin inscriptions. 
The public at large, they eay, is sufficiently incredulous, 
aa it is, and it is far l>eUer to give the last results of 
our researclKif us certain for the tJmc being, leaving 
it to the future to correct such mistakes as are inevit- 
able in the deciphering of ancient texts. This advice 
been followed by many «tudcntA, more porticularly 



by the decipherers of hieroglyphic and ouDeifonn 
insoriptioiui; but what bas been the resultl As every 
year bas corrected tlio reeiulto of the previous yciw, 
hardly anyone now veniurcH to make use of the results 
of those reeearcheB, however confiilently they are put 
forward »» final, and ah beyond the reach of doubt 
It ie quite true tbnt the warnings given by con- 
8cic-ntious scholars aa to the inevitaUe uncertainty 
in the translation of Vcdic texts, may prmluce Uif 
same efTect. My having called the Veda a book with 
seven seals has been greedily laid hfild of by cortaiii 
writers to whom the very exiBtwico of Uic Veda was 
an offence and a provocation, in order to show the 
insecurity of all systems of comparative philology, 
mythology and theology, htuicii on oviilcnco tlerived 
from this book with seven seals. True ficfaolars. 
however, know better. They know that in a long 
Latin inscription ccrtnin wortU may be quite illegible, 
others difficult to decipher and to tnoalate, and that 
yet a considerable portion may be a^ clear and aa 
intelligible as any page of Cicero, and may bo used 
for lingiiiNtic or hi^torieal purposes with perfect 
safety. Scholars know that the same applies to the 
Veda, and that many %Tords, many lines, many pages 
are as clear as any page of Cicero. 

When I am ashed what can be the use of a book 
with seven deals for a comparative study of religion 
and mythology, my answer is that it stimulates us to 
remove those scab. In the case of the Veda I may 
Bafely say that several of theete seals have by this 
lime been broken, and there is every reason to hope 
tliat with honesty and perseverance the remaining 
seals also will in time be removed. 


StSlHNat BtaUntisU from Uia OpwolakMla. 

WE tuivo navr to consider whut ttio UpanUhads 
themsdlvca tcncli on tbo relation of the bouI to 
God. and more particularly of tbe return of the soul 
to BrAbm»D. Hore we sIiaII find tluil boll) ecliooU 
of Uio VcdiVntists. that of RAiii&nu^ii and that of 
iSaAkora, caa appeal to toxta of tbe UpauisliatU 
in support of tlieir reepeetive opinions, so that it 
we'ins as if the Upanishads ooinbiiit^'l both and re- 
joetcd ncitb<>r of tko loading VcdiVnta tboories. Of 
coune there havo been long diitcus&iona among 
VedAntistn in India, and likewise among students 
of 11)0 W-diXiita in Europe, oh to which of the two 
schools represonte the true spirit of the Upanishads. 
If we take tbe Upanishads as a whole, I should say 
tliat i^ntikiuu la thu more t))orou(;b and faithful 
cxponont of their teaching ; hut if wo admit an histo- 
rical gtx>wtb in the Upanisbads themselves, R(Lmflnai7a 
nay Iw taken as ropre»enting more accurately an 
earlier period of Upanishad doctrines, which were caet 
into the sboiile, if not superseded, by a later growth 
of VecUntic i«pi.'cubttion. That later growth, reprs- 
•ooted by the denial of any reality oxcept thai of the 
highest Brahman, is almost ignored by R&m&nuf/a or 
interpreted by hitn with grc^it freedom. If wq uoder^ 
W I 




stand KJVmaniii^a rightly, he would Bcem BfttJsBed' 
with Ibe Boul being at. death emancipated from 
8amsft,ra or further births, panaing on to the worlil of 
Braliman, masc, and there enjoying everliutting bliss 
in a kind of li(.'avculy piirndi«o. i^aAknra, on the con- 
traj-y, goes hoyond, and looks upon final emancipation 
08 a recovering of tjue Belf-consciouanpsft, Ai.df-oon- 
sciflu&ncss meaning witli him iho conseiouHni-KS of tho 
self as beiug in reality thu whole and undivided 

We shall boi't l>o able to follow this twofold de- 
velopment of Vi-diuitic thought, if wo firiit examine 
the moi-e important paasagea in tho Upanifthads 
which lieat of the return of the »oul to tho Lower 
Brahman, and then see bow these pofisages have been 
harmonised in the Ved^ta-sAtraa '. 

Wo begin with th« descriptions of tho road that w 
to be taken by tho Boul after death. Hero we find 
the following more or leea differing accounts in dif- 
fercnt Upaniahads. 

Fmh»C*i ftom tiM gp«Hi1»tt*Ja. 

I. Bn"had-fira«yaka VI. (8) 2, 13: 

'A man lives ho long aa he lives, and then whMlj| 
ha dies, they take him to the fire, (tho funeral pile) : 
aad then the fire is his tire, the fuel in hia fuel, the 

' The InnRlatinoi horn f^vnn dllttr In RSTanl plAoo* tr<itn thow 
iHtmi in my tnuiHlHtion In tli« S. B. K,, toIi. i and xv. In my 
[rontliitiou in lb« S. B. E. I ('luctul niywlf mim' cuiuplnlitly «n tli'c 
■lADdpoint of Sufilunt,n:F»|>l in ouhos whers ha wm i^lrHrly wrooR. 
la tho pTMonl tranilntinn* 1 likvo tried, lu much as ptissibtci, not 
to tillow myiolf to bo influonned by SstilinnL, ia order to bo quila 
fair lownriU IUtdAhusd und other intcrprolcn of the Upiuiiniiadi 
and l)i« Vo'l&ntn-aatnu. I bavo alw> nTulod myislf <•( lomo coo- 
JMtuml vniKiidatloiu, pttiponA by othor »holtir^ wheravor they 
MSmad l« u* r«)t*oiublo. 


smoke liU smoke, the light his light, the coab hia 
coalK, luiil the spaiks hU eporlu. In Uiat Grc tho 
Devua, the g<K)s, otTcr man (as a sacrifict.-), and from 
that aacrilice man (purusha) riso:*. hrilliant in colour 

'Thoso who thus know this luid those who in the 
foroet worehip thu Truu u» faith', go to light, iroin 
light to day, from day to ths waxing half of the moon 
(new moon), from the waxing half of tho moon to the 
six months when tho sun goes North', from thoso 
six months to the world of the Devaa, from the world 
of the Devas to the oun, from the .sun to tho place of 
Itglituiug'. When thoy Imvc ruachod thu place of 
lightning, a person, not a man*, coroe.4 ufar them 

* TAtinaTnlkyn III, 193 fipliitDi tliji by middbar& p«nij4 yoUU, 
ondowd with Ui« hlgfai.41 fitllti. Tho nxoct (neanitig U not clwir. 
Tho Tnui U mraiit fur Bnlimitn. 

' Cr. DDuanMi, Siiiy.. p. 19 ! SiBt, p. 609. 

* On thocoDnnrtioDof liulitntnK with tbomooD, m« nillobniailt, 
r«l iltOitlafit, Tol. i. pp. MS, 4SI. 

' Tho right reading hcra uid in Ibo JtUndwra-Upiiolihad IV. 
lis, 5, Bwinii to b» pur mho aniAnBrkfe. W«hn»A however, for 
tlio othar itrodlng nUUiwoA the uUhor\ty «t Vif9avt.lkja III. 11)4, 
tnit amlluraA U •tronglT' *ti[>pnrt<id by lii* V<idi>nta-*OtRui uid by 
tb* C9mm«ntalara i.>a« p. lU). Pri>(<n40T Ronhlllnjtlt pcvfvn 
win»»»». and tniuiAalv»s ' N'-iw cninK>i Ihu «i>irit who •Ini'llii in 
III* tliinkini oniiin «id takra tlipm to thu plucM of Brahmao.* 
Tbit MDoot bo. 

Blftt>r> h^ro exploina piirutlin mftnaMiA at a mnn producod by 
Bnhmu) through hii mind. Thii u poaniblc. and bvttc'r mt uU 
•renta than Boohtllngk'* irnniluiion. For puruilio mllDnaaA, 
tf 11 mouu tho iiplrlt that dvpllx in Uio thinking organ, aa, for 
tiutaneti, in Taltt. Up. I. G, coulil n<it tio Mid In approach tho 
•oula, far thoy vrniild be llifniiv-lvm th^ ]iiiniabni> who haTo 
fMrdiitd th« lightnJnK. If wo ruad mkna**, wn could bnly Uk« 
it for A puniiha, a pnw>n, though not a material ti'^inst, who 
nay th<^rerotD bo oallcd mAoauiA, uith«r ai a bviuf riniblu la thu 
mind (manoi^ only, or •■ a bring; crrated bj thu mind, in fact 
ft kind of itpldl In the form of a nan. thouKh not a rt«l man. 
iMVfer, how4rvM, to mad amUnara. What confirmi tno in thi* 
IxdUf i> that Ln (lin Avmla alio, nhleh ihoivi many Idea* about 
Uwjoarawy of thn aouU afu^ daath with tlio Upanlahad*. ira read 
tliat «h«n Um tool of tba tUpartod approaches Um Paradia* of the 



nn<l leads them to tlio worlds of Brahninn. In these 
worlds of nndiniikn thoy dwell for over and cv«r 
(parM pnnlrata/i) ', and thcro is no return for them.' 
Here you see & di.itinclly mythological viow of a 
future life, eome of it liordly intelligihle to hb. The 
deported is buppos^d to rlso from tfao pilo on wbioli 
bis body was burnt, and to move on to the light 
(nj/.'ia) '. This is inlelligihhr, hut after the light follows 
the day, and aft^^r the day tho six months of thu sun's 
journey to the North. \Vhat can be the meaning of 
thati It might mean tliat tho do]iart<;d bo-i to wait 
a day and then six months bcfurtt Lu is admitted to 
the world of the Devas. and then to the bud, and then 
to the place of lightning. Hut it may mean aim that 
there are personal repreecntativts of all thipt^e t-tutions. , 
and that the departed has to meet these half-divine 
beings on his onward journey. This is PAdaniyana's 
viow. Heri) you sco the real diflieulties of a trans- 

EDdlru Liahtt^ > spliit. or, M tn rend la on* at Uio TaahU (S. B. E., 
xxlli. p ^l~'. Ban of tlio blthrul, who ban i1cp«rtod botiitv him, 
nppriXK-licit III* now iioiiiar and »»kit him wTDml <juaillnna, kx^oM 
Aliura Hjida Kivin lilm thu oU and (lis fixitl that ar* d«»linad lQ>{ 
jw«i«ii fur tiic youth of Bnod IhnUUhU, iK>n]>i. an<l ctiuyla. Thii 
■bom hovr minrul wo siinulrl be not lo b« too pmilivv In our 
IrnnalnlioDa of di(Ii«ull piLtupn. We may diaeard thu'aiilliotilT 
of tiaOlun, potmMj wren Iliac of QndaraynnD. who tokia purutlM 
•mtnavaA m ■ porMn, not k nan. ISut Wfoi-r nv con da thl^ 
oUBbt to ahow bjr ]wts11al iNuuwgc* that purusho nlaaMA, 
m.lDDmaj'iih, hna ovvr ln'cn imcl In tlin U|ian1>linili In (hu tram 
ihv ipiHt who dw«lU ill llm thinking btuan. Till thnl ia d<4i«, II 
wouM hi lH-IU<rft>rFrcifamorBo«tittin(kiiv[ I" ln<Bt ihi-lmdltiimal 
inton"*t'>t'o>«* ■>! BAdarAjaHa and fiaakara with (uvli uaili>(ui«iid 

' Tlii>i rti-ma to onrtmbood to AiraO* lamAA in V. 10, I, and to 
bnTc II l^nipaml ratlior tbaa Inml itinanina. 

* This cnnnot bv inonnl tar tbo tire of tli* funoral pila by wbl«ti 
h? hoi been Ixirnt. lor Ilia dood is mppOMid to Im in tliH Bi*, and 
oiamimod hj it. It ii sumotime* aupjxiBvd to bo lucHint for th* 
A^nilolui, tho irorld of Agnl. 



latJOD. The words &i« clear enougb. but Lbe difficulty 
ia bow to conni^cl luiy <I(;liDito idi/na irith ttio words. 

So mticb for tliose who pnss on tlie Devayana. tlie 
Path of ttie Cods, from the funeral pile to tlie worlda 
of Brahinaii, aud wliu oru iiot iiubjcct to a n.-lurn, 
i.e. to iK-w biiilis. If. hoMvovur, the deported has not 
yet reached a perfect knowledge of Hrahman, he 
proceeds after dtath un the Pitr/yilTia. the Path of tho 
Flatbetv. Of them the Brihad-ara7iyaka (VI. (8) 2, 
16) uys : 

' But tlnry who conquer tbt worlds by eacrifief, 
charily, and austerity go to smoke, from amoke to 
night, front night to the waning half of tlio moon, 
from the waning half of tbo niuon to tbu six months 
when tbe sun moves South ; from tliene months to tlie 
world of th« Fatben, from tbe world of the Fathcni to 
tbe moon. Having reached tbe moon, they become 
food, and tlie goda consume tbom there, lu Ihoy oon- 
Hime Soma (moon) tbu King, saying, Wax and wane I 
But when tbia is over, tbey go back to tbe same 
ether', from ether to air, from air to rain, from rain 
to tbe earth. And wtien thuy have rt-acbcd the earth, 
they become food, they are offered again in the- fire 
wbieb is man, and thence are born in the fire of 
woman'. Then tbi-y rise upwards to the worlds, 
and go the same round as before. Those, however, 
who know ni-ithtT of the two paths, become worms, 
insects, and creeping things.' 

V)'c have now to examine some other passages in tbe 
Upanishada, where the same t«ro paths are de^ciibed. 

> S«» JCUnd. L> T. lOi, 4. 

■ Tbi* Miiitirnco te left init bj- Boohllingk ; whj? Sm JTUnd. 
t;p.V.T anils. 




H. Brdiftd-ftrawyaka. V. (7) 10, 1: 

'When the person goea away from this world, he 
oomos to tlie wind. Then the wind makes room for , 
bim. like the hole of a whec^l, and through it be 
mounts highi>r. Ho oouics to the sun. Then the sun 
makes room for him, like the hole of a lambara, 
(drum?), and through it he mounts higher. Ue cornea' 
to the moon. Then the moon makes room for him, 
like the hole of a drum, and through it ho mounts 
higher, and arrives at the world where tJiere is no 
80IT0W, and no snow. Tlivre he dwvlU eternal years ' 
(cfuivatiA eamu^). 

UI. iCAindogya-Upanishad VIIL 6, 5 : 

'When he departs from this body ho mounts up- 
wards by those very rays (the raya of the sun which 
enter the arteries of the body), or he ia removed while 
gaying Cm'. And quickly as he Kcuds otf Iii8 mind 
(as quick iw thought), ho goes to the sun. For 
the sun ia the door of the world (lokadv^am), an 
CDtraiiC'i for the knowing, a bar to the ignorant.' 

IV. A'AAndogja-Upanishad V, 10, 1: 

'Those who know this, and those who in the foreat] 
follow au[*tortty aa faith, go to the Vv^ht (arAis), from 
light to day, from day to the waxing half of the 
moon, from the waxing half of tbe moon to the six 
mouths when the suu goeit to tho North, from the 
six months when the sun goos to Uic North to the 
year, from the year to tlie aun. from the sun to the 
moon, from the moon to the lightning. Tliere is a 
person, not a man, bu loads thum to Brahuuui. This 
ia the Path of the Gods. 

' Bovlitliniik'i «oiiji«tural emnndatioiia of thli paMait» w«cn M 



' But tliose who in their village pmcUse diarity aa 
SMrifieeand pious vrorks, go to tho«moko,rTuiu smoke 
to night, from night to the other (waning) half of th« 
moon, froiii tlio other lialf of Uio taona to the six 
months when the Hun movos to tho South. But thoy 
do not reach the year. From the months they go to tho 
world of the KathcrH, from the world of tho Fathera to 
the dlicr, from the- «lhvr to tho moon. That is Soma, 
tho King. That is tho fuod of tho gods, the gods 
feed OD it. Having,' tarried there, aa long aa there is 
a rest {of works), th*'y n^turn again on the way on 
which tlipy came, to the ether, from tho ether to the 
air (v&yu). When be has become sir he beoomes 
amoke, having become smoke he becomes miHt, having 
become mist he becomes a cloud, having become a 
eloud he rains down. Then they are bom ■ as lieo 
and corn, hui-lis and trees, sosuraum tuicl hcjins. From 
thence the CBcape is very difHcuIt. For whoever 
tbey are who eat that food and scatter seed, ho be* 
eomea like unto them. Tlioso whoso conduct has 
been good will probably attain Bomo good birth, the 
birth of a Brdhmana, or a Kshatriya, or a Vai^iya. 
But those whoso conduct has been evil will probably 
attain an evil birth, tho birth of a dog, or a hog, or a 
^'anc/ala. On neither of these two roads do those 
small, oft-returning creAtures procupd. Tlicira is tlie 
third state, of which it is fiaid, " Live and die." ' 

V. ^Aindogya-Upaniehad VIII. 4, 3: 

'To those only who find that Brahma-world by 
meims of Bralunit/.'»rya (sludy and absltnuucc), doee 

> It Rhould bo TOUIMBlMMd that In tbs Uf-TWU kiraadjr Somk 

id til* MtMlhu, tlio stvarof fwd Mi bitElity. 



tliat Bmbmn-worlil belong, »nd they niovo about 
frcolv in all worlds.' 

Vi ^Aandogya-Upaniflliad VIU. 13 : 

* I go from d*jiVina, thu black (tbo moon), to thit 
fabalft. the spockli-d (tho sun), and fi-om tb« speckled 
to the blaok. Like a horse shaking hi» haini (I shake 
off) evil, like the moon, frc-ving himsolf from the 
mouth of BAbu, having shaken off the body, I go 
purified in mind to the eternal world of Drahmaa '.' 

VII. Mum/afca-UpaDialmJ I. 2, 11 : 

' Bui thoKi- who practice penance and faith in the 
forest, traufjuil, wise, and living on alma, depart, free 
from pasaions (dust), through the gate of the aun, 
whi-rt! that immortal Person dwells whoso nature is 
iro peri all able,' 

VXII. KaiiHhltaki-Upaniiiliad L 3: 

' And A'itriL said : All who depart from this world 
(or this body) go to tJie moon. In tlio fufmex, {the 
waxing) half, the niO(.in waxen big by their vital 
spirits, but in the other, (the waning) half, the moon 
cansos them to be bora. Verity, the moon 'is the door 
of the Svarga-world (hcav«ily world). Now, if a man 
answer Uio moon f i-igbtly) *, the moon set* him free. 
But if a man doea not answer the moon, the moon 
slioweni him dowu.faaving become rain, upon this earth. 
And according to his deeds, and according to his know- 
ledge, he is horn again here aa a worm, or aa an 
in.'ieol, or a^ a liiih, or as a bird, or as a lion, or as a 
boar, or as a serpent (!). or as a tiger, or 


* Sco ntoomflcld, Jaumal <•/ t/» AnartiaH Orttnlal Sixiilj/, vol. XT. 
p. 1(^ ; Bwhtltngk, ^'landosyn Vpanbhad, p. OS. 

* Cf. Bocbtlinek. l!b«r «ln» blsh«r ug minnnUndoiM &t«Ils 
In der KnuihUiiki-BrtliiDWW'lJpuuiJuid. 


%e somebody ulsu iii different places. But when b« bas 
ornved, the moon aske him : *' Who art thou 1 " And 
he shall answer: "0 fttiasons', the seed was brought 
from tlic bright moon who wiw poured forth (in r&in}; 
who conaifits of filU-en porta, who harbours our fathers'; 
raise me now in a vigoious man, and pour me through 
a vigorous mun into a mother. 

'"Then I am born i%» the twelfth or tbirt^^enth 
additional month through the twelve- or tJiirteon-fold 
father (tlie vetu). I know that, I remembur tliat. 
ticasons. bring mu thvn to imuiortnlity. By tliis 
txuih and by this penance I am a season ^ a child 
of th« seasons. I un thou." Thereupon the moon 
sets him free. 

' Having reached the Path of the gods, he comea 
to the world of Agni (fire), to the world of VAju (air), 
to the world of Varuiia. to the world of Indra, to the 
world of Pra^pnti, to the world of Braiiman. Id 
that world then is the lake An. the momenta called 
Yeab/iha, the river Vijrard (sgeless), the tree Uya, the 
city Salaf^ya, the palace Ai)arAj7ita (uDoonquiTable). 
the door-lccepers Indm and Pra;;ApAti, the hall of 
Brahman, calkd Vibhu, the throne Vi/;ak6haTi& (intel- 
ligence), the oouch Amituu^as (endless splendour), and 
tbo beloved Mauast (mind), and her image /t'akshuoht 
(eye), who, taking tlowers. are weaving the worlds, 
and the Apearas, the Amb/Li (seriplures i), and AmbA- 
yavts (iindcnttaudingT), and Utc rivei-s Ambay&s. To 
this world he who knows this approaches. Brahman 

' ThvMMoii«>r*Miii()(i>n<i*ciilJ(i(IUii) brotbanofSoma, tliamoon. 

* Whvn nnly Ui* firtii^iilh |>nrl it loft of Ilia moon, lli« PStna 
•etar iL Ludwlg t«li*it lliv AiMiuii alto for tlin Kvnli otth* nnannat 

' Th« tiMi>r>iii am |«rt-) of (hu luuar yc«r that twin to Dome knd 
K0 lik* the lives of murtal men. 


saya, " Run tow&rdti him with such wnrebip as is due 
to tuyHcir. Ho has reftclied th« rivor \ii/&iA (agcleaa). 
be will novcr ago." 

'Then five hundred ApRaras go towards him, one 
hundred n-iUi fruit in their hand«, one hundred with 
ointtnctitfi in thoir liouds, one hundi-ed with garlands 
in their htinds. one hundred with gamx^nts in thoir 
houdfl, one hundred with poj-runK^s in tlicir handn. 
They adorn him with nu adornment worthy of 
Brahman, and when thue adorned with the adornment 
of Brahman, the Icnower of lirahman moves towardu 
Hrahman. He (tho dopartud) approaches the lake Ara. 
and crosses it by the mind, while tliosc who come to 
it without knowing the truth, are drowned in it. He 
comes to tliti moments called Yeshfiha, and they flee 
from him. Uo comes to the river Vir^ai^, and crosses 
it by tho uiind alone, and then shakes off hig good 
and evil deeds'. His Ixdoved relatives obtain (ho 
good. Ills unhcloTcd relatives the evil ho has done. 
And as a man diivtng in a chariot, might look at the 
two wheels, thus be will look at day and nights thue 
at good and evil decdti, and at all pairs (oorrehitiva 
things). Being freed from good and evil he, the 
isQOweT ofBrabman, moves towards Brahman. 

*Ho approaches the tree Ilya, and the odour of 
Brahman reacheis him. He approaches tho city 
S&la^a, and the flavour of Prohman reaches him. 
He approaches the palace Apar&^ita, and the splen- 
dour of Brahman reaches him. He approaches the 
door-keepers Indra and Prayipati, and they run away 
from him. He approaches the hall Vibhu, and the 

> cr. rund. Up.vnMS. 



glor^ of BralimnD reaches liitn. He appronchea Uie 
throne Vi/i%kiU)a»&. The SAman vcreos, Bnlmt and 
Rathantnm, are Uic eastern feet of Uiat throne ; the 
^iiliiian vuiBi'8, iSjaita and Nnudhu-tiv, its western feet; 
tho SiVuan venee, Vsirllpa aad Vaimija, its sidea, 
lengthways ; the Sjimaii vcrflo«, iS'ilkvara and Raivata, 
its sides, crosswajs. That tlironu la Vragiii. (know- 
lodge), for by knowledge he sees clearly. Ho ap- 
proaches the couch Ainitati^ai). That in prAna (breath, 
speG>ch). The past and the futuro aiu its uastvm feet : 
prosperity and earth its western feet ; tho Sftroan 
vereea, Bnliat and KathantAra, are the two aidoe 
IcngUiways of the couch ; tlic SAinan vcwwt. Bha<lra 
and Ya<;»Aya(;/itya, are the croes-sides at the head 
and foet (cast and wcit>t) ; the Hik and Sjiioan are 
the lon^ eheets. the Va7tiB the croes-shosts. the mooD- 
bcama the cushion, the Udgilha the coverlet; pros- 
perity the pillow. On tliiit couch site Brahman, and 
ho who knows this, tnouiit« it first with one foot. 
Then Brahman says to him r " Who art thou ? " and he 
shall answer: "I am a aeaaon, and tlie child of the 
ae«80R8, sprunj; frum the womb of cndl<-»8 space, Uie 
aood of the wifo, tht^ lij^ht of the year, the self of all 
that is. Thou art the eelf of all that ia ; what thou 
art, that am V ' 

Siaenlttaa of Iat«rpT*teU«n. 
This is as close a tranMlntion as I can give. 

But I 

must confess that many of thu names here used in 
describing the reception given by the god Braliinan 
to the departed, are iinintelligihle to mo. They were 
equally unint<^lligilflo to the native commentators, who, 
however, try to discover a meaning in some of them. 



as when they explain the lake Arn, which (ho dopArtc] 
has lo croaa, as <iei'ivi-<l from Ari, cDemy, these enemiOM 
being tbo paasioiu and inclinations of the heart. We 
are told afterwanla that those who coiim to that lake 
without koowing the truth, oje drownod in it. When 
tlie thronv, on which Brahnian is seated, is called Vi< 
/.'aksh&7id, this sooms to ui<mn Int«lligen('v, and M^iaut 
also is probably a personification of tlio mind of which 
A'tLkshusht, representing the eye, may well bo called 
the image. But there Li such a mixiuro of Hynibolical 
and purely picturesque lauguar^u in all tlii«, and the 
text seems so often quite corrupt, that it eooms hope- 
less to discover the original intention of the poet, who- 
cvtir he was, that first imt^^cd tbi» mootin^^ between 
the departed and the god Brahman. On some points 
we giiin a littlo light, as, for instance, when we are 
told that the departed, after having crossed the river 
Vij;fai& (the agi^leas) by his mind, shakes off his good 
and his evil deeds, and that ho leaves tlio benefit of 
his good deeds to those among his relatives who are 
dear to him, while his evil deeds fall to the share of 
his unbclovod relations. We also sue more clearly 
that the thiono on which Brshman stis is meant for 
Prn^/i4 or wisdom, while tlie couch AmitaUjTSS is iden- 
tified with prnna, that is breath and speech, and the 
coverings with the Vt-daa. 

Thouj^h ihvre ts a gen<.'ral likeness in tliese different 
accounts of the fate of the soul after death, sUlI we 
see how each Upanishad bas something peculiar to say 
on the subject. In some the subject is treated very 
briefly, as In the Mu7K/aka'Upatii.thri(I I. 2, 11, where 
we are only told that the soul of thu pious man pn«seA 
through the gale of the sua where the immortal Person 

joithitey of thb boot, after death. 

(spirit) dwells. In the iTfiAndogya-UpaniiiLad VIII. 
6^ 5, one account is equally brief. Here we are toW 
that the Boul departs upwards by the rays of the ftiin, 
reoohes thi; oun. which is the door to the worlds (loka) 
for the wise, but a bar to the foolish. The Krihad- 
Aranyaka alao givea in one passage (V, !0, 1) a short 
Moonnt of tho Roul'a journey fiom the body to the air, 
from tbo air to thu sun, from tlio sun to tho moon, 
from the moon to the painless world whei-o the- ftoul 
dwells for eternal years. Similar abort accounts 
occur in Tailt. Up. I. 6, and Praenft Up. I. 9. 

■UlorlcU Piornsa In tb* TTpuiUlutdJ. 
If we look at tho fuller accounts, we can easily 
perceive that thL> i-urlieat conception of life after death 
was that represented by the Pitrj'yiTia, tbo Path of 
tbu Kfltbors, that is. the path which led the »oul to the 
moon, where tlic Fothcra, or thoso who have gone before 
him, dwelL The description of this puth is much the 
same in the BWliad-^anyaka and iu tho A'Aaudogyo- 
Upanishad. The soul enters into smoke (probably of 
the funeral pile}, then comes to the nighty tlien to the 
waning half of the moon, then to the six months 
when (be sun moves towards tho South. But it does 
not reach thir year, but moves straight to the abode 
of tbo Fatbura and to the moon. When tlti^ abode io 
the moon came to bo considered an temporary- only, 
and as followed by a new cycle of existeneea, it was 
natum) to imagine a Devayana which led beyond 
to tho gods and to eternal happiness witliout any 
retont to new transmigrations. But this abode in the 
Devaloka also did not satisfy all desires, and a further 
progre»-<4 was admitted from the sun to the moon, or 




<tircot from tho sun to tho abode of lightaitig, from 
whence a spirit led the souls to the world of Brahm*n. 
Thia world, thougli still conceived in mytliologioal 
phraseology, whb probably for a long tiiiii; tbo highest 
point rpauhed by the thinkers and poeU of the Upa- 
nishadH, but we shall Aee that after a time even thisi 
approHoh to a pci'Minal and ubjcctivo tiod wait not 
considered final, and that thure was a higher blias 
whidi could be reached by knowledge only, or by 
the couHciounness of the soul's iDsepuratcncHS fi-om 
Brahman. Wo soc traces of this in pa^sAgei^ of the 
(Jpaniahads such as Brth. Ar. Up. V, 4, 8, ' Wise 
pcoplo who know Bi-ahmaii go on Uiia road (devayina) 
to the heavL'n>world (svarga), and higher up from 
thence, as ywite freed.' Or Maitr. I!rrt1im. Up. VI. 80, 
' Stopping over tho world of Brahman, they go by it 
to the highest path.' 

While to our minds the belief in the sonl'R journey 
to the world of the Fathers, titc world of tho gods, and 
the world of tho mythological Brahman (nia8c.),ecenie 
to present an historical development, it was not so 
with Vedi^nta philosophers. They looked upon every 
passage in the Upanishads as equally true, because 
revealed, and they tried to combine all the accounts 
of the bouI'r journey, even when they clearly differed 
&om one another, into one barmonious wholo. 

AtMmptB to bamwalM Xh» iilt*mt 8tat*iii«iita of tli* 

Uow they achieved this, I shall best be able to 
show you by translating some portion of the Ved^ta- 
sAtras with the commentary by iSVikai-a. Though 
some of it may sci>m tedious, yot it will be useful in 



giving you eomo idea of Uie style aiid spirit of the 
later Vediuta pliilosoplicrs. Yoii will oljBLTve how the 
S&traa by theiofielvea are aliaoat unintelltgiblo. though 
wo Me, after na'liiitr ^'ai'iknra')) comments, that they 
really contaiu tho gist of tho whole argument 



FiBsr SOtsa. 
On tAa road bagimung mth Vght, jf., hreavH thit it 

iSaiikara explainB : From the beginning of the 
journey (of the departed} the proceas, as elated, is the 
eamc. Hut the actual joumt^y i» rovealcil diScrcntly 
in different sacred texts. One, by means of the junotioa 
of the arteries with the aolar rays, ia found in the 
Kkknd. Up. VIII. 6, 6, ' ThcD he mounts upwarda by 
thoae verj- raya.' Another, beginning with Ihe light 
(aakiff) h found in i^A&nd. Up. V. 10, 1, 'They go to 
tho light, from light to day.' Another oceun in tho 
Kausb. Up. I. 3, ' Having reached tho path of the 
godn, he comes to the world of Agni, or tire.' Again, 
another occum in tho Brih. Ar. V. 10, 1, ' When tho 
peraon goes away from this world, be comes to the 
wind.' And one more in the Muncf. Up. L 2, 11, snyn, 
' They deport free from pasaioas tlirough the gat« of 
the aun.' 

Hero then a doubt arises, vfaethertheserosdsare really 
diir^-r«Qt from each other, or whetlier it is one and the 
same roadi, only differently dcttcribod. It is assumed, 
by way of argument, that they are different roads, be- 



caose they oceiir intbuUpftnUhnds under difTcrent heaia 
and belong to differ^it kinds of religious meditoticHi 
(upisani); also bcctLuse the limitation that he mounts 
upwari) hy thftno vo-y rays, would Iw coulnnlictcd, if 
ire regardod what is said about light (nriti^) and the 
rest ; and the statement about the quickn^s-t, when it 
it said, ' a^ quickly as he scmiti off the mind ', ho goes 
to the sun,' would also be upset. If on these grounds 
it is said that these roads are difforeut from one 
another, wo reply: iVo, 'On th« road bcffinvinrf mtk 
light ; ' that is, We answer that eveiy one who desires 
Brahman, hastens on by the road that begins with the 
light. And why? — HecauM that road is eo widely 
reeofffiiset]. For that road is known indeed to all 
sagCH. Tims it is Euiid in tlio cliaptiT on ttio Five FircHt, 
' And those also, who in the forest worship the True 
(i, e. Dmhmnn) aa faith,' &c-, clearly proclaiming that 
this road be^^inning with thi- light, is meant for those 
also who practise other kinds of knowledge. This 
might pasa, we are told, and with regard to those 
kinds of knuwh-dgc for which no rood whatever is 
mentioned, the road beginning with the light might 
be admitlc-d. But if another and another road are pro- 
clfumcd, why should the road beginniug witli the light 
be accepted ? Our answer to all (bis is simply this. 
This might bo so, if thuw roads were entirely diffi-rent. 
but it is really one aud the same road with ditTercnt 

■ TliD word* M yftiat knliipjren mnaa* MT*t are (tifflciiilt to 
trnnilBt'?. Thcj arc metiiit to viprvw iiuickncw ikthipnitrttni 
fmrn lublp), irlntl, mind, xkI liant buiiiE tlw' itunt'ial rrpivwntn- 
linn> (-1 niiliVnotit. I had tniiulal«d fon&orlr, sad 'wliilo hi* 
mind U tMiou.' wfaloh Boohtllngk «hanld not L*to nilapicd. ren- 
dcringllby 'Wahrnnd dM Donkorgan T«nicl)<<rJndDt'; but It ia clear 
that qnlokniua, and cot falatiiii;. wn* Int^ndod, and It yrta to 
undenload by Uis author of tlip VuJlnU-rttru, 



attributes, leading to the world of Hnihman, and 
Kometimcs dot«rmined by ono, soiiiotiinea by anotbcr 
predicate. For whenever one part has bopn roooj^nisi-d. 
the relation Mhould b<t thnt aa U-tween what determines 
and what is to bo determined *, and Ui« various deter- 
minations of the road must be summed up topi'tlier. 
Justus wi> ituii) up thf ni^veral nltribut«is of a science 
which is one and the same, though its ti'catiiK>nts tnay 
vary. And even if the subject (under which a certain 
road to Bnthman i» t^tught) is difTi-rent, the road is the 
same, because its goal is the same, and bccausi; one part 
of the road has been reoognised (as the same). For in all 
the following [lansa^s one and tlio same object, viz. the 
obtainment of the Brahma-world, is clearly Rhown. 
We rend (BWh. Ar. \l 2, 15); 'In these worlds of 
Brahman they dwell for ever and ever ; ' — {Brih. V. 
10. 1): 'Tliei-e he dw.-ll.* .Hernal ycare ;'— { Kaush. 1. 7) : 
* WhntL'Vor victory, whatever greatness belongs to 
Brahman, that victory he gives, that greatnom hs 
«»che«;'HK'A&nd. VIH. 4,3): 'That worlclof Brahman 
bttlooga to those only who find it by BrahmoA-ai-ya.' 
And if it ia said that in admitting the approach to the 
li^t, there would K; no room for the rcfttriction ex- 
sod in the wordM. ' By those ve)-y rays,' that is no 
fault ; for its true object is the reaching of these rays. 
The same word which includes the obtainment of 
Uw nys. need not exclude the light, &c. Therefore 
we must admit that this very union with the rays is 
here emphasised. And what is said about tlie speed is 

' Ihf livhnlenl manning or«k*il«tt !■ a p*Tt. irhit« «k«4<-iin i> 
the irholf. Ilut llm lruuilati«4i i* uiiu(iHfapt«r7. iior 4om Pro 
fcasw DtTUMUi mafcp (lie ilrift of the Bniton«v clwrvr. The vkadeM 
hen U ilinplj mMuit for tha boginnin^t uuj the uad of tho rsad. 



BOt upBot, if WO conlino our»i4vea to the road bo^mung 
with light, for the object is quicknesfl, aa if it were 
Bttid. one gi-tH tlicro in the twinkling of an eye. 

And the passage (Khhwl. V. 10. S): 'On neither of 
tbeee two wujs,* whioli fttt«sU the third or the evil place, 
itliowe at thd same time that bcsidco tlio Pitr^yaTia. 
the road to the Fathers, there is bat one other road, 
the Devayiina, the road to the Cuds, one stAtJoa of 
which iM tho light. And if in the passage on th» 
light, the road-Rtations are more numeroiu, while 
ebewbere they iiru Ivhs uumi-niti.'t, it Rtanil!! to reason 
tlutt tho lesa numcroiiB should be oxphiiued in oon- 
formity with the more niimeroUB. On these grounds 
lilho tlie Sfltra says, "On the road bediming with 
light, Sec, because this is widely rccogiUBed.' 

StooHS SCnu. 

From the j/tar to tlia wind, on neeount of Iht pmemx tmJ 

abiKfitt of dtXerminimU. 

iSaAknra explains: But by what peculiar combina- 
tion or insertion can there be the mutual relation of 
what determines (attribu (<.'««). and what ia detei'minvd 
(Hubjcct) between the various attnbukis of the rooilT 
The teacher out of kindness to ua, combint-s them as 
follows. liy tho Kaueihitaka (I. 3) tlie Devay&na is 
described in these words : ' Ho, having runcbed Uio 
path of the gods, comes to the world of Agm (firo), to 
tho world of V4yu {air), to the world of Varujia, to tho 
world of Indra, to Uic world of Prai/ilpati (VirfLj/), to 
the world of Brahman ( Biranyogarbba}.' Now here 
the words light and world of Agoi mean the same 
thing, as both express burning, and there is no 
neoeeeify here for looking for any suocession. But 


VAyu (tlio Trind) is not meDtioned in the road 
beginntug with li^'hl, how tlion is hu hvrc to bo 
inserted t The answer in : In the passage {Kh&nd. V. 
10, 1) we rtdid: *Th«y go to thv light, from light to 
dsy, from day to tlie waxing half of the moon, from 
the waxing half of the mpon to the six months when 
thv MUii goi-H to the North, from tht; six months whon 
the sun goes to the North to the year, from the year 
to the sun.' Hem then they reach V&yu, the wind, 
after th« yoAr and before the sun ; and whyl Becauaa 
there is both abBence and prt'eence of duterminaQts. 
For in the words, 'lie goes to the world of Viyu' 
(Kaush. I. 3), Viiyu is m<.-ntioncd without any deter- 
minant, while in another paesage a detorminative 
occurs, whertt it is haid (BWh. V. 10, 1): 'When the 
person goes away from this world, ho comes to the 
wind. Tht-ti the wind makes room for him, like the 
bole of a whvi.d, and through it hv mounttt higher, he 
comes to the sun.' Theroforo from tho determination, 
showing the priority of VAyu before the eun, Vayu is 
to be inserted between thi? j i,-ar and the huh. 

Why then, as there is a detemiination. showing his 
following after light, is not Vilyu inserted after light t 
Bccauw we noo that llieve is no determination here. 
But was thero not a text <|uoti.-<) (Kau^h. 1.3):* Having 
reached the path ol the gods, be oomea to the world of 
Agnt, to tho world of Vilyu,* Yes, hut here the sooner 
and Inter only is enunciated, but there is not a word 
said about direct Bucccsuun. A simple etat«ment of 
facts is here made, in Ba\-ing that ho goca to this and 
to that, but in the other text a regulai' auccettsion is 

Kived, when it is said, that after having mounted 
gh through an opening as large as the wheel of 


tr-OTCEE V. 

a ctiAriut, i^uppliL-d by VAyu. he approftcb^s the son. 
Hence it is w«ll Bsid in the Stitiu. ' on sccount of the 
pratonoe and absence of detomiinantA.' 

Tbo V4ffaaaneyiiw (Br*h. VI. 2, 15), however, say 
that be proceeds from the tnonUis to the world of tbo 
gods, Mid from th« world . of tlic gods to the turn. 
Hero, lu order to maintain the continuity witb the 
auD, he would have to go from the world of the gods 
t« V4yn. And when the Sfttra aaj-s, fnim the year 
bo VAyu, thi» WON done on account of the text in tlio 
A'AAndogya. As between the Vli^aaaneyaka and tbo 
A'/i&ndog>'a, the world of the godei is absent in the 
on«, the year in the other. Ak both texts have to bs 
accepted, the two have to he combined, and then 
on account of the connection witit tliu months, tho 
di«tinction hoa to bo made that the year comes first, 
tho world of the gods last. (1) Year (/fftind.). (2) 
World of godH (Brih.), (3J World of V4yu (Kauah.), 
(4) Sun {KhIiiKi.). 

twrno SOtha. 

Abo«$ t!is lij/htning Vantna, 9n acoowU of iKe 

,^aAkara oxplaina : When it is said f/if/iand. V. 10,2): 
' From the sun to the moon, from the moon to 
lightning,* Varu7ia is brought in bo that above that 
lightning he goc* to the world of Varuita, For ther6 
is a connection between lightning and VariwiA. there 
Wing a BHlhmaTia which says : ' When the broad 
lightnings dance fortli from the belly of the oload 
with the sound of dwp tbuniler. the water falls down, 
it lightens, it thunders, and it wUl rain.' But tho 
lord of water is Voruna according to i^ti and 


Smr/U. And Above Varuna follow Indra and Fraj&- 
pati. bficauso there is no otbcr plncu for thisin, and 
Bccoixl'tnj; to Ui« meaning of tbe test Also Varuna, 
&c., gliould bo in)>i>rt«il at the eud, because they are 
additioDal, and bccauao do special place is a»«igned to 
them. A» to the lightning, it is the last on the road 
that begins with light. 


Thf^ art eonduclor*. htea^ut thU i$ htdUnttd. 

SlftAkara explains : Wit]i rvgard to thutif: beginning 
I vith light there is a doubt, whothor they are signs of 
tberoad.or places of ei^oymcnt, or leaders of travellers. 
It is supposed at first that light and the rest aro signs, 
becautte the information has this form. For as in the 
world a man wiahing to go to a village or a town ii 
i (old, ' Go from hcnev to that hill, then thou wilt como 
to a fig-tree, tlien to a river, then to a village, then to 
tlie town,' thus he euiys here alao, ' From light to day, 
from day to the waxing half of the moon.' Or it is 
supposed that they are meant for places of enjoyment 
For he connects Agni and the rest with the word loka 
(world). OS whrn Im sayft. ho comos to the world of 
Agni. And world is vtuKd for places of enjoyment of 
living beinga, as when they say, the world of men, 
the world of the Fathers, the world of the gods. And 
there is also a Brnhmana which says {Sai. Br. X. 'i, 6, 
8) : ' They remain tixed in the worlds which coniiist of 
day and night' Tliort-foi-e light and tlic ru»t am 
not conductors. BesidL-s, thoy cannot bu conductors, 
H because they are without intelligence. For in thi.% 
H world intelligent men are appointed by the king to 


conduct over 

conduct tliotM! whom 
difficult roads. 

In answer to all this we naj : After all, tliey arc 
iiivant for oonducton), because this is clearly indicntod. 
For we rofld : ' From the moon to the lightoing ; 
Uiere a person not 1)eing a man, leads tliem to Brah- 
man,' and this hIiows clearly Ihoir conductor»liip. If 
you think that according to the rule that a sentence 
says no more than what it says, this sentenoo, hi^ng 
ivstiicti-'d to it» own object (the [H'nton, not bi-iug a 
man), falla to the ground, we aay No, for the predicate 
(amAnava/i) i» only intended to exclude lits suppoited 
hiimnnity. Only if with roganl tu light, &&, personal 
conductara are admitted, and thetu) human, ia it right, 
that in order to exclude tliis (humanity), there Hhould 
be the attribute, amttnava, not being a man. 

If it is objected that a mere indication is not 
euflicicut, b<.«ause thcru is no proof, wc say thuru in 
no lault in this. 

FifTii SCtba, 
Bn:at4M at both an hneildrrttl. tliia u right. 

SaAkash explains; Those who go on the road 
beginning with light, as they are without a body, and 
as all their organs are wTapt up, are not independent, 
and the light, &c., as they are without intulligenoe, are 
lilccwise not independent. Hence it follows that the 
individual intelligL-nt deities who repn-sont light and 
the rest, have been appointed to the conductorahip. 
For in this world also drunken or fainting people 
whoso senab-orgnns are wrapt up. follow a road w 
commanded by others. Again, light and the rest cannot 
be taken for mere aigns of the road, because they are 
not always theru. For a man who dies in the night, 




cannot come t» the actual manifestation of the day. 
For thei* i» no waiting, aji we said Wfore. But oa 
the DAturo of thti gods is ctemal. tliiy objuction does 
not apply to them. And it U quite right to call the 
^da light and all the rei<t, bncauhe they ivprcitcnt 
light and the re«l. And the expression from light to 
day, &c.. is not objectionftble if the sense of con- 
ductoriihip is ailoi)t«d, for it un-ana, tlirough the light, 
ut cause, thoy come to the day, thiough the day, as 
canse, to the waxing half of the moon. And such an 
instructiun in K«cn also in tite ettae of conductors as 
known in the world, for they say. Go hence lo 
Bakvarman, thence to CayasiDiha, thence to Ki-iabna- 
giiplA. R^-Ki<]o!t in the Ijoginning. when it is said Utvy 
go to the tight, a relation only is expressed, not a 
special relation ; at the end, however, when it ia said, 
be lends them to Brahman, a special relation is 
expressed, that between conducted and conductor. 
Therefore this ig accepted for the bog^nuing also. 
And ae the organs of the wanderers are wrapt up 
together, tht^io is no chaiiCL- of their enjoying anything, 
though the word world (loka) may bo applied to 
wanderers alto who do not enjoy anything, because 
the worlds may lie plnee» of enjoj ment for others who 
dwell there. Therefore we must understand Uiat ho 
who has reached the world of Agni ia conducted by 
Agni, and ho who has njachod the world belonging to 
Viyu, by Vayu. But how, if we adopt this view that 
they are oonducloia, can this apply to Variina and the 
rest) For above the lightning Vanina and thereat wen 
inserted, and after the lightning till the obtainment of 
Brahman the Icader&hip of the person who is not a man, 
has l*een revealed. This objection is answered by 



Tut Six-ra SCtka. 

/Voir di«net hj/ Am teko Mtrngt to <ht ligktnmf, UeauM 
(At Feda tay* to. 

iSiuftkan cxplAitu : It must bo understood that from 
(hence, tb«t is, aft«r tbey Have come to the lif^tow^. 
tkej go to the world of Brahman, hftviog been con- 
ducted ocTOfiD tJte worlds of VoruTio, &c., by tlio pen»n 
who ia not a man, and who follows immediately af%«r 
the ligliuiing. "nut he conducts thorn u revealed by 
the words, ' When they hiivw rcfich«d the placo of 
lightning, a person, not a man', It^ada thtrm to the 
world of Bmhman' {hnh. VI. i, 15). But Vurana 
and the rcHt, it must bo andcrHtood, are showiDg their 
kindni-i^ either by not hindcriii);, or by a«i«tiiig him. 
Therefore it is wl-11 gaid that light and the r«8t are 
the goda who act as conductors. 

Thc»o extracts fi-om i^aAkai-a'it commentary on tlic 
VediUitarflQtrBs,difliciiltto follow as they are, amy serve 
to give you some idea how almost imponaible it is to 
reduce tbu component parts of anOK-iit Kitcrud literature 
to a coDiiistent system, and how the Vedic apologists 
endeavoured vainly to remove contradict itmn, and to 
hi-irtg cacJi poiwtigi' into Imniiony with all the rest. 
With u» thi* difficulty does not exist, at lea«t not to the 
same dfgroe. We have l^atnt lliat sacred books, like 
all other books, have a liiKtory. tluib tbey contain the 
thoughts of diffLfent men and diQ'erent ages, and that 
instead of trying to hnrmonine statcmi-nts which vary 
from each other, nay which even contradict each 
other, we should simply accept thorn and see in tliem 
' Kviv AmlniiTiiA, but In the toxt niAiutoA. 



Uie strongest proof of the hiHtorica.! ongin and geiiuine 
cluu-aet«r of thMO books. Bmbnittiiic tlwologiuis, 
however, after once having fmmed to themselves an 
artificial conception of revelation, could not shake off 
thv fcttcni which they hud t'urgud tliLinHelves, «tid 
had therefore to adopt the most artificial contrivances 
in order to prove that there wb» no vari»iiee, and no 
conttmdiclioii Ijctwteu any of the HtatutuL-nts coutuim-d 
in the Veda. Aa they were couvinoed that every 
word of their ibVuti oauie dirc^ot from the deity, they 
ooneluded that it mast l>c their own fault, it' tliey 
could not discover the hai-mony of discordant utter- 

Ind«p«sa«&t sUMmtnt* l» Mm MkiitTm*. 

It IB strange, however, to observe that while so 
great an eSbrt is made to bring all the pnsHagvi^ which 
occur in the UpaQi«had» into ordtT and hanoony, 
hardly any altcmpt has buen made to reooncile the 
.staU-menta of the Upanisbads with poMHiigcij in the 
hymns whicb allude to tlie fato of the soul after 
death. These passages are by no means in harmony 
with the ])n:4Mig<-s in the UpauLihadit, nur arc tJlcy 
always in haniiooy with [hcmsolves- They arc simply 
the various expresaioos of the hopes and fears of 
individual poets, and free, a« yet, from the clahorutu 
details concerning the juumcy U> the Kathon, to the 
goda, and to Brahman with which the Upanisbads 

If wo cxnmine the hymns of the Rig-voda we find 
there the simple belief that those who have led a good 
life go with a new and perfect body to the Fathers in 
the realm of Varna ; Varna Wing originally a ropreeen- 


tative of the setting Bun ', the Srst immortal, and afUr- 
wartla the tint mortal, who entered the hiessed abode 
beyond the- Wint. Thus iu a hymn utted at ihv 
funeral, we n?ad, Rv. X. 14. 7': 

* Qo forth, go foiih on tho^e nncient pathei on which 
otir forefathciB deported. Thuu shitlt see the two 
kings delighting in Svadh^ (libation), Yams and tliu 
god VuTUTio. 

'Come together n-ith the FathorH, and with Yoma 
in the highetit heaven, as Uie fulfilment of all defiii-es. 
Having left all Hin, go home again, and radiant in thy 
body, come tojjuthor with them.* 

Yama ia never called the first of mortalii except in 
the Atharvn-veda^. In llie Kig-veda we can atiti 
clearly perceive his divine character, and its physical 
8ubRtratum, the setting sun. Thus we read X. 14, 2: 

'Yamn was the fimt to find the path for us, a 
pasture that can never be taken from us, whither our 
fathers have travelled foniierly, being born there, 
each occuriling to his w&ya.' 

Tiiat path of the departed (prapatha) ia oonoeived 
Bi6 dangerous, and PttKhaii's protection is implored on 
it (Rv. X. 17, 4). In one place a boat is Hpokon of for 
croMing a rivor (X. G3, 10), two do^ also arc men- 
tioned which tJie departed has to pass. Another 
verse introdnees an entirely new thought. There 
(Rv. X. 16, 3) wo read : 

* May tlie eye go to tJie sun, the breath to the 
wind; go to the aky and the earth, as is right, or 

* Aocoriliiig to FrcifMv^r llillvbrHndt. Itio (ihyiicol linfkuroiind 
of Tktna U Ibe Moou, luid not tlio noFhirDal Siui. Thia U not 

* AnthrDpoloBlciil Iti^lieion, p. SSO. 

• AUi..VBd»XV 

III. 3, IS, i* a corruption of Rt. X. U, 1. 



go to tbo wntcn, if it ia good for thee Ui«re, rcat in 
tb« plants.' 

It has liecn siipp08Cil that Bomo of tlio V'eilio poets 
pliicvd tliu abode of the blessed not in tbu West but 
in tbo East, but that depends simply on the right inter- 
pret&tion of one pasuag«, Itv. I. 1 1&. 1, 2. Here 
a BunriHe is described. 'The bright face of the gcds 
has rb«n, the eye of Mitra, Vantits. Agni ; it tilled 
heaven and varlh and the ur, the sua ia the self of all 
that moves and stnnds ; 

* tbo aim go<.-H from bL'hind towardu the Dawn, as n 
man follows a wouian, in the place where pious people 
prolong thi]> gfuvrations from happinoas to happinees.' 

This last line has been translated in vurioiiH ways, 
but the general idea hA.s always been that the pimn 
people are here as olsewhoru meant for the depnrti-d '- 
There is, however, no neoeosity for this interptelation. 
I Me in thc'tic words nn idea often <-xpri-e«<i-<i in the 
V«da, that the pious worsbipjwrs prolong their Uvt-ii 
or their progeny by otlering sacrifices to the gods in 
the morning the morning-sun being the ttymbol of 
renewal and prolonged life. Anyliow, the abodi< of 
Yama and of the departed is near the sotting, not 
near the ri-sing of the sim. 

The abode of the departed, however, is by no means 
described as dark or dreary. At nil events when 
Soma, the moon, is implored to grout inimoriality, we 
Kid (K. 113. 7); 

' Where thcro is iinporiidiahle light, in the world 
where tlio sun is placed, in that immortal, eternal 
world place me, O Soma I 

* Km^, SM«iu4 Ucdtr, p. M ; ZlnuiMr, AMtd. Lttm, p 41ft 



' Whore VaiTUVAta (Yama) Is king, wfacre Uicre ia 
the descent (or the interior) of heaven, where the over- 
flowing waters are, there make me imirtdrtal. O Soma ! 

* Where one moveH as oqv listcth, in the third light, 
the third heaven of heaven, wb«re every place ia fall 
of light, there make me immortal, Soma I 

' Wbcro there are all wislii-s and dmir«s, when; the 
red SOD culminates, where there are offerings and 
enjoyment, there make me immortal, O Soma I 

' Where there are delighte and pleasures, wher« joy* 
and enjoyments dwell, where the wishes of the heart 
lire fulfilled, there make mc immortal, Soma!' 

It docs not follow, however, that th« ahode of the 
departed to whiclk tliey arc led by Soma, in always 
ooaccivt-d in exactly the samo manner. The povtie 
fancy of the Vedic poets is still very free. Thus we 
read in another hymn (I. 24, 1, 2] that A^ni, tlie flntt 
among the immortal gods, is to rcetoru man to Aditi 
(the inOnite), where thn son may see his father and 
mother ugaiu. In another hymu (X. ]o) tlio iktparted 
arc actually divided into diflTerent classes, as dn'vlling 
either in tlie air, or on the eartli. and in the villages. 
Dirgbatamas (I- ir)4, 5) speaks of the bt-loved place 
of Vishnu, where pious men i-ejoice, aa the abode of 
the bkssed. This place of Vishnu would be the place 
where the sun cultiiinat<^'f>, nut where it setA. Another 
poet(X. 1S5, ])Bpeak8of a beautiful tree, where Vama 
is drinking with the gods. In the Atharva-veda we 
got still more details. There we read of milk-oows, 
soft winds, cooling rain, cakes of ghee, rivi-ra runnii^ 
with milk an<l honey, and a large numbt^r of women, 
all meant for the enjoyment of the dopartod. 

IlBCcmsverji' strange that not one uf these stateinentit 



regnrding the fate of the noul aftor clfiath wliicli are 
contained in the hymuu of the Rig-vcdo, is discusiM'it 
in the Ved&nta-s^tras. Mo effort ia made to bring 
them into harmony with tho teaching of the TTpani- 
sbodt. Tho ennic applies to many passages oocuning 
in the BrAhmanas. though they can claim the- Hinroctrir 
of Sruti or revelation with thu snmo right as tlie 
Upaui»huil», nay, from an hlstorioal point of view, 
with even a better right. Thin is a point which native 
Ved&ntifttct tdiould take into oooi<i<icrntion, Wore they 
represent the VedAuta philosophy as founded on >^ruti 
or revelation in the general sense of that word. 

XTtholofflMl bufvasa mlansdsrstooA. 

Another weak point in the authora of L))e VeclJUita- 
afttnw McmH to vu- L1i<.-ir intdiility to unilorstand that 
in the early periods of language it is iinponsible to 
express any thought except inetaphorirally, hicrogly- 
phieally.or, what i» the »aine, mytholugically. Ancient 
sages think in images rather than in concepts. With 
us these images have faded, so as to leave nothing 
behind but tlio aolid kernel. Thus when we Kpoak 
of approaching or drawing near to God, wo do no 
longer think of miles of road which we have to 
traverse, or of bndgct and lakes which we Imvo to 
cross. Nor when wo spoak of a throne of God do we 
allow ourselves to picture a royal throne with legs 
and mipport8 and canopies. But wiUi tlio ancient 
speakers tt wan diflcrent. Their thoughts were not 
yet free of the imagery of language. Their approach 
to God eould only bo represented as a long joumey 
along steep rouds nod narrow bridges, and tho throne 
of Uod or Brahman was graphically described as 


goldon, vaU m oorerod with prcciotu ebawU and 
coahiona. Wv most say, however, to Uio credit 
of tlie poeUi of the UpaiiisliiuU tliat thi-y »oon bc^an 
to correct llicmHclvcs. Tlioy tell us that the throne 
of Brahman is not a golden throne, but u ine«nt for 
intvHigvnoo, while its coverings rcpr«;Hbnt the Bacrul 
HcripturcD or the Vedu. In the same way a river 
which the sou) in it« journey to Braliinan iia» to crow 
vt called Vi^ar&, tlmt i«, the Age-losH ; a man who 
has crossed it, casts oQ old age, and never grows old 
again. He ia supposed to have sfa«ki-n oft* his good 
and vvil deeds, and to luavo the benetit of the former 
to thoBG among his rulatives on earth who were dear 
to him, while bin evil deeds fall to the tthaiv of lii» 
unbolovcd rolatioun. A lake again which bars the 
way to Brahman is called Aru, and this name is 
supposed to bo derived from Ari, enemy, these enomit-s 
being the posaioas and attaclimcnts of the heart, all 
of which mast be left behind before aq entnmeo can 
be fouml into the city of God, while those who do not 
know the truth, aro believed to be drowned in that 

Even at present there are few, if any. nmong 
the most enlighteneil students of V'edic littrature in 
India, who would admit the possibility of ad historical 
growth with regard to the Veda, and would not prvfer 
the most artificial interpretations to the frank ad- 
iniaaion that, like other sacred books, the Veda also 
owos iU origin to ditlerent localities, to diOorout agv, 
and to different minds. 

Unless we learn to understand this metaphorical 
or hieroglyphic language of tlio ancient world, wo 
shall look upon the Upaniahods and on most of the 




Sacred Books of th« East iifl in«i« ohildUli twaddle: 
but if wo can sen through the veil, wo hIisII discoviT 
behind it. not indeed, aa many imagine, profound 
mysteries or esoteric wisdom, but at all events ia* 
t«Ili);irnt and intvUigible vfibrto io an lionisst Hcarcli 
after truth. 

We must not imagine, however, that we can always 
reach the ori^rina) intention of mythological phraiii*- 
ology, nor do<^'ti it follow that the interpretation 
accepted by Indian commentatois is always the right 
Olio. On the contrary, these native interpretntiona, 
by the very authority whicli naturally nii;;ht seem 
to belong to them, are often misleading, and we must 
tr>' to keep ourselves, as mucli as possible, indi;pondont 
of tbcni. 

In the circumstantial accounts, for instance, which 
I rtiad to you fiuui some of thu Upanishads as to tlie 
return of the soul to Brahman, the soul rising with 
the smoke of the funeral pile and reaching the night, 
and then the waning half ul' tlio moou, and then the 
months during which tho sun travels to the 

iith, and then only arriving in the world of tLe 

thcns we lind it difhcult, if not impossible, to 
any defiiiito thoughts with these wanderings 
! aoul. What can be meant by the six montlis 
during which the sun travels to tlie South or to tlie 
Norlli 1 It might bckud bo imply that the aoul has to 
tarry for six months while the snn is moving Soutli, 
l>efore it can hope to reach the world of the Fathers 
and the Moon. But Uiih is by no mcaiia tho inler- 
protation of native commentatont. Thoy are impressed 
with a passage where it is said that the soul travels 
onward with the quickness of tlioughl, and they theie- 



fore would object to admit anything like delay in the 
soul's joining tlie northern or the Hotithcm progrvMi 
of the Huit. They may be right in this, but they Icavo 
the difficalty of the six months as a station in the 
sou Is journey unexplained. I can only produce one 
poraHel that may pitrh&ps throw NOmu light on this 

It occurs in Porphyriuit, De Antro yympharuTn. 
This cave of the nymphs, mentioned by nomer (Odyss. 
Xni. 1(H), waa taken by Porphyrius and other 
philosophers, sueh tut Numcuius and Oonius, oa a 
symbol of the earth with its two doors, — 

Nv M W of tSpei thbr 
al iilr wpii Ddplas, miniifiani) •lrl)|^irai<T»>. 
gJ )■ aS »^i Nirov ilai Oiiirifoi- viii r, airj/ 
iflftt luifix"^"', i^' ■IDu^krcw itit lari». 

These ^oors of the cave have been explained aa the 
gates leading from and to the earth. Thus Porphyrius 
itays that there are two extremities in the heavenii, 
viz. the winter solstice, than which do port is nearer 
to the South, and the summer solstice which is 
titualed next to the North. But the summer tropic, 
that is the solstitial circle, is Ju Cancer, anil tlic wint<T 
tropic in Capricorn. And since Cancer is tho nearest 
to tiio earth, it is deservedly attributed to the Moon, 
which is itself proximate to the cartli. But Kince 
the southern pole by its ffreatcst distance is incon- 
4picuou8 to OH, Capricorn ia ascribed to Saturn, who 
is Ihf highest and most remote of all the planets . . . 
Theologians admitted therefore two gates, Cancer and 
Ciipriconi, and Plato also meast these by what he calla 
thutwo mouths. Of thi'Hu theyalhrm ittal. Cancer is the 
gate through which souls descend, but Capricorn timt 



througli wbicli thej' flscond [and ex«hhiigu a nrntcml 
foe a divine condition of being]. And indeed Ibo 
gnivif of tiw cavo which look to the South are wilh 
f^e&t propriety eaid to be pervious to tlio dosct-ul of 
men : but the northern gates are not the- avenues of 
the gods, hut of souIh ascending to the gods. On this 
nooount the pout dni« not say it is the passago of the 
guds, but of iminortalB. which ii]>pellution u altio 
common to our souU, which by themselves or by their 
emeom are immortal '. 

The idl^A that the place to vrbich the Kun rctuniH, 
whether in its northward or southward progress, is a 
door by which the souls nay ascend to heaven, is at 
least cuucfivablo, quito as much as the idea which 
Macrobiua in the twelfth chapter of hia comment on 
Scipio's dream ascribes to Pythagoras, who, as he tells 
as, thought that the empire of Pluto began downwards 
with the Milky Way, bocatiHu souk falling fi-oni tbenoo 
appear alri-july to have receded from the gods. 

It should also be stated, as Mr. Bal GangadharTilak 
in his Researches into th<- antiquity of th^ Vcilas ri" 
marks, that 'the summer aoletico which begins the 
southern pat^age of the sun is called the ayana of the 
IHtris, and that tlie tlr»t month or fortnight in this 
ayana of the Pitn's is pre-eminently tlie month or the 
fortnight of the Pitn's or the Fravashls or the Mani-ii. 
The Hindus, he adds, up to tliia day regard the dark 
half of Hlindnipada as the fortnight of the Manes, and 
likewise the Parsis whose year commenced with the 
summer solstice, the first month of the year being 
dedicated to the Mane».' (Quiger, CivUttation of 
Eaxi Iranians, vol. i. p. 158.) 

• Sm Adim. PcTjAfriiu, nOe, td. ULdot, p, M. f SI. 
W I. 

Utk UevaloIcA anri ^'nrnftloKs wliiehVIn Teffl 
meaotheheinUi^eres North and South of the 
Tbu woald who exjilnin, be thinks, why h« 
hvll MX; Mipanttod liy a river nocording to Ui 
the Greek, and the Indian traditions, and 
four-cycd or three-hvaded doga came to tx 
gtita of hcU to guard the vray to Ynnia'a 
thcae being the oonfitellationB of C'anis Mi 
Uinor. Ho undertakes to explain several 
tlku anci<.-nt Vodio tmdiUoiis by a refcrenco 
constellationi), but ho has hardly proved thj 
cunittvllatiuns and their namea as Cania Ui 
Mitwr were known bo barly an tho time of t 
of the Rig-veda. 

Whatever may be uncertain in theae epca 
BO much Kvems clear, that originally the plac 
the 8UD turned on its northern course waa oc 
as the plaro whoro the soul might approach tb 
of tlic Fathers. 

But it IB the fate that awaits the eoul wbil 
moon that is moat difficult to aoderstaod. ) 
in thu Dtuun wo are told the departed become ' 
of the gods. The literal meaning ia, they ai 
by the gudH, but the oommcntatorK warn ui 
_itake eating in its literal sense, but in the mow 



Nay, ono commentator gow still further, and Bays. 
* If it ia »aid tliat wonipn are loved by men. they are 
in being loved loving tlieinselvea. Tliua tln,'»e souls 
also, being luved by th« {foJs or Duvas love tho goda 
in roturn, and aro bappy rejoicing with tho Devaa." 
Ttiia eucms at first a rational explanation, and wo 
know that in the lAnjjiingo of tho New ToHtamcnt 
nlfio c-ating and drinking or feeding on must be u&dei-- 
fltood in certain well-known pansa^ea in the seose of 
receiving, enjoying, or loving. 

Still this (low not explain the whole of this legend, 
and it is dear that some other my tholagtcal con- 
ceptions of tho moon must have influenced the 
thoughts of tJie pools of tbe Upanishads. It waa 
evidently a fniniliar idea with the common people in 
ancient India that tlic moon was the source of life 
and immortality, and that it consititi^d of something 
like Uie Greek nectar wbicli gave iminorbility to tbe 
gods, Tho waning of tbe moon waa ascribed to thia 
consumption of Soma (moon-juice) by the goda, while 
its waxing was accounted for by the entrance of the 
departed spirits into the moon, tho recognised abodo 
of the Fathers. If then after the moon was full again, 
the goda were Bupptwed to feed on it once more, it is 
coacoivsblo that the goda should be HUi>po8cd to bo 
feeding on the souls of tho dopftrted that had entered 
into the moon '. I do not mean to say tliat this 
explanation iit certain, nor is it hinted at by tbe 
eommeotatoiB of the Upanishads. but it is at all events 
coherent and intelligible, which is more than can be 
said of i£^iikara*8 interpretation. 

It is not impossible, however, that somo older 

■ Sm UUIobrandt, Ytdmltt MvOuilogie, voL L p. 3M. 

poople counted by moons, the moon Eecante 
the Bouroe had giver of life. P«op1e naked 
moona, thi^y liwd so nmny moons, so that n 
lifo bocanto ftlinoEt synonymous. Next^ a 
idea of immorCal lifct aftt^r death, iWiA i 
symbolised in tho vuiiog or dying of the n 
in thp reeurrectioo of tho new moon. Tnc( 
have he«n diwoovered even auion^ the low< 
suoh OS tbo HotUtntolA, who have a wai 
kg«nd of the moon sending a messenger to 
tell thorn, ' As I die and dying live, so aliall 
die and dying live',' 

By oombimng these two conceptions, peo 
eaiuly led on to tho idea tliat as tlie ilo|)art«(l 
the moon, and as the moon increased and d 
they also increased and decreased with th 
Then again, tliero was in India another trodit 
the moon, the giver of rain and fertility, coi 
the favourite food of the gods, so that it req 
morv than a comhination of these traditions ' 
a^the saying that, during the waning half, the 
on the departed who were dwelling in the mooi 
of th<»iO thoughts are expressed in the Rv. X. 
VivtA attrah l<tinr>ti pilj'nnillikttH 



Here it is clear thnt Iho moon u coD»i<Ion)() as the 
Bourve and giver of life, particularly of a long life, 
while tlie !ihart> which h« di^lriliutes to the goda may 
luciui v\iiivr the eticrificinl fflmri; for wdi god, whidi 
is determined by the moon, as the legulabor of seuons 
and Hacriticej*, or the rain as the support of life, 
whioli is Buppoitod to coitiu from Iho moon and to bo 
almost synonymouB with it. 

I do not maintain that all these ideas were clearly 
prcscDt to tho minds of the authors of the Upaiit- 
shads. I only suggest that they formud the component 
elements of Uiat legendary language in which they 
cxpret(«cd their doctrines, trusting that ihcy would be 
uoderetood by the people to whom their doctrines 
were addressed. 

We now come to a new pha«e of half-legendary, 
half- philosophical speculation. 

Tk* D«T*7iju <a Pftth or tlu Ood>. 

The souls of those who form the delight of the 
gods, or who enjoy the company of the gods and 
Father* white dwelling in the mooa. arc said to have 
reached this blessedness by their pious works, by 
sacrilice, cliarity, and austerity, not by real know- 
ledge. Hence, when they have enjoyod the full 
reward of their good works they are supposed to 
return again to this life, while those who have 
acquired true knowledge, or what wo should call true 
[ faith, do not return, but press forward till they reach 

i Bnthjnan, the Supreme Ood. lliis they achieve by th« 

I Covay&na or the Path of the Gods, as distinct from 

R tlie Ktriylna, or the Path of the Fathers. For those 

^^ who have dutoovered this Path of tlie gods tliat leads 

'lAlo the vortex of ctffinilc Px7st*nco i 
iiuUifli's of the Upaiiishads the greatest mUfort 
can possibly l>c ooawrWod. TIio chirf olycct 
philoeophy is therefore how to escape from tljl 
vort«x, how to avoid being bom again and ng; 
It Bccms to me Umt, if we take all this into 
we cim cli'arly distinguish tlirco Bticcessive st 
the thoughts which the authora of the Upa 
fomod to UicmHcIves ra to the fate of the »oi 

rdoBtb. In tho Upainehads themselves these H 
riea stand side by side. No attempt is n 

^IttxmOfiiso tlicm. til] we come to tho Vcdjiuta 
sopbera, who looked upon all that is fuond 
Vcila n» one complete revelation, I!ut if Wi 
claim the liberty of hietorieal criticism, or ral 
historical interpretation, we should ascril>e the 
belief in the so-called Pitny&na, the path 
Fathers, and thu journey of the ftoul to the in< 
tho home of the KathcTH, to the earliest period, 
no more than a popular belief, which we fim 
where also, that tho soul will go where the i 
wont, and that their abode is, not in the aun, 
the moon, the luminary of tbe dark night. 

Then came tlie now idi-a that tbiit bnjipy lif 
tho gods and the KatburH in tlif. m^fl^^i^^j^ 



n«ss and Immorinlity consisted, not in ftuob hftlf- 
earUily fnjojini.'n(« n» were in store for the (lepart«<l 
in the moon, and must after a time come to an end, 
but in on approach to and an approximative know- 
ledge of the Supreme Bcin^. the conclusion followed 
by itself that there most be another patli besidea tliat 
of tho Fatlicrs loading to the moon, nainei^ tlio putli 
of the gods (DcvaytViia), leading through different 
vorlda of the god§. to the throne of Erahman or the 
ijuprciD« Ood. That road was open to all who bad 
gain^ a truu knondodgu of Brabuiau, and uvon those 
who for a time had enjoyed tJjo reward of their good 
worki) in tlio moon might look forwani after having 
pofisod through repeated cxiHtencw to being born 
once more an human l>eings. gaining in the itnd a 
true knowledge of the One Supivmc God, and then 
proceeding on the path of the gods to the throne 
of the Supreme Deity, whollicr th«y call it Brahman, 
Htranysgarbha, or any other nanus from whence 
there is no return. 

Wo flhnll Hce, liowcver, that even this was not final, 
but that there followed afterward a third phase of 
thought, in which even this approach to the throne of 
God was rejoctfd as unsatisfaotor^-. But before wc 
proceed to consider this, we have utill to dwell for a 
few momenta on what was supposed to bo the fate of 
the soulft, when they had to leave the moon and to 
enter on a now course of being burn and reborn, till 
at laat they gained complete freedom from cosmic 
existence through a trucir knowledge of Clod. 

Tills is a curious and important chapter, becaose we 
can clearly discover in it the lirat beginaingn of m 


forou hikI oUwrs could bavo got tbeir 
MetempsycliOBiB from India only. We saw Ij 
foundaUon thero was fur tliU. and it can 
shown tbat a belief in ibti txanfimi'p'ation 
sprang up in other countriea also, which cA 
{>oivul)ly have been touched by the ra^.-^ of lil 
Greek phi1o»opby. But it is intcr^ting ucvc 
to watch the first beginninga of that belief ill 
because we have hero to deal with facw. 
with mere theories, such as have been stiiij 
recent students of Anthroiwlogy a» to the oi^ 
Metempsychosis. Tbey consider tbat a belief] 
migration of soula, particularly the migrat; 
humftu souls into aniinni bodies, has somvtliinf 
with what is callod Aoimism. Mow Animisi 
very useful word, if only it la properly defined 
ft tranitlation of the Oertoan Hefefiung. and 1 
oxod siniply as a oomprebensivo term for all at 
to conceive inanimate objects aa animate st 
nothing can bo said against it. Tliere is, he 
ft Tery common mL»tako which should bu oa 
guarded againHt. When travolters meet with 
that Ipcak of troes or atones as sentient lieinj 
attribute to tiiom many things which of rights 

t^ *nimatjk nr hi 

an Lau 


huiniui beings, tbctnaolves aDimate, could bo so mU- 
takoQ OB to treat insjiimaLc thiiij^ oa animate. Even 
ammaLs aotdoiu mistake a lifeless thini^ for a living 
thing. I Wievo that this tendency of the human 
luisd to attribute life and sout to lifLdo»« and aouUeas 
objectH, can be and has been accounted for by a more 
general ttntlency, nay, by wliiit may almost be called 
a n«cesBity under which the human mind is laid by 
human language, which cannot form names of auy 
ohji-cts uxcipt by meiiim of roolft, all of whioh are 
expressive of acta. It was impossible to name and 
therefore to conceive the sun or the moon, or a trvu 
orcv«n a stone, except as doers of something, which 
something is expressed in one of those four or five 
hundred root« that formed the capital of language. 
Tbia, which has been called Energism, is the highest 
generalisation, and comprehends, and at the same 
time accoimto for Animi»m, Poreonitication, Authropo- 
morphism. Spiritism, and several other wmw. 

But the question now before us is this, Did a belief 
in Transmigration of souls have anything to do with 
AnimiBm, or that general belief that not only animals 
have souls like men, but that inanimate objects altto 
may be inhabited by souls t for it must bo remum- 
bered that trom the very Srst Metempsychosis meant 
the migration of the soula, not only into animals, but 
likewise into plants. 

Whatever may have been the origin of a belief in 
lietempsychous in other parts of the world, in India, 
at all KVento so for as we may judge by the Upani- 
shads. this belief hod nothing to do with the ordinary 
Animism. Its deepest source seems to have been 
puruly ethical. Tho very reason why tho soul, after 



would Imppi'ii to the soul after i 
moon. UiTiL' wo must bo prciparm n^MD 
U«al of cbildish twad<)Ie: but you know th 
sopbere, to Piiy nothing of fond fatbcrs an( 
fatlicre, are able to discover a great deal of 
eroD in childish twaddle. The bouI, we rea 
Upani^hads, ri.!turns through Hlier or tliroug 
Olid tiiL-n dc-sccndB to the earth in the form 
Oq eartli Hoinothing that baa thua l)cen carri 
in the rain, IiecomuD changed into food. Tl 
it is eaid, ia offered in a new altar-fire, ua 
man, and thence horn of a woman, that is 
man cat« the food and with it th<f germs o 
life. These genus are invisible, but acoordia, 
Upaniahada, not the 1(«8 reftl. 

KaaUtjr of Inrlilbl* Thlsffi. 

Thifl belief in invisible realities is fully rcoog 
tho Uponiahads. It applied not only to the i 
agenta in nature, their Dcvas or gods, who 
carefully diBtingiiiahed from tlieir visible ma 
lions. They belnAfd in a visible Agni or i 
performed the sacrifice, but they carefully 
gui»hed him from the invisible and divine A| 
— w«B hidilen in t.Vin Amaa '"* *^" ■"-""■' """ 


to be touched, yet more real to them than ftnything 
e\sQ. Lastly their belief in sometliing invisible that 
con&titutod tlio lifv of uvcry part of nature, m«H'td us 
on every page of the UpaniehacU. Thus wo read in 
th(! AVi^ndo^ya-Upaiii.thad a dialogue betweeD a rob 
aud his father, who wnuts to opun thu eyes of Ids 
son aa to the reality of the Unseeo or the Infinite in 
nature, which in nUo the I'naeen and Intinite in man, 
which is in fact both BralunnD and Atinnn, the Svlf; 

The father said : ' My son, fetch me a fniii of the 

The Hon replied : ' Hero U one, Bir.' 

* Break it,' said the father. 

The HOD replied: 'It is broken sir.' 

The father : ' What do you see there 1 ' 

The son : ' Thefte Heeds, almost iufinitcsiniiil.' 

The father ; ' Break one of tlicm.' 

The SOD ; 'It ia brolten, sir.' 

The father; ' What do yoa sec there 1' 

The son : ' Not anything, sir." 

ITie father: 'My son, that subtle e&st^nce, which 
you do not wo tlii-re, of that very Lssence this great 
fig-tree exists.' 

■Believe it, my son. Tlmt which is the inviaible. 
subtle e-i.icnGo, in it all that exi«t«, has its self. It 
l» tho True, it i» the Self, and thou. O son. art it' 

If people have once arrived at thiii bi-lief in subtle, 
invisible germs, their belief in the genns of living 
bouIh descending in rain and being changed into 
grains of com, and being, when eaten, ohiuigcd into 
seed, and at last being born of a mother, whatever we, 
u biologists, may think of it, is not quit« so un- 
ineantDg metaphysically as it seems at finl sight. 

tbat the raia which cai-ri«li^^^^^^^E to 
Iftken up into ric«, barley, herbs of every kit 
dosamum, or bi-ans. It Ib %'cry diiScult to 
from these vegetable dwellio*^, nn<l whoc 
[)er»oiis may be tiiat eat this food oud aft 
kcgfi otfitpriDg, the gurm of tlie houI, btiooi 
unto them. And yet we are told that «vi 
ia not left to accident, but that thoee whoe» 
btui been good will quiekly attrtin a good 1 
llio family of Bra,bma>iaa or Kshatriyaa or \ 
while tliose whose couduct han been had, will < 
attain an evil birth in tlio family of a A'ai)*/] 
outcast^ or, — and hero we oome for the first ti 
the idea of a human soul migrating into the 
of onimaU. — he will become a dog or a hog. ] 
wo ««» clearly eco that this belief in a huma 
being reborn as an outcast, or aa a dog or 
coutainn what I cidlcd an ethical element 1 
very important, at lonst us far as an «xpland 
the idea of metempsychoois in India is com 
Whatever the influence of Animi&m may have E 
other countries in «agg«sting a belief in metl 
chosis, in India it was clearly due to a sense of 
JuBticfl. A* a man, nuilty of lo j^^gj^^^^ 



bo an outcast or a dog or & bog. And nfUtr thtB idoa 
of metcmpAyohoHis liad onco bmn started, it swoii 
«ot Uk- popular mind tliinking on all ihe ohangon and 
chances that might happen to the soul in hvr strange 
wanderings. Thiis wo rwid that the soul may incur 
grtMt dnngcrs. bi^cause while the rain that falls from 
the moon (retodhM) on the eartli, fructifios and 
poasett into rice, corn, and beans, and m eaten and 
then bora as the otfitpring of the eater, aonic of the 
rain may fall into rivera and into the ttfu, and be 
awaUovri-d by fiishoo and ncftMnonstvrs. After a. Umo 
tlicy will bo dissolved in the se&. and aftsr the aea- 
water has been drawn upwards by the clouds, it may 
fall down agnin on doHcrt or dry hind. Here it may 
be Bwallowcd by snakes or deer, and thoy may bo 
swallowed again by other auitnaln, so thnt tlio round 
of oxi&tcnccK, and ovcji Uio risk uf annihilation 
become endless. For some rain-drops may dry up 
altogether, or bo abflorbod by bodies tliat cannot be 
eatuL Noy, oven if tho rain Las been absorbed and 
baa become rico ajid com, it may be eaten by children 
or by oACCtJcM who have renounced married life, and 
tlion the chancD of a now bii-th seems more distant tlian 
ever. Foitunately tlie soul, though it is oonttoiou* 
in ita aacent, i^ suppoRcd to be without consciousness 
in Ita descent through all these dangerous stages. 
The Br&hmans have always some <)uaint illustrations 
at hand 'Flic soul is like a man, they say, who in 
climbing np a tree is quite eonHcious, but on falling 
headlong down a tree loses his consciousness. Well, 
in spit* of all tliis folly or cbildliOi twaddle, there are 
nevertheless some great thoughts running tbrough it 
all. First of all. there is the unhesitating belief that 

-TB-nrnGi-minM Dy ita me Here i 
Ui wlitcli wa.1 BOOQ aii'li-il its a» itiuvittiblc 
ihut llie I'nlc; of tlic soul hero on earth, luJ 
been detenninecl by its acts of a former ll 
x\iag.Q thoughts, pfLt-UcuIoi'ly on Dmr Unit spoif 
ttpponrancd, nru full of inc-utiiog in the eyeil 
student of religion, and there are few countriti 
wo can study their spontaoL-ouH growth so wl 
ancient India. 

AlM«no« of H«Ui, 

This belief in metempsychosis accnunta for 
sonce of hells na places of puniKlimoiit, at least' 
earlier phases of the XTpimishads. A di^rence ] 
between bouIs that only pnsa through the m 
sta!;os ofanimnl and vey«taMc lift- in order to 1 
in the iind 08 human beings, and thoso who are 1 
a^^uine those int^'rmediate forma of lice and «i 
all the ivst na a nml puni^htnent for evil deedfl 
latter remain io that etatetill their evil doddstt 
plttcly expiated, and they havo a real consciouB 
tlicir atato of probation. But when their del 
paid nnil the ri.-sult8 of thvir evil dvtrda arc « 
exhausted, they have a new chance. The; 
assume a new body, like cftt«rpillara 


▼cry clcnxly, between Uioac whom tb« moon aeta &e« 
and those whom ho Bhowcm dowii fur a ni.*w birth. 
Those who can answer the moon woU, and «««tort 
their id<.'ntity with the moon, aa the source of all 
things, are Btt freo to enter the Svargnh>ka by tlie 
Path of the goda. Those who cannot, return to the 
earth, may in tiinn gain true knowledge, and finally 
likewise reach (ho Path of the goda and the world 
of the Di;va8, the botna of the lightnings, and the 
throne of Bralimui. Some of the later Upanishads, 
particularly tho Kausliitalci-Uptminhad, enter into far 
lullor details as to this hist journey to the throne of 
Brahman. Hut. as is generally Uie case, though there 
may Inj some rational purpose lu the fjciu-rni plan, 
the minor details become almost always ortiticial and 

Now, however, when the aoul has reached the 
world of the gods and the abode of Erahman, from 
whence then; is no return to a new circle of coainic 
cxtHtenco, a stream of new ideas Hcts in, forming a 
higher phaae philosophically, and pi-obably a later 
pha^o histurically, as compared with the Path of the 
Fatbvnt and the Path of tlie God«. Wu are tutroduovd 
U> ft dialogue, similar to that between the soul and the 
moon, but now botweeu tho departed, standing before 
the throne of Brahman, and Bmliman him.tclf. 

BruhiiiHu ti&l^s hiui : ' Who art thou "i ' 

And be is to nsswer in the following myat«riou9 
words : 

' I am like a Eennon, and tho child of tho seasons, 
sprung from the womb of endless space, sprung from 
li^ht. This light, the source of the yew, which is the 
past, which is the present, which is all living things 

Brahman whnt he iB or what he knows hims 
says lbn.t he is likv a scsKon ', that is, Uko s< 
that comes and goes, but that he U at the 
the cliild of Rpaci; and time or of that light fro 
all time and nil that exists in time and space ] 
This universal houtcc of all existence he calls 
aud after proclaiming that Brahmau boforo hio 
Self, he finishes his confession of faith, by 
' What thciu art, that am L" 

In this pasHa^ro, though wo still pcrccivo son 
of mythohfgicat thought, the prevailing spirit ii 
philoBOphieal. In thv approach of thci<>oiil to tht 
of Brahman wo can recognise the last result* t 
he n'Sched by Physical and Anthropological B 
as wurked out by the Indian mind. In Braliii 
ting on bis throne ve have still the merely ol 
or cosmic Ood, tiie hi^h<'Ht point reached by F 
Religion ; in the iwu) of tho depart«d KUnding 
face with God, we see the lost reault of Antbrupi 
Religion. We see there the human soul a« a i 
still lucking upon tho Divine 8oul as an ohjeo* 
the nest step, represented by the wordu, 'HVi 
art, that um J,' opens a new viitta of though 
human bouI, by the very fact that it ha« gain 


for t\\w, And thoro in no tongcir any necdssity 
of toilsome travt'llings. wLctlii^r ou tbu Fatb of th« 
Futhurs yr on tUe Path oS the Gods. 

TnoMnlfiBtliHi MM (ionc*lT«d In Uw &kw> cf Mum. 

Boforc, however, wc «nti-r on n conHidrration of thin 
highoet flight of Indian pliUoBophy. and try to di^covui' 
to what pbaaes of thought thia Bimilarity or latbcr this 
uncni'ss with Ood, tluB Homoiuisis or HvoriftiK, corre- 
sponds in other religions, wc havo stilt to dwfll fur a 
short time on the lat^^r development of the theory of 
traDnmignUion ab we tind it in thu Laws of Madu And 
elsewhero, and us it is hold to tlie present day by 
mitltonH of people in India. These Laws of Manu are, 
of courso, niticb liter th&n the; Upunlsbuds, Though 
khey oontain ancient materials, they can hardly, in 
their present mftrical form, be asaifpied to a iniicli 
earlier date tlian about the fotirth century A. D. In their 
original form they must have existed oa Sutrae ; in 
their pri-flont metrical form, tliey belong to the A'loka- 
pcriod of Indian litemture. There existed many 
Rimihu- collfptiona of ancient laws and customs, oom- 
{M»ed both in Sdtraa and afterwarda in metre, but o» 
the Ui\vit of Manu, or, as they ought to be mora eor- 
rocUy called, the Laws of the M&nav&a, have acquired 
a decided pre-emim-nce in India, it is in them Uiat we 
can heat study the later dovoloptocnt of tlio belief in 

As 1 ^d before, vrhen the idea of the migration of 
the soul through various forma of aiiimul and vege- 
table lifu had onco been started, the temptation wa« 
great to carry it out in fuller detail. Whereas in the 
Upanishada we are only told that a man who has led 

V. \Gi, IK. M, ti.iit a wlHHvW violated 
towards lier husband is bom m a jackal, 
pofisago (VI. 63) we read of ton thouBand n 
existences through wliich tlii> uoul j)a.».i(-it afl 
loll this body. A Bnkhma'ia, wu are told (XI 
has begged any property for a sacrific>e, and 
use tlie whole ol' it for tho sacritioe, but koep 
it for hiinwlf, bocomcs for a hundred yt-sm 
or a crow. In the last book of Mann this s 
mottt fully Irt-atod. We n-ad there, XII. 3!>: 
I will briefly dcolaro in duo order what trai 
tiona in the whole world a man obtains throu 
of the thmo qualiti<.-s. ThL-ae <iualilies ha' 
dcJini'd beforo (35-37) as darknem), activi 

TIm Tluroa QiullUai — Dktknaaa, Aotlrlt?. kud Om 

Acts of darhtesa ore those of whidt a tn 

Actfl of activity or solfi&hnesa are those by ' 
man hopes (o gain profit or fame in thu worh 
wbich he need not feel ashamed. They may I 
solflsh acts, but, from a moral point of view, ^ 
^ Afita at irnodnesa ■"•" ^i-t-"" ° uum-Jaa^j^i^M 



and those «n<)owfil with durkncss sink to the coBdi- 
tion of WmIs; this ie the threefold course of trans- 
migration. But know this threefold course of tmu- 
inigKilion that di-pcrndn on the- throu qualities to ho 
iigAJii threefold, low, middliog, (uid high, accotding to 
the particular uature of the actct and of the knowledge 
of each iiiao. 

Th* Xlna CtUaaM. 

IiDQiovable beingH, inai^cto botii Rinall and groat, 
fishoe, snnkes, toruiinios, cattle, and wild animala are 
lliB lowest condition to which the quality of darkness 

ElcptianU, horaoii, iS(ldrn», and dosiiicnhlc horbaiiana, 
liona, tigers, and boars aru the middling statoH caused 
hy the quality of darkneiss. 

Kirantm (probably wandering minfttrelB and jug- 
glen), Suparnaa (bird-del ties) and bypocritva, R&k^ha- 
Mis and PtM&/»8 (goblins) belong to the highest rank 
of conditions among those produced by darkness. 

OAallas, Klallaa, Natas, men who BubeJiit by deHpic- 
able oecupation» and thoHe addicted to gambling and 
drinking form the lowest order of conditions caused 
by activity. 

Kiugfi nnd EshatriyaA (noblomcn), the domestic 
pricste of kings, those who delight in the warfiiro of 
dbpotanU constitute the middling rank of the states 
caused by activity, 

The Gandharvas, Quhyakas, and the servants of the 
goda, likewise the ApaarnA, belong to the highest rank 
of conditions produced by activity. 

Hermits, ascetics, Brikhmanos, the crowds of the 
Vaitiiikuika deities (spirits moving in mid^air on their 

U a 


8acii6cer8, the sages, the gods, the 
lieavcnly liglita. th« years, the manes, and th 
constitute the hccoikI orckr of existences 

Th« aagos declam Rrahmft, the croato 
Univerm, the law, the Groat One. and the V 
ible One to conatituto the highest onler 
produced by goodnoaii. 

Thus the result of the threefold action, ■ 
syatem of transmigrfttions which consiaU 
claH«i-8, oitch with three suhdivisiona, and v 
eludes all created things, ha» been explained.] 

Tliis syst<>malic (Statement of the dillbrcnt 
transmigration la obseuK in »unie points, pal 
when not only living heinga, but heavenly li 
yean, and even the Veda are mentioned aa C 
of acta of goodncae. Wo xhall hereafter m 
something very similar in the Hierarchies ol 
and of Pioiiyfiiua tbo ArfopagiUt. The place 
to certain classes of men. gods, and dcmi 
curious and inHtructive, as showing the estin 
which each of Ihcm wtu* held at thw tirae. 

I am afraid it watt rather tedious to folio 
lhrou{,'h all the nine classes of beings throiij 




^H lUU (EuneadH) is instructive, as sKowiog th« different 
^H estimation in which ocrttun oocupationn were held in 
^H Indiik and in GrLt'cc. lu India the niuo aU-p» of the 
^1 ladder of <;xi^tenceB rise from the lowest animals to 
r the world of human beings in their variuuR ocoupa- 

I tionti, th<;n to the demons, to the Vcdas. the honvenly 

Ii-;htif, the yeare, the Fathers, and the ^ods, in their 
various spheres of action, and lastly to the oi-eator of 
the world and to Brahman himself. In this wc arc 
uftcD reminded not only of the nine classes of Plato, 
l>ut likewiso of tlie nine stagea of tlie so-called heavenly 
Uiorarchy, as wc tiud them in ProduH, ajid in Diony- 
siuB the Ai-eopogite. There also, the number is nine. 
Day the three b'iiids are here, exactly as in In<lin, siih- 
divided ciifh into three stages, and room is made as 
in India, not only for animate beings, whether men or 
angels, but likewise for iniitiimatc, ttuch as Tlirones, 
Powcn, and Dominions. Whether these coincidences 
arc too great to be accepted as mere fortuitous ooinci- 
d<;nc«s, wc tihull be bottvr able to judge when wo como 
to consider the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite, 
and tbeir extraordinary influence both on the scholastic 
and the myotic, that in, the psychological theology of 
the Middle Ages. 

FnalihsaaiiM of Ui« Wtok*4. 

Another importiuit feature which marks tJio later 
date of ilanu's Laws is his acquuintonce not only 
with metempsychosis, but with punishments in- 
flicted on the wicked in places which wo must 
call hells— for helU are a late invention in most 
religions. Thus wc read (XIL 54), ' Those who havo 
committed mortal sins (mah&p&takaoj having passed 

^^iMv^iuju ui u onuiniank eurers uie vi 
'''^K' '^ 1**1^' " cAmcl, a COAT, a goal, a sIh.-l-i 
11 bird, s £'an<fsla. and a Pukkasa.' 

Here we bavo clearly tbc idea of punhl^ 
bell, apart from tlio puiiishmunt ciitailud b] 
being bom again as a low animal. And 
cunouA is tbat Vaina,who at tinit was only cJ 
AS the ralcr among tho departed, an a kir 
with whom the Pitn's enjoyed tliemsolves, I 
mentioned aa inliiotuig torments on the wiokl 
17), a part which ho coulinuos to act in 
literature of India. 

In tJie hynmn of the Rig-veda we find ve 
that could bu conipnrod to the later ideas , 
Nor is there any reason to suppose, as both It 
Weber st-em to do, tbat Uio Vedio lodiamt biul 
tho idea of annihilation, and that they believe 
hilatioD to be the proper punishment of the ' 
As they spoko of tlio alwde of tho hlosscd 
genera] tenus aa the realma of light, they epeal 
wicked as being thrown or falling into karti 
(Rv. II. ^9. 6; IX. 73, R-9). They also spei 
deep place (padam gabhiram, IV. 5, 5) and o 
darkness (adharam tamaA, X. 152, 4) as their e 

There wo eome more pagsagon in tbt 



(conscience) in tbe heart ; be knowing looks upon nil 
thingB, and hark tlie wicked and lawlosa into the 

In the Atbarva-vcda tlie description of ihe a1>ode 
of th« wi(;kc<l bocoincia more and more minute. Wo 
ri'ttd (II. 14, 3) of a house (grt'hn) fur uvil Kpirit«, and 
even the modern name of Naraka for hell occure in 
it. All UiiH ayreos with what we know from other 
»ource« of the chronologicAl relation of Vfdic hymns. 
Up&nuhada, and Manu's Laws. The Upaniehads speak 
of a thizd path, besides the two paths tlial. lead to the 
Fathers and to the Goda, and thoy say {Brili, Ar. VI, 'J, 
16): ' Those who do not know these two paths become 
worms, liini.-* and crurping thiii-r».' \Vc also read in 
some Upanishads, that tliere are unblessed or nsurya 
worlds, covered wiUi blind darlcnvse wbitlier fouls go 
after death. The Brahmanas are sonietimcB more 
explicit in their accounts of bell ', and in one pa&sage 
of the ii!nUi>atba Bnihmnna (XL 7, 2, 33), wc actually 
find a mention of the weighing of the soul, a concep- 
tion BO well known from Egyptian tombs. 

The more we sdvaneoi, the fuller the details l)Cconif> 
about the two roads, the road leading lo tho Pitrin 
and the rf>afl leading to the Dcvaa. I shall here call 
your attention to one pnANage only in the M&liilbhn- 
rata which is highly imporUint, because the two roadi) 
are bore for the fiist IJme* called Setus, or bridges (Anu- 

■ Wiib«r, X A U. 0„ li. p. 240. 

' How tiiiiiiliiir tltn j<l«a of ft bridge botwoon Uilii mwrld aiict Ihe 
n">xt minit liavi- Ih'i'h in V«tIio tJmo* «liio, in nhown V Ihu fri-ijuoiit 
■lIUMoii* to thp Atinsii, u th« true briilitv from ScliviD lo 8«ia ; 
Klikixd. Up. VIIL t, l,&c, 

n iL'aiiire in tbo anci^t wTTgioni BiitTlHe 
belween the Veda and the Avesta is ho pcculta 
intimate, th&t we can hardly doubt that the 
Wtdgcs bi-tweun thia world mid thv nt-xt w 
borrowed diroclly by the Porsiana hfta tl 
poeta, or that it was inherited by boih frc 
common finccstom. It i» (^iiHv true Umt tho w 
of a bridge between this ami tho nest worl 
in other countries altio, wh^rv a direct iafli 
Indian thought i» out uf thu (jiiL-Kliun. nf, for i 
among Bome North-Amerieau Indiana '. Hut 
a bridge of virtue or of judpnent as in la 
PcTHia. The idea of u bridgu or a iirtu coid] 
tion between thia and tbe next world is in 
natural that it may be called Uie eaaieft and p 
the earliest solution of ttiu problem with wbtch, 
from a higher point of view, we are occupied 
course of locturta, the relation between the natt 
the supernatural. When people had onoe 1< 
believe is a Beyond, they felt a gap between t 
and the there, which the human mind could nol 
and which it ti'ied, thvrefure. to bridge over, 
inythologically, and aPterwiinis philosophically 
carliotit, as yet purely mythological. att<^^mpt to 
the vurldst' men and the world of ihti t'fxl-t ia t^ 




tended originally for the rainbow. Wit arc toM that 
it was created by the gods, and was called the bridg« 
uf the Asos or the goda, Ui<d As-br6. It bad three 
colours, and was »u]>pOHed to bo very strong. Hut 
however strong it was, it is beliuved that it will 
brealc at the end of tho world, when the sons of 
Muspel oome to ridi: acroso it. Tbo Ait«9 or god» 
ride every day across that bridge to their judgnivnt 
avht near tlio well of Uixl. It has a watchman also, 
who in called Heimdall. 

This is a purely tDythological expedient to connect 
heaven and carlli. for which Fhysieal Religion ohosu 
very nalurally the etublein of the rainbow. 

In India and Persia, however, the case is different 
Firnt of all tbo bridge there is not taken from any- 
thing in nature. It is rather an ethical postulate. 
There must be a way, they argued, on whinh the 
voul can apprvaoh the deity or by which it c«n ha 
kept away from tho deity, — hence they imagined that 
there was such a way. That way in India was the 
Koad of the Fathers and afterwards the Hoad of the 
Oods. Fut it is very iinporUut to observe that in 
India also this road (yina) was called setu, bridge, 
though it had not yet received a proper name. In 
the Vedn, Kv. 1. 3A, 5, tho path of Yama is mentioned, 
which is rcallv ihi.' ^nnio as the Road of the Fathers, 
for Yama was originally the ruler of the Fathers, If 
therefore the poetei say, M& vo ^aritiV patbil Yainujtya 
g&d upa, May your wonthipprr not go on tho path of 
Yama, they simply mean, may ho not yet die. When 
there was once a bridge, a river also would soon be 
imagined wliich the bridge was to croas. Such a 
river, though it dous not occur in the hymns, ocoui> 

!i?iigi-l.'S9, which, fts we Baw in the Upa 
■lopiirtotl litul to posa. 

Vou ma.y remember that at the funeral 
of the Vedio Indiana a cow (Anu»tnran!) 
sacrilicoi.1. This cow wan mipputtccl to corrl 
parted soroae the Vaitamni river, and later 
the custom in India, and, I am told, it is 
mako a dying man lay hold of tho tail ol 
or, &8 among the Todas, of the horns of 
Gut thuii^,'h in India tli« iK'lief in a lUia 
Fathers and a Road of tho Gods Hooma to hiH 
from a moral conviction t)iat there must 
path to Iwul the doportod, wln'thcr »» a rt-wd 
a puuishmcnt, to tho world of the Fathers, aa 
world of the Gods, that path was identified i 
also not only with the rainbow, but likewise, 
foSHOr Kuhn htm tried to show (A'. Z.. ii. p. 3} 
the Milky Way. In the Vi-thnu-pumna (p. \ 
Dcvayana is placed north of Tauru« and Ai 
south of tho Great Bcor, which is tho exact a 
of the starting-point of the Milky Way. I 
Ktihn has pointed out a most cnriuun coir 
Let US rvmombor that in order to reach the I>( 
supposed to he the Milky Way, the departed 
Vm flaniMl anronH LIia . 




40-50), wi> PNu] tb^t the sou) has to drire a stolen 
oow across that bridge. Such cum<ud«iict!« aru very 
startling. One bard); knowa how to account for 
tlmiii. Of courwc, they may bu duo to accident, 
but, if not, what an extraordinary pertinacity would 
they show even in the folklore of the Aryan nations- 

Howf!V(^^. though iu KOinv placitt thu l3cvay&ua lins 
been identified with the Milky Way, in others and 
more ancient paasagea it viaa clearly conoaiTed as the 
rainbow, n» when wo read in the Enbad-iranyaka 
Upanishad IV. 4. 8 : 

' The flmall, old path stretching far away (vitataA 
or vitara/f) liaN been found by me. On it, 8age8 who 
know BrahiimD move on to the Svargaloka (h«avon), 
and tht-nco higln-r, as entirely free. 

* On that path they eay that there ts white and 
Mae, yellow, gK-en, and red ; that patli wob found by 
Brahman, and on it goes whoover knows Brahman, 
and who has done good, and obtained splendour.* Wo 
have here the five colours of the rainbow, wlulc the 
Blfrost nunbow had only three. 

Tile idtui that the wicked cannot find the path of 
the Fathers or tho Go<b) is not entirely absent in the 
Upanishade. For we read {Brih. Ar. IV, 4, 10): 

' All who worship what is not knowledge, enter into 
blind darkness ;' and again, 'There are indeed those 
unblCKScd worlds covei-od with blind ihu-kuoMS. Men 
who are ignorant, not enlightened, go after death to 
these worlils.' Nay, in the fa'atiipatha lirjihmatia I. 9. 
S, 2, wo actually read of flames on both sides of the 
path which bum the wicked, but do not touch tb« 
pare soul. 

' Tlio same path leads either to the Oods or to th« 



Soro IB also a lino quoted in Uio Ninl 
may refer to this path, where ivomon my : 

neg iiUudIjuiIto lunilum patlnuL. 
' H*y wo uot walk crookod and tall Into ht 

It is, however, tn the ancii'iit ruligion «f '. 
this bridge becomes most prominent. It 
received the name of Kinv&t, which can 
the teardiiDg, the rcvt^ging, th« puniithiiJ 
^-i being connected with Greek r(a, r^-n. imdl 

Of this bridge we read in the Vendidad, Xl 

'Then the fiend, uained VIraresha, cam! 
bonds the Boul of the wicked Daeva-wurBhip 
live in sin. The soul entei-s the way made 
uikI open both to tlie wicker! und to the r 
And ut Uic Lead of the A'inva/ brtdgo, i 
bridge made by Mazda, they ask for their sj: 
80uU the reward for the worldly goods wi 
gavo away bt-re below.' 

This bridge, which extends over hell and 
paradise, widens for the soul of the righteoi 
length of nine juveliua, for the souls of the v 
narrows to a thread, and thoy fall into hell '. 

When we find almost Uie s ame circu i 

it ir I ^^^^^^^^^^^^M 



Indinns and Persians, a dUitant common otii^n. Ilie 
idfla of ths bridj^ wm probably niloptt-d by llio J(iw« 
in Fi^'rain', and borrowed by Mohammed from bis 
Jewish frionds. It is beat koown under the narnv of 
Es Sir&L The aorctitli chapU-r of tlio Koriui, called 
Al Aarnf, (pvcs the following account of thit bridge : 

'And belmst the two there ie a v<ril. and on 
al Aarilf are men who know «noh (the good and tbo 
wicked) by miu-kB, and tJiey shall cry out to the 
fellow* of PanuIiHe: Pcneo bo upon you ! They cannot 
enter it, althuugh they so desire. But when th«ir 
sight is turned towards the fellows of Kire, tlioy say : 
O LoM. place ns not with t]io unjust peoplol And 
the fellows in al Aar&f will cry out to the men 
whom lh«y know by their marks, and say, Of no 
avail to you were your collections, and what you 
were so big with pride about; are theio (ho<ie ye 
twore that Go«I would not extend mercy tol Ent«r 
Faradise, tltere is no fear fi/r you. nor etiall ye be 
grieved. But th« fellows of Fire shall cry out to th« 
fellows of Partdisc, " Pour out u[)on us wal«r, or 
something of what God has provided you with," ' 

When we find a similar a4xonnt among the Todait 
in Southern India, it ia dtfiicult to say wh4!th<:r they 
derived it from the Bruhmans or posxibly from a 
Mohammedan source. It re«embloa tht' latter more 
tlian the former, and it might Ik taken by some 
ethnologieta as of apootouoous ^twUi among the 
Dravidian inhabitantA of India. According to a writer 

■ rfnl kt Uio fiaMBNtn 

* In Um foBrtb «r lfc« MmOmb of Ih- finli mhImt. Jvwlah 
dnctoca U9 kBown to !»*« toMi all-foiri'i ~ 
MM. tui4u a*pir U ud Tuda^trd. .It rf wip, Itor. fi^ IMn, 

nave to paws n'pon 'a~(iingle Oil 
lircjiki) lniic_-iith Uio wnigbt of those bur 
din, but Etaixlfi the slight sti-ain of a good 

Iq tJie Taluiuil, as I »in infonned by ti 
Oai4t«r, UiU bridgo does not SMin to be 
iH mentioned, howovor, in the JJlst chaj 
Jana dtf>e Klittku, a work of the tentli <!el 
cuiltaining rrugmouttt of much enrlier ilate. 
r«ftd : ' In that hour (of the last judgmcDtJl 
back to life the idols of the oaliontt, luid he 
vvury imtioQ with their god crosti the 
Gohinom, and when they are crossing i^ 
appear to them like a thread, and they fall 
Oehiiioin, botli tlio idub luid thvir vronA 
Thu passage occurs onoe more in the i'alh 
earn, ii. §500, cd. pr. (Salonica, 15:^6). f. 87 
according to the best judges, tlie ]«gend ii 
back to prc-islamitic tiuiua. 

So far vrv are still on safe and almost bi^oi-ia 
But the belief in such a bridge is not oonRi] 
Ear5t ; and yet. whun we are told that (Itc p| 
Yorkshire spoke not so long ago of a ' Brig 
Na bi'oatler tliiut a thread',' we can hardly bel 
this Brig o' Drwid is the inodi;m reprt-sor 
thd noitliem Itifrost bnd 



the idea of thiB bridge caught the fancy of some crusa> 
dt;r, aiid that ha ci])oki> w 8an;r of it on bin return to 
Kr&iict.-, and that witli tho NormauH Lho Brig o' Dread 
travelled into England. In France also the pcasanis 
of Ni^^Tc know of this bridge as a flmall plank whioli 
Suint Jcoit d'Arcbangti placed btilwouu the vtitth and 
paraflise, and of which they tting: 

P&t pj lutiuuc. |iiiH pii liirgu 
Qu'im vL'vcu di> In Hniiiln Vinrs*, 
C«iut qu'nrent Ib nivia A' Dii-u, 
rar doutM piwanrnt, 
Ccui qu' U Mtuwit pM 
Au boul mourront. 

■ Kot lonRor, not Uxcbt than ■ hair of tho Uo\j Vlt^n, tttOM 
who knnn th» roonon of Ood (or the pnirrr of OoJ) will ftm «V*r 
It ; IbiMU who du Dot know it, will dia at the ctiiL' 

Prom the folk-lore of tho peoRanta Uiis belief in a 
bridge; leading from thia to a bt-ltiT world found ita 
way into the folk-lore of mediicval theologians, and 
we rvod of a small bridge leading frum puigatory to 
paradise in the Legends Aurea, c 60 (Do S. Patricio), 
and in other placfs '. 

\s it nut curiouH to hco these idea» cither cropping 
up spontaneously in difTerent parts of the world, or 
handed on by a real historical tradition from India 
to Persia, fnnii Persia to Palestine, from Palestine to 
Franco, and from Franco otcs to Yorksbiro 1 And at 
the root of all, there is that simple but ineradicable 
belief tliat the Human and tho Divine cannot be 
separated for ever, and tliat an the rainbow bridges 
heaven and earth, or as the galaxy shows as a bright 
way through myriaiU of stars to tho highest Empy- 
rean, there muftt be a bridge between Kuih and 

' Gt. LMimeht tu a«<rTaaiaf, <Wa Impwialia, HaoovBr, 18Se, p. M. 


Heaven, between the Boul and God ; there must be 
a Way, and a Truth, and a Life to guide the soul tn 
its real home, or, as another religion expresses it, 
there must be a faith to take tis home, and to make 
us all one in God. fCf. St. John xvii. 21.) 


I MENTIONED at the; end of my last lecture r 
Dumlxir of traditiotis gathered from ditTorvnt par(« 
of tbe worltl. an<l all haviog refereoce to a bridge 
betwt-cn oarih and liL-avon. Some of those traditioDS 
were purely mythological, and were suggested, as it 
Heeined, l>y actuiU pbenomoDa of niitun;. fluch aa the 
rainbow and the Milky Way. Otbens, on tbc contrary, 
aprang evidently from a moral conviction that there 
muht bo a way l>y which the buroiui soul could return 
lo Ood. a conviction which, hon-cvcr abstract in its 
origin, could not altogetber resist being likewise 
clothed in the end in more or less fanciful and mytho- 
logical phrat<eol<^y. 

When wo have to doal with common traditions 
found in India, Greece, and Germany, we must 
generally hn nuthReA if we can diaoover their simplest 
grrms, and ehow I)ow thcne gorms grew and a^Huniud 
a different colouring on Indian, Greek, or Gei-man 
aoil. I explainiHJ tliis to you before in tbe ca»6 of 
the Greek Vhuiilc^, thu Santdcrit Haritus. Heiu wu 
find that the words are identically the same, only 
pronounced ditferently according to the phonetic pecu- 
liarities of tbc Greek and th« Sanalcrit langus^. 



The common germ vraa found in the bright rays of 
the «un, conceived ks hor»cH iu tlic Veda, as beautiful 
maidens in Greece. The same applies, as I Bhowed 
many yeai-s ago, to the Orei^k Diti'hue. Daphno would 
in Sanskrit be itprvsouti-d by Dahanil, and this 
would moan tlia burning or the bright one. Tbi» 
root dab haa yielditd ttie name fur day and dawn in 
(Jerman. In Sanskrit it has been replaced by A liana'. 
Tliorc is in tho Veda a dear rofon-ncij to the Dawn 
dying whenever the sun tiies to approach her, and wo 
have a right therefore to interpret the CIreek legend 
of Daphne, trying to escape frora tho embraeefl of 
Phoebus, as a repotitiwu of the wimo story, tliat the 
Dawn, when she endeavours to fly frora tho ap- 
proaches of the sun, either dies or Is changed into a 
laurel ti-oc. This diaiigv into a laurel tree, however, 
was possible in a Greek atmosphere only, wfaere 
daphne had become the name of the laurel tree, which 
was called daphne hcrnuse tlic wood of the laurel 
trw) was easy to kindle and to burn. 

The lessons which we have learnt from ComparaUve 
Mythology hold good with regard to Comparative 
Theology olso. If we lind similar religious or even 
philosophical ideas or traditions in Greece and in 
India, we must look upon them simply as the result 
of tho coinuion humiiiiily or the common language of 
the people, and be satisfied with very general features ; 
but when we pixioeed to compare the ideas of the 
ancient ParHiH with Uiomo of tlio Vcdic poct«, we 
have ft right to expect coincidences of a dilTerent _ 
and a much mora tangible nature. 

' Sco Ilcipkiiw, Od EiieIibIi cfoy nnd SaDiiltrit (d]BliBn. As- 



PmhUkt ralatlDB b*tir*«D tho BeUfflooR of India uid P*nrt». 

The exact historical relation, however, helween the 
moflt anck-nt rcligionft of India aiiii Fti-siti, is very 
peculiar, and by »o means ita yet fully elgcidated. 
It boa beoQ so often miHconceived and midrepi-esented 
ib«t we shall liavo to oxftminc the fcicts vi-ry coKifully 
io onlcr to gain a clear conception of the real ra- 
lationxhip of these two religions. No religion of the 
ancii'nt world ha.i been ao mi.sropr«icDtccl us that con- 
tained in Uie Aventa. Wo shall tborefon.' have to enter 
into Kome detailei, and examine the ipsissima verba of 
tbo Ave»ta. In doing ihis I am afraid that ray lec- 
ture to-<Iay on the Avesta and it« doctrines touching 
the initnortaltty of the aoul, will not contain much 
that can be of interest to any but Oriuntol ocholam. 
But what I have always been most anxious about, 
i» that thoite who follow thetie lectures nhould got an 
accurate and authentic knowledge of the facte of the 
ancient religions. Many people are hardly aware how 
diliicult it is to give a really accurate account of any of 
the ancient Ori<?utal religions. But think how difficult 
it la tu eay anythiii;r about the real teaching of Christ, 
without hoing contradicted by aonie Doctor of Divinity, 
whether hailing from Rome or from tldinburgh. And 
yet the facta lie hero within a very narrow compass, 
very different from the voluminous hterature of the 
religions of the Bral)iiiani»t or Buddhi.-)t8. The lan- 
guage of the New Testament la child's play compared 
to Vedio Sanskrit or Avestio Zend. If then one 
sccit the winnjrling going on in churches and chapela 
about the right interpretation of some of the simplest 
pas^ges in the Gospels, it might seem almout hopeless 

N » 

has any right to inte^rvi tlift ntinpTest 
Now T««tameDt, feci no hi-^iUktion in 
essays on Zoroaster, on Buddhism and Mohai 
ism, without knowing a woH of Zend, F&li, o 
Tbcy not only spread erroneous opinions 
ancient Eutcrn religions, but they think I 
refute thorn bettt, alt«r having thus miHre{ 
thoin. If till! Ave»tic rcligiuu lias onc« bo( 
Bentod as Fire-woisbip and l>ualism, what 
eaaicr than to refuto Firc-wonthip and Dualis 
if wo consult thv original documoDt«. and if 
tinguish, as we do io the oase of the New Te 
between what is oarly and what is late in tt 
canon of the Zoroaetrians, wo ehall gco that 2 
taught neither fire-woi«bip nor dualism. | 

SOTOtMar ttaithn nalUioT ni«-wai*Mp aor DU 

The supremo deity of ZoroiLstcr ia Ahuramj 
Atar, iirc>, though Atnr 1:4 Boni<.-tiiiii.-$ cuUvd tb 
Aburainazda '. Fire no doubt is a sacred objt 
anciont siimtlccfl, but the tire, ait such, is I 
worshipped aa tbo suprouio God iu the AvostI 
is in the Veda. 

If wo want to undurstand the true natuv 
^ggligigp pfJZoroaate r we must remember, fin 



in fact diaU'Ota, rathor Umn two lUflTerent languages. 
Wu must also ruinombcr that tlio rdt^iunH of Zoiuostvr 
and of the Vedic Rislus share a wrtjim numljer of 
tbeir (U-itieii in conuuoit. It used to be Auppoaed tbat 
becausu dcva in the Vcila is tliu name for gods, and 
in tho Avesta the namo for evil spirits, therefore the two 
j'cltgiotiB were entirely antaj^iiiMic. But thai is not 
Uus case. The name for gods in th« Veda is not only 
dova, but likewiae asura. This name, if derived 
froio asD, breath, mi.'ftnt originally the living, he who 
lives and moves in tbe great phenomena of nnturi.-, 
or, as we should say, t?ie living God. Certain Vcclic 
gods, particularly Varuiia. are in the Vtda also 
called Asura in the good senBO of the word. But 
very soon the Sanslcrit asura took a bad sense, for 
instanoe, in the last book of the Big-vcda and in tlie 
Atharva-voda, and particularly in the Bitthmaiias. 
Here we constantly find tbe Asuras fighting against 
tJieDevas. l>uva,as you n;iin;mbor, was the common 
Ar^'nn nauio for gode, as tho bright beings of nature. 
But while Asura became the name of the highest deity 
in the Avcsta, namely Ahuramaxda or Ormnzd, deva 
occurs in tliu AvcAta always in a bad senate, as Uiu 
name of evil apirits. These J>eva8 (daSvaB),tho modem 
Poruan div, are the originators of all that is bad, of 
every impurity, of sin and death, and are coDstantty 
thinking of causing tbe destruction of the fields and 
trees and of the houses of religious men. Tbe spots 
most liked by them, iteconling to ZL>i'oa»trian notionH, 
are those most filled with dirt and fillh, and especially 
cemeteries, which places are therefore objects of the 
gif atest abomination to a true Ormoitd worshipper '. 
' Hau^, £f»uy* <m EA( Panit, p. 366. 




It Li (lifTIrtilt to account for thoM f«eU, bat we 
muiit altrajH rcinomber that while Boin<> of the prio- 
cipal Vedio deiliat, nucfa m Icdra*, for insUnoe, occur 
in tliv Av(»tl& ati demons, other Dcvaj!i or divine beings 
in the Voda have retained their original character in 
tb« Avonta, for inHtanct; Mit/ira, the Vedio Mitra, 
tbc sun, Alryanmn, tbo Vedic Aryaman, likewise a 
name of the sun, a deity presiding over marriages. 
Bhaga, another BoUr deity in the Veda, occui-» in 
tbo Avcttta aa bagha, and has become there a general 
name for god. Tliis word must W as old as dcva, 
for it oocun in the Slavonic languages as f/ftg, god. 
It is kiiovrn also from the name of Bchistun, the 
mountain on which Darius engraved his gr«at in> 
scri[)tion«, in ciineirorm lettem. The Greeks coll it 
Uayamava, i.e. the place of the gods. Otlier divine 
namea which the Avosta and the Voda share in 
ootnnion arc the Avoilic Armaiti, the Vedic Ara- 
mati, the earth, Narasamtta, liL renownetl among 
men (a name of Agni, Pditliiui, and other gods in Uie 
Veda), the Avcstic Nniryiisiinha, a mt'ssenger of 
Ormasd. Lastly, we find that while India has become 
a demon under the name of Andra, one of his best- 
known Vedic epithets, namely, VrtVahan, slayer of 
Vritra, occurs in the Avesta aa Verelhraglina, mean- 
ing simply the oonqiu-Tor, the oiigcl who gmnta 
victory. Hi8 name becomes in the end Bchrilni. and , 
one of the Voshts is addressed to him, the iJehiAm 
Yaslit. It has gem-nilly been Kuppo.icd, thi-ntfore, 
thut a religious siOiism took place, and tliat Zara- 
tliiiahtra secodod from the worshippers of the Vedic 

' Alio Stvm dn4vn, l.» S*m. and Kfonhnlthya dadva, tli* 



Dcvsa. There is hoido truth in thiv, but though thoro 
was a severance, tliere always rerooioed a common 
baokgi-ontid for tlm two religions. Many of the Vedie 
deities were retained, subject only to the Hupromncy 
of Ahuramazda. It ia the idea of one supreme Qod, 
th« Ahiiminazda, which forms the ohamcterisUc dis- 
tinction between the Avostic and iho Vcdic religions. 
Only Zaratbuabtra's monotheiBm does not exclude a 
belief in n number of deities, so Jong as they arc not 
conceived as the equals of Ahuramazda, In his mora) 
character AhuramsKda may really be looked upon as 
a development of the Vedio Varumi, but th« moral 
chamcterof this deity has bocomo far more prominent 
in the Avcsta than in the Veda, 

The Avouslic religion, as wo know it from \t» own 
saci-ed books, is in fact a carious mixture of mono- 
theism, polytbeiBra, and dualism. Aburainiizda is no 
doubt the supremo tied, tho creator and ruler of alt 
things, but there are many other divine beings who, 
though suliject to hira, are yet considtToil worthy of 
receiving iidorution and sacriticiat worship. Again. 
Ahuramazda, so far as be repi-esents the good spirit, 
spODta mainyu, the .spirit of light, is constantly 
opposed by Augra mainytt, best known in our times 
as Ahriman, the evil spirit, the spirit of dai-kness. 
But these two spirits were not originally oonceivod u 
two soparato beings. In the ancient Gft-tbas there is 
no trace aa yet of a personal conflict between Onnaral 
and Ahriman. The enemy against whom Ormaxd 
fights there, is Drukhj tho Vedio Druh, 'the lying 
spirit.' DariuH also in tho cuneiform inscriptions does 



TIM PT»bl«m of tko Orlyln of BrU. 
Dr. H&ug seems quito right in stating tliftt Zora- 
tliashtrft, having arrived a.t the idi?a of the unity and 
indivisibility of tha Supremo Being, }iik1 afterwards to 
solvtt the groftt problem which bos on^agod tlie att«n- 
tion of BO many wiso men of antiquity and oven of 
modern times, namely, hovr to reconcile tbe imperfec- 
Hom diseemiblo in tho world, the variotttt kinds of 
evil, viickednoss, and bsseneoft, with the goadnces and 
justice of the one God. He solved this question philo- 
euphically, by the adtni^sion of two primeval oausoa, 
which, though ditferent, were united, and produced 
the world of material things a.s well a» lliat of the 
spirit. This doctrine may bt-st be stodiod in the 
thirtieth chapter of tho Vasna. The one who pro- 
duced all ro-ality (gaya) and goodness is called thi-rc 
iho good mind (vohu mano), the other, through whom 
the unreality (agjaiti) originated, bears tlie name 
of thv «vil miud (akem mano). All good, and true, 
and perfect tbings, wbicb fall under the category of 
reality, are the production.'! of the ' good mind,' while 
all that )4 had and dehisivu belongs to the sphere 
of ' non-roality.' and is traced to the evil mind. These 
are tlie twa moving causes in Uie univenie, united 
from tho boginning, and therefore called twins (y^mil, 
Sk. yamau). They are present everj'whcrc, in Ahura- 
mazda aa well aa in men. These two primeval prin- 
ciples, if supposed to bo united in Ahuramaxda himst>lf, 
are called eponta mainyu, his beneficent spirit, and 
nngra mainyu, his hurtful spirit. That Angra mainyu 
was not ooneeivud then o-t a SL^parato being, opposed 
to Ahuramazda. Dr. Haug has proved from Ya«Da 
XIX. 9, where Ahuramazda is mentioning these two 




spiriU BB iiilioimi in his own nnturo, though ho dis- 
tinotiy called them the ' two roastcis ' (piL}'&J, and the 
' two crtiiUirs.' But whilo «l liiiit thcjtc two creative 
Bpiritfl were conceived se only two parts or iugrc- 
dicsts of tiie Divine Being, this dootriue of Zai-a- 
tliushtra's bucaiuo corriiptt>d in «niirKC of tinte by 
misundorstandings and talso inttrprctationB. Spenta 
mtiitiyti, the benelicent spirit, was taken as a name 
of Ahurnmazda bitrntclf, ajid tlie Anj^Ti luainyu, by 
becoming entirely separated from AliuramozdJa, wae 
then regarded as the cotistAQt adversary of Ahura- 
inazda. Tiiis is Dr. Haug » explanation of tlio iJiialisni 
io the later portions of tbi' Avt-sta, and of tho consltuit 
contliot between God and tho Devil which we see 
for instance in th<.< first furgard of the VcndiJJid. The 
ori^n of good and evil would thua have been trans- 
ferred unto thu Deity itself, tliowgh thcrv tho poKsiblu 
evil voA always overcome by the real guod. Zoroaster 
bad evidently poreeived that without posnible evil 
then can bu no real good, ju.'«t ax witliout tcitypliition 
tli«re can bo no virtuo. Tho same conte<it wliicb 
is suppased to be carried on within the deity, is also 
Mrricd on by i-jtch individuni lurtlover. Kadi be* 
liever is exhorted to takt- part in thu tight against 
the evil spirit, ^ at last tb« final victory of good 
over evil will be srcuri^d. 

This, of courso, is not sUitod in ho many words, 
but it follows from paosa^es gatJiei-ed from diSereut 
part« of tho Avcatji. 

IXh* Jls(«1*. «rlglutIlT ^luIitlM *r OtnaiO. 
Th« aanio process of changing certjiin qualities of 
the Divine Being into s(.'piu-aU> beings can be clearly 



watohotl in tli« case of the AtncshaspODtas. The 
AincshiuspcDtAs of tho AvcHta inre lit. the immortAl 
benefaotora. These were clearly at fiiat mere quali- 
ticiA of tlie Divine l^oing, or gifts which OrmaKil might 
grant to his worshippoi'S. but tbity became aftcrwanls 
angelic or balf-dtvioe beings, such as Vohu maud 
(Fall man), good mind, Asha vahiBhta(Ardi bahisht), 
the bc»t truU), Armuiti (Kpendarmad). dcvoliou aiicj 
piety. Amerotaf/ (Amaidnd), immoitutity, Haurvi^ 
thd (Khordfld), health, Kshathra vairya (Shahri- 
var), abiindnnce of earthly goods. 

As these angels formed in lati r timca tlm great 
council of Onnazd, Ahriman also was supposed to be 
fturrounded by a Rimilar council of t^ix. They were 
Akem mano, the evil npint, Indrn, .S'aurva, Kaow- 
haitbya, and two pcreomticalions of Darknean and 
FoiaoQ. In this way tho orifjiiial Monotheism of the 
Zorooatrian religion came to bo replaced by that Dual- 
ism which is wrongly supposed to be the cbaracterutio 
feature of the ancient Persian reli^^ion.and offers many 
points of similarity with the belief in God and His 
angels, and in a devil also, as we find it in the later 
portions of the Old TcMtament. From tbvuce tliis 
belief was transfon od to tho New Testament, and 
is still held by many as a ChriHtian dogma. Whether 
thiH belief in God and a devil and tho augtilM forming 
their respective councils was actually borrowed by 
the Jews from Persia, is Btill an open question. If 
any of the Persian names of the-io angels or devils 
had buen discovered in tlic Old Testament, tho ques- 
tion would at once have been settled ; but there is 
only one really Persian name of one of these evil 
spirits altaohcd to Ahriman, wbicli actually has found 



its way into tho OIil Testament in the apocpyphal 
book of Tobit, iii. 8, umnuly Aumodntu, whicli in tlio 
Persian Ade/ima daevu, the demon of angor and 
WTfttli. ThiK unino could have been borrowed from 
n Persuin source only, and proves thorororo th« extH> 
tence of a real biatorical intercourse between Jevn 
and Perdana at the time when the bank of Tobit was 
wiittcn. Wo look in vain for any otlicr PoRJftu nauie 
of a good or an evil spirit in tho genuine books of 
tie Old Ti.«tftment', though there is no doubt great 
Kiuilarity botn-vun the angelu and archangels of Uio 
Old Testament and the Amesh&spentim of the Avcsta, 
aa hna been shown by Dr. Kohut in his very learned 
•y on tliis subject. 
Of all thia, of tho original supremacy of Ahiira- 
muda, of the later du»lii<iu of Ahuramaxcia and 
An<;ra nminyu, and of tho councils of these two hos- 
tile powers there is no trace in the Veda. Traces, 
however, of a hostile fei-ling againttt the A^iunut iu 
general appear in the change of meaning of that wnrd 
in some portions of the Uig-veda and the Atharva- 
vcda, and more paitioulorly in the Biilhma ria». 

AaorMi and Btutm. 

A D«w change appears in the later Samki-it liUint- 
ture. Here tJio AtturaH, instead of fighting with the 
Devaa, are represented as tightiug agninst the Sura* ; 
that is to say, by a mere mistake the 'A* of Asurn 
ha« heen taken an a negative 'a,' whereas it is tbe 
radical 'a' of asu, breath, and a new name haa been 
formed. Sura, which seemed to be connected with 

* Sc«. hownrer, my mnarka on p. M, on Uib appclktlon Ahmi 




Bvar. tliQ sky, aod was used aa a name of the go<]«, 
oppotted to tho AsuraH, tlie Non-godet '. Thiei is how 
uiytliology in oftca made. All Uic fij^ltt.'t between the 
8ui'ii» and Abutus, of which we read eo much id tho 
Pur&»as. are really baaed on a tni&underetanding of 
the old name of the living God, namely Asu-ra, not 

In whatever way we may try to accontit for the 
change of tlio Vedio l)ova», gods, into the Aveatio 
Uafivas, evil spirits, thero e^n bu no doubt Uiat we 
have to deal here with an liistorical fact. For Home 
reason or otlier the belicvei^ in tho true Asaras and 
in Abummazda must have st-paratcd nt a certain 
timo fi-om tho believers in the Vedic Devaa. They 
(titTtinid on »oiu« points, but they agreed on otliers. 
In faot. we poHMS in the Yasna, in ono of the more 
ancient remnants of ZarathushU-a'a religion, some 
verses whioti can only be taken as on official fomitila 
in which his foUowcrt abjured tlieir belief in tbo 
Devas. Tbera (Yasna XII) we read: 

'I CMiae to bo A DcVA (worshipper). I profess to 
be a Zoroa&trian MaKdayaznian (a worahipper of 
Ahununaxda), an enemy uf the IX'vnit. and a devotc« 
of Abura, a pntiaer of ttw immortal benefactors 
(Ameshaapentaa). In sacriGciug to the immortal 
Aino8ha»{>t-ntas 1 aecnbo all gowl things to Ahura- 
Buda. who is good and has (all that is) good, who 
is righteous, brilliant, glorioua, who ia the originat<Hr 
of alt tlve best things, of tho epirit of naluro (g&»h), 

fr««u uiia, dtttk. 



of righteouenoea, of the lurainarieH, and tite self- 
abining briglitneas whicli t» in tlx; li]iiiinani.'j«. 

'I forsftkn th« Devos. tbu wickod, bad, wrongful 
originatora of mischief, the moat baneful, deatructive, 
and liaacst of beinga. 1 foranke the Dorns iiud thoBO 
like Duvflit, tliu sorouri^nt nnd those like eorcerere, and 
any beinga whatever of siioh kiiids. I foi-»ake thorn 
with tlioughu, ivorda, aud decdii, I forsake them 
hereby publicly, and declare that all liea and false- 
hood are to be done away with.' 

I do not Ri-e how afU'T thiu any oiio can doubt that 
the BCpamtion of tho followers of ZorathiiBhtm, the 
believers in Ahuramazda, from the worahippom of tho 
Vedio Devas, was a real historical cvuut, though it 
does by do means follow that their separation was 
complete, and that the followers of Zoroastci- surriMi- 
derod every belief which they fonnerly shared m 
common witli tho Vedic Rishis. 

1 Uunk wo ahall be perfectly right if we treat tbd 
Avdstio A3 a scooadary stage, as cotnpared with the 
old Vedio rclipon, only we must guard against tho 
Buppositlon that the Avesta could nnt have preserved 
a nuinbir of idvaa and religious traditions older oven 
and simpler than what we find in the Veda. Tho 
Vedic poets, and more particulaily tlio Vcilio philo- 
Bophrra, have ccitaiuly advanced much beyond the 
lev«] that had Won reached before they weie de- 
serted by the Zoroastriaua, hut tlio Zoroaatrianx may 
have preserved much that ia old and dimple, much 
that dates from a period previous to their separatioo, 
much that we look for in vain in tho Veda. 



IwiWiiiWHty of lb* IMI U Um AvMl*. 

Iliis se«un» n-niutily to Iw tbe ca«c when we eom- 
pMv Uio Poraian accuimto of tbe immortality of th» 
sool and iu migrations aftdr death with thoee which 
•m vxamiiu'd bvfore in tbe UpAnisbads. The ide* 
that knowledge or faith is better than good works, 
and thai a higher ttDmortalilr nwaiU the thinker 
than the doer, an Hem bo familiar to the authors 
of the Upaniahada. is quite foreign to tbe Avesta. 
The Avtstio ndigion in bcforv all things an ethical 
rvlij^on. It is meant to make people good. It liold.i 
oat rewards for the good, and pnnishmcnte for tbe 
had in UiiA life and in the life to come. It stands 
in tble respect much more cm the oM levol of the 
Vodio hymns than on that of the Upanishads. In 
Iho hymns, as wc »aw, the >lp|wrti:-<l was simply told 
to nin on tli<.- good path, past tho two dogs, tbe brood 
of Sarama, the four-eyed, tbe grey, and then to go 
towards tbe wise Pitris or Fathent who were happily 
ri>)oioing with Y&nia. Or tbe departed was told to 
go forth on those ancient roads on which bis fore- 
fathers had departed, and to meet the two kings 
dallghiing in (svadhi) oflerings, Yama and tbe god 
Varuiia. Nothing is said there of Hus futHtkv carrying 
bitn to tbe aky, nor of tlio sun moving towards the 
«wlh or tlio north, or of the departed rising upwards 
UU be reaches the moon or the place of lightning. 
Irtw goal of the journey of the dugwrted is simply the 
}flaM where he will meet the Fathers, those who 
Wvi« distinguished for piety and penance, or those 
wW fell in battle, or those who during life were 
ifWMiwui with their wealth. 



9hm PttWa or Tkthara >• eoneciveil in Um Tadlo Kynuis. 


^^T j^U tliis is much more liuiniin lliuu ihc nocoiiiit 
I given in the Upanisliad». And when we read in the 

Rjg-vpda the iuvocationa addressed to the PitWa or 
I the three gcncratioiia of aiici-jttors, w« fiud ihcro too 

again a much more childlike conception of their 
abode than what ia given tia in the Upaniahada. 
Sometimes the grcatrgrtiiidfiithL-rs arc euppoHi-d to l>e 
in heaven, the grandfathers in the eky, and the 
fathers atill aomewliere on the earth, but all are 
invited togeUuT to accept the oirt-riiigs made to them 
at (he iSnIddhas, nay, thi^y are supposed to conaumo 
the viands placed before them. Thus we read (Rig- 
■vedaX. 15): 

1. May the Soma-loving Fathers', the lowcat, the 
highest, and the middle ariae! May the gentle and 
righteous Fathers who liave come to Ufe (again), pro- 
tect us in these invocations I 

2. May thitt Kaltitation be for the Knthera to-day, 
for thone who haw de^itirtod before or aftor ; whether 
they now dwell in the aky above the earth, or among 
the blessed people I 

8, I invited tlic wlwj Fathers .... may they come 
hither tjuickly. and Eitting on the gratis ruadUy par- 
take of iho poured-out draught I 

4. Come hither to ua with your help, you Fathcra 
sitting on the grass! Wc have prepared these liba- 
tions for you, accept them 1 Come hither with your 
moat blessed protection, and give us health and wealth 
without fail I 

' The Father* who 1ibt« reached Iho moon. 



5. The SotDS-loving Fathers have been called 
hither to their dear viaoda which are placed on the 
grass. Lot tbem approach, let them listen, let theu 
hIesB, let them prote<!t un ! 

6. Bending your kuec fuul aitting on my right 
acc^t all this Bacritice. Do not hurt us, O Fathers, 
for any ^vroDg that wo may have eommitted against 
yoii, men as vre ar« I 

7. When you sit down on the lap of the red davms, 
grant wealth to tlie generous mortal t O Fathei-s, 
give of your troasurc to the sons of thin iniui here, 
and bestow vigour here on iih! 

8. May Yama, iih a friend with fritMida, eonsnme 
this oHerings aceording to his wish, united with (hose 
old Soma-Ioving Fathcnt of oars, the VusisltfAna, who 
arrungod the Soma draught! 

0. Come hither, O A^ii, with those wise and tnitJi- 
ftil FatberH wlio lilcu to sit down near the heiuil), 
who thirsted when yearning for the gods, who knew 
tbe sacrifice, and who wore strong in praise with 
theii- Hongs! 

10. Como, O Agni, with those ancient Fathers who 
like to sit down near the heartli, who for ever praise 
the godn, the tnitliful, who eat and drink otir ubla- 
tions, making company with Indra and the godsl 

11. Fathers, you who have been consumL^d by 
Agni, come here, sit down on your seate, you kind 
guides! Kat of tiw otTerings which wc bavu placed 
on tlio turf, Olid then grant us wealth and strong 
offspring ! 

12. Agni, O ff&tavedes, at our request thou liasl 
cairiud the ofierings, having first rundorod tlicni 
BWuet. Thou gavcst them to tbe Fathers, and they 




on Uioir share. Eat aLto, O god, the protlcirvd 
oblatioDs I 

13. 'riie FaUier» who are hero. anA the Fatiiere 
who aru nut hera. thonu whom wu know. niKl those 
whom we know not, thou, Citavedas, knowest how- 
many they are, accept the well-made Bocrifice with 
the eacriliciul portions 1 

14. To those who, whether burnt by fire or not 
burnt by fire, rfjoice in their share in the midst of 
heaven, grant thou. O King, that their borfy may take 
th*t life which they wish for 1 

Compared with theae^ hymntt, the Upftnlnhadu r«pre- 
Bent a decidedly later development and rL-iint-misnt ; 
they represent, in fact, the more elaborate views of 
speculative thcologiaa^ and no longer the simple 
iniaj^ningAof sorrowing moumcni. 

If we now turn to examine the ideas which the 
followers of Zoroaster had formt^d to tlicmselvcs about 
the fate» of tlic muuI tifter death and ite approach to 
God, wc shall find that thoy also represent a much 
simpler faith, though there are somo points ou which 
they are clearly dependent on. or closely allied with 
the ITpanishads, unless we suppose that both the 
Zoroa»triaiiH and the authon; of the Upamshads 
ftirived independently at the same ideas. 

We read in the Vendtdid XIX. S7 ' : 

' Creator of the HCttlenient« supplii^d witli creatures, 
rigbteous onol What happens when a man shall 
give up his sou] in tlie world of existence { 

'Then saidAhuramazcla: After a man iadead, wliea 
' «.B.r., Toi. w. p. ais. 



Lis time is over, tben the IielliBh tvil-tloing Diu'vas 
assail hitn, atnl when bho third iiight' is gone, wbei 
the dawn appeare and brightena up, and makea'^ 
Mithr&, the god with the l>eAiitifi]l weapons, mdl 
the all-lmppy inoiintninH oiiil iho sun is risings 

' Thon tho fiend, named Vizarefiha, carries off in 
bonds the aouU of the wicked Daeva-worshippcre whoJ 
live in sin. The soul ciiton* th« way madu by tiineJ 
and open both to the wicked and U) the righteous.. 
At tlie bead of the Aluvaf bridge made by Mazda, 
they ftsk foi- their ttpiiils ami Kouli* the rewaM for the 
worldly good which they gave away hero bt-low." 

This A'invaf bridge of which I spoke in a former 
leeturo, 'ut knwwn as taily m the GiUha^ (XLVI. 12), 
and it is called there tJie judgment bridge (p. 133)', 
alao the bridge of earth (p. 183). Li one phtce (p. l7S)l\ 
we read of the bridges, just as in the UpiiiidiadH wo 
ivdd of two roads, one leading to the Fathera, tbu 
other leadljig to tie gods. l"here can be little doubt 
therefore (hut this bridge of the Asi-sta has the same 
origin as the bridge in the Upanishads. We read in 
the Khhml. Up. VIII. 4, 2, that "day and night do not 
pa«s thin bridge, uur old age, dtath and grief, neither 
gootl nor evil deeds ; that all evil-doors turn away 
li-oiu it, because the world of Ilrabman is free from 
all evil. Therefore he who has ci-oisKed that bridge, if 
blind, ceases to be blind ; if wounded, cea^n to be 
wounded; if nfflieted, ceases to bo afflicted. There-, 
fore when that bridge hiw been cro-incd, night be-, 
eoroea day indeed.' It is true that hero tbi.-* bridge] 

' TliiR fIi'iW* tlisl liaiiiR afli>r lh» lliird til^ht. nv on Ilic fourth 
dnjr, wai tli« rrruKiiiHsl Iwlii-f in t'vrxia ; Dul <,u [liu Ihlnl dn}', » 
ftmollH IJie Jrw». 

' S, a K . vol. x«i. 



is alrendy takpn in a more inetaphyaioal aetme and 
ideiitifiod with tlii^ Almui, tho self; which, Trum a 
Ved&nta point of view, ia called the only true bridge 
between the iwlf and the Sulf ; still the i>ri<^nal con- 
coption of a briilgo which Bcpartilus (vidhnti) ai)<I at 
the same time connectM thii and tho other worlil, 
which cvil-doera fwir to crons, and whero all ihiit U of 
ci\nl ']& left behind, is clearly there. As tho coiiiincn- 
tavy explains that this bridge ib made of earth, and as 
in the Av<!rita abo, it in caltud the bridge of earth, we 
must take it att having heen conceived originally as 
a bank of eartli. a pathway (a junm) across a river 
(A'A&nd. Up. Vlll. 4, 1, note), lather than a euspended 
bridge over an ahyss. 

BtWKNU aa^ VanUhinanu kftsr DMtli. 
I flhall now read you another and fuller account of 
what the Zoroastrians have to say alwuit that bridjje. 
and about tho fat« of the soul afli-r di-iiih, and morw 
particularly about rewards and puuishiiieutii. Thi» 
account ia taken from the Iladhokht Nask ' : 

1 . Zarallui.->ht ra a^ki^d Ahuramaxda: 'O Ahuramazda, 
most bcucHcent spirit, Maker of tho material wurld. 
tbou Holy One! 

' When one of tho fiiithful departs this life, whoxi 
docs hi.i soul abide on that night ? ' 

2. Ahurainazda an§wered; 'It takes its seat near the 
h«ad, singing (the Untavaiti 0.\tha) and proclaiming 
happinciui: "Happy i.-* hi>. happy the man. whoever 
h« be, to whom Ahurainazda gives tho full accom- 
plishment of hLi wi»he»!" On that night his hoiiI 
tastes iw much of pU-tuture as the wholu of the living 
world can tarto.' 

■ Cr. lIuiiE. p. iiO: Dunneatotcr. li. 31«. 



8. ' On tlie BMond night, where does his bouI abide V 

4. AhurainaKda an-swerpd: 'Ittftkes itfl neat near the 
head, aing'm^; (i!io lUtavniti Ontha) and proclaiming i 
happiness : ** Happy is he, happy the man, whoever 
he he, to whom AliiiraniazJa gives the full accom- 
plithinont of liis wishi'.s!" Ou that nifjht bia soul 
tafilL<8 as much of pleasure as the whole of the living 
world can taste.' 

5. 'On tlio third night, where does his soul abide?' , 

6. Ahuraniazdftonswered: "Ittakee its seat near the* 
head. Ringing (the Uotavaiti OAlhn) and proclaiming 
happtnes:): "Hnppy is he. happy the man, wbuover 
he be, to whom AhnrainaKda gives the full accom- 
plishmi^nt of hist wi^ln-sl" Ou that night his iwnl 
taHes BA much of pleasure as the whole of the living 
world can ta.ite.' 

7. At the end of the third ni^ht, when the dawn 
appears, it seems to the soul of llio faithful one. as if 
it were brought amidst plnntit and Hccnts : it cooRis as 
if a wind were blowing from the royion of the south, 
from the regions of the south, a sweet-scented wind, 
sweeter- seen ted than any otht-r wind in the world, 

ft. And it 91'cms to the eoul of tliv tiaithfid one as if 
he were inhaling that wind with the nostrils, and be 
thinks: 'Whence does that wind hlow, the Rwecteat" 
scented wind I ever inlmled with my nostrils?' 

9. And it seems to biin as if his own conscienosl 
wcro advancing to him in that xrind, in the shape of 
a maiden fair, bright, wliite-aniK'd, strong, tall-fonned, 
high -standing, full- breasted, beautiful of body, noblo, 
of s glorious seed, of the size of a ninid in her tift«enth 
year, as fair as the fairest thing in the world. 

It). And the soul of the fuithrul one addressed ber. 



asking: 'Wlint maid art tliuu, who art tlio fau-OBt 
nuitd I have evtn* seen 1 ' 

11. And she, being liis own coiiscii-ncc, answers 
him: *0 Ihou yuulb of gou'\ thuughta, good words, 
and good deeds, of good rvligiun, I am thy own con- 
Eoieuce I 

' Everybody did love thoo for that groutavHS, good- 
nesa, f^rnct>i!, ewuet-nccutedoess, vicloi'ious strength, 
and fi-oedom from aurrow, in which thou dost apjiear 
to me; 

12. ' And BO thou. O youth of good t]iought«, good 
words, and good deeds, of good reJigion ! didst love me 
for that groatnosB, goodntiut. fairness, swcet-Hci-utwI- 
ness, victorioue ati-etigth, and freedom firom soi-row, 
in which I appear tu theo. 

13. ' When thou wouldst see a man making derision 
an<l dcfdn of idolatry, or i-cjecting (the poor) anrl 
tdititting his door, then thou wouldst sit singing the 
Gflthas and worshipping the good waters and Atar, 
tlie son of Ahuramaicda, and rejoicing the faithful 
that would come from ni'nr or frotn afar. 

14. 'I was lovely and tbou madest me still lov©- 
lier ; I was fail' and thou mnde^t me Htill fairer ; I was 
desirabli^i and tliou iimdist me still more desirable; 
I was sitting iu a forward place and thou modt'st me 
nit in the foremost place, through this good thought, 
through this good ttpeech, Uirough this good deed of 
thine; and so hencotorlh men worship me for having 
long sncnlici^d unto and conversed with Ahuramajidiu 

15. ' The IJmt i^U'p that the soul of the faithful uaa 
made, placed him in the GoO'l-Tfimi'jht Paradise; 

'The second st«p that the soul of the faithful man 
made, phicud him in the Govd-WoriX Paradise. 



'The third eUp ttiat th« soul of tlie faithral nun 
ina<le. placed hiin in th« Good-Dted Paradtee ; 

'Tlie fourth *U.-\> that tli«! nonl of the faithful man 
iiiadv, plnci-d hiiii in thu Kudli.isM Ugfitn.' 

16. Then one of the faithful, who bad departed 
befon^ him, ■Mkt'd him, siiying: ' Huw did^t thou de- 
pwt this liff. thou holy man \ How didst thou eotno. 
tlwu holy man 1 from the abodea full of cattie and full 
of the wiJiw and enjoymi;nts of love 7 From the 
iiuUrriAl world into the world of tliu spirit) From 
the decaying world into the undecaying onol How 
long did tliy ft-Iicity InatV 

17. And Ahtirainasda answered : 'Aak him not 
what thou aake&l him, who has juEt gon» the dreary 
WAy. full of ivAv and diHtress, whcrv the body and the 
Houl part from one another. 

18. '{Let him Vat] of the food brought to him. of the 
oil of Zuruiiiiiyu: Ibia iti the food for the youth of 
good thouglitH, of good words, of good deeds, of good 
reli};iitu, after he has departed this lifu: this is the 
food for the holy womao, rich in go(Ml thuughlH, good 
words, and good do«ds, wi-ll<priocipled and obudiiait 
to bor husband, after she has departed this life.' 

The fate of thi; suitl ^if tlie wiokird iti thtoughout tho 
oppositti of what happens to tlic aoul of a i-ighteoiu 
num. Duriii(! threo nights it Mts near the skull and 
I'udui-e^ as much sull'ering as the whole of tlie living 
world cun taste. At the ond of the thinl night, when 
the dawn appears, it seems as if it wi\ru brought amidst 
snow and steuch. and a.s if a wind were blowing from 
the North, thi: fouU-nt-flCL-ntid of all tht- winds in the 
world. The wickufl soul has to inhale that wind and 
thon tu pass through the Evil-Thought Hell, the E%'il- 




Word Hell, tM<i tbo ICvil-Dw-l Hell. Tlie fourth step 
liiye the 8ouL in Eudl<.>ss Diirkiii'ss. Then it has to 
eat food of poison aud poifioQoiiR stench, wliothisr it 
was Uio soul of a wicked man or of a nlclced woman. 

You will have pcrciiivud how much of real Inith 
there la, hidden beneath all this allegorical lanj^iago 
of the Avc^ta. Th<- language is allegorical, but no 
ono conld have uned that language whu vtun not con- 
vinced of ita underlying truth, namely, that the eoul 
of the righteous will be rewarded in the next life by 
own good tlioughls, bis own good words, and his 
U good docda. The idea that these guod thought*, 
words, and deeds meet him in the shape of a benutiful 
maiden, whom at firht he dom not know, till fthe t«lls 
him who sho is. is peculiar to the Avosta, tliough some 
faint indications of it may again be discovered in 
the Upfinishails. 

0«od Worka In Ui* alup* of ft Bskntlflil MftUlaa. 

For we read in the K&ushit<tki~UpAnie^had, L 8, that 
'hen the <1«pArted appi-oachi-s tlie hull of BndiiDnn he 

received by beautiful maidens, called Apsarna. But 
what we look for in vain in the Upanishads ia the 
ethical character which pervades the wholo Avt-Hta. 
It is good thoughts, words, and deeds that are rewarded 
in the next world, not knowledge which, aa we saw, 
carried otT the highest reward according to the teaching 
of thit irpaniohadct. The sweet ncciits also by which 
the dvpartod is greetod in the next world form a 
common element shared by the Upaniahads and 
by the Avesta. 

Infln«na« «b HoluiiBniaaBBtaa. 
It would be curious to Jind out whether this alle- 
gorical conception of the rowardu of men in Paiadiito 

TjTisa]'{iliCftHi>n of & noMe concftption. 
t'ccUy true tli&t evuu id the Avcstx tho 
young inai<Un who receivea the rightel 
pAintvd in vrhat vro »)toul>] call wanti hI 
coIouK, though thcTG wa« uuthiug iu h<^'i 
that would seem objectionable to an Oi-i 
Suoh chaiigi-s Imvw liKjipoiitvl in thi> histil 
religions also. Tho must probable histuril 
between Mohammed and the Aveota vol 
KAmo again a" that through which thu tl 
bridgu Es 8imt roachi-d Mohammed, nl 
Jewish friends and teaahers. 

It '}» true th<'rc is no trace of a M'ivi in Hoi 
tho JcwH. hilt Dr. Kohut pointed out many 
in the Zeitsehrl/t der Deutarhtn Mot-tfeni. 
xxi. p. son, that the Itahiiiii believed and t 
wlion tD&n coincK Dear doath, all Wk acts apj 
his eoul, and that hie good works proniia 
him to the judginent-seat of Uod. They 
tho aouls of tlio piuus are not admitted si 
Paradise, but that they have first to render i 
and to suli'er punishment for some defect^ 
cling to thuui. This liutts for a twvlveiiiontt 
body ia supposed to be entirely decayed, f 
eoul mav rise j'lr'lr nriil rfiiiiMMt^a^^^^M 



iilras.such as wo titid them first in the Avcsto. At alt 
eveDla these Rabbis had advanced far beyond the 
idcnit which aru found in the Old Tentainnnt aa to 
the fttto of the i^oul afU-r dvalli. 

There is another ctirioua passage quoted by Dr. 
kohut from tho Tnlmiid (Synhedr. 91b, Midrash, Genes. 
ubhii 169), fur which.bowover.I know no ptu-alld in 
the Aveata. There we are told that at tho time of thti 
resurreetion the soul will justify itsilt' and say : ' Tha 
[body aloD« in guilty, he alone has sinned. I had 
scarcely left it when, pure like a bird, I tJew throu^^h 
the air,' But the body will say : * The soul alone was 
uilty, ftho hn« driven nic to «in. She lia<l scarcely 
me, wh«n 1 lay on tho ground inotioiili>4tt and 
Binned no more' Tlicn (Jod places the soul once more 
nto tho body and says : * See. how you have filnnc^l, 
' now render an account, both of you.' 

B>t>M* ttam th« ■Uii«klilT«d m tha W*L(Ua« of th« B«M. 

In tlic Minukliirud wo get a etlll fuller account than 
in tho Avesta of the jonraey of the aoul across the 
bridga There we i-eail. 11. 100: 

'Tbou shdtildcst not become prcsumptuouo through 
lifo. for death coraeth upon thee at laat, the dog. the 
bird lacerate the corpse, and the perishable part (sa<(I- 
nako) falls to tho gi-ound. I>uring throe (hiys and nights 
tho soul sits at the crown of the head of tho body. And 
fourth day. in the light of dawn, (with the) oo- 
enlJon of Krutth the riijhteouK, \'ki the (^ood, luid 
irnm tho strong, aud with the oppoKJtion of Astovi- 
ilut, Vai the bad, Frazishto the demon, and NiKintd 
lie demon, and the evil-designing Aeshm, tho evil- 
r, the impetuous assailant, it ^ues up to ths awful 

nie desire of evil of AetJim. the 
ab^aitaut, aixl AstAvldAr/, who ilcvniirs 
everj' kind ami kiinws nn Nitiety, ant) lli 
of MitrA an<t Sroiib luirl KAslmb, aud the 
Baiihnb, tliu jutil, with tbu Imloiico of -spi 
renders no favour on any side, noitber for th 
nor yet the wicked, neither for tlie lonU n 
tiionarcliii. Ak mueh on a hair'H brvndUi i 
turn and haa no parUality. and lie who is a| 
monarch ib oomiidi-ra <-quBl1y in itti decUion 
who ii4 the IwH of inaiikiitd. And when a »' 
rightuous passes upon the hrid^ thv widt! 
bridge heeoueA ae it were a league, and the i 
poul iMKuvn ovi-r wilb tho co-opemtion of S 
rightvuiis.' Then follows what we had hcforei 
his meeting a maiden nho is handaomer an 
tliun any niaidon in the world. And the ) 
soul HpcalcBthus, 'Who inoycBt tbou hu. tliut i 
who is handaonier and bt-tU-r than thou w 
»wn l>y «»•* in the worldly e.ti.ttviio»).' In « 
iuftid(.-D Hays : ' I am no tnnidcn. but I am thy 
-deedsn thou youth who art wtdl tbinking, welll 
well doing, and of good religion.' 

The only m-w feature in tiiifi ncci>unt is tbo ■ 
of tlic aoul bv Ka^l 



UlOM ooincidoncot which cnn only bu aocouitteil for 
by our remombering that what wan nntural in one 
country may have been natural in another also. 

AlHtKl of Uwaonl b«fDT* th« thtOBB or BkblBUI UBd AhttTUIUlCdk. 

[^l lis ntnv ffjllow thfi late of the soul, after it has 
cro»(«.>d Uu! A'iuvii/ bridgtt. Whoa th« Kitivat bridge 
has been crossod. the archangel BaJiman (Vohu-manu) 
rises fi'om a golden tlirone, and exclaims : ' How hast 
tlioii eoiiie bithur to um, righteous one! from the 
perishable life to the imperishablo life.' 

The Hoiils of the righteous then proceed joyfully to 
Ahtirainaxdo, to thv Aiiu.fth&»itei\Ui». to lliu ;;u]den 
throne, to paradise (G&ro-nomnna), that ia the residence 
of Ahuramaicda, tbe Ameshaspentaa, and of t)iu other 
rightvous ones. 

Thus we see that the journey of the soul from this 
life to a hc.tU-T life ciidn in the Av«-i4tA very muuh na 
it ended in the Upuuisbnds, The soul standa bcfuro 
the throne of Ahuramaiida in the Avesta as it stands 
before the throne of Hrahtiian in the Uijuninhnds. 
Only while tbo TTjjnni^ihadH say very btllc aWiil th« 
punishments inflicted on the wicked, tbe Avesta ex- 
plains tliat the onrighteoua soul is rec-eired with scorn 
even by the damned, it» future fellow -sullererM. and 
iHtormcntvd at the command of Angra mainyu. though 
himself the spirit of evil, with poison and hideous 

CeaunoD ba«kVTOiiBd of Avasta uid T«d>. 

I If we compare the theories on the soul and ita fate 
after death, aa we tind them in the l-*paniHhad'>i and 
in tbe Avrata, we sev that a general belief in a sout 



inn J Buu wuiru 
furiotiuds this eAfUi ; it rea«inbloH a Vil 
onk^red by Owl to st«n<l trtiU thorc; ii 
a tK«, vridv-sti'ctched, iroa-bodicd, IibvI 
light in the threo worlilci. Alinrama]:! 
with Mithra, KaNlimi, mid KixtiitA Anniil 
» ganuoot decked with stani, mid mal 
in BUcb a way that nobody can we t| 
itn parts. Ity incnnit of the splendour ol 
the FravaabJB, I uphold the high strong A\ 
oe1«itti&] wat«r) witii bri<fgeB, ihe salutary, 
away tJie dt-inotifi. w)io has the true faith 
wurshippcd iu ibo world. .... 

12. ' If the strong ^nanlinn-angrbi of tlit 
should not giva mw assiistiincii. (lien cattle 
the two last of tho hundn-d classi-e of beii 
no longer exhit for me; then would com 
duviVii power, the devil's orif;iti, tho wh 
ciealion would belong to the devil. 

1(7. ' liy roeann of their splendour and 
tngonuous man Zarathushtru, who spoke 
words, who whs the source of wisdom, 
born birforo Ootnnia, had .stieh intereourBe 
By means of their splendour and glory, thi 
on his path ; by means of their splend^^ 



[ wards till- Dpirite of &lmo»l ovcrjthing in nature. Bitt 
that they wero uriginally, like ihe Vudic Pitainit, tlie 
Rpirita of the depaited. we boo from &uch pasmges as : 

'I pniine, I invoke, nn<i extol tint ^ood, stroii);, 
beneficent gunrtliuu angola of tho rightvouB. Wc 
praifto tboae who axe in the houses, those who are in 
the ei.untrii.f. who are in the Zoroaatriau <!oin- 
liiunitii.-s, thuHC of the preHCnt, tiwuv of the pit-^t, tli»<e 
of the future, righteous, all those invoked in countriea 
where invocation i* practiseil. 

'Who uphold heaven, who uphold water, who up- 
boM eiarth, who uphold nature. &c. 

'We woitihip the good and Wncficont giiardi&n 
angels of the departed, who como to the vill/igo in the 
M'ason called IJaina-spalhinaeila. Then iht^y rotiiii 
about there ten nights, wishing to learn what assist- 
anoe they might obtain, saying, " Who will praise us ? 
who will worship uh? who will adore tisl who will 
pray to us? who will satisfy us with milk and clothes 
in bis hand and with a prayer for righteousness? 
whom of ua will be call here't who^ie soul is to 
worship youl To whom of us will he give tliat 
offering in order to enjoy imperishable food for ever 
and ever !"' 

Nowhere pcrhni>» can the process by which the 
spirits of the departed were raised to the rank of 
gods be perceived more cleaily than in the case of the 
Pomun Kra%-ft«hi», but nowhere again i* there strongiT 
evidence for what I hold agninst Mr. Herbert Spencer, 
namely that this deification of the departed apiritit 
prceuppo)u.M a belief in gods to whoi« rank thcsv 

could be raised. 




VUto'B Aaxiuttitf. 

^M "OEFORE I proceed to explain to vi 

^1 AJ detail the idftiui of the later Hindu ] 

^H on the tule of the mu\ uft>.-r licath. it inn 
^H if only to rcifrt-sh our mmuory, to devote] 
^f to a coDsideiatinn of the heat and highct 

which th« »H.nw pi-oWiMn hiut ohcited ia ' 
vo should fmd botviit^i;r that thero are ce 
loriticB between the thotight« of Plato and tl 
of the poets and piophi^ts of the Upani^ht 
AvehtA. 8ucli niinilai-itioM arc no douht 
and perhaps all tlii.* moro »o bocauso. as I ; 
before, we cannot ascribe them either t< 
uiunity of langtinge or to hintnrical tnuj 
can only account for them by that conii 
^K nature which secma to fmntv lli-' oides 



nutliors of the UpaniRhailx wore fn.r too deeply im- 
pressed with tbo real truth of their teaching to 
claim for it any adventitious or miraculous sanction. 
Unfortuimti'ly they could not prevent tlwiT htf» in-tpirud 
and Icwi convinced folluwcra from a;9cribing to their 
utterances an inspired, a sacred, nay a miraculous 

It cannot lie dcnit:d tUut the itiinilarity between 
Plato's language and that of the Upamshads is somc- 
timP3 very startling. Flato, as you know, likf-s to 
clothe his views on the soul in mythological phrottL- 
ology, just as the authors of the tTpanishads do, nor 
can I see what other language wa8 open to them. It 
is an absurd anachronism, if some would-be critics of 
ancient religions and ancient philottophicit fasten with 
nn air of inti-lk-ctual MupiTiority on this uiytholofjical 
phraseology, nnd Hpcak contemptuously of the childish 
fahlea of Plato and other ancient sagt's an unworthy 
of the seriouH consideration of our age. Who could 
over havo believed, they say, that n soul could grow 
wings, or lose her wings. Who could have believed 
that there waa a bridge between earth and heaven, 
and that a beautiful maiden was standing at the end 
of it to receive the soul of the departed 1 Should we 
not rather Hay, Vrlio can be so obtueio aa not to sec 
that those who used such langunge wero trying to 
express a deep truth, namely, that the soul would be 
lifted up by noble thoughti and noble deeds, as if by 
viogs. and that the higho«t judge to judge tb« 
soul after death would he a man's own conscience, 
standing before him in all ito beauty and innocence, 
like the most beautiful and innocent maiden of tiflcen 
ffl P 

- vruuuvi' IW41W xatsf—mnj iRHij tuuiii uuiu 
iCooJ them, uid hftve ftskcd to have such 
tratu;parent parables declared. ^J 

Plato afnerta without fear of contradicli 
aoul u immortal. Tltu ITpanUUods hiudl; 
becsnse ib»y catmot conceive Uiat doubt 
on that point. ' Who oould say tltat thi 
mortal V Moi-tal mcanit d«cay of a tnat«t 
bodj, it clvai-ly bos no wnso if applied to i 

' I have heard,' Plato writes, ' from men i 
wiM ia divine tiiattvnt a true tal« as I tJ 
Doble OD«. Uy informantfi are those ] 
priesteHHes whose aim is to be nble lo re 
I eount of the subjcctts with which tlivy u 
are supported also by Hndiir and many ot 
by all, I may say, who are truly inapt 
t4.-achiiij; i» tliat tlii; soul of man is immoi 
oomes to an end of one form of exislcnco, 
call dying, and then ia bom again, but ne< 
Since tboD the xoul ia immoiial ', and ha 
bom, and has suen th« things here od ea 

. ^11 j.L;_ . 

F Uio 
I lac 


tbcro IB DO rcMon why a man who has rooallod gne 
lacb only, which men call learning, should not hy bis 
own power Snd out everything vUo, should he he 
eouragooutt. and not lose heart In tho search. For 
seeking and learning ia all an art of recolleclion.' 

The next pA»aag» occurs in thi; Fhacdnm, whore we 
meet with the loyth of the chariot, guidud by a 
charioteer, and drawn by two winged steeds, of which 
in tlic caito of imio, tho one is good, the other batl. 
I must give you some of Plato's sentences in full, in 
order to be able to compare them afterwards with 
certain paasages from the Ui>anithads. 

Tha Obkriouar »ad Um Son**. 

Plato (PhtttdruB 2-tG, tran«J., p. 123) says : ' Enough 
of the soul's immortality, her form b a theme of 
divine and large disoourst! ; the tongue of inaii may, 
however, speak of this bnetly, as in a figure. Let our 
figure be a composite nature — a pair of winged homes 
and a ohatioteor. Now the wingt^d lionii-s and tho 
charioteer of tho gods oru all of thom noble, and of 
noble breed, but our horses are mixed; moreover, our 
charioteer drivi^s them in a pair, and one of them is 
noblo and of noble origin, and the other is ignoble 
and of ignoble origin, and the driving, as might be 
oxi)ect«,-d, i» no easy m«tt<'r with us.' 

If wo turn to the Kaf/ia-Upunishad Ilf. 3, we read 
there; 'Know the soul to be sitting io the chariot, 
the body to be the chariot, the intellect (txiildbi) the 
charioteer, and the mind tho reins. The (K-nses they 
call the horses, the objects of the senses their roads . . . 
He who luifl no underetanding, and ho wboa« mind 
(tho nim) is uevor firmly held, his svnses (honeB) are 

standing, wtio h unniihdrul aiid always liiip 
reachus the goal, but ent*rs into the rount 
^h (saniB^ra). But he who haa uuderstandic 
H ininilful anil nlwnys puro, reaches iudeml 
H from whence ho is not born again ' (fro 
H there is no return). 

H Somo pcoplu hav« thought that the clOM IS 

^^^ between the simile ueted by Plato and by t 
^^^bhaiJ, and Uio ninemblance in eorUiinly i 
^^^'^shows that thoro must havo been Homo ki 
H torical contact even at that early time he 
H religion.^ th<Aight of Imlin Anil the phj 
' thought of Grwco. Wo cannot deny tho poi 
such a view, tbongb we must confess our igi 
to any dt^finite obannol through vrhicb India 
could have reached the shores of Greece at tl 

Th» rrooMtton of tba SodJL 

Lot us now explore Plato'a speculationa 
Boul a little further. There is bis splendid i 
of the procession of tho gods in heaven, a m; 
like, but a myth full of meaning, ae every 
meant to bo. 



which the gods go through, eadi fulfilling his own 
function ; ftii J whotivvr will and con, fblluwH thcin, for 
vnvy id » Htriutger to tho divine- voinpivny. But when 
they aflorn'oi-ds procood to n Imnijuetr thoy udvanco 
by what is now a steep course along the inner oir- 
cttinferencc of tlio heavenly vault. Tho ehariota of 
the godu being well balanced and well driven, advance 
easily, others with ditSculty; for the vicious hoifte, 
unless the charioteer has thoroughly broken it, weighs 
down tho car by his proclivity towards the enrth. 
Whereupon the soul is put to the extremity of toil 
and etlbct. For the souls of the immortals, when Uiey 
reach the suuintit, go outside and etand upon the sur- 
face of heaven, and as they stand there, tJie revolution 
of the sphere bears them ixiund, and they contemplate 
the objects that are beyond it. That supercelestial 
realm ny earthly poet ever yet sung or will sing in 
worthy strains. It is occupied by the colourless, 
shapeless, intangible, absolute essence which reason 
uloni^ can OODtemplati.^ and which is the one object 
of true knowledge. The divine mind, therefore, when 
it eees after an interval that which really is, is 
supremely happy, and gains strength and enjoyiui^nt 
by the contc'inplalion of the True (Satynni), until the 
circuit of the revolution is completed, in the course of 
which it obuins a clear vinion of the absolute (ideiil} 
justice, temperance, and knowledge; and when it has 
thus been feasted by the sight of the essential truth of 
all thing*, Uio soul again enters within the vault of 
heaven and returns home. 

Now here I must again stop for a moment, to point 
out a significant coincidcnoe between Plato and the 


i-iiccis, niul how this led in India to a belief 
psycho&is. Now let us eee bow Plato arri 
same road, yet qnite independently, at tlie 
elusion ' : 

' This ia the Ufo of the goda,' he saya, ' h\ 
souls that which follows God best and is lik 
lifts the hood of the charioteer into the 01 
and is carried round in the revolution, troufa 
by the stoods and with dithculty beholding 
(t& Sv=miiy&m), whilo another riHC« and fall 
and again fails to see, by reason of the unruli 
ateuds. Tbe reat of the aoula are alao looj 
the upper world, and they all follow ; but 
strong enough, tboy are carricil round in 
below, plunging, treading on one another, e 
be first, and there is confiiMion and extremilj 
and many of thorn are lamed and have tb 
broicen through the ill driving of the cbaiia 
all of them after a fruitless toil depart, with 
initiated into Uie mysteries of the true boll 
SifTOi $iat), and departing feed on opinion. 1 
of their great d<.-4ire to behold tbo plain 

iscHA.Tot.oaT or plato. 


preserved from harm until the next pcnod, and if 
attniiiing. is nlways unharmed. Btit when she ia im- 
al>Iti to follow, and faiLi to behold the viHion of triiUi, 
aiid through Homu ill bap Hiuks beneath tlio double 
load of forgetfulnesa and vice, and her feathers fall 
from her, and oho <lropH to oarth, thou tho law ordainH 
tlint tbL« BonI ohall at her first bu'th pasa, not into 
any other animal but only into man, and the aoul 
which has oeen moot of tnith Khali coini; to the birth 
as a philotophor or artist, or some musical and loviojf 
nature ; that which haa seen truth in the second degree 
Bhall be a rigbteoua l^ing or lordly warrior ; the houI 
which is tif thv third class tihnll bo a i>ulitictan or 
economist or trader; (ho fourth shall bo a lover of 
gymnastic toils or a physician ; the fifth a prophet or 
hicrophaut; to tho sixth a poet or somu other imilativo 
artist will be appropriate ; to the seventh the life of 
»D artisan or husbaudoian ; to the «ighth Uiat of a 
sophist or demagogue ; to the ninth that of a tyrant ; 
all these are states of probation, in which he who 
livc« rightifously improves, and he who Uvea un- 
righteoualy deteriorates his lot.' 

Th* Kin* 0\aam*u at Plato koA Kuiq. 

I have alroftdy pottittnl out in a former lecture tbo 
curious parallelism between Indian and Greek thought. 
You may remember that Manu also eatablishea ex- 
actly the snini.* ntimlx^ of chuiites, nauii-ly nine, and 
that wc could judge of tho cstimatioD in which his 
contemporaries held certain occupations by the place 
which ho otttiigned to each. Plato placoit tho philoso- 
pher Gnat, the tyrant lost; Manu places kings and 
warriors in the fifth class, and assigns tho third class 

■ IIIIUJ LIll'B tonhnaiMr'Ten Ifioasund 
<;la[)Be before the soul can return to the 
whenoo she came, for she c&iiiiot grow hc^ 
JuMH ; oiily th<i soul of a j)hi1oBopber, guilclc 
or the floul of a lover, who ia not without 
iiiAy acquire win}{B in the tliinl recurring 
thou»nn<] ycnrs: uiid tf thoy vhooHo thiH 
tiroes in succession, then they have their w 
them, and go away at the end of three thous 
but the others receive juilgiitvut, when thoy 
pletcd their firat lifu, and after the jud^en 
Mine of them to the houses of correction i 
under the coxth, and arc punished ; othon 
place in heaven, where they are lightly 
justice, and then they live in a manner woil 
life which thoy Iwl hero wIku in the fora 
And at the end of the first thousand years 
»oul4 and also the evil souIh both coiiio to 
and chooHu their «ocuiid lifi.', and they may 
which they like.' 

Here there arc not many points of Hitnij 
tween Plato and Munu, except that we 
Plato also admits placca of pun'shiiienL-ail 



doan. Horothv souIhu-o supiiobcd to bucoiue purified 
anJ chastened, and when they have suffered their well- 
deserved penalties, they receive the rewards of their 
good dtx-dfl HC«onling to thuir dcHurtx. ' Those, liowcver. 
who nru considtrcd altogether iBConigihlc, arc hurled 
into TartaruB,ancl they never come out. Others, after 
Buni.'ring in TartaiiiH fur a yi'ar, may escapv ^oln if 
those whom they have injured pardon them. Those 
on the contrary' who have been pre-eminent I'ur holiness 
of life are released from thiit earthly prison and go to 
their pure homu which i^ above and dwell in the purer 
earth ;andLhoBe who have duly puri tied themselves with 
philoKophy.livo bonooforth al together withouttlic body, 
in mansions fairer than these, — which may not he de- 
acribMl and of which the time would fail ine to toll.' 

Buum Souls nlffratlnff Into Anlwrl Bodtaa. 

We now coriiv to what has alwaya hoen cunsidercil 
the most Htartlinj:; coinciil«uco between I'lato and th« 
philofeophers of India, namely, the belief in the raigis- 
tiuu of suuU from human into aiuiDul hudien. Tliough 
M« have become accustomed to this idea, it cannot be 
denied that its first conception wan startling. Several 
expLanatioms havu been att<.'iiipt^-d to account for it. 
It has often been supposed that a belief in ancestral 
apirita and ghosts haunting their fonner homes is at 
the bottom of it all. But judging from Lho first 
mention of this kind of metempsychosis in the Upa- 
nishads, we saw that it was really based on purvly 
moral grotinds. We find the Gml general allusion to 
it ID the Ka/Aa-Upauishad. 

There we read (11. 5) : ' Fools dwelling in darkness, 
wi«c in their own conceit and puf)*ed up with vain 


1111.1 in uiiu nui'iu, uv uiiiikB, uioiv ih uu 
tbiiD lie falls Hguin and sgaiu under nty b 
Bway of death). 

The speaker hero U Yiunn, the ruler of tli 
nft^rwnrds tho god of dcnth, and irn wh( 
the wicked in Hell. 

With Plato also tho first idea of metemps 
tlio niif^tion of human souls into animal ho 
to have been auggefttod hy ethical conaideia 
tha end of thv first thousand yvurs, lu- say^ 
houIh and bIho tho evil soubi both come to 
and choooe their second life, and they may 
which they like '. Tlie floul of man may paa 
Ufa of a bcut, or from the buaet roturn agail 
man. Hero it is clearly supposed that a id 
chooRo acconling to hi» tast« and oharaoler, a 
next lifv should correspond to his character, i 
in a former life. This beoomes still clearer 
read the atory of Er at the end of the R«pub 

Th* BVorj of li. 

You alt remember Er*. the son of Amu 
Pamphyliao, who was slain in battle, and 



be burnt. But on the twelfth d&y, aa be was lying 
on the ftinoral pile, he rolunifd to life and told all he 
b&d Been in the otiior world. His soul, he said, left 
the body and he then went on & long jouruiby with a 
great eoinpany. I cruinot read to you the whole of 
this episode — you probably all know it — at all event* 
it is easily accessible, and a ahort abstract will suffice 
for our purposes. Er relates how be came first of all 
to a mysterious place, where there were two openings 
io the earth, and over agHJcst thoin two openings in 
the heaven. And there woro judges sittin;; botwoon, 
to judge the souls, who sent the good souls up to 
heaven, and the bad down into the earth. And while 
these souls went down into the earth and up to heaven 
by on© opening, others came out from the other 
opening descending from heaven or ascending frotu 
the earth, and they luet in a meadow and embraeed 
each other, and told tlie one of the joys of heaven, and 
tlio others of the suflurings beneath the earth during 
the thousand years they had lived there. After 
tarrying gicven days on the meadow Uio spirits had 
to proceed further. This further Juumey thruugh the 
spheres of heaven is fully described, till it ends with 
the houIh finding themi(elv<-A in tlie presence of the 
three Fates, Laohesis, (.'lutho, tuid Atrupos. But hero, 
instead of receiving their lot for a new life as a 
natural consequence of their former deeiUi, or mis- 
dee<iH, they are allowed to choose their own lot, and 
they choose it naturally according to their experience 
in a former life, and according to the bent of their 
character as formed there. Some men, disgusted with 
mankind, prefer to be bom as animalt), as lions or 
eagles, aomc imimals delight in trying their luck as 

Sing the (ipserl pUm of 
thu river of UnmiiKlfuiiiL-ss, tln-y 
earthquake, and driven upwards to tbi 
Pla,t<i then tinishes tbo vision of the Pi 
with thu following words : ' WhurL-forv 
that we hold for ever to the heavenly w^ 
after justice and virtue, always oonAii]« 
soul is immortal and able to t^nduiv evc^r 

every sort of evil. Then shall we 1 

tme aaotlior and to the gods, both whi| 
hcr« and when, liko conquoron in the 
round to gather gifts, we receive our 
it shall ho woll with uh both in this liii 
pilgrimage of a thousand years which w 

Oeln«liUno«a bad Dlir«r«B««a. 
This has justly bten called the mo»t 
myth in the whole of Plato, a kind of ] 
apocalypse which l]a« kept alivu a Imlis 
tality among the Greeks, and not amonf 
only, but nmong all who became their pa 
is no doubt a cc-rtain similarity in thv b) 
of this Platonic tm-th jUiMfrta^^M^ 



Uic Greek Icgcinds seom to me quite as great ss Uicir 
coincidences. It may acem strange, no doubt, thnb 
buiu&D fancy should ia Greece as well as in India 
liitvo created tliis myth of the M>ul leaving the body, 
and migrating to the upper or lower regions to receive 
its reward or its puniahmc^nt ; and more pnrtici'laily 
its eotntnco into animal bodies Kcema very HtarlHng, 
when wo Und it for the first time in Greece an well a» 
in India. Still it in far easier to suppoi>e that the 
same ideas burst forth spontaneously from tl)o same 
springs, the fears and hopes of tho human heart, than 
to admit an exchange of ideas l>elween Indian and 
Greek philottophcn in historical times. Tho strongest 
eoincidenco is that between the nine or three times 
three classes of the soul's occupations as ndmitt^^'d by 
Mnnu und by Plato : and again between the river 
Vit/ari, the Ageless, where a man leaves all his good 
and his evil deeds behind him. and the draught of Uic 
Zarama^'a oil by which in ttie Avcsta the bouI is 
supposed to become oblivious of all worldly cares and 
concerns before entering paradisoi and again tho plain 
of Forgetfulncss and tho river of Unmindfulncss 
mentioned by Plato ; or still more the river Lethe or 
foi^tfulness in gener&l Greekmytholo^. Still, even 
this may be a thought tliat pri-sciit'-d ittoif indepen- 
dently to Greek and Indian thinkers. All who be- 
lieved the soul to be immortal, had to believe likewise 
in the pre-oxistenco of the soul or in its being without 
a beginning, and as no soul here on earth baa any 
recollection of its former existences, a river of Lethe 
or forgetfulni.'es, or a river Vir^ar^ and the oil of forget- 
fulness, were not 4uite uunatuml expedients to account 
for ihw. 

any right to say in tliat they axe natural, 
chvrc is Moiupthiiig uiKU-rljing tht-ni whi 
proesed in lenE mythological lauguag(>, may 
severest toHt of philosophical examination. 

Ill order to soo this moro ok'Aily. iu order 
oureelvcfi aa to what kind of truth the i 
human mind may reach on these subject*, 
nseful to examine horo the thcoriua of soi 
Bo-oalled savage races. In their c«bo the ti 
bility of ail historical intcrcourae ivith India 
is exdiidc-d. 

Th* Mkldfta on tb« IsuaertaUtr ot th» ■«■ 
I choose for this purpose first of all the 
who inhabit tlie Charlotte lul&ndti and ha^ 
been doecribcd to us l>y the Rev. C. Harrisoi 
thoroughly conversant with their language. 
According to his description the religioa 
savagu Haidait would seem to bo verj* like tlw 
of the ancient Peraians. They believe in t 
cipal deities, one the god of light, who is | 
other the god of darkness, trho la evil. Besi 
two, there arc a number of smaller doitiea n 




The Haidas believe in the immortality of the soul, 
and Uieir idean about th« journey of the soul after 
death an- nearly as elaborate as thosu of tb« Upa&i- 
^bade. When a good Haida is about to die, he sees a 
casoe manned by eioino of his departed frienda, who 
coino vrilb thf tide to bid bim welcome to their 
domain. They an) auppo&ed to be siot by the god of 
death. The djing man seea them and is rejoiced to 
know tbat aUar a period pa««od witliin the oity of 
death, be will with his friends bo welcomed to bbe 
kingdom of (be god of light. Hia friends call him 
and bid him oome. They say: 'Come with ua, come 
into th« land of light ; come into the land of gieat 
things, of wonderi^ul things ; come into the land of 
plenty where Imnger is unknown ; oome with us and 
rest for evermore. . . . Come with as into our land 
of sunshine and be a great chief attended with 
numeroui* Mlavta. Como with uh now, tlio spirits »ay, 
for the tide is about to ebb and we muat depart.' At 
last tho soul of the deceased leaves his body to join 
tbe company of bts former friends, while hi« body is 
buried with grvat pomp and epicndoar. The Haidas 
bcdiere that the soul leaves the body immediately 
after death, and ii4 taken puBMismn uf eitlicr by Chief 
Clotid or Chief Death. The good aoul is taki-n pos- 
aeasion of by Chief Death, and during ite sojourn in 
the domain of Death, it is taii^dit many wonderful 
tbings and bucom«i initiated into the mysteriv* of 
heaven (just as tlie soul of Na/dketas waa in the 
domain of Vatna). At la»t he becomes the essence of 
tJie purest light and is able to revisit his friends on 
uarth. At the close of the twelve months' probation 
the time of his redemption fnim the kingdom of 


the sbape of his earthly body, but 
of the kingdom of light, is discon 
Light by Chief Duttb, in whose d( 
taught the customs to be obeorvod 

The bftd Indian in the region o: 
tured continually. In tho fint pi 
witnMs the chief of that region ft 
body until it is entirely cooaume 
ao near to thin world tliat he ovin 
to return to his frit^'iida am) ^a^ 
Thirdly, he has the dread of beinj 
(Hetywanlana) ever before his i 
atonement for hia past wicked lif< 
»ncv his soul after death is incap 
and consequently incapable of i 
very ditlercnt from Plato and the 
there is always a hope of final salv 

SometitnoA pcrmiKston is grant 
clouds to revisit the earth. Thci 
seen by the Saaga, the great n 
describes them as d^-stitute of all i 
looked upon as wickc<l oud trea( 
the m edicine man's dnty is to pre 



times it happens that the soulii in the dcmaia of 
Death am not timilc pure ukI holy witbiii twi.'lvu 
moiithn, iiDtl yot wh«u their hodies died they were 
not wicked enough to be captured by Chief Cloud. 
Then it booonicH nucecmry that tlie I«sh tianctified 
souU return to uarth and booonie rcgviioratvd. Evory 
Boul not worthy of eutering be&ven is sent back to 
bis friendn and reborn at the fimt oppcirtuDtty. The 
Saaga enters the house to aee the iicwly-boni baby, 
and bis attendant spirits aunoonce to him that io 
that child is the ttoul of one of their dt.'pn.rted 
friends who died during the preceding yeare. TiK-ir 
now life bos to be such as will subject theui to 
retribution for the misdeeds of their past life (the 
Bame idea which we met with to India and in 
Greece), and thus the purgation of souls baa to be 
cavrii-d on in successive migrations until they are 
suitable to enter the region of etcntal light 

It sometimes happens that aome souls are too 
depraved and wicked after twelve nionthii in the 
clouds to bo oonduoted to Hvtywanlana; they alAO 
aiv sent back to this earth, but they arc not allowed 
to re-enter a human body. They are allowed to enter 
the bodic« of animals and fish, and coni]>elled to 
undergo great turture. 

We see here how the Uaidas arrived at the idea of 
nM-tempHychosis very much by the same road on 
which the Hindus were led to it- It was as a 
punishment that human souls were supposed to cuter 
the bodien of certain animals. We likewise meei 
among the Haidao with the idea which we di.>iCOvcr«tl 
in the Upanishads and in Plato, tliat certain souls 
are bom again ss human beings in order to undergo 

sbo. It IB tbere called the place of tl 
the intermediate place between b 
reBcrvod for those eotila n'ho«o got 
oounterbalanoe their situ, and whei 
a stationary state till the linal r«3un 

Tb« VolysasUna on tha Immorullt; 

I have cdtOHen the Haidaa, tlie 
North-went coast of America, as a 
not poBsibly have been touched by 
that civilisation which had ita seat 
or in Persia, or in Ejjyjit or Grwco, 
on the immortality of the soul, aiid i 
awaits the eouI after death, are clear] 
grovth, and if on certain important | 
with the viftws of the Upooi^shnds, tl 
Plato, that agivement, though it doe 
truth, proves at all events what I o 
ntutfl. their conformity witlt the hopoi 
human heart. 

I shall now take another race, eqi 
reach of Mesopolamiau, Pcrsiiui. Eg;]i 



topics without our having to ndmit either it commoo 
historical origin, or an actual borrowing at a later 
time. I chooae them for another reason also, namely. 
becAuec Ui<^y are one of the few raoo<« of whom w6 
posseea «chu)ar1iko and trustworthy aceountti from 
the pen of a miBHionary who has thoroughly mastered 
the language and thoughts of the people, and who 
has proved himKclf free from tlio prejudicuit arising 
from theological or Bcitutific partisanship. I mean 
tbo Rev. W. Wyatt Gill. Speaking more particularly 
of the imlanda of tht- Hcrvey group, he ^ays : 

' Each inland had some variety of custom in rclaUon 
to tlio dead. Perhaps the ohiefs of Atiu were the 
most outrageous in mourning. I knew one to mourn 
for seven years for an only child, living all that time 
in a hut in the vicinity of the grave, ami allowing 
bis hair and nails to grow, and hie body to remain 
unwashed, This waa the wonder of all tlie islanders. 
In general, all mouniiug ceremonies were over in a 

But what did thefie islanders think about the life 
to eomel It ia seldom that we can get a clear 
account of the ideas of savages concerning the fato 
of their departed friends. Many avoid the subject 
altogethi-r, and even those who are ready to com- 
municate their thoughts freely to wbito men, often 
fail to be understood by their questioners. Mr. Gill 
is in this reepeot a favourable esoeption, and tJiis is 
what he tollti uii alxtiit the conception of tbo spirit* 
world, aa entertained by his Polynoaian friends : 

•Spirit-land proper is underneatb, where the sun- 
god KjL reposes when his daily taak is done.' Tliia 
reminds us of Yama, the eon of Vivaavat (tbo sun). 


luusly Eennod Po ' (Nigfit). ATBiki.^ 
wuiki, or bomo of iho iiiici-»t>or». Stil 
qnrita, i.e. thoae who have died a violl 
imiil to a»c«fut to their happy hoiiiel 
heavens &1>ot«. Po/nUarly, dcmth in I 
referred to as " going ioto night," in I 
day (ao), i.e. life. AhovA And beneath J 
eounlrio« and a varii^ty of inhabitants! 
inoi-tal eye ; but these are but a /ocsiJ 
w« Hen around uh now. I 

' Tho Samoon bcuvcn was designnt«J 
Purotu, and was supposed to be under tl 
Mangaian warrior hoped to " leap into i 
" to daneo the warrior's danco in Tairi* 
inhabit Spock-land (Po^pod)" in perfec 
The Itarotongan woiTior look«d forwan 
in Uio house of Tiki, iu wliicli aro aiwcmbl 
of past ages, who spend their time in eatil 
dancing, or deeping. The Ailutakian bl 
agi)U<) land (Ivs) undt-r the guaidianslu 
iievok-iit Tiikiutaua, to cliew nugar-cAiic I 
uncloyod appetite. TahitinuH liud nn elj 
"Mini." SoeJe tvIalandt 



they follow the sun-god R£ over the oooan and d6< 
dcond in hia train to the ondor-world. Ab n rulc.theM 
ghoatflwere well disposed to their own living rolativw; 
but oft«n became vindictive if a pet child was ill- 
treated by a Btep-mother or other r«Iativi-», &c. But 
the esoteric teaching of the prieate ran thus : Unhappy ' 
ghosta travel over the pointed rocka round the island 
until thoy rea«b the extreme edge of th« elLtf facing 
the setting sun, when a large wave approaehoa to the 
base, and at the same moment a ^ganttc " f/ua" tree 
(Fiignita />irr(m«)Ui), covered with fragrant blossoms, 
springs up from Avniki to rcoctve these dinconsolato 
human spirits. Even at this last moment, with feet 
almoat touching the fatal tree, a friendly voice may 
send the spirit-travel lor back to lifv and health. 
Otherwise, be is mysteriously impelled to climb the 
paiticuhir branolt reserved for bis own trilx^, and 
conveniently brought ui-arcst to bim. Immcdiatc-ly 
tlte human soul is safely lodged upon this gigantic 
"Inui." the deceitful tree guea dawn with ita living 
burden to the nether-world. Akiuiiiga and his aesls- 
tantscatcb thelucklessghostinanet, half drown it in a 
lake of fresh water, and then unher it into the presence 
of dread Miru. mistresn of the netber-world, where it is 
made to drink of her intoxicating bowl. Tho drunken 
ghoat is borne off to the ever-burning oven, cooked, 
aad devoured by Miru, her eon. and four peerless 
daughtera. The refuse is thi-own to her eorvanta, 
Akaanga and others. So that, at Mangaia, the end of 

a the coward is anuihiktion. or, at all events, digestion. 

^K 'At Rarotonga the luckless spirit-traveller who had 

Rt'-aiitte th'j )i»l lli« mlnrortunD 'lo din on t plll'n*.' nail 
b«euii>u ihty had U> li-ave llieir old jitcManc haunt* ku<1 tiumm, 

Bun. One tribe BkJrUd the sea mftrgiu anti 
the fatal spot. Another (the tribe of Tanj 
««steni pftit of RarotoDgn) tnvented th* 
range forming tbe backbone of the islaoi 
Bame point of departure was attained. ] 
the fonner tribe cUnil)cr<.'d on an ancient 
(still Btaoding), Should the branch c^ano 
the ghoat is immediately caaght in the net 
But it somHimes happens tliat a lively 
the inoslica and escapos for a while, pttanil 
reeistlcss inward impulse towards the ou 
tbe reef, in the hope of tiwemng the ocei 
a Btroight lino from the tihocc is a niund ho 
Alcaanga's net ia concealed. In this thi 
who t^seape nut of the handn of Altini are c 
out fail. The delighti-d demoiii< (tjuie) take 
ghost out of the net. dash his brains out o 
coral, and carry him off in triumph to tbe bI 
' P'or the tribe of Tungiia an iron-woi 
rcHervcd. The gboeta that trod on tho gr« 
of this tree came back to life, whilst tho 
tlic misfortune to crawl on the dead bronc 



'The ancieut faith of the Uervej IsUnden WIS 
suliHtantitiily the Mimu. Nor did it mntorially differ 
from that of the Tahitiftu and Society lalandera, tha 
T&riationR beingsuch as we might expect whun portious 
of tliu ti&inv great family had been soparatc-d from 
«acb other for ages.' 

We see in tbeae Polynesian legends a startling 
mixture of ooureu and oxalti^d ideas a« to the fate of 
the 8out after death. 

Mr. Qill aays that there is no trace of transmigra- 
tion of humaii 80ul» in thi; Eastern PaciBc. Yet he 
tolls UB that the spirits of th« doad are fabled to have 
assumed, temporarily, and for a specific purpose, the 
form of an inactit, bird, titth, or cloud. Ho adds that 
gods, specially the spirits of deified men, were believed 
pennaoeatly to reside in, or to bo ino«ruatu in, sharks, 
Bnt>rd-6Bh, Ac. cols, the octopus, the yellow and 
black- spotted lizards, seveml kinds of birds and 
im^ccts. The idea of tiouh dwelling in unitnal bodies 
cannot therefore bo said to have been unknown to the 
inhabitants of the Polynesian Islands. 

If it is asked, what we gain from a comparison of 
the opinions on thu fate of the soul after tloath as 
entertained not only by highly civilised nations, such 
aa the Hindus, the Pemtans, and the Qreeka, but like- 
wise by tribes on a very low level of social life, such 
as the liaidas and Polynesians, my answer is that 
we li-am from it, that a belief in a soul and in tlie 
immortality of the soul is not aimply the dream of 
a few philosophical poets or poetical philusuphen, but 
the spontaneous outcome of the human mind, when 
brought face to face with the mystery of death. 

name may have been assigned to him, ' 
iudpuJ the highest point that has been r 
natural rehgion. But we shiill see that oi 
at lea^t, that of the Ved&nta, made a de 



IT is atrnng* that the two raligions in which we 
find nothing or nrxt to nolliing about tho ini- 
niotiality of the soul or its approach to the throno 
of Ood or its life in the ryalin of light, should be the 
Jewish and the BuddhiHt, the one pre-eminently mono- 
thcietic. the otiicr, iu tho cyctt of the Bi-Hhinans. almost 
purely ntli(;i«>tie. The Old Testament itt almost silent, 
and to be silent on ouch a itubjcct admits of one 
interpretation only. The Buddhista. however, go even 
beyond thi.i. Whatever tho popular superslitiuns of 
the Buddhists may have boen in India and other 
countries, Buddha himself declared in the most 
decided way that it waA uHeleBs, nay, wrong to aak 
tho queetiou what becomes of the departed after 
deatli. When cjuestioned on the aubjeot, Buddlia de- 
clined to give any answer. From all tho other reli- 
gions of the world, however, with these two exceptions, 
we receive one and the same answer, namely, that 
the highest blessedness of the soul after death consists 
in its approaching the presence of Ood, possibly iu 
singing praises and offering worship to the Supreme 

>>e^on(l lliis lucro ase^H^K~round the 
Siiprcnii' Being, and ^^^^^raiaes to bis 
have protests been TCaoting from very i 
against the idea of a Ood sitting on a 
having a right and left hand. But th( 
old autbropomorphic idras, eanctioned by 
catechisniH, havo been rejected a^sin i 
nothing has been placed in their kIinkI, and 
rally ri*e up anew with every new rising | 
In India aloiir the human mind has Hriru 
this point, at fiiitt by gucnses and postu 
AA wo find in some of tho Upanisliada. alU 
strict r(-fisuiiin^, micb as wv find in the Vedfti 
and Htiil more in tliu coinnientury of Safil 
Vedanta. whether we call it a religion or a f 
b** completely broken with the effete 
[Durphie conception of God and of tliu si 
proaching the throne of Ood, and has ope 
which weri> unknown to the greatest t] 

These etnigglea after a pure conception 
began at a very early time. I have often i 



longer a masculine, no lon^^er personal, in the human 
sense of th« word ; it hati not even a name. 

VaraoBBll^, a UmlUHos of Ui« Oodliakd, 

No doubt tbie Btcp will by nmiiy bo couHidcred not 
as a step in advance, but bb a backward step. Wo 
ottvii hear it Aaid that an irupentonal Ood is no Qod 
at all. And yet, if we u&e our words wisely, if we do 
not simply repeat words, but try to realise their 
meaning, wo can easily uncIi^rHtoiid why even tboM 
anciont seekers after truth declined to ascribe human 
perftonnlity to the Doity. People ore apt to forget 
that buniBQ personality always implies limitation. 
Hence all the pemonal gods of ancient mythology 
wore limited. Jupiter was not Apollo, Indra was not 
Agni. When people spealc of human personality, they 
o(Wn include in it every kind of limitation, not only 
ago. SOX, language, nationality, iuliorited character, 
koowlodge, but also outward appL-ai-ance and facial 
expivKaion. All these qualifications were applied to 
the aneient gods, but with the dawn of a higher con- 
oeption of the Deity a reaction set in. The earliest 
philosophers of Greece, who wen) religious even more 
than philosophical teachers, protested, as for inntanco, 
through the mouth of Xenophanes, against the belief 
that Qod, if taken as the highest Deity, conld be sup- 
posed to b<: like unto man iu body or mind. Even 
at tbe preHont day the Bishop of London thought it 
right and necessary to wain a (.'hrietiau congregation 
against the danger of asL-rlbttig personality, in its 
ordinary meaning, to God. 'There is a sense,' he 
Bayii ', ' in which we cannot a8a-il>e personality to the 

■ Temple, Annfton Ltduna, p. 57. 

»lity far traiisct-ndti our conceptions. . . . 
perwuhlity bo Him is to assimilnto Him 
and ckad rule, we cannot but repudiate s 
altogothvr. Jf to deny pcr»onnlity to 
a»i)M.Tt His ircomprplii'iisiLility, wo are rea 
to acknowledge our weakness and incapaci 
It ia strange that people aliould not neo th 
li-Arii.witli ri'gard to ]H'ntunnlity,rxuctly tlio t 
whicli vfc hftvo had to Icam with regard t 
human qualities, when we att«mpt to trai 
to God. W« may say thnt (>(>(l is wii^e anq 
and pitifkil, but Hu ie all lliis in a sense wb 
human understanding. In the same way, 
Hay tbat God in pergonal, wo must Icam 
poreonality must bo high above any buma 
ality. high above our understanding, alwaya 
tlutt we und^ntand what wc mean wb«a 
of our own persouality. Some people saj 
Deity must be at (east personal ; yes, but aj 
tiniu tbc Deity uiiiet be at f<xuit above all thi 
tions whicli arc inseimmble from human pel 
L W« may bo fully convinced t]int God 



blue, and yet W6 cannot help scoing it blue. Even the 
Bi»hop can only toll uh how not to think about Ood, 
but how to tbiuk about Ilim except aa personal lie does 
not t«ll us. When we sea Xenoplianea attempting to 
rep«>Ma( thi« Suprcnii- Bvinj; lut vi^m/nxtdj^, or like a 
ball, we Bee what any atteinpte of this kind would 
lead to. The same intellectual struggle which we 
Oan wat«h iu the words of a living Blsliop, we can 
follow also in the later uttcmncus of the Vvdic ]>oct«. 
They found in their ancient faith names of over so 
many personal gods, but they began to see that these 
were all but imperfect names of that which alone is, 
the Unknown Absolute Being, as Dr. Temple calls it, 
the Ekam sat of the Vedio sages. 

>tranl* for Usli«i ««iM«pUoi) of Um OoAluAd. 

How then was the Ekam eat, t& h- koI to w, to be 
calked? Many namea were attempted. Some Vodio 
sagcH called it Priiua. tliat i» breath, which comes 
nearest to the Greek V'X'i- breath or spirit or soul. 
Others conf(-s»o<l iheir inability to oouiprchcnd it 
under any name. That it is, and that it is ono, is 
readily admitted. But as to any definite knowledge 
or deHnit« name of it, the Vedio sages declare their 
ignoranoa quite as readily as any modeni a^ioutic. 
This true agnosticism, this liocta iffnomntUi of medi- 
aeval divines, this consciouaiieas of man's utt«r help- 
l4i«)u»-8S and inability to arri%-o at any kuowlodgo of 
God, is most touchingly exprcwiod by some of tiieso 
ancient V'edic poets. 

I sliall quote aomo of their utteranooit. 

Rv. X. 82, 7. ' You will not find Him who has 
created these things; something else abanda between 


you and Him. Eavclopod in mist and with faltering 
voices tho poots walk along, rejoicing in lifo.' 

Rv. 1. 164,4-6. ' Who has seen the First-born, when 
He who bad no bones, i. e. no form, bore him that had 
bouis. The li^^^ tbe blood, and the soul of the earth^ 
whore are thi^y t Who went to aalc it to one who knew 
iti Siuiple-minded, not oonipreliending it in my mind, 
I ask for the liiddi.Tn pliicos of tho godw. . . . Iguomnb 
I B&k the knowing sages, that I. the not-knowing, 
may know, what is the One in the form of the Un- 
born which has settled th6»e six spaces.' 

Still stronger is this confeeision as repeated again 
and again in the Upanishade. 

For instance. Svet, Up. IV. 19, ' No one baa grasped 
Him above, or across, or in the middle. There ia no 
likeness of Him whose name is Great Glory.' 

Or, iAund. Up. III. 1,8. ' He* is not apprehended by 
the eyv, nor by spucoh, nor by the other scnno», not 
by penanco or good works.' 

Ken. Up. I. 3. ' Thy eye does not go thither, nor 
specoh, nor mind. Wo do not know, we do not under- 
Btand, how any one can teach it. It is dificrvnt from 
the known, it ia also above the unknown, thus we 
have iicard fmrn those of old who taught us tbia.' 

A7,&nd, Up. IV. 3, 6. ' Mortals see Him not, though 
He dwells in many places." 

In the Taitt. Up. II. 4, it is naid that words turn 
back from it with the mind, without having reached 
it — and in another place, KiUh. Up. HI. 15, it i^ diii- 
linctly called nameless, intangible, formless, imperish- 
able. And ngain, MuTitJ. Up. 1. 1, 6, invisiklo, and not 
to be grasped. 

These very doubts and perplexities are most touch- 



iiig, I doubt whether w find (uiytbiog like them any* 
where else. On one point only these ancient searchers 
after Ood seem to have no doubt whatever, namely, 
that this Being ia one and without a second. We saw 
it wlutn tlic poot fluid, ' That which is one the poeta 
call it in many ways,' and in tlio Upanisliads, this 
One without a isecoiid become* a oonatant name of 
the Supremo Being. Thus the Ktifli. Up, V. 12. i-ays: 
'There is one ruler, the soul within all things, who 
makes thoonoform manifold.' And the iSVetJutvatara< 
Up. VI. 11, adds: 'He ia the one Gud, hidden in all 
things, all- pervading, the soul within all beings 
watching over all wurk^ dwelling in all, the witneaa, 
the perceiver, the only one, free from all qiinlitics, Ho 
ia the one ruler of many who (seem to act, but really) 
do not net.' 

The A'Aand. Up. VI. 2. 1. says: ■ In the boffinning 

thcro was that only which is. one only, n-ithout a 

nd ; • and the Brih. Ar. Up. I V. 3. 32, adds : ■ That 

seer (Bubject) is an ocean, and withoutany duality.* 

Muit(/. Up. II. 2, 5. ' In Him the heaven, (ho i^arth, 
and the sky are woven, the mind also with all Uie 
senses.. Know Him alone as the Self, and leave off 
other names. He is the bridge of th« Imtuortal, ie. 
the bridge by which we reach our own immoi-tality.' 

Th(;se are mere gropings, groplngs in the dark, no 
doubt: but own thus, whuro do we sae such gropings 
after God except in India ? 

The human mind, however, cannot long go on with- 
out names, and some of the names given to tlio One 
Unknowable and Unnnmcablo Bcinj;, which wo shall 
now have to examine, have caused and are still caus- 
ing great difficulty. 


S»m* tor tba lil«%*it OodlMMl. Srakmkn. 

One of the best-known namee is Brahman, originally 
a neuter, but used often proroiBCuousty aa a inaecul 
aJao. It would be an immenBe help if wo were certain'' 
of the etymology of Brahman. We ithouM then know, 
what id alvrnyit most importaut, its tii-st coiic<;ption. for 
it is cluor, and pbiloeophdra ought l>y this time to have 
learat it, that every word must bare meant at first 
that which it tn«ans (iyniologirally. Many attemptaj 
bavo been made to diiicovcr the etymology of Biaiimao,* 
but neither tbat nor the successive growth of its moaa- 
ings can be aflC<'rtained with perfect certainty. It has 
b*wn suppoaed' tliat oTtiiin p«s8ugi-9 in tlic Ka/Aa- 
Upanishad (11. IS; VI. 17) were meant to imply a 
derivation of brahman from tile root barb or brih, 
to tear off, an if brahman meant at fintt what was 
torn off or eeparated, absoiutum ; hut there is no otbtT 
evidence for the esiatcncA' of Uii» line of thought in 
India. Otbeni have derived brahman from the root 
barb or bWh, in the sense of swelling or growing. 
Thus iJr, Uaug, in his paper on Brahman und die 
SmATmnicn, published in 1871, ttupposed that brah- 
man must have meant oiiginally what grows, and ho 
saw a proof of this in the corresponding Zend word 
Banvman {Barsom), a bundle of twigs (virgae) used 
by the priests, particularly at the laeshan sacrifiosa. 
He then assigns to brahman thu more abstract mean- 
ing of growth and welfare, and what causes growth 
and Wi'lfai-e, namely, siicrpd songs. In this way ha 
holds that brahman came to mean the Voda, the holy 
word. Lastly, he assigns to brahman the meaning of 

■ I)piiMt>n. FrditRla, p. VSS. 



fore« ftii niAnifoetcd la nature, atwl tlio,t of univoryal 
force, or the Supreme Being, tliat which, according to 
iSai'ikiii;)., ' ia et«rti&l, pure, inteliigu-iit, free, umniscieat 
and omuiputuni.' 

When by s well-known grammatical pi-ocesa thta 
iieutvr hri'tlitiiiiu (uom. hitJiiimJ 18 Gliuiijji;(l into iho 
ma^culioe brAhm&n (nom. bruhmft.), it com«s to moaa 
ft man conversant with Brahman, a member of the 
pricetJy caste; secondly, a prit^Mt charged with the 
BpQci&l duty of superintending the sacrifice, but like- 
wise the personal creator, the aniveraal force gud- 
oeived im a purtiuuu] god. tlie stuiio a« Praj^&pati, and 
in later times one of the TrimiLrti, Brahmin, Vishnu, 
and Siva. So far Dr. Haug. 

Dr. Muir, in his Sanskrit Text», i. p. 240, storta 
from brahman in the sense of prayer, hymn, while he 
takoK tl)o <lL'riviitivc maaoulinc hrahmjin an moaning 
one who prays, a poet or tugK. then a priest in 
guieral, and lastly a prie&b char^^ed with special 

Profe«Bor Roth also takes the original eonso of 
Brahman to haye been prayer, not, however, praise 
or thunkftgiviug, but that kind of invocation whicli, 
with the force of will directed to tlie god, desires to 
draw bim to the worshipper, and to obtain satisfaction 
from bim. 

I must confess that the hymns of the Veda, a« we 
now read thein, are hardly ao full of fervent devotion 
tliat tlicy could well be called oiitburats. And there 
always remains the question why the creative force 
of the univvritt: atiould have been called by the same 
name. It seems to me that the idea of creative furcu 
or propelling power might well have bocn oxpreaeed by 
(4) Jt 


Br&hman, as (]«nv^ from a root borli^, to brc'ah 
forth, or to di-ivti forth; but the other bnUiman, before 
it e&me to mvan hymn or pmj-er, 8ceiu» to liavo hwl 
the moro general meaning of speech or word. There 
■re iiiflpod a few indications left to sliow that the 
root bnrli hud the moaning of uttering or spoakin^. 
Bnlia^-pati, who is also callM Btshina naa-pati. ia 
often explainoil aa V^A'ai«-]wti. the lord of speech, so 
that brth secmn to hnvo ht-en a synonym of vBJc. 
But what is Htill more important ia that the Lntin 
trrlmm, a» I poliiUni out many ycam ago, can be 
traced back letter by letter to Uio same root. Nay^ 
if we aooept vr^dh as a parallel form of vrib, the- 
English uvnt also can claim thv tsanie origin. It 
would soom therefore that brtihman meant ori^^nally 
utterance, word, and tJion only hymn, and the .laci'vil 
word, the Voda, while when it is used in the Hensel 
of creative force, it would have been conct-ived 
originally aa that which uttenii or throws forth on 
manifusta. Tempting tut it ia, wc can hardly suppose I 
that the ancient framcrs of the Sanskrit language 
had any auspicion of the identity of the Lo'joe pro* 
pkorikfia and endi&thfto» of the 8toic», or of the world < 
as word or thought, the Logos of the Creator. But 
tliat they had Home recollection of brahman having 
originally meant word, can be proved by several paa- 
sagCft from the Veda. I do not attach any importance 
to »uoli passages as BWh. Ar. IV. 1, 2, v^g vai Brah- 
ma. Hpeceh is Bnihitia, for Brahman is here in the 
same way identified with prilvta. breuth.nianax mind, 
fiditya, sun, and majiy other things. But when wo 

■ Brnliriin ih *rimi>tiiaiw oomblnDd With fanlint, growing or gnat, 
Wv Svt!\. Up. lU. 7. 



read, Rv. L l&i, 35, Brahmft aylitn \IJ:ik paramiim 
vytSmft, what can bu ibo nK^aning of Brnhimi luunc. 
being called bere the highest beavea, or. it may bo, 
the highest woof, of speech, if there had not been 
Hjrne connection between brAhman and viU-1 Thwe 
IB another important pasBage in a hyinu adtb-eseed to 
Brihaepati, the lord of speech, where we read, X. 
71,1: '0 Brihanpati (bird of bri'h or Hpoeoh), when 
men, giving namca. Kc-ut forth the firet beginning of 
speech, then whatever was beat and faultless in 
tJiom, hidden witJiin them, becanic luanifcKtod tlirougb 
tlcKire.' I l>c1iovo tlicrvforo that tho word brahman 
hod a double history, one beginning with brahman, 
as neuter, n- orrwi op, the propelling forcu of tho 
univenie, and leading on to Brahman, masc, as the 
creator of the world, who causes all tliitig^ to buntt 
forth, later one of the Hindu Triad or Trlmilrti, con- 
sisting of Brahman, iSiva, and Viahjiu; the i>tber 
beginning with brdh-inan, word or utterance, and 
gradually rcstrict<;d to brahman, hymn of praiso, ac- 
eoni])aniod by !>acrifieia] ofTcringH, and then, with 
change of gender and accent, brahmitn, he who utters, 
prays, and saenliees, a member of the priestly casto- 

Bniliman, even whon used as a neater, is often 
followed by masculine forms. And tliere are many 
pacMiigcs wli<-ro it must remain doubtful whether 
Brahiuau was conceived as an impersonal force, or 
M a pergonal being, nay, as both at the same time. 
Thus we read, TailL Up. HI. 1, 1 : ■ That from whence 
these beiugs are born, that by which when bom they 
live, that into which they enter at their death, try to 
know that, that is Braliman.' 

In the Atharva-veda X. 2, 25, we read : ' By whom 

244 LBCTtmE Tnt. 

wan t-bis unrtli onlerud, by wbotn was tlie upper sky 
created T By whom was tliia uplifted 1' &o. 

'rh« answer is : * By Brahmu was tliis cartli ordered,' 

Sometimes Biulimiin ia identiHedwlth Pr:'i]ta,bi-eat1i, 
OS in BWh. Ar. Up. 111. (s), 9, 9: *Ho usked. who is 
the one God ? YAj/j^Talkya replied : Bnatli or spirit, 
and he i^ Krahnian.* 

i^otneliiiu'8 ngiiin it in said tlmt PriVna, Hpiril, ojose 
from BruhmnD. ils whc-ii we read. Mun*/. Up. II. 1, 8: 
' Brahman &wclla by means of heat ; hence i& produced 
food {or infttt4;r), from food bn-atli (pnXiia), miiiil.' &c 

However, this Brahman ia only one out of miuiy 
names, each repieirtenting an att^'mpt to airive at the 
concept of a Supreme Being, free, as much aa poesiblo, 
from all in%-tboIogical elements, free from purely 
haman quahtiea, free oleo fiora sex or gender. 


Another of these names is Furusha, wliicli in«MUJ 
originally man or pereon. Thus wo read, Mu«J. Uptl 
II. 1, 1-8 : ' A& from a hlajcing tire sparks, being liks 
lire, 6y forth a thousandfold, thus are vanous beings , 
brought forth from tho Impcriidiahlu, and roturn' 
thither also. That heavenly Person (Purusha) is with- 
out body, ho in boUi williin and without, not pro- 
duced, without brouth and without mind, higher than 
tlie high, imperishable. Frgm him is born brcAtli, 
(spirit), mind, and all organs of sense, ether, air, light, 
water, and the earth, the support of all." 

Nothing in fact is, to my mind, more interesting 
than to watch tbcsa repeated attempts at arriving 
at higher and highvr, purer and puri-r, concepLt of 



deity. TheBe eo-called beatbeos knew as well aa ve 
<lo, tlint their ancient names were itnpcrfi-ct an<l iiit- 
wortby of tiv> deity, and though cvt-ry ir-w Attempt 
proved but a new failure, yet the very attempte are 
creclitable, wid if wo consider the time wul the cir- 
cumatances under which those stru^^^lcs took place, 
there can hardly bo a. eight in the whole hiotory of the 
human mind moro strongly appcnlinj; loom- Hympathy, 
and more truly deserving of our most careful xtudy. 
Some people may Eiay, that all thin Itps behind ua, hut 
for that very rco-ion that it lioj* In^hinii ms, it ought to 
make us look behind us ; that is to say, it ought to make 
U9 true histomn&, for after all, history is looking back, 
and while looking back on the past of thi! human race, 
reading in it our own historj". Ev«ry one of lis haa 
had to paaa through that very phane of thought through 
which the ancient Kivhis paAsed when the early unuio« 
and concepts of God were perceived to be too narrow, 
too human, too mytliological. 

riiHk, apirit. 

As we had to learn, and have still to learn, that 
God ia a epii'it, the Vedic Indiana also spoke of the 
higliciit deity ita Fn\7ta, hon- no longer used in the 
sense of bicath, but of spirit, as for instance, in a 
hymn of the Atharva-veda, XL 4, addressed to Pr&tia. 
where w« read: 'Pri,»a is the I^rrl of all that does 
liud doc« nut breathe . . . Do not turn away from me, 
O Prdna, thou art no other than I.' 

Let ns translate Frfl/ia by Spirit or Divine Spirit, 
and thia would reiwl; "The Divine Spirit in Ijord of 
all ... O Divine Spirit, do not turn away from me ; 
thou art do otJier than L' 



Again, we read in the Prama-Up. H 13 : ' All thia 
b iu Ui6 powor of Pnlno, whatever exUtfl in the three 
heavens. Protect us as a mother protects her sonn, 
and give us happtne^» and wisdom.' 

In Uie Kaiish. Up. III. 8 wc find a. etill more im- 
portant statoiDent: 'He, th» Frckna, the Spirit, is the 
keeper of the world, he ia the king of the world, he ia 
the lord of the universe, he is my self, thus let it 
lie known.' In our own languagt? this would mean: 
Thi! Divine Spirit rules the world, and in Hiiu we 
livf.- and move and have our hoing. 

As to Puruaha, though it generally means man, 
yet. when applied to the higbext Deity, we can only 
translate it hy Pemon, freed from all that is purely 
human, although occasionally endowed with attri- 
butes which belong properly to human beings only. 
There is this conuLaut conflict going ou in the minds 
of the Ur&hmans which is going on in our own minds 
aUa They want to exclude all that in limited and 
ennditiouat. all that is human and p<.'rsoiial,from their 
concept of deity, and yet their language will not 
submit, and the masculine god constantly prevails 
over the neuter. 

Purusha, we are told in a famous hj-mn of the 
lUg-veda, X. 00, has a thousand heads, a thousand 
eyes, and a thousand feet. This is clearly m-'taphori- 
eal and mythological. But immediately aft<:rwards 
the poet says : ' Purusha ia all thiii. what has been and 
what will be.' 

Then follows a curious passage, in which the crea- 
tion of the world is represented as a sacrifice of thia 
Puruidia, in which from his mind aru»e the moon, 
from his eye the sun, from bis mouth Indra. Again, 



fi-om hu broiiUi Vilyu. tho wincl. In tho same hyma 
oocun the earliest rpferenco to the four castes, when 
we are to]d that the Bniliniiiiia n-iut hitt uioutli, his 
anna becamo the KAf/suya. tho warrior caste, hie le^ 
the Vaii^'a, irhilo the iSCtdrs was produced from hU feet. 

Otlm VUBMi «r th« SnpTvni* Baiaf , SStUBbluk 

Th«re are many more uameit of a similar kind. 
Skatnbha, literally the Hupport, becomes a name of 
the Siipreme Hoing. Thus we read in th© Atharva- 
veda : ' Skainblia i» all tliat id animated, whatever 
breathes and whatever Bhuta tlie eyes.' 

In the Uig-reda Skambha is mentioned as thu 
support of the sky. In the Atbarva-vi^da X. 7. 7, 
Skamblm ia celebrated as supreme. Fra'/&ptiU, it id 
said, rested on Skambha. when ho made the worlds 
firm. The thirty-three gods arc siippused to forDi tho 
limbs of his body (27), the whole world rests on him, 
he has i-stablished heaven and earth, and be pervades 
the universe (35). Darkneas ia separated from him, 
he ia removed from all evil (40). 

In tlu-)«e and many other different ways tbe Indian 
mind tried to free itself more and more &om tho 
earlier imagei-y of Physical Religion, and it reached in 
Brahman, tn Purusha, in Priltia, in Skambha the most 
abstract pha«c of thought that can find expression in 
any human langu^^. 

Theao wurdn are, in fact, far more abatiaet, and leaa 
personal than otlivr names which likcwiHc occur in 
the Veda, and which we should, perhaps, feel more 
readily inclined to tolerate in our own religious 
lanji^age. such aa. for instance, Pnu/ftp»ti, lord of 
ci-eatures, Vi8\-a)v8rmaa, the maker of all things, 




Svay&mbhit, the self-existing. Dames which satisfied 
tlio Vedic thinltctit for a time, but for a tjmo only, till 
they wcro all replai'^cl bj* Brshiaan, as a neuter, as 
that n'bteh is the cause of all things, the In&ute and 
Divine, in its widest and highest sense. 

Vhum tat til* SotU. 

But while this process of divesting iho Divine of 
all its imperfect atti-lbutes was going on, there was 
another even mora important process which we can 
likewise watch in the language of the Veda, and 
which lias for ittt object the Soul, or tLe Infinite in 

After a.'iking what constituted the tme eesenoe of 
Divinity, the early thinkers began to ask tbemselTW 
what constituted the ti'ue essence of Humanity. 

Language at first supplied the name of Eifo, the 
Sanskrit a ham. This was probably in its ori^n no 
more thnn a demonKtmtive pronoun, meaning like tJie 
Greek 5b<, this mnn tlRTt', witliout committing the ' 
Kpeaker to anything more Man said / am I, as he 
had made the Godhead say, / am I. Hut it was 
soon perceived that wtiat wu« meant by this /, in- 
cluded many mere accidents, was in fact the result of 
external circumstancen, was dependent on the body, 
on life, on ngu, on sex, on expoiicnce, on character, 
and knowledge, and signifiod not a simple, but a most 
composite being. 

Sometimes what constituted man, was called by the 
flame name as the Deity, pr&7ia. spirit, or aso, vital 



breath, also .(/iva, the living soal, and manas, the 
mind.' Still all llio«e nau>c-ii vxprc-jtHod ditr<.-roitt ^idca of 
the Ego only, aod none of them satiblicd tlie Lndiuii 
tbinkorti for any length of time. They wore searob- 
ing fur «oiii«'tliing Violiind all thia, and tliey tried to 
graKp it by a new name, by tho name of Atuian. 
This Atiuan is again very difficult to explain otyin»- 
logioktly. It ia Hupponcd to have tiiciant originally 
breath, then soul, thou sulf, as a GubHtaiitivu, till liko 
ipm or avrit it became the recognincd rcdexivv 
pfonouo. Many tteholara idi^ntify this Atinlin with 
th« A- S. re^m, tho O. H.O. Hdtim. Atlimn or Odt-m In 
modem Gorman, but both the radical and the deriva- 
tive portiona of th« wonl are by no means satisfac- 
torily made out 

Whc-n Atman itt uHed aa tlie name of the true 
esitcaco of mtui. it is difficult tu vay whcthvr it wn» 
taken over in its meaning of breath, or whether it had 
already become the pionoiin self, and was taken over 
in that sonde, to take the place of Aham, fCiio, I. It 
is gonendly translated by stul, and in many places 
this is no doubt the right irannlation. Only tout 
iteclf han 90 many meaning on account of its many 
attributes, and several of them are so inapplicable 
to Atman, that I pntfer to tnui.ilate Atman by Self, 
that is tilt; tiuo wBuncc of wan. fret,-, as yvt, from all 

Atman repreflents in fact on the side of ftiibjfctivc 
humanity what Draliinan rcprctonts on the side of 
objective Divinity; it was the most abstract name for 
wliat I call the infinit*- or the divine in umn. 

Of course tlierv have been pbiloeuphen in ancient 
times, and there are philosophers even now who deny 




tlmt thero is sonetbing divine in man, as they dtoy 
that there ia somotliiug divine in nature, liy divine in 
man I mean aa y«^t no n\on> than the non-pti<>noiiieDal 
agent on whum titu phenomenal attvibutci; of fc-vling, 
thinking, and willing depend. To the Hindu philo- 
Dophera thi» agent vrn» selT-cvidont (»vayara-prak&«&), 
and thiM uiuy still hi; culled tbo coniniou-NL-n»c vic-w 
of the matter. But even the most critical philosophcm 
who deny the reality of anything that doee not come 
into imniutliato cunlact will) the scn^c*, will have to 
admit that the phenomena of feeling, think iug, and 
willing are conditioned on something, and that that 
something be an icnl at as the phenomena 
which aro conditioned by it. 

Tbia Self, however, was not discovered in a day. 
We ttev in the Upunitduids many attempts to discov«r 
and grasp it I shall give you at least one extract, a 
kind of allegory repreai-nting the search after the 
true Self in man. It U a valuable fragment of the 
most primitive psychology, and as such doscrvcs to 
be quoted in full. 

It ia a dialogue in tlie A'/(Uiulogya-Upani.'<had, VIII. 
7, that is supposed to have taken place butwuon 
ProjT&pftti. tlie lord of cnation, and Indra, as repre- 
senting the Dcvns, the bright gods, and ViroA'ana, 
representing the Asuras, who are here mentioned in 
tht/ir later cbaiacter already, namely, as the opponents 
of the Devas. 

Prafjipftti is said to have uttered the following 
sentence: ' The Self (Atman) free from sin, free from 
age, from death and grief, from hunger and thirst, 



wbicb de«irea nothing but what it ought to dc* 
sire, and iiiiikgiavs nothing but what it ought to 
imogiuu. that Is what wc mist aoarch out, that is 
what wo muet trj- to imdemtand. Ue who has 
Boarohed out thn.t Helf and undcnitandH it, obtn'mii all 
worlds and ik-ifirL-s ' — that ie, liuftl bcatitiido. 

The Devas (the godaj and the Asuras (the demons) 
both beard these words, and said : ' Well, let us search 
for thnt Sulf by which, if onv has svarcbud it out, all 
worlds and all desires are obtained.' 

Thus saying, Indra went from the Devas, Viro^ana 
from the Asurait, and both, without having conmiuni- 
calod with each other, approached Prai^&pati, holding 
fuel in their bands, aa is the custom with pupils 
approaching tboir uitistor. 

They dwelt there aa pupils for thirty-two years. 
(This reflects the mrly lift^ in India, when [iiipil.-* had 
to serve their inastc^rs for many years, almost ax 
menial servants, in order to induce them to com* 
miinicate their knowk■dg^^) 

Al'ter Indra and Viroiuna had dwelt with Pra;;il- 
p&ti for tbiily-two years, Pra^npati at last turned to 
thorn to ask : 

' For what purposu have you both been dwidUng 
here V 

Tht>y replied that tht^y had beard the saying of 
Prai/fipAti, and that thi-y bad hatli dwelt near bimi 
because they wished to know tlie Self. 

Pniyii[iiili. howuvor, like many of the ancient snges. 
does not show himself inclined to part K-ilh his know- 
ledge at once. lie gives them several answer* which, 
though not exactly wrong, arc equivocal and opun to 
a wrong interpretation. 


LEcrrRE Tin. 

He sftj's Rnt of &11: 'The pcreon (pnrnHha) Uiat is e«en 
in th« eye, that ia tb« Self. This i» what I have E&id. 
This 18 the itninortnJ, tli* fewkyw, thi:* is PrnliiHftii.' 

If liiK pupils luui anderstoud this aa meant t'ur the 
person thai eeea through the eye, or out of Hio eye, 
they would have rocteived n ripht though indirect ide« 
of the Sflf. But when they thought that tho reflec- 
tion of man in the eye of another person waa meant, 
they were wrong. And they cviilently took it in tlie 
livtter wiisif, for they asked : ' Sir. he who is perceived 
in the water, and he who h perceived in a mirror, who 
is he?' 

Mo replied : ' He, tli« Self himself indeed is seen in 
all these.' 

' Look at yourself in a pun of water, and whatever 
yo« do not understand of yourself, come and tell me.' 

They looked in the waU^i^pan. Then Pra^&pati aaid 
to thcin : 

'What do you see?' 

They said : ' We both eee the Self thus altogether, & 
picture even to the very lin'm and nails.' 

Pra,';fi[iH,ti said to them ; ' After you have adonied 
yourselves, have put on your hi-st clothes and cleansed 
yourselves, look again into the water>pftn.' 

They, after having adorned tkeniselves, having pot 
on their bast clothes and climnited tliemtielvea, looked 
into the water-pan. 

PinyApati said : ' What do you see?" 

They said : ' Ju»t aa we arc, well adorned, with our 
beat elotlicx and clean, thus wc arc both there, Sir, 
well adorned, with our best clothes and clean.' 

Praf;&pati sai<! : ' That h the ijidf. thi^ in the im- 
mort*!, the fearless, this is Brahmao.' 



^ They botb went away, satisfied in their hoatis. 
^^ And PraiTApati. looking aft^i' them, said: 'They 

I hoth yo away without Imving pui-orivcd Aiid without 

I having known the Self, and whoever of thote two, 

I whether Devas or Aatiras, will follow this dootrint) 

(upAiiiMhad) will perish.' 

Now ViruA,aiin, sntisticd tn his hMirt, went to the 
Asuras and preached that duetriiic U> them, ihat th« 
Self alone ia to bu wonihippotl, tliat tliu Self alonu U 
to be WMved. and (hat he who worships the Si>lf and 
serves the SoU, ^ains hoth worlds, thin and the next. 

Therefore they call even novr a man who dooii not 
giTQ alitw hoiv, who ha« no fuith, and otTiTs no Haeri- 
ficee, an Asura. for this is tlie doclrine of the Asuraai 
They deck out th« body of the dead yitk porfumM, 
flowers, and fine raimont, by way of ornament, and 
think they will thus conquer the world. 

But Indnu, boforo ho had rctumud to the Devas, saw 
this difficulty. As this Self (the shadow in the water) 
is well adorned, when the Ixxly is well adorned, w«ll 
drca«od whtu tho body is well dresauct, well cleaned 
when the body is well cleaned, that Self will also Ito 
blind if the body is blind, lame if tlie body ia lame, 
crippled if tliu body in crippled, and pensh in fact as 
noon as tho body porisbee. Therefore I see no good 
in t^ia doctrine. 

Taking fuel in his hand ho camo again as a pupil to 
Fraiyupati. Pra^itpnti said to him : ' Magbavnt^ as 
you went away wiUi Vi]x>A'siia, satisfied in your hearty 
for what purpose did you conit; Imck?' 

Ho said; 'Sir, as this Self is well adorned when 
the body is well adorned, well dressed when the body 
is well drfssed, well cleaned when Uk) body is well 



dcoiiecl. that Self will also be blind if tbe body is 
blind, lame if the body is laroe, crippled if Uie body 
in crippli'd, and poriitb io fact ks eooii an tli« body 
P^.-HiOk'?). ThcrcfoiX! I scc^ no good in this doctrine.' 

' So it is indeed, Maghavat,' replied Prn;/&pati. ' bat 
I shall explain Win (the true Self) furlh«r to you. 
Livv witb NIC knothor tbirty>two ye&rs.' Be lived 
with him another thirty-two years, and then Vmgk- 
patl said: 

'He who moves about bappy in dreams, h« is tha 
Self, this is the immortal, tlie fearless, this is Brah- 

Then Indra went nway satisfied in bis heart. Bat 
before ho had returned to the Devas. he saw this 
diffioolty. 'AJlhuiigli it is true that that Svlf is not 
blind, even if tbe body i« blind, nor lame if thu body 
is lame, though it in true that that Self is not rendered 
faulty by the faults of it (the body), nor stiuek when 
it (tbe body) is struok, uor lunied when it is lamed, 
yet it is ti# i/tbey struck him (the Self) in dreams, 
as if they chaeod him. lie becomos even con- 
ttciflUR, as it were, of pain and sheds t^&K (in his 
drunmH). Therefore I see no good in this.' 

Taking fuel io his hands, bo went again as a pupil 
to Pi-affiipali. Praf/ipati said to him : ' Maghavat, at 
you went away satiufied in your heart, for what pur- 
pose did you come back?' 

He said : ' Sir. although it is true that that Self 
iH not blind even if the body Li blind, nor lame if the 
body is lamo, though it ib true that that Sulf is not 
rendered faulty by the faults of the body, nor struck 
when it (the body) is struck, nor lamed when it is 
l&ined, yet it 'm <vi if they struck him (tbe Self) in 



drecriiB, as if they chased him. He becomes even 
oonsciouit, aa it wcru, of piUn and sheda tears. There- 
fore I KCu 110 good in tliiH.' 

' So it is indeed, Maghavat,' replied Prayfipati, ' but 
I Bholl e:(pliiin bitn (the true HcU) further to you. 
Live with Dio nnolhcr thirty-two ywiiii.' Ho lived 
with him another thirty-two years. Then PrajApati 
Bftid: 'When a man, being a.-«lci%p, reposing, and at 
perfect rest, sees no droamH, that i^ the Self, this ia 
the immortal, the fearless, this is Brahman.' 

Then India went away satjafied in his heart. Bnt 
before ho had returned to the Dcvns bv saw this dilll- 
oulty, 'In truth he thua doM not know himself (his 
Self) that he in I, nor does he know anything that 
exiKte. Hl- is gone to utter annihilation. I see no 
good in this.' 

Taking fuel in hia hand, he went onoo more aa a 
pupil to Pni^apati. I'ru^apiUi said to him: 'Magha- 
vat, as you went away satisfied in your heart, for 
what purpose did you come hackt" 

He wiid; 'Sir, in that way he does not know him- 
eolf that lie is I, nor docs he know anything that 
exists. He ia gone to utter annihilation. I ace no 
good in this,' 

'So it is indeed. Maghavat,' replied Pra;;flpati. 'but 
I shall explain him (the true Sell) further to you, and 
Qothiog more than tlua. Live hero otlmr five years.' 

He lived there other five years. This made in all 
one hundred and one yenrs, and thc-reforft it is said 
that Indm Miighavat livi;d one hundred and one yoars 
as a pupil with Praiyapatl 

Fra^lpali said to him: 'Maghavat, this body is 
mortal and always held by doath. It is thu abode of 



tbat Self which is immortal sjid witliout Ixxly. Whon 
in the bodj- (by thinking this body la I and I ftin thia 
bocly)> Uiu Sfir is held by ploAurv ntid piun. 80 long 
as he ie in the body, ha eaanot gvi frvv from pleasure 
and pun. But when he is free of the body {when he 
knows himself difforvnt from tho body) then m-ither 
pIc4LBure nor pain touches him. The wind is without 
body, the cloud, lightning, and thunder are without 
body (without hundH, fvct, ke). Now a^ theoe, 
arising from this heavenly etbcr (apace), appear in 
their ou'n Torm, as soon as they have approached the 
bighctit li^'bt. thus dfli'M that ^erctiu being, ariaing 
from this body, appear in its own form, as soon as it 
haa approached the highest light (the knowledge of 
Self). He (in that state) i» the highest person (uttama 
p&rusba). He moves about there laughing (or eat- 
ing), playing, and rcjoit^ing (in his mind). I>e it with 
women, carriogcs, or rt-lutivi.'S, never tuiudiug that 
body into which he was bom. 

'Like a hon^o attached to a cart, so is the apirit 
(pr&iia, praiy/^tUmau) atUchcd to this body. 

'Now where the sight has entered into the void (the 
opc^n spa^e. the black pupil of the eye] there is the 
person of tht' cyo, the cyv 'iif,f>i( is but Uic instrument 
of seeing. He who knows, let mo smell this, he ts the 
Self, the nose is but the instrument of smelling. He 
who knows, let me say thia, he is the Self, the tongue 
is but the instrument of saying. He who knows, let 
016 hear this, he is the Self, the out is but the imttm- 
ment of hearing. 

'Ho who knowK, let me think this, he is the Self, 
the mind is but the divine cyo. He, the Sidf, seoing 
these ptessureti (which to otbero are bidden like iv 



buried treMui-o of gold) through hiu divine oye, i.«. 
UiroUf^b till) mind, — rejoices. 

' Tho Devo-i who aru in tlie world of Brahinan medi- 
tate uii Unit Sidf (&9 taught by Prsf^Apnti to Iixlro, 
Ui<l \>y lutira to the Devas), Therefore all worlds he- 
long to them, and all deMircx. He who knowa that Self 
and undorstaiids it, ohtaius nil worUU i^d all desires.' 
Thim eaid I'ruj/fLpati, yea, thus eaid l'ra</apati. 

This is a kind of psychological legend which in 
8IHt« of certain oxpn-Mioiis tliut xtrike us a.-* e>traiig«, 
porhspe ae unint«11igihle, it would he dilScult to 
match in any ancient literature. Are there many 
people evi-n now. aftur more thnn two thounand yeara 
havo elapsed, that trouble themHclves about tlieso 
questioDsl If a man goes ho far as to speak al>out 
his Ego, he bt^ins to cunuidcr himself BOiuctlting of a 
philosopher. But it enters into tho tnind of very few 
thinkers, and eves of philusophertt by profetuion, to 
aak what thut E<fo is, what it caii bt> and what it can> 
not l>o. what lies behind it^ what is its ixal subHtance. 
Language supplies them with the name of soul ready 
made. 'I have a soul,' they say, but who or vhtU 
it Ls that hna a soul, and whence that soul origin- 
ates, does not trouble thein much. Thvy may speak 
of / and of / wygef/, but who and what that self 
is whieh they call my self, and who the luy is to 
whom that self belongs, is but seldom asked. No 
Hindu philosopher would say. I have an Atnion or 
a soul. And hero we find iht'so ancient thinkers in 
India, clearly perceiving the question that has to be 
asked, and answering it too better than it lias ever 
bi'uii an.-<wercd. It may be said we all know that our 
garmenta have nothing to do wilb our self, and that 
U) 8 

wu «ight wMks old, that b» body baa i 
not bjM Bel£ Sex too U l)Dt ooe of tnai 
which wo vfcnr in this life. Now ft Ved 
uk, if a iDftn wore bom Bgaio u m woma 
Helf be Btill the same, would be be U 
person 1 Other auch g&nnentfl are langi 
ftlity, religion. A Vodintist might M»\ 
that a tn&n in the n«xt life were denodw 
ooTeriugn, would he Ktill be the »elf-ai 
We may imagine that wc have an anxw 
all these questions, or that they deserve i 
all from wi»c pt-ople «uch as we are, and ; 
aak ountelvcs the Bimple question how 
mett the souls of those who have been d 
this life, we shall lind that our ideas of a 
be <liv(«tvd of many gnnnvnts, liavu to 
quite as much as the ideas of the qaesti 
ancient Upaniahad. Old as these quei 
distant aa tliey are from us, strange as tb 
may sound to us, they may still beoomo i 
Fi-ionds in Council. 

That the legend which I translated fi 



hand, th« legend CAnnot be oscribcd to the earliest 
Vedic literature, for in the hymns Indi-a ia s nu[>r(!tiic 
god who would Bcom the idea of beooniing tliv pupil 
of Praff^pati. This Pnj/Apatii i. t. the lord of creb- 
turc«, or of all created things, is himself, as we »aw, 
a later deity, a per§oDifioatioD of the ori>ativv forcu. a 
name of the supn-inc, yet of a pei-nonol and more or 
Ivw mythological deity. 

But whatever the origin of thia legend may have 
been, wo have it hero in one of tlw old and 
reeognifiud Upanlthads, and can hardly place it 
later than tlie time of Plato and bis pupils. X call 
it a pRycLologioal legend, because it Ht-i^ms to have 
prcw^rved to ua Home of the corlieBt attempts of 
Indian thought to oooceive and to name what we 
witbout much rctloctton call by the inherited name of 
eoW. Ton may remember that certain anthropolo> 
gists hold the opinion that the linit conception of mouI 
had overywhero, and more particularly amonj;; savo^'e 
races, been that of a shadow, nay that some savages 
believed even now tliat the shadow was the soul of a 
living man, and tbat therofore a corpse tbn-w no 
ahadow. I wonder tbat anthropologists have never 
quoted our Dialogue in support of their opinion : only 
that in this case it is held not l>y uneivibsed, but by 
a highly civilised race, and is held by it, only in order 
to be refuted. 

Tho next opinion sIho that the soul ia that which in 
sleep, and as it wore, without the body, sees visions in 
dreauiH, might be quoted in support of another opinion, 
often put forward by anthropologists, that the first 
idea of a soul, as without Uio body, arose &om dream, 
and that even now certain savage races believe that 

tb« Houl, diTeHling it in time of all ( 
pftUble witli an tavisible agent. Bu 
may be, anthropologists may possibl 
that tlie V«da alsocontainA reninanta of 
tliou^'h it likuwiac ifupiiliw a warning 
genera liiiatioQ anil against seeing in t 
pkto picture of wivage, or what they 

S*diicxloka Aram Uu SUIaci 
But now lot UH set- what the later Vedi 
makea out of this legend. Th« Icgei 
fi&<l it in thd Upaniahad, shows alra 
was a higher purpose in it than siniid 
tb« soul vaa not a mere appearanoe, : 
reflected in the oye, not the shadow is 
the person dreaming n dream, or lo&inj 
Disst in drcainleaa aleep. One of Prat 
Viroitana, ia no doubt Hatiitlied with tt 
body oa seen rpflectcil in the ovc or In t 
self, i» what a man really is. But Inii 
is not sativfied oven with the soul bein 

,a dreatn, for, ho says, that even in a 
%—~.^^- ■' -■ *■■■■- ■ ■ ■ 




gone, he would not know, as be expreBses it, that he, 
the itclf. is I, or thnt there is a mynelf. 

Praj/Apati tbon gives him the highest inatructioa 
which h« can communicate, by Baying that the aoul 
can become free by knowludge only, thdl it exists by 
knowledge only, by knowing ilself as free from the 
body and all other limitations. It tbtrn can rise froiii 
the body, a eerene boing in its own form, and approuch 
the highest hght, the highest knowledge, the know- 
ledge that ita own Self ia the Highest, is iti fact the 
Divine Self. 

So far all would be inttilli^ble. It would not 
require death to free the soai firom the body, know- 
ledge would eiR-ct that liberation far better, and leave 
tbo BOul own in this life s mere spectator of its bodily 
abode, of its bodily joya and its bodily sutTerings, a 
nilcnt spectator oven of the decay and death of the 

But the Ved&nta philoxophor is not so easily satis* 
lied; and I think it will be intcn^ting ami give you 
a better idea of the philosophical acumen of the 
Vedintist, if I read you NaAkaia's treatment of our 
psychological legend. Thia is, of course, a much later 
phase of thought, at least as late ns the seventh century 
A.D. Yet what is recent and modem in India, is not 
so recent and modern with us. 

£a£ikara, the commentator on tho Vctlitiita-s&tra, is 
much exercised when he has to disonas this Dialogue 
between Pra^apati, Indra, and ViroAiana on the true 
nature of the self, or man's soul. There is an ap- 
parent want of truthfulness on the part of Pia^Apati, 



he tliinks. in conve^'ing to bis pupils a tai*a impntaJ 
sioD of the real nature of tbe Atman or the hunum 
Etoul, and ito relation to Hralinmn, tlio Higbeet Deity. 
It ui quite true (li&t liis words admit of two mcaniDgs, 
a wrong ono and a rigbt one ; still Pra^Apiiti knows 
that one at Iea»t of his pupik, Viru^aiia, vheo bo 
returns to the Asunu bas Dot understood Uicm in 
ibcir ti-uc sense ; and yet he lets him depart 

Next comes a more iinporljuit difficulty. Praj/A- 
pati bad promiHod to tcocb what tho true Atman is, 
the immortal, the fearless, tbe Self which is freo from 
sin, free from old ag<', from doalh and gi'ief, from 
hunger niid thirst; hut bi^ ti-nitwcrs ttocto to apply to 
the individual Self otdy. Thus when ho says at first 
that the pursou as Bucn in Uio eyo i.s the Self (ya eflho 
'ksbini drisyate), it is quite clear that Virol^^aaa takca 
this for the small image or tbe reflection which a man 
Bcea of himself in tho pupil of bin triend's eyo. And 
h« therefore asks whether the Self that is percciviid 
as reflected in the eye, is the some as that which is 
perceived as reflected in the waiter or in a mirror, 
i'ra^&pati aHi«ents, though evidently with a mental 
reservation. He bad not meant from the 6rat the 
small liguro reflected i» tlio eye. but tbu seer within 
tho eye, looking out from the eye. the seer, as the eub- 
ject of all seeiog, who sees, and may be Haid to be 
seen in the eye. Still, as in au indirect way even tho 
reflection in the eye may bo called the reflection of 
the true Atman, be invites ViroA^ana to tent his assor- 
tion by a kind of experiment, an experiment that 
ought to have opened his eyes, but did not. He asks 
both bis pupils to look at tlieir images in tho water 
or in a mirror, finit as they arc, and again after tliey 



hftro adoraed thomselves. He thought they would 
have perceivfd that these outward adornineDl« could 
pot [lOAHiblj' coD«ititutu tlnir owu Bi'lf, as Httli^ rh the 
hody, but the experiment is lost on thorn. While 
Pr&(/(Lpati means that in whatever rellectiou thej* fiee 
themaelvcs, th^y mw, though hidden, thoir true Skdf, 
tliey imagine that what they sec, namely the body, 
reflected in the water, even the body with it* adora- 
mentfl. is their true Si^lf. Priii/ilpatt in sorry fur them, 
and that he was not entirely responsible for lhi.'ir 
mistAke, ia ehovn soon after by the doubts that arise 
in the mind of at l(«st one of hitt pupiln. For while 
ViroAana rctiirnB to the Asunus to teach them that 
the body, such aa it ia seen reflected in tbe water, 
even with its adornmontit, ia the Self, ludra hesi- 
tates, and retuma to Praf^apati. Ho a§ks bow the 
body reili^eted iu the water ean be the Self, proclaimed 
by Prar;apati, and of which he tiad said that it was 
perfect and free from all defects, seeing that if tbe 
body ia crippled it.4 image in the water aliio iu crip- 
pled, eo that if that were tbe Self, tbo Self would not 
be what it must be. perfect and immortal, but would 
perish, whenever the body periabea. 

Exactly tho same happens o^ain in tbe «ero»(l 
lesson. No doubt, tho person in a dream is free 
from certain defects of the body — a blind person if 
in a dream aeea, a deaf person hears. But even tlius, 
be al£o seems liable to suffering, for ho actually may 
ery in a dream. Therefore even tbe dreaming soul 
eannut be tbe true Self peifect and fi'Ce ftt)m all 

Whea in bia third lesson Pra!/&pati calls tbe soul 
iu the deepest sleep the Self, because it then suiTcis 



no longer from anvthing, Inilrs replies that in that 
case the noul knowH nuihin^ at all, and ia gone to 
dvalnidion (vitiA«aiQ eva upuli). 

It U only at thia last moment that Frar/^pati, like 
other imgiMt of antiquity, rewaU bis full knowlodgv to 
bi« pupil. The true Self, h« nays, has nothing to do 
with the body. For the body is mortal, but the Self 
ia not mortal. The Self dwclla in tlio body, and a« 
long as he tbinka tbat the body is 1 and 1 am tbis 
body, the Self is enthraUed by pleasure and pain, it is 
not the jierfe«t, it it* not the immortal Self. But as 
soun a8 the Si^^lf knows that he is independent of the 
body and becomea free from it, not by death, but by 
knovledgo, then he sulfera nn longer; m-ttber jmh\ 
nor pleasure can touch him. When be b&s approached 
this highest light of knowledge, then there is perfect 
ieienity. He knovrs himself to be the highest Self, 
and therefore is the highest Solf, and though while life 
taats, be movea al>out among the pleasant aighta of tbc 
world, be does not mind them, they concirn bis body 
cnly or hiH bodily self, his Ego, and bo has toitrnt that all 
this is not himself, not hia Hi'U, not bis absolute Self. 

But tbcro remains a far greater ditHculty wbidi the 
commentators have to eolve, and which they do solve 
each in bis own way. To ua the story of Pra.7apati 
i» simply an old legend, originally intendeil, it would 
seem, to t^ach no more than that there was a soul in 
mnn, and tbat tbat aoul was independent of the body. 
Tbat would have been quite enough wisdom for early 
days, particularly if we are right in supposing that 
the belief in tbe soul as a shadow or a dream was a 
popular belief current at the time, and that it ifally 
required refutation. But when at a later time this 


Iegen<l hut! to be used for higher purposes, when what 
bad to be taught about the soul was not only that it 
vos not the liody, nor ite appearance, nor it.i ebadow, 
Dor the virion of a drcmn, but that it was Homething 
higher, that it could sscvnd to tbo world of Biuhmau 
and enjoy perfect happiness before his throne, nay, 
when it was di^ooveTod at a still lator timo. tliat thfl 
soul could go beyond the throne of Brahman and 
Bharo cncc more the wry esse»oo of Hrahnmu, Ihon 
new ditlicuHies arose. These difficulties were carefully 
considered by ^'aAkara and other VedAjitiat philo- 
Bophcnt. and they still lumi a subject on which 
different sections of the VcdAntist school of philosophy 
bold divei'gent views. 

Tlic principal diflioulty was to dctcmiino what was 
the true relation of the individual soul to Brahman, 
whether theru was any essential ditfcrcnoo butwcon 
tho two, and whether when it was said that the soul 
was poj'lcot, fearless, and immortal, this could apply 
to Uio individual »oul. This view that tht; individual 
Boul is mcAnt, is uphold in the Ved&nta philosophy by 
what ia palled the Pfirvapakahin, a most exeelh^nt 
tmtitutiun iu Indian phiWophy. This PAr^'apuksbin 
is an imaginary person who ia privileged in every dis- 
put«<I ([UfBtion to «ay all that can possibly bo said 
against tbo vil-w finally to be uphold. Ho is allowed 
every possible freedom in objecting, as long as be is 
not entirely absurd ; he i» sometliing like tho man of 
straw whom modem writers like to set up in their 
arguments in order to be able to demolish him with 
groat crvdit to tlioinMlves. From tho Hindu point of 
view, however, these objections are like piles, to ho 
driven in by every blow that ia aimed at Uiem, and 






nicnnt in th« end to support the tnie oonclaxion tliat 
is to be built up upon tliero. Froqueutly the objoctiona 
contained in tho pfirv&paksha are boniL fide objections, 
mill may have l>o«n huld by difft-rciDt autboritiea, 
though in the end they have all to be demolished, 
their demolition thua serving the useful purpose of 
gtiardttig tho doctrine that has to be entublisluKl 
aguDst ever}' imaginable objection. 

In our caae the objector aaya that it is the indi- 
vidual that must bo mcMit a^ the object of PnijApati'a 
teaching. The scor in tho eye, he say». or thi.- person 
tJiat is seen in the eye, is referred to again and again 
aa tb« same entity in the dauseft w)ii<-.h follow, when 
it is Daid, ' I shall explain him Btilt furtWr to you,' and 
in the explanations which follow, it is the individual 
soul in ila difTereut statcn (in dreams or in dwp sleep) 
which is referred to. so that tho cIhuhcs attached to 
both these explanations, viz. that is the perfect, the 
immortal, tlie fauItU'SH, Uiat is Brahman, can refer to 
the individual soul only, which ix saiil to be free from 
sin and tho like. After that^ when Pni^.ipati has Jia- 
covered a flaw in the condition of the soul in deep 
alcrp also, ho vntei:« on a further explanation. He 
blames the eoul's connexion with the hod}', and finally 
declarer that it is the individual eoul. but only after 
it has risen from out the body. Hence the opponent; 
argues that the text admits the poseibility of the 
((iialities of the highest Self belonging to the indi- 
vidual Houl. 

iSuikars. however, proceeds at once to conlrovert 
this opinion, though wc shall see that the original 
words yf Frayiiputt curtttinly lend themselves to the 
opponent's interpretation. We do not admit, he uys, 



tJiftt it is the individual soul in Us phenomenal reality 
thnt 19 tho hi^hi^st Hclf, but only the individual eonl, 
in po far a» its true nntare /nis bainne ninm/n>t 
within it (avirbhfiusvarftpa). that is to say, aftor, by 
nii-Miit of tnii; knuwti-di^f, it Iui4 ceaHcd to lie an indi- 
vidual soul, or artt^T it has recovei'ed ila absdluto 
reality. This equivocality runs through tho wholo 
»y8t«m of the VodAiita mt conceived by 6*aAkai-a. 
Pra<7&pati could apparently a&sort a number of things 
of the individual self, which properly apply to the 
highest Self only, becauite in its true nature, that is 
a.ftet having n^covcrcd a knovrlcd^ of its true nature, 
the individual self is really the highest Self, and io 
fact never was anything elite. /I'aAlcara says, thia 
very cxpresHiou {' whoEO true nature ha» boeomc mani- 
fest') qualities the individual soul with reference to its 
previoui* statu. Therefore Prar/npati must bu under- 
stood to speak at first of the seer, characterised by 
the eye. and then to show in tho passage trraling of 
the reflcctioi) in the water or tho mirror, that he, the 
»cer, has not his true Self in the body or in the refleo* 
tion of the body. PrH^patl then refers to this seer 
again as Uie subject to he explained, saying, ' I .-diftll 
explain Aim further,' luid having then apokcn of him 
as Buhjeet to the etatcs of <lreaniing and of sleeping a 
deep sleep, he finally explains the individual suul in 
it« rt-ol naturo, that is, in so for as it iji the liigbcet 
Brahman, not in ao for as it appi^rs to bo an indi- 
vidual soul. The highest light mentioned in the 
passage last quoted, as what is to be approachod, u 
nothing else but tho highest Brahman which is distin- 
guished by Buoh attributes as perfection, freedom from 
«iQ, fVeedom from old age, from death, and all im- 



porffotions ftn<l dtwires. All th«se ar« qu&lities whieh 
cniiriul b(i Ascribed to the individual soul or to tho 
Ego in the body. They belong to the Highest Being 
only. It in ihu Highoet Being, this Brahman alone, 
ttuiC eon«titulcfl the ess«nc« of the imliviiluBl soul, 
whilo its phenomenal aspect which depends on SctJ- 
tious limitationa and conditions (upddhis) or on 
NcAcience cannot be ita real nature. For a« long aa 
tht> individual soul does not free itself from Nescience, 
or a belief iu duality, it takt» something else for itself. 
Tru« ksowlodgo of the Self, or true self-knowledge, 
expreeeea itself in the words, ' Thou art That,' or 
'I am Bralitnan,' tho nature of Brahman being un> 
chaogc«bl«, i-tcinal cognition. Until that ittago ha« 
been reached, the individual soul remains the indi- 
vidual soul, fettcrvd by tliu body, by tho organs 
of eensu, nay, even by the mind and ita various 
funotiona. It ia by ineana of ^ruti or revelation 
uloae, and by tlio knowledge derived from it, that the 
soul perceives that it is not the body, that it is not 
the eenses, that it is not the mind, th&t it forms no 
part of thr tmnsmigrntitry proccHS. but that it is and 
always has been, the True, thci Keal, to St; the Self 
whose nature is pure intelligence. When once lifted 
above tho vain conceit of being one with tho body, 
with tho organs of sense and with the mind, it 
becomes or it knows itself to be and always to have 
been the S^-lf, Ihe i^if whose nature is uncJianging, 
fltcrnal intelligence. This is declared in sucli pB»- 
eages as, 'He who knov)» the highest Brahman, 
l>e«>me« even Brahman. And this is the real nature 
of the individual soul, by means of which it arises 
from the body and appears in its own form.' 


Tit* Tea* >>tar* of lh« ZudtTidnal ■onl. 


^f Here ft Qcw objection ia raised ? How, it in asko J, 

F can wo H[)cak of the maDifostBlion of the true nature 

I (svarupa) of that wlticb is aocbangitig and eternal ? 

How, in fact, con we npeak of it aa Ix-ing liidduii for 
ft time, (ind bliea only rMippcArlng in iti« own tVinn 
(H' in ita true naturo? Of gold and similar aubatancea, 
the true nature of which becomes hidden, while ita 
specitic quoliticH arc reudui'Oil n on -np parent by tlioir 
contact with aome other oubatauce, it may indeed 
bo Koid that their trun nature was hidden, and la 
rendered manifest when they aru oleanKd by t)ie 
application of aome acid subatance. So it may ba 
sud likewise, that the stars, whose light during 
daytime is overpowered by the superior brilliancy 
of the sun. become manifest in their true nature 
at uifjht wbvn the overpowering suu has deported. 
But it la impossible to speak of an analogous over- 
powering of the eternal light of intelligeuce by any 
agency whatsuL-ver, siuo«! it is five from uU ooutuct. 
How then did this momentous change take place 1 

Tli« PlLauomciiAl ud tb* B*»L 

In our own philosophical language we might 
express the same (jueHtion by asking, How did the 
reftl become phenomenal, and how can the pheno- 
menal become roul again? or, in other wonln. How 
was tho infinite changed into the finite, how was the 
eternal changed into the tompoial, and bow can the 
temporal regain its eternal nature) or, to put it into 
more familiar language, How won this world created, 
and how can it be uncreated again 1 


tRCTl'BK Tin. 

We muKt Ktnember that, like the Ele&tio pbilo- 
sopben, tbc ancient VG<UUiti«t« also stArt«il with tliat 
ancbftDf^ble convictJon that God, or the Suprenw 
Bein^'. or Brabmaii, as it is called in India, is one sod 
all, and that thcdw con bo notbiag bcaid«a. ThtM is 
thu most aliHoluto Monism. If it is called Panthcisni, 
tliere is nothing to object, and we ahall find the same 
PantheiAin in some of the nioet perfect religions of tbe 
world, in all which hold that God in or will bv All in 
All, and that if there really existed anything besides. 
He would no longer t>« infinite, omDipreseot, and 
ouioipotcnt, Hu would no longer be God in thu hight.'Ht 
sense. There is, of course, a great difTerence between 
Baying that all thing? have their true being in and 
from God, and saying that all things, as we ueu them, 
are God. Or, to put it in another way, aa soon as 
we gay that Uicrc is a phenomena] world, we imply 
by nectrifsity tbat there is also a non-phuuomeuol, 
a nonmenal. or an absolutely real world, just as when 
we i«iiy dnrkncHS. wc imply light. Wliwver speaks of 
anything relative, conditioned, or contiugi-ut, odmiU at 
tlieaame time something non-relative. non-conditioned, 
noQ-conlingvnt,9oin('tliing which we call real, absolute, 
eternal, divine, or any other namo. It is easy vnou^ 
for the human understanding to create a noumonal or 
non-plicuomi'iiul world ; it is, in fact, no more than 
applying to our experience the law of causality, and 
saying that there must be a cause for everything, and 
that that cau»c or that Creator is the One Absolute 
Being. But when wo have done that, Uien comes the 
real problem, namely, how was the cause over cban^ 
into an oRoct, how did the abdolute become relative, 
liow did the nouraenol become pheitomenal 1 or, to pat 


it into more (licological Inngungv', how was tins world 
creatcdl It took a long time bolbro the human mind 
could liring itself to confess its utter impotence and 
ignorancu un litis point, itn ngiioi^ticlMm, iUi iimta 
iyitonmtia, as Cardinal Custuius called U. And it 
secina to me extremoly interesting to watch the 
voriouH t;irorti» of tlie humfin mind in every port of 
the world to huIvo this greatest and otdust riddl«, 
before it was finally given up. 

The Indian VedAntift tri-atfi tliis questjoa dtleflj 
from thu dubjuctivo point of view. Ho dou not Mk 
at once bow the world was creatod, hut first of all, 
huw the individual soul came to be what it is, and 
how its bi-lii'f in an ol'jectiv« (rrpatfid world arom. 
Before thi-ro arises the kuowled^ of Boparateness, he 
gays, or aloofness of the soul from the body, the 
nature of the individual «oul, which consists in the 
tight of sight and all the rest, is aa it were not 
separate fi'om the so-called Upftdhis, or limiting 
GonditiouH such nn body, scnNes, mind, ecnHO'objoets, 
and perception. Similarly as in a pure rock-crystal 
when placed near a red rose, its true nature, which 
consists in ti-ansparency and perfect whitcnosB, is, 
before its scparati-jicK^ ha^ boen grasped, as it were 
Don-separate &om its limiting conditions (the Up&- 
dhU), that is, tiio red rose, while, when its Mparato- 
neas hu once been gnapei, according to legitimate 
authority, tho rock-crystal roamumes at onco its true 
nature, transparency and whiteness, though, in reality, 
it always wait transparent and white. — in the same 
maiinur theru ari»en in the individual soul which la not 
si'pikrnte as yet from the limiting eonditiuns (Up&dhi) 
of tlie body aod all Ibe nwt, knowledge of »cparato- 




only Atiuan. Thus tlie ouibodud and 
staUia of the Self are due entirely to 
ft&d iioti-discriiiiinaliun. n« it u ku. 
L 2. Hi): '■hoAykrsa within the bodiv 
diflTerence betweea tlie embodied and 
•tate 18 recorded iu the i>inrtti ftl.s» 
XIIL 31) wbeii it is said r ' O Friend, th 
in the body, it (the Atman, the Self or 
not net and in not tainted.' 

Tk* AtauB ■"**»" f* kmUrt tk« elkuirai < 

You see now that what ^'ai'ikata wis 
out, nni) what hi; liiinlcK in impli'd in th 
tbo Upanishada, U tbat thv Atiiiaa i* 
tsame. and that the ap]>arcut ditfcrcneo 
individual soul and the Supi-eme Soul 
rcMilt of wrong knowle<lge, of Nescien* 
du<! to any n-ality. He in veiy nnxioufl 
Prafilpati also in tbe teaching wbioh hi 
Indi-a and ViroA-ana could not have mc 
else. rra;/apsti, he says, aftur having xi 




The reflected Self, on the other hand, is not spoken of 
aa he who ia chdractoriswl hy the cj'c (the Bocr within 
the eye), for tliat would indeed render Praj/flpati 
obnoxious to the reproaob of saj-ing deceitful thing». 

iSaAkara, however, is bancwt enough to bell us tliat 
hia explanation is not the only one that ha^ been 
proposed. Others, he tells us, think that PrajyApati 
speaks throughout of the fiec and faultless Si-If 
(Atnian), not of the individual soul at all. But he 
points out that the pronouns xtnod in the test point 
ch-arly to two subject*, the individual soul on the one 
iuuid, and the highest eoul on the other ; and all that 
wo have to leam is that tho individual m>uI is not 
what it seems to be; just as, for our own peace of 
mind, we have to find out that what Becmed to us 
a seipent, and then frightened us, is not a serpent, 
but n rope, and need not frighten us any more. 

■MdMM 0> AtUH tlW no** at VkaBOBMAl aaMblADO*. 

There are othci-s agaiD. he ooiitinues, sonic of our 
own friends (possibly the followers of BAm&niij7«), 
who hold that the individual soul, as such, it abso- 
lutely real ; but to this he ohject«, n-niarkiiig that the 
whole of the VecUnta-e&tras aro intended to show 
that the one Supreme Deing only is the highest and 
eti.TnBl intelligent reality, and that it in only the 
result of Nescience if we imagine that the many 
individual souls may claim any independent reality. 
It oomes to tliis, that according to iS'aAkara, the 
highest Self may for a time be called different from the 
individual soul, but the individual soul is never sub- 
stantially anything but the highest Self, except throogtt | 
ita own teiDporary Nesoicoee. tluH slight ctxioessioo 

sacrigcial and moral precepts for indiv 
wbose existence ia thereby taken for 
though no doubt such prect<pts nru cbiefl 
penons who do not yet poesesa the full k 
the Self. 

Th«r« ojv many more points connccte 
relation of the indiTidual to the Highest 
i9u^kara nrgueit out most minutely, but w 
hero dwuU on them any louger, as vc sh. 
return to that subject when treating of the 
philosophy of ^^'ai^kaia. What di.itinguishei 
view on the umon of the individual »uu 
Supreme Soul, is the complete J7eRotrt« or one 
according to him always exists, but in the 
soul may for a time be darkened by Ncscien 
are other modes of union also which ho 
cuases, but which in the end he rejecta. Thu 
to the teaching of Asinarathya (I. 4, 20} 
aigoes, 'If the individual soul were dilleren 
Highest Self, the knowledge of the Eighest i 
not imply the knowledge of the individua 
thus the prumiKo given in ono of the Upinii 

• l..^,^L <>.- T II r ll ^^^M^^^M 




Other vk-uiL'iite, it does never at the same time relato 
any separate creation of the individual mouI. A 
VedtlntiHt, thcrofori\ has, as iSaiikant. argues, no right 
to look on the soul as a created thing, as a product of 
the Highest Self, difTcrent from the latter. You see 
how this question can be argued ad injinitum, and 
it was argued ad injinitutn hy various aohooU of 
Vedlnta philosophers. 

Two names were given to these different views, 
one the Satyahhedav&da, the teaching of real 
separation or difference between the individual and 
the Highest Self, the other the Bbed&bhedavsda, 
the teaching of lK>th separation and of nou-»oparation. 
They both admit that ttie individual soul and the 
aniversal aoiiI ore cttsentinlly one. The difference 
between them turns on the question whether the 
individual soul, before it arrives at the knowledge 
of its true nature, miiy bo called independent, Roine- 
thing by itself, or not A vcvy popular lumile used is 
that of fire and sparks. As the sparks, it is said ', 
iBSuing from a fire are not ali.suliit<-ly diderent from 
the fire, because they participate in the nature of 
fire, and, on the other haml, are not absolutely non- 
diftbnmt. because in that cnso they would not be 
distingubhabte either from the fire or from each 
other, so the individual souls also, if considored as 
efliCctB of Brahman, aru neiUier absolutely different 
bom Brahman, for that would mean that they arc 
not of the nature of intelligence (i. e. Brahman), nor 
absolutely non-different from Brahman, because in 

■ Soo Blilnmtt od V«i1 9(ltr« 1. 4, SI i Tfaibaut, put i. p. 377. 

give. You soe that Indian ph 
their similes anil tUustntions. a 
Mub being Mintillntigiu of God 
and again in other religions also. 
lo fact, th«ae tbooghtA of the \ 
bo expremd more eorrcetly in 
than they were by Henry More, th 
theologian, when be Mya : — 

■ A apftrk or nj ct tli* IHTlnliy 

CJuuil«4 In *«rUi7 fos*, jol»l la 

A preoiMi* drop, Mink trcaa ButiM 

Split Ml Ui» ETMRid, ot mtlMr il 

For tben w* Ml when w« 'gui fln 

Gy ttaallh «t tmt own mItm Mfl 

UiKcnIriiw «iimal«*a tram our grai 

Which UaMj w<. n>« llUrtr dU 

And trtaa tlut prank ri|{ht jolly t^bH 

Tho«e who defend the other I 
bhi'davtlda, tuffvo sa followa: Th« 
for a time A^aolntely different froD 
Put it IK »[)ok<!n of in the Ufanialis 
hecnuBo after having purified il 
.knowledge and meditation it ma 

Iv.J^ 1 1 ^^^^^M 



from tlio MtgliL'st Self, since them is do forllior cause 
of diSercnoe. 

Tlu ApvTOMk or th* floDl to aiftbnun. 

If we keep this idea clearly in view, we may now 
return to the first h^gt^nd wtiiob wc examined, and 
which was taken from the BrihadarftHjoka-Upani- 
Hliad. You may remember that there also we saw 
philosophical idean grafted on ouoicnt K-gi:iidK. Tho 
Joumoy of the xou! on tho Path of the Fathers to the 
moon was evidently an old legend. From the moon, 
aa you may remember, the soul was supposotl to 
return to a new life, aftur its merits hod bouu ex 
hftust«d. In fact the Path of the Fathers did not lead 
out of what is called Satris&ra, tho course of tbu world, 
the circle of cosmic exiBtenoe, the succession of births 
and deaths. We do not read here, at tho cud of the 
chapter, that * there Ls no rotum.' 

The next ntep was the belief in a Devay tlna, the Path 
of the Godii, whioii really led to eternal blotscdnctai, 
without any return to a renewed cosmic existence. 
We left the soul standing before the throne of Brah- 
man, and onjoyiug perfect happiness in that divine 
{NTCtsenoe. Nothing more v» said in the old Vpaniahads. 
It is generally admitted, hiiwever, that even those who 
at Itrst go on the Put!) of the Fath«rB, and rotum fVoin 
the moon to enter upon a new cycle of life, may in the 
end attain higher knowledge and then proceed further 
on tho Path of the Uods till they reach the presence of 
Brahman. The Upnni.-<lutd oikU with one more para- 
graph Btatbg that those who know neither of these 
two roods become worms, birdit, and crcepiug things. 
This is all which the old Upai\iishad£ had to say. 

^■■Bv^iuuiuivjTf Buv WIT nmi vi 411 

soul to the throne on which Era 

lM»t BpMiUMiaa*. 

Brahman was no longer an obje 
could K^ apprmtchvd as a Icing 
a subject, and thus we find in aooth' 
Kauabltaki. where the same legend ii 
adTaneiiigon the ruud of thu goii^ ti 
tbroDO of Br&hman, quit« a now idea <» 
on which the whole of •.%■))( nra'sVedtknl 
legendary framework is indued prescn 
but when the Boul ha^ once placed i 
thnuw of Ilrahinan, Brahman, you mi 
re]irMent«d us saying, ' Who nrt Uios 
Home more or less intelligible uttersi 
bold and startling anawer of the sou 
thou art. Thou art the Self, I am 1 
art the True (satyam), I aui iho True.* 

And when Brahman asks once mon 
the True, ri Hpf the boqI replies: '\ 
from the god« (you roo that Bmht 



nicauing truth, but by dividing it into Sat. ri iSi-, and 
tya, it^ the Upunishad wiHlied to hIiow tliat Hinlitnnti 
ia what wc ><luiuld cull both the absolutely and the 
relatively Real, the pheuonienal as well as tb« nou* 
menal universe. And tliUM the UpanUhad concludes: 
'Therefore by that name of Sattya \a called all this, 
whatever there ia. All thin thou art.' 

UanUty of tb« Bonl vltli BnJuiuux. 

You Boe in this Uponisbad a decided advance 
beyond the o1d«r UpauUhads. Brahman 'm no lonj;t;r 
a god, not even the Supreme God ; bis place is taken 
by Brahman, uouter, the eeuience of all things; and the 
soul, knowing that it is no longer separated from that 
essence, leains the highest lesson of the whole YedAnta 
doctrine, Tat tvatn asi.'Thouart that,' tliat is toeay, 
'Thou, who for a time didut oocin to bo Bomotbing by 
thyself, art that, art really nothing apart from the 
divine esxence.' To know Brahman is to be Brahimiu, 
or, a« wc ehould say, ' in knowledge of Him etandeth 
our eternal life.' Therefore even the idea of an 
approach of the individual towardR the univerMal houI 
has to be surrendered. As soon as the true knowledge 
has been gained, the two, as by lightning, are known 
to be one, and therefore are one ; an approach of the 
one towards tho other is no longer conceivublo. The 
VedilntJet, however, doea nob only assert all thia, but 
he has ever so many argtimentt in store to prove with 
HcholaHtic and sometimes sophistic ingenuity tbat the 
individnal soul could never in reality be anything 
separate f^m the Highest Being, and that tlie dis- 
tinction bctwooD a Higher and a Lower Brahman is 
temporary only, and dependent on onr knowledge 

of the fourteenth century, the Veil 
tliat it would 1)0 solf-coutrnclictory U 
tbere couM be anything besides l!i 
Brahman, which Li All in All, and I 
tht* soul also cannot be anything; < 
it, can never claim a separate and 
exislcncc. Erahman has to be oonc«i 
and therefore aa undiaiigt^ble, the so 
€onccivvd ui a ml tnodificittion or dei 

Thirdly, as Bi-ahnian hoa neither b 
Olid, neitlier can it have any parte 'i 
soul cannot bo a part of Braliuimi, but 
Brahman must be present in every ind 
This U the nniiie a« tbo teaching uf I'lotii 
with ctjual consistency that the True Pvi 
prrsent in every part of the universe. 1 
have written a whole book on this subject 
More eallu this Uieory the HolenmerU 
Greek mala Mtvpt^^s-, on essence that u 

Sn nini^h nn wlmt *h- I''ii....T..K.wl.. k; 



Being. From a purely logical point of view, iSaAkara'a 
position seems to me impregnable, and when so 
rigorous a logician ob Schopenhauer declares hi^ com- 
plete submission to iSatikara's arguments, there is no 
fear of their being upset by other logicians. 



mnOUOH it is chiefly the relation 
S. Iiuman »oul und God which intci 
teaching of the Upaniabads and of the Vl 
)-i>t Uiere are Home other topics in that i 
ftophy which dtsMirvo oar altontioo an^ 
help to throw light on the suhjoct with • 
more gpooially oonceraed. I kaow it is 
to make Indian philosophy intoUigible 
to English Htudonts. It is vith Indian ; 
with Indian masic. 

W« arc M) AccuHtomod to oar own, 
Indian mtutc sounds to oor ears like 
without rhythm, without melody, withi 
And yet Indian munie is thoroughly sci 
we are but patient lUtADora, it bc^na t 
own fascination upon ua. It wilt >m tl 



that the »ou1 and the Abeolute Being or Drabmnn, arc 
one in their o«Monco. We eaw in tlio old Hpunishiidit 
how tbt» conviction rose Hlo<wly, like tho dawn, on thfi 
inteU<!ctual homon rtf India, but how in tho end it 
absorbed overy tliwiight, whether philoHophical or re- 
ligions, in its dazzling splondoor. Whon it had once 
been recognised that the soul and Brahman were in 
their doepcttl esaenoe one, tho old mythological Ian- 
gaage of tho Upaoisbads, represonting tho hoiiI m 
travelling on the road of the Fathers, or oq the road 
of the goda towards tho throne of Brahman was given 
iipw Wc read in the Ved&nta-philosophy (in the 'i^tii 
paragrapli of the third chapter of the third book), that 
thii approach to the throne of Brahman haet its proper 
meaning so long only as Brahman is still considored 
aa personal and endowed with various qualities (sa- 
guna), but that, when tho knowk-dgo of tho trut.*, 
tho absolute and anqualified Brahman, the Absolute 
Being, has once risen in the mind, UieHo mytliologifal 
conoepts have to vanitih. How would it be poiwiblo, 
j^aAkara says (p. 503), that be who is free from all 
attachments, unchangeable and imuioved, Khoiild ap- 
proach another ponton, should movo or no to another 
placL'. Tho highest oneness, if once truly conceived, 
excludes anything like an approach to a diHereot 
object, or to a distaot place'. 

The Sanskrit language- has the great advantage that 
it can express the difference between the qualitied and 
the nnqtialirit-d Brahman, by a mere change of gander, 
Brahman (nom. Brahma) being tiao.d as a masculine, 
when it ia meant for the qualified, and aa a neuter 
(nom. Brahma), when it ia meant for the umiualified) 
> III. 3, 2S, 


li; but Thou art. This 'Thou art* es 
thing that i», that baa bocn, aixl alway 
something that has still to be achiovud, 
For inHtanoB, »ft«r deaUi (p. 51)!)). 

ThuH Suflkara eaya, 'If it is aaid 
wit) go to Brahman, that means that it 
attain, or raUier, that it will be in future 
uncoiiBciouHly, it always haa htMu, 
For when we apeak of some one going 
elae, it oannot bo i>n« and Uio »atne v 
gniihod as the subject and as tlio objoct 
npeak of worship, that can only bo, if tb 
i» (litrorcnt from the wornlitppcil. By tn 
the individual soul docs not beantie Bn 
Brahman, as soon as it knows what it 
always has been. Being and knowing ai 

Here lies the characteristic difference I 
is generally called mystic philosophy and 
tbeosophy of India. Other mystic phi 
fond of i-epresentjng the human sou) as 
lovo for Qod, as filled with a desire for i 

_i-_ •: ;_ (T- 


bat SB BOOQ u that dnrknoss or that Ncscicrwc u re- 
moved, the Bonl is OBoe more and in it« own right 
what it always has been ; it is, it does not bcoomo 

S1b1o(ti« bom th« *"*f"*"fT"-*'ri "'**** 

There is a faninus dialogue in the AVifkndogj-R- 
Upntiiitlinil tictwcvn a young student 6Vetakt-tu and 
Us father Uddnlaka Anini, Ju which the father tries 
to convince the aon that with all bis theolo^cal 
learning he knows nothing, and then trices to Wd 
him on to the hir^heet kiiowlcdf^e, the Tat Ivam asi, 
or Thoa ait that [VI. 1): 

Tlicro liv«d once 6'vctaketu Aruneya. And his 
father said to him : ' iSvetakctii, go to scliool. for there 
IS none helunging to onr race, darling, who. not having 
' studied, is, as it were, a BrahmaTia bj birth only.' 

Having begnn hb apprenticeship (with s teacher) 
when ho w<ut twelve years of age, j&'votakctu rctumud 
to his father, when he was twonty-four, having then 
stndieil alt the Verfas.^oonceited, oonaidei'ing himself 
well read, ami vcrj' Etern. 

His father said to him : ' -SVctaketu, as yon are eo 
conceited, oonHidoring youreelf so well>read, and tio 
8t«m, my denr, have you over nskcd for that instruc- 
tion by which we hear what is not audible, by which 
we perceive what is not perceptible, by which w« 

tknow what is unknowable 1' 
•What is that instruction. Sir!" he asked. 
The falh<'r replied : ' My dear, as by one clod of 
clay all that is made of clay is known, the dilTereRM 
being only a name, arising from speech, but the truth 
being that all is clay ; 

tlint is inado of iron (Ic&rshn&yASRm) 
lUSVrenoe being otOy a name, arising fn 
the truth lieing tJiat all is iron, — tbu 
that iuBtnictioii.* 

The son said: 'Sm-ely those venera 
toaobere) 'lid not know that. For if tb« 
it, why Hhould they nut have told it n 
Sir, therefore, tell me that.' 

Yon 800 what thv father in driving i 
mufuiH is that when you see a numher 
pans oud bottles anil vchhcIs of all kin<: 
feront names, they may Bocm diflereo 
different names, but in the end Uiey are 
%-iirying in form and immo. In the sam' 
wishes to say, that the whole world, all th 
name, however diflereat it seems in t 
name, w in tho end all Brahman. Fori 
called n&m&rtipa in the pWloBophicnl 
India, that is name and form, — name oi 
fortn, or, ns wv should say, tlio idea c> 
the eidos, the species, — coma and ^ 
changing, if not perishing, and there i 
wbn.t. criv<^ real »""1!>— *" ..m^^^^.— 




not (rfl ^ii^ Sv), one only, without a second ; and from 
that vrhich is not, that which is waji born. 

'Gut how could it be thus, my dearl' the fattiw 
oonUnufd. ' How could tliat which is, be boru of 
that which i§ noti No, my dear, only tJiat which is, 
was in bhfi beginning, one only, without a second. 

' It thought, may I bo many, may I grow fmih. 
It sent forth fire. 

' That fire thought, may I be many, may I grow 
forth. It sent fortli wiitvr. 

' Water thought, may I ho many, may I grow forth. 
It sent forth earth (food) '. 

' Therefore whonever it rains anywhere, roost food 
is then producuU. From water alonu in eatable food 

' Ab the bees (VI. 9), my son. make honey by ool> 
leoting thejuicefi of different treoi, and roiluoc thujuicu 
into one fonn, 

'And 08 ihcBojuiceti have no diserimiuation. so that 
thvy might i^ay, I am the juico of this troc or of that tree, 
in the same manner, my son, all these creatures, when 
they have lieoumo merged in the True (either in deep 
Hloi-p or ia death), know not that they are merged in 
the True. 

' Whatever these creatures are here, whether a lion, 
or a wolf, or a boar, or a worm, or a mi<lge, or a gnat, 
or a musquito, that they become again and agalit 

' Now that which is that subtile e&sence, in it all 
that oxista haa its wlf. It is the True. It is the Self, 
and thou, &Vetaketu, art it.' 

' Please, Sir, inform me still more,' said the son. 

' NmtIjt Ihs BUM MMCMBicti of fin, Air, wator, mkIi U found in 
Plato, Tlmiioui. SO. 

Tlouils lifl up the water from the scft 
send it back as rain to the sea). They 
sea. And as thoiie rivers, when tlioy 
do Dot know, I am this or that rivor, 

'In the same manner, my aon, all thi 

when tbey have come back from the 1^1 

that thf^y have comi; back from the Trm 

th«ac creatures are here, whether a lioi| 

or a boar, or a worm, or a midge, or 

musquito, that they hccomo ^sin Mid . 

•That which le that atihtile esBence, 

exiiits has its self. It is the True. It is 1 

thou, O Nvetaketu, art it.' i 

' PlL^asc■, Sir, inform me Httll more,' said 

' Be it fio, my child,' the father replied ( 

' If eiomo one were to strike iit Uio root 

trcu hero, it would bleed, but live. If 

strike at its stem, it would bleed, but 

wore to iitrik« at its top, it would blM 

Pvrvaded by the living Self that tros ' 

drinking in its nourishment and rejoicing 

'But if the life (the living Self) leave 





That which ia that Riibtile essence, in it all that 
exitttd haR it« Kvir. It is th« True. It U tho Self, and 
thou, O 6'voUkctu, art it.' 

'Ple&se, Sir, inrorm me still mora,' said the son. 

■ Be it EH), my cJiild,' the father ivplicd (VI. 13). 

' Place thin salt iq water, and then wait on me in 
the tnoming.' 

The son did as h« «as commanded. 

The father eald to him : ' Briug mu the salt, which 
yoii placed in the water last night.' 

The BOQ having looked for it, found it cot, for, of 
course, it wa« melted. 

The father said : * Taste it from tlie surrace of tlie 
water. How is it 1* 

The son replied : ' It is salt.' 

•Taste it from the middle. How is itj* 

The son replied : ' It is salt.' 

'Taste it from tlie bottom. How is it?' 

llie Hon replied : ' It is salt,' 

The father said: 'Throw it away and then wait 
on me.' 

He did so ; I>ut nalt exists for ever. 

Then tlic father said : ' Here also, in this body, 
forsooth, you do not perceive the True (Sat), my eon ; 
but there indeed it is, 

'That whicb is the subtile essence, in it all that 
exists baa its self. It is the True. It is the Seli^ and 
thou, litvetaketu. art it.' 

' PleoHC, Sir, inform me still more.' said the son. 

'Be it 80, my child,' the father replied (VL 15). 

'If a man in ill. his relativ^-ii asseniblo round him 
and ank: "I>o»t thou know moV Do»t thou kimw 
me?" Now Bs long as his speech is not merged in 
(4) u 

tiiiml in lireftth, broatli in h<.tat (iir 
Higtiesl Gotlhi>ad, Uitm ho knows thunl 
"That which is tlie subtile easenccl 
exiftta haa ita etcJf. It i« the True. It 
thou, iSvcUki-tu, art ik' 

VbIom Bot AbMTptlaa. 

In this clidlogTie as given in the Upa 
1>cf(>re us li more popular and not yel 
view of Ujo Vcdinta, Theiv iiro aui 
indeed which seem to spoak of the mno 
tion of th« floul rather thou of itA recovi 
nature. Such pMenges, however, an 
pliiino«l away by the stiicter V'edilnta 
&nd tJiey )tave no ^-cat dilKciiIty in doi 
tlicro rotnuinH alwnys tho cxplaimtion t 
ficd pcrsoDal Brahman in the uiohcuI 
meant, and not yet the highest Brabi 
free from all qualitioH. That modi 
Brahman exists for all practical pui; 
unreality has been discovered through tl 
the Higliest Brahman; and aa. in on^ 

THE vedAsta-philobopuy. 


eonmdprable portion of the SQtrfta ia taken up v,-itli 
the toi<k of iJiowiti({ that wlii>n Uiv t|ualiru-<l ttrahninn 
socDiH to be meant, it is really tho unciualifiod Brah- 
man tliat ought to 1)6 understood. Again, there ore 
cvur »o many piw*B{jw in the UpaniHlimU which ^t1.•lll 
to refer to the individual soul, but which, if properly 
explained, muRt 1>o considered aa referring to thti 
HigbcHt AtiiiRii, that gives support nod reality to tlt« 
individual soul. This at least in the view taken by 
iSaAkara, whereas, 04 I hinted before, from an histori- 
cal i)oint uf view, it would twem mt if Unrix- had been 
different stagt-s in the dovelopmi'ut of the belief in 
the Highest Brahman and in the highest Atmaa, and 
that some potHftf:^ in tho IFpaniithtiilH belong to 
earlier phases of Indian thought, when Erahmau was 
still conceived simply an tho highest deity, and true 
blessedness was supposed to consist in tlie gradual 
a[^roaoh of the soul to the throne of God. 

Anything like a possionato yearning of the HOtil 
after God, which forms the key-note of almost all 
ruligiouA, is th<trefore entirely alKi4.-ut from the VtdilnU- 
sfitraa. The fact of the uotty of soul an<l God is 
taken for granted from the beginning, or at all events 
as sij Hicit-utly proved by the revcahd ulti^rancea of 
t]io Upanishads. 

The Tat tvam asi. "Thou ai-t that," ia accepted by the 
Ved&ntista in a dry and inatt«r-of-fact spirit. It 
formH the fuuuilatiun uf a must elahurate sjstem of 
philosophy, of which I shall now try to give you an 
idea, though it can be very general only. 




Avldrh or V*iel*aoa. 

Tho rundnmonttil principle of the VedAota-pbUo- 
Bopby tbat id rnalily there exists and there can exist 
nothing but Brahiimn, that BnUtinan is cvGr^-tliing, 
the natetiol as well as the efBcient cau^c of the 
univerae, in of courim ia contrndiotion witli our 
oriiiofiry expcriuiicc. In IikUu, an unywhcro clso, man 
iiiisn;i&e>i at first that he. in his individual, bodily, 
and ttptritual character, U soinetbiug that exists, and 
that all the objects of tho oiit«r world aleo uxist, an 
objects. Idoalixttc pbilogopby has swept away this 
world-oM pitjudice more ttioroughly in India than 
nuywhcre t-lsc. The V'edAiita-pliilu^uphor. however, 
is not only confroiitc-tl with tbia diHiciiUy which 
affects every philnHophy, but he has to meet another 
difBculty peculiar to hinmcir. Thu wbolc of the Veda 
is in his eyes infallible, yet that Veda enjoins the 
worship of many gode. and even in enjoining the 
woreliip (upfVian^) of Brahman, the lii|;h<^ttt deity, in 
his active, masculine, and personal charactiT, it recog- 
nises an objective deity, different from the sul>ject 
that IB to offer worship and sacrifioo to bini. 

Hence the Ved&nta-philosopher has to toleiato many 
tilings. He tolerates the worship of an objective 
Brahman, as a preparation for tlu^ kuowli.-tl>;c of tho 
subjective and objective, or tho absolute Itrahman, 
whicli is the highest object of his pliilo»ophy. He 
admits one Frahmon endowed with t|uabty, but hi^h 
abiive tJie UAUal gods of the Veda. This Brahman is 
reacheil by the pious on the path of the gods: he can 
he wortthippcHl, and it is ho who rcwardn thu pious 
for their good woika. Still, oven he is in that cha- 
racter the result of nescience (Avidy.a), cf the eamo 




neectence wbicb prevents the soul of man, the Aiuian. 
f^Diii lUstingutihiiig itself from ibt incuinbianceR (the 
80-ciilkxl Upn.(Uii.-<), such us the body, tlio orgoas of 
sense and their works. 

This nescience can be removed by scifince or know- 
ledge oidy, and Ibis knowledf^e or vidyi\ it* iinpartet] 
by the W-dAnta, wbicb "hows thnt all our ordinary 
knowledge ia simply tbe result of ignorance or ne- 
Kcienoe^ is uncertain, deceitful, and pci-iHliablo, nr a-s we 
should say. is pbcnomi-nal, nlativc, and conditioned. 
The true knowledge, called samyagdarwina or com- 
plete iiisigbt, cannot be gained by si-nsuous perception 
(pratyaksha) nor by iul'<.Tcncc (anumima), nor can 
obedience to the kw of tbe Veda produce more than 
a temporary enlightenment or happiness. According 
to the orthodox VcdAnti^t. iS'ruti alone, or what is called 
revelation, can impart that knowledge and remove 
that nescience which is innate; in human naturo. 

Of the Higher Brahman nothing can be predicated 
but that it is, and tiiat tlirougb our nescieno*.-, it ap- 
pears to be this or that. 

Whon a gn'at Indian sago was asked to describo 
Brabuian, be was simply silent— that waa his answer. 
But when it \» said that Bmlnnan i.s, that nieniiH nt 
the same time that Brahman is not; that is to say, 
that Brahman ia nothing of what is supposed to exiut 
in our (wnsuous perceptions. 

Bnlinuu •• ■•(, ta jtlt, and aa luknttk. 

There am two other qualities, however, which may 
safely be assigned to Brahman, namely, that it is 
intelligt-nt, and that it ia bliftaful; or mUicr, that it is 
intelligence and bliss. Intelligent seems the nearest 



approach to tli6 Sk. kit and Aaitiuij-a. Spiritunl 
wouM not ariBwer, because it wonld not express more 
tliun that it In not tuntorial. But Ait means (lial it ie, 
that it percL-ivL'M antl kiion's, though a.« it can per- 
ceive itself only, we may say that it la lighted up by 
it.t own light or knowledge, or as it is floinctimcs 
expressed, that it is pnru knowludj^ nml pure light. 
I'erhaps we shall beat underatand what is meant by 
kit, when we consider what is negatived by it, 
namely, dulnes«. dearnt-ss. darkui.'ss. and all that ia 
laati'rial. In several paasa^cs a third quality is hinted 
at, niuncly, Uitwtrulnestt. but this a^ain seoins only 
another name for poiTcctioii, and chii;By inteiidi-d to 
exclude the idea of any possible suffering in Brahman. 
It is in the natui-e of this Brahman to be always 
subjective, and hence it ts said that it cannot be 
known in the nnmu way as all other objects are 
known, but only as a knower knows that be knows 
and that hu is. 

Vhllo»opli7 Mid Sellylofl. 

Still, whatever is and whatever ia known. — two 
things which in the VediLuta. as in all other idvaiistio 
^ystem8of philoflophy.are identical, — all is in Uio eml 
Brahman. Though we do not know it. it is Brahman 
that is known to os. when conceived as the aulhur 
or creator of the world, an oflicu, according to Hindu 
ideas, quite unworthy of the Godhead in its true 
character. It is tJie same Brahman that is known to 
U.S in our own aclf-conaciouflnoKfl. Whatever wc may 
neem to l)u, or imagine ourselves to be for a tamo, 
we are in truth the eternal lirabman, the eternal Self. 
With this conviction in tlic backgi'ound, tli« Vedanti»t 



ntl^Bfl IiU boliof in what he enl1s the Lord God, the 
creator and ruler of the world, but only as ph?- 
nomonal, or aA adapted to tlie human undor^tandiug. 

TlM SnpTMiM lord ot InrniK. 

Men nre to bc]ie%-e in a personal Ood, with the same 
asHUranoe with which they believe in their own 
puntonftl tielf; and can them ho a higher atotumnci;' 
They are to bclicvu iit him an the cn-Ator aud rulur of 
ibe world (samsfLra), and as determining the ctfeota 
or rcwardn of good and evil work.i (karman). He 
may bu worshipped oven, but wc must always re- 
member that what is worBhipped is only a person, 
or. ati the Bralimans call it, a prattka, an aspect of 
ibe true eternal Essence, ats conceived by us in our 
inevitably human and limited knowledge. ThuH tlie 
strictest obsorvuucc of ix'li^ioii is insisted on while 
we are what we are. We are told that there is truth 
in the ordinary Ix-lief in Ood as the creator or cause 
of the woilii, but ft ri'lative truth only, rehilive to tlio 
human undorBtanding, just as there is truth in the 
perception of our senses, and in the belief in our 
personaUty, but a relative truth only. ThLs relative 
truth must be carefully distinguished from fal^c-hood. 
His belief in the Veda would suffice to prevent the 
V'edilntiat from a di.'nial of Uic gods or from what 
we should call Atheism, or rather, as I explained, 

In deference to the Veda the Vedintiat has even to 
admit, if not exactly a creation, at least a repeated 
emanation of the world from Brahman and rc- 
aktorption of it into Brahman, from kalpa to kalpa, 
or from age to agi\ 




If Tre ask, what led to a belief in individaal souls, 
tb« anHWdf wc gL-t U Uie Up&dbifi, Uie surrouod- 
ingti or iucumbiAncea, tliat lit, tlio body wiUi tbc bj«ath 
or life in it. tho organs of sense, and the mind, lliese 
togetlutr form the subtle body (the sdlcshmaitarira) 
and this gQIcsbiiiat^ariru in i^iippottod to Kurviw, while 
death can destroy the coarse body only (the sthOla- 
{Aiira). Tbe individual soul is held by this subtle 
body, and ilK fatoti arv detenniced by acts which aro 
coutinuitig in their conseqaenees, and vrhicb peniet 
in their effects for ever, or at least until true know- 
ledge ha-t ai'iflon. and put an end cvon to the subtle 
body and to all phantasms of neacienca. 

OvmUob or SmuuUoa. 

How the emanation of the world from Brahman is 
couceivcd in tbe V'ed&nta-philoaopby is of »mall 
interuBt. It i« almost pim-ly mytboiofpcol, and pre- 
sents a vcrj- low stAgu of physical scicuce. Brahman 
is not indeed represented any li>nger as a maker, or a 
creator, as au architect or a pottvr. What wv trans- 
late by creation (Bi-tshfi) means really no more than 
a ktting out. and correspondo closely with the theory 
of emanation, as held by some of the mo:st eminent 
Christian philoHophcrs. There ore few opinions tliat 
have not been condemned by some Council or Pope 
as heretical ; but I know of no Council that has con- 
demned ait heretical the theory of Emanation initt«a<l 
of Creation or Fabrication. But if belief in emanation 
instead of cieation has been condemned by the Churob, 

THE tedXkta-phiiosopht. 


then tbe Church baa condemned some of its strongest 
supporters aa heretics. It would be easy to put euoh 
men OS Dionysius and Scotus Erigviio. or evoii St. 
Clement, out of court, as claiming the character of 
orthodox theologians. But what tthould we say of 
Thomas Acjuinan, tho very Itiilwark of catholic ortho- 
doxy ? And yet he too declares in bo mtmy worda 
(Summa p. 1. 9-19"*) that creatio ia emanatio totius 
euiui ab WHO. Eckhart and tho Qcrmon MysUcA nil 
hold the same opinion, an opinion which, though it 
may run counter to OeneaLi, seems in no way inconi- 
patihle with the spirit of tho New Twtuncnt. 

The Upanisliada propose evor so many similes hy 
which they wLih to render the concept of creation 
or emanation more intolligibte. One of the oldest 
BimilcA applied to the production of the world from 
Brahman is that of the .spider drawing forth, that l^ 
producing, the web of tho world from itself. If wo 
won) to say, No, the world was crua,tcd out of NothinL^. 
the VedAntist would say. By all means; but he would 
remind ua that, if C!od is All in All, th(^n even the 
Nothing could nut bo anything eUe, anything ont- 
feide the Absolute Being, for that Being conuol bo 
conceived as encompasaed or limited whether by any- 
thing or by nothing. 

Another simile which is meant to do away with 
what there is left of efficient, besides material causality 
in the simile of tho spider, whicli alter all -iiiilU 
tho throwing out and drawing lutck of tlic threads 
of tho world, iti that of Iho hair growing from the 

Nor ifl the theory of what we, aa tlie tao»t reci-nt 
inveJition, call Evolution or development, wanting in 


LEcrvuE rs. 

tbo Upiuiisluule. One of the moeit frequent tiimilee 
used for this. U the change df milk into curjs. the 
eurde being nothing liut the milk, only under a dif- 
ferent fonn. It wM Mon found, howcvor, that thia 
simile violated the postulate, that the One Being most 
not only be One, but that, if perfect in itaelf, it must 
be uncliftugi^ahh-. Then » new theory canio tu, which 
is tJie theory adopted hy Nafikara. It is dibtin^ishud 
by tlie name of V'ivarta from the Fari?iima or 
Evolution thoory which ia held by KAmAou^fa. Vivarta 
means turning away. It teaches that the Supreme 
Being remains always unchanged, and that our be- 
lieving that anything else can exist Ixvidc it, ariM>B 
fram Avidyi, that ia, Nescience. Most likely this 
Avidy& or ignorance was at tint conceived w purely 
fubjt'ctive, for it is illustrated by the ignorikucc of 
a man who miKtakea a rope for a snake. In this case 
the rope remains all the time what it is ; it is only 
our own ignorance which frightens us and dAtcnnincs 
our aetioDB. In the same way Brahtnan always r*- 
maina the same; it is our ignorance only which 
makes UK see a phenomenal world and a phenooHnal 
God. Another favourite simile is our nisttktllg 
mother-of-pearl for silver. The Vedfintuit says: We 
may take it for silver, but it alwayH remaiiu mothcr- 
bf-pGor). So we may speak of the snake and the 
rope, or of the silver and the mother-of-pearl, as being 
ona And yet wt- do not mean that tho rope baa 
actually undergone a change, or has turned into a 
snake, or that mother-of-pearl has turned into silver. 
After tliat, tlio Vedftntists argue, that what Uio ropo 
is to the snake, the Supreme Hcing ia to the world 
(NilakatifAa Gore, lib. cit., p. 170), They go on to 



explain Uiftt wbca they Iiol<l that th« world t» Bm)f 
uian, they do not mvan that Brabuan is actually 
ti'SJiAformed into the world, for Itrahman rannut 
cluing- and cannot be tranaf<iriiiv(l. Thvy nu-an limb 
Brahman prusenta iticlf as tbi; world, or appears to 
be the world. The world'e reality is not its own, but 
Brahman 'm; yet Bruhinan is not th« inatci-ial caui^o 
of the world, as thu spider is of tho wob, or tlto ailk 
of the curds, or the sea of the fo&m, or the clay of 
th« jar which is mailc by tho poller, but ooly Iho 
Kulmtrattim, tho illuaory iiiatt-'rinl cau»u. TIkt« would 
be no snake without the rope, there would be no 
world without Brahniau, and yet the rope docs not 
liccomc a simkv, uor dovs Brahtuan bocomo tlie world. 
With the Vcd^tist the phenomenal and the uou- 
invual aru i-»Hcntia11y the huur-. The (tilver. as we 
perceive and call it, is the same a& Uie niother-of- 
peej'l ; without the niother-of-pearl, tin-re would bo 
110 silver for us. Wu impart to ■uother-of-pearl the 
Dame and tho form of silver, and by the same jirocesa 
by which wo tlius ci-eato silver, the whole world wad 
created by wurds and furni». A modorn Vcdiintist, 
Framadadiisa Mitra, employe another simile in order 
to explain to Europeau scholars the true mt^ning 
of the Vcd^ta. ' A man,' he says, ' ia crcatud a Pour, 
by being culled a Peer, and being invested with ft 
Peer's robe. But what he really is, i» not a Peer — he 
is what Ik- always liaa hern, a man — be is, a<! we 
•should Bay, a man for all that' Pramadada^a Mitra 
concludes, ' lu tho same manner as we x^e that a Peer 
can be creat«il, the whoie world was created, by 
simply receiving name and form.' If he had known 
Plato, instead of name and form, ho would have 



spoken of ideas, as imparting form and name to what 
waa before formleaa and nainelesH. 

Far bo it from tn« to Hay that llic»o tiirai1«H or the 
ibeorios vrhich they are meant to adumbrato can b« 
vortBider^ as a real solution of the old problem of 
the or«atiun or of the rolation between Uie absolute 
and thv relative ; but after all we think very inticb id 
sitnileH, and these VediLntio similea are at lea^t original, 
and deaerve a place by the side of many others. 
Besides, the Vcdantist i» by no mcuiiR satii«fied with 
these similes. He haa elaborated his own plan of 
creation. He diitlingaiiRhc» a number of stages in the 
emanation of the world, but to iis tiwAO etuges are 
of lesa interest than the old similea. The first stagw 
18 called &k&)>a, which may bo translated by ether, 
though it oorr««pond8 very nearly to wluit we mcati 
by epaef. It is, we are told, all-pervading (vibhu), 
and often takeu it« place mt the fifth element and 
thereforu as sonictliiiij material. It ii» fiom thin ethw 
that air emanates (vAju), from air, fire (aRni, tc;/as), 
from fire, water (apaa), from water, earth (prithivl or 
annain, lit. food). Correspond! iif^ to these five elo- 
iUL'iit4 as objects, there emanate likewise from Brah- 
man the five flciiHes, tlie sense of hearing correspond- 
ing to fffier, the stupes of touch and hearing as cor- 
n.-spon(iiug to air. the sonscw of sight, touch, and 
hearing as corresponding to fire, the senses of taste, 
gi<;ht, touch, and hearing aa corresponding to u\tter, 
and lastly, the scngcw of smelling, taitting, seeing, 
touching, and hearing as corresponding to e>irth. 

After this emanation of the elcniL'iits. and of the 
senses which corniipoiid to them, lia.t taken place, 
Brahman in supjtused to cuter into thcui. The indi- 

THE teuXnta-philobopht. 


vidtial bouIb also, which afltT «ach rcUim of the 
world into Brahman, continue to exist in Brahman, 
ar« suppooed to awake from their deep Hlumber 
(muvuinaj't mahj\j4ushiipli]. and to rccoivo ench ac- 
cording to its I'oniior worktt, a body, cither diviiio, 
or human, or animal, or vegetable. Thvir subtle 
bodies then aaauiue again some of the ooorser ele- 
ments, and Uie senses beoonie di-veloped and diUV-rtm- 
tiutod, while the Self or Atmao keeps aloof, or 
remains an a simple wUneae of all the causes and 
effcctH which form tlie new l)ody and iUi sur- 
loundinjjs. Each body grows by absorbing portions 
of the coaj'scr elementary substances, everything 
grows, decays, and cbangeH, but the grown-up man 
ic neveriholL'SH the same as tliv young child or the 
embryo, because the Self, the witness in all Hit aloof- 
nesit, remains throughout the sajia-. The eniltryu, 
or the germ of the embryo, was, as we saw in a former 
lecture, supposed to have entered into the father in 
the shape of heavenly food, conveyed by tlio rain 
from the »ky or tho moon. Wlicn it lias been ab- 
sorbed by man, it assames the nature of seed, and 
while dwelling in the womb of a mother changes its 
subtle body into a material body. Whenever this 
material body decays again and dies, thu soul with 
its subtle body leaves it, but though free from the 
material body, it retains ita moral i-esponHibility, and 
remains litihlo to the consequences of the tw;ts wliieli 
it perfoi-med while in the coarse material body. These 
C0Dsei|ut:nce8 are good or evil ; if good, the soul may 
be bom in a more perfect atAt«, nay, even as a divine 
being and enjoy divine immortality, may, in fact 
become a god like Indra and the test ; but even thai 



dirino immortaUty will Iiav« kn cn<i wlion«vcr ihe 
universal otnanation returns to Brahman. 

If we dUtin^i&b. aa many phitoaopkors have done, 
between exifttenco (Diuiwn) and Being (.Sein), then idi 
bctttg is Bmhiiian, notliing can bo except Brahman, 
while all tlmt exista ia oimply an illuiu>ry, not a 
real modifieation of Hnihiniui. and itt cauiw-d by nama 
and furni (nnma-rdpa). The whole world U tJierefore 
said to be v&Mra[nbha?ta, Wginning with Uicuionf, the 
word being hero taken in the sense of idea, or conecpfc 
or Logos. Wc must never forget that the world ia 
only what it ia conceived to be, or wlutt by naine and 
form it baa made to bo, while from tlie bigbett 
point of view all thrao names and forms vaniinh, when 
the Samyagdar^ana, the true knowledge, arifi^ and 
everything bccomos known as Brahman only. Wn 
should probably go a atcp fiirtht>r. aii<l ask, whence 
the namca and fonnft, and whence all that phantas- 
magoria of unreality) The VedfLntist has but one 
answer: it is simply due to AvidyiV, (o nettcience; and 
this n<>»oii!nce too is not real or etemnl, it ia only for 
a time, and it vanishes by knowledge. Wo cannot 
deny the fact^ though we cannot explain the cause. 
Tlieroarn si^in plenty of similes which the Vcd&ntiit 
product^«: but simik-s do not explain facts. For in> 
stance, we see namts and forms in a dream, and yet 
thi^y are not real. As ttoon as we awake, thfy vanish, 
and wo know Hwy wero but druams. Again, we 
imagine in the dark that wo see a serpent and try 
to run away, but as soon aa there is light, we are no 
longer friglitenefl, we know that it is a rope only. 
Or again, there ar« certain affections of the eye, when 
the eye sees two moons. We know that there can be 


only one, aa we know that there can be only one 
Bruhmiui; hut till our eyes are really cured, we canuot 
help Hooing two moons. 

Again, it Heems that Indian jugglers knew how to 
make people l>elufve that tliey saw two or three 
juggleni, while tlicro wtut only one. Tho juggler 
himself remained one, knew himself to he one only, 
like Bmhinan, but to the npeotators be appeared aa 

There is another simile to which I have already 
alluded. If blue or red colour touches a pure cryettal, 
howevi.-r mui.'h we may be convinced that the crysLftI 
is pure and transparent, we cannot sepanLlo the hltie 
colour from it till we remove all surrounding object?, 
Jilce the upAdldrt or aurroundings of tbo soul. But all 
these are similes only, and with ua there would 
always i-eraain the <jucstion. Whence this acAcieace 1 

Bnluiuui and AvU^i tb* Ckiia* cT tb* Vhanomaakl World. 

The Ve<Unti8t is salititicd with the oonviotion that 
for a IJnie wo are. as a matt«r of fact, nescient, and 
what he caree for cbietly m to lind out, not how that 
seKcieDce arose, but Low it can bo removed. AfUir 
a tinio that nescience or Avidya came to be considered 
as a kind of independent power, called MayA, illuMon : 
lie became even a woman. Fut in the beginsiDg M&y& 
meant nothing but absence of true knowledge, that is, 
absenoe of the knowledge of Itrabman. 

From the VodAntiitt point of view, however, there is 
DO real dtfforenco between cause and ^'tfect. Though 
h« might admit that Brahman is the cause, and the 
phenomenal world the effect, he wouhl at once ijualify 
that admt^iou by saj ing that cause and effect mu»t 



noTor be conBidcred oa different in Ruhttitnec. that 
Brobman alwa_v» remains the na-mo, wh^-thcr loofet-d 
upon a8 Q&uHd or an t^ft<.-<:t, ju^t as tlio subetAnco is the 
eamo in milk and curds, t]iou;:;li from our nescienoe 
w« nuiy call the ane onuae, and the ntbcr efTcct. 

Yon see that if wo onoc giiint to the VctUntiM tliat 
there exists ono Infinite Boing only, it follows tliat there 
its no room for sny thing ehe by the side of it. and that 
in some way or other the Infniite or Brahmau inu»t 
be everywhere ajid everything. 

Tb* Bnano* of Knn. 

There in only one thing which hcomn to HHrt tte 
indi<|ii'tu]fucc, nud that in thv Hubjectivu Svlf, tb6 Solf 
within us, not the Ego or the pwson, but what lioB 
Ifhind th« Ego and behind the person. Every possible 
view aa to what man i-eally ie, that hoA been put 
forward by other philosophers, is coi-efiilly examined 
and rejected by the VedAntist. It had been held that 
wliat constituted the essence of man was a body 
endowed with intelligence, or the intellectual orgaiu 
of Bcuse, or the mind (nmnas) or mere knowledge, or 
even absolute emptiness, or again the individual noul 
reaching beyond tlie body, active and paa<iive in its 
various elates, or the Self that suftVra and enjoys. 
But not one of tbcso views is approved of by the 
VedAnliat. It is impossible, he says, to deny the 
cxiftU^DCV of a Self in man. fur he who denies it would 
himself be that Sv\{ which he denicc. No Solf con 
deny itself. But aa thei-e is no room in the world for 
anything but Uraliman, the lutluite Being, it follows 
that the Self of man can bo nothing but that very 
Brahman in its eatiiety, not only e ]H>riioa or » 


modification of it, 80 that whatever applies to Brah- 
man appliofl al»o to tJio Si'lf in nun. As Brahman in 
altoge^er knuwled)^. so is the Self ; aa Brahman is 
omuipreoent or olUpcrvading (vihbn). mo is the Self. 
As Brahman is omuixcient and oinnipotLnt. ho is the 
Si:l£ A§ Brahman is neither active nor passive, neither 
enjo^'iu^ uor auSVrin^. so iit the Self, or mthor, ko must 
bo tlio Self, if it is wtiat it is, the only thing that it 
can he, namely Braliinan. If for the present the Self 
iieema to b« difSreiit, seuins to 1>« suiTurin;; oiid en- 
joving, active and pa^ivo, liuiitod in knowlcd^ and 
power, this can be the reault of nescience only, or 
of a belief in the Upiidbis or biDdr)iiic4>« of true 
knowlodgc. It is owing to tbeee Upadhis that th« 
omoipreeent Stlf in the individual la not omnipresent, 
but confined to the ht'ort; is not omnisciont, is not 
omnipotent, but ignorant and weak ; is not an iii- 
ditfenent witnc-in, but active and passive, a doer am] 
on wyoyor, and fett'Ti-il or determined by its ftiriiicT 
works. Sometimes it seems as if the Upadhis were 
the eaose of oeseienco, but in reality it is nescience 
that causci tho UpiUlhis'. Thnto Upiiilhis or in- 
cumbraiicea are, besides the outer world, and the 
coorae body, the mukhya prik7ia, the vital spirit, 
the Manas, mind, tho Indriyas, tho Hcnscs. These 
three together fonn the vehicle of the soul after 
death, and Hupply the germ for a new life. Tlie 
sftkshmnMirira, the tine body, in whicli ibey dwell, 
is invjeible, yet material, exteoiled, and transparent 
(p. 50li). I liolicv<- it Li tliis fine body, the s&kshma- 
eortni, which the modem TheoHopbists liuvc changed 

* T«d. Satna UL S, IS, apAdhtnlm HTid!rtpnityii{<a»t>iiUlvtt. 



into their astral btxly, taking tb« theories of the 
ancient /fishts for matt«n of fact. It in call«<l the 
Avraya or abode of the soul, it oonsUta of the laaest 
■purts of the elementa that form the germ of the body 
(debavtfjftiti bhCitadCkkshmftni). or, according to som* { 
pauagea, it consists of water (p. 401), or something' 
like water. This fine bodj never quits the boqI, and 
BO long as thi» world fKatiiHAi*) lasts, the »ouI clothed 
in tKiM finu body assumes new and coarecr bodies 
again and again. Even when it has reached the path 
of the gods and tho tlirono of Bralntiaii, the nouI ia 
HtJll 8U]>poftec] to bu clothed in its fino body. Tliis fine 
body, however, consists not only of the faculties of 
sensuous perception (indriyiiiii), of mind (maiiafl), and 
of vital breath (mukhyapraua), but its chai-actcr is 
likewise determined by former acta, by karmau. 

In the PArvamtm&maS. this continuity between acts 
and their consequences is called ApArva, literally, that 
which did not exist before, but was brought about in i 
this life or iu a former life. When the work has been 
done iind ia past, but its otfcct has not yet tuken place, 
thoro ri'mainii something which after a time is certain 
to produce a result, a punishment for evil deeds, a 
rcwai'd for good deeds. This idea of 6'ainiini is not, 
however, adopted witlioutinodirication by Puiiai-fiyana. 
Another teacher attributes rcwai^ltt and punishments 
of former acts to the iiifluenoo of lavaru, the lord, 
though admitting at the Hame time that the Lord or 
the Creator of the world docs no more Uian superintend 
the universal working of cause and cITuct. This is^ 
explained by the following illustratioo. We see a 




plant springing from its seed, growing, flowering, and 
nt Imrt (lyinj;. But it duL-s not diu altogi'tbcr. Sotniv 
thiog IB left, the eood, and in order that this seed 
may Vive and thrive rain ii« necettmry. What i» 
thus achiovod by ttio niin in tlio vc^etahlo world, 
is £>uppOBed to be achieved by the Lord in the moral 
world, in fact in the whole ereatioo. Without God 
or without tl)» rain, tbo scud would not grow nt all, 
but thiit it grows thus or thus is not due to the rain, 
but to the seed itself. 

And this »crv<.'4 in the VetlAiitn- philosophy as a 
kind of solution for the- problem of the existence of 
ftvil in the world. Qod is not the author of evil. He 
did not ereatc Uie evil, but Ho simply allowed or 
enabled the good or evil deeds of former worlds to 
bear fruit in this world. The Creator ihcnsforo does 
not in His criiation aet at random, but is guided in 
His acto by the determining induence of k&rman or 
work done. 

DUr*rail Stetu or til* 8o«L 

Wfl have still tj] consider some rather fanciful 
theories with regard to the different states of the 
individual soul. It is aaid to exist in four staU^K, in 
a state of ^vakefulncvs or awurotions. of dn-ani. of d<.-<ip 
sleep, and, lastly, of death. lu tiic state of wake- 
fiilneisa the soul dwelling in the heart pervadoR the 
whole body, knowing and acting by nteanit of tlia 
nund (majias) and the sunHes (iiidi'iynj»). In the stata 
of dreaming, the soul uses the mind only, in which 
the senses have lieen absorbed, and, moving through 
the veins of the body, eeos the impn-cmions (v&aaow) 
left by the senses during the state of wakefuLneea. lo 



the thii-d Ktago the bouI is altogether freed from tbo 
niind al»u, both the mind snd the senses are aheorbcd 
in Uie vital spirit, whioh alone cutitinuca active in the 
Iwdy, vihilo tbo soul, now free from all upAdhis or 
fetterB, retuniB for a time to Brahman vritbin tlio 
heait. On awaking, h<>wev(-r, the soul loeeH its 
teaipoFAi-y identity with Dmhniun, and bccome» again 
vrhat it was before, the individual soul. 

In the fourth ataltt, that of dt^atb, the senses are 
absorbed in the mind, thi- mind in the vital spirit, 
tho vital spirit in the moral vehicle of the soul, and 
the soul in the line body (a&kshmatiaiiro). When 
this abHorption or union ha» tnkcn place, the ancient 
Vedantist« believe that tho point of tho hciart becomes 
Inminoos so as to illuminate the path on vhicb Iha 
soul with its surrounding (upadhiK) c«capes from tho 
body. The Soul or Self which obtains true knowledge 
of the Highest Self, regains its identity with the 
Highest Self, and then enjoys what even iu the 
Upanigbads and before the riso of Buddhism is called 
Kirv&xaor etei'nal peace. 


It is generally supposed that this idea of NirvAiia 
is pcciilttLr to I^udilhJMn, but like many Buddhist 
ideas, this also can be shown to have ittt rootA in tho 
Vcdic world. If this Nirvana is obtained step by 
step, beginning witji the Path of the Fathers, or tha 
Path of the Gods, then leading to a blissful life in the 
world of Brahman and then to the true knowled^ of 
the identity of Atman, tbo aoul, with Brahman, it is 
called Ktamaniukti, Le. gradual libcialion. 


But tho same knowlodgo mny bo obteinod io this 
life also, in the twiokliDg of an eye, without waiting 
fordeatb, orforn-Hurrectiou and aACCiision to the world 
of the fathers, tho gods, and th« god Brahman : «n<l 
this Htate of knowledge and liberation, if obtained 
by A mtin while still in the body, is callwl by Ister 
philosophers ffivanmukti. lifo-liboratloa. 

It limy take place in this life, without tbo help 
of death, and without what is called the Utkranti 
or the Exodus of tho bouI. 

The explanation given of this state of perfect 
spiritual &oc-dom, while tho soul is still in tho body, 
i£ illuKtratt'd by the siinih': of a patter's wlii-cl, which 
goes OD moving for a time, even tiough the impetus 
that set it going has ceased. Tho roiiI is free, but the 
vorka of a former exinti^ncc, if tboy have once bogun 
to bear fruit, must go on bearing fruit till they aro 
quite exhausted, while other works which have not 
yet begun to bear fruit may be entirely burnt up by 

If we ask whether thia NirvtLna of the iJraliman 
means absorption or annihilation, tho Vedintist, 
different from the Buddhist, would not admit either. 
The Boul is not absorbed in Brabman, because it has 
never loft Brahman; there can be nothing cliH'ereut 
from Brabman; nor enn it bo annihilated, because 
Brnhman cannot bo anniliitated, and the soul has 
always been nothing but Brahman in alt its fulness; 
the new knowledge adds notliing to what the soul 
always was, nor docs it take away aoythiug except 


LECTirnic IX. 

that nescienctt which for a tiaie darkouod tho solf- 
knowledgo of the eoul. 

These living iretd soula enjoy perfect happiness 
ftod (iAH*:, though slill inipriBODi-d in the hody. Thcj 
have obtained true Nirvana, that is, freedom from 
passion and immunity from being bom again. Thus 
th« Brihud^rn>iyaku-Upani«had IV. 4, says: 'He 
who is without desiro, free from dceire. whose dcairfs 
have been fultilled. whose d(!aire ia the self, his vital 
ttpirita do not cmigiatv; being Brnhmiui, h« bccomoa 

We should ask at once, Doea then the soul, afl«r it 
haa obtained th« kouwludge of its true essence, retaiu 
it« personality } 

V«Taoii«lltr of tha Bon]. 

Bat SQch a question is impossible for the true 
V«dRattst. For terrestrial personality is to him a fetter 
and a hindmiici;. and fn-cdom from that ftttcr is the 
highest object of bis philosophy, is the highest bliss 
to which the Ved&ntist aspires. That freedom and 
that hif^hoist blisH arc nimply tho result of true know- 
ledge, ol'a kind of divine self-rocol lection. EverytJiing 
dae remaina as it is. It ia true the VedantJst speaks 
of the individual houI as poured into the Universal 
Soul like pure water poured utto pure water. The 
two can no longer be distinguished by name and 
form ; yet the Ved^ntist lays great stress on the fact 
that the pure water is not loat in the pure water, as 
littli- as the Atman is lost in Brahman. As Brah* 
man ' is pure knowledge and conaciutmness, so is 
tho Atmiiu, when freed, pure knowledge and oon- 

' Ilit]rB-upaI*biUiitr*rapa. Dvuswn, p. SIS. 



Bciouenees, whik- in tb« bo<); it ih limited knowledge 
and limited consciousness, limited pcreonality only. 
Anything like Bepaiateness fioia £rahmaa ia iropoesi- 
ble, for Brahman is all in nil. 

Wliutevur wo may think of ttis philosophy, we 
cannot deny its motaphysical boldness and ita logical 
coniiistcncy. If Brahman l» all in all, the One without 
a second, nothing can bo tiatd to osist that is not 
Brahman. Thero i§ no room for anything outside 
the Infinite and the Univereal, nor is there room for 
two Intinites, for Uio Infinite in nature and the 
Infinite in man. Thoro is and there can be one 
Infiiute, one Brahman only; this is the beginning and 
end of the Ved^nta, and I doubt wheUa-r Natural 
Religion can reach or has ever reached a higher point 
than that reached by iS'aAkara, as an interpreter of 
the UpaoishadB. 



Bqnlroul P>aaftff*B In tti* UpMilaluda. 

IN laj-ing before jou a short outline of the Ved4iita- 
philoHiiphy, I bad scvcnU times to call ^"our 
attention to what I called the equivocality which it ^r- 
ecptiblointheUpftiiLshailit and likewise in the Ved&ntA- ' 
Bfitrae. In one schko cvcrythiii)? that exttila may bo 
considered as Brabmnti. only veiled by ncscicnot. while 
in another eenM> nothing that fxinla is Brahman in 
its true and real cfanracter. This equivocality applies j 
with pBJticular force to the individual eoul and to the 
Creator, The individunl soul would be nothing if it 
were not Brahmon. yet nothing uf what in predicated 
of the individual soul can hi^ predicated of Brahman. 
A great portion of the Vcr)rtntu-N(itra« in occupied with 
what may be called philosophical exegesis, that is, 
wit!) an attempt to determfne whether certain passages 
in Iho Vpiinishads refer to tho individual soul or to 
Bnhiniin. Considering tluit the indtvichial soul haabeea 
and will be, in fact always ia, Brahman, if only it know 
it, it is geiiemlly possible to argue that what is said of 
tli« iudtvidual soul, is in the end said of Brahtnan. 
Tho same applies to the personal God, tho Creator, or 
as he is commonly called, tovara, the Lord. He. too, is 


ID reality Bralim&n, so that here agnin many tlungit 
predicated of liim niay in tlid end be I'eforred to 
Bnfaman. tbe Suprcniu Being, in ita DOD-plieiiomeoal 

This amphiboly of tliou^ht and cxpreiiidoa baa found 
ita linal cxprMt^ion in th« two sohoola whicb for many 
cenluricB have claimed to be the Inie representatives 
of the VedAuta, that of jb'aAkaru aiid thjtt of llAmA- 
DUj/i. I have generally followed thu guidance of 
&Akara. aa he seema to me to carry the Vedtknta 
doctrine to the high«at point, but I feci bound to Hay 
that PnifcHHor Thibaut has piovcd that BfLinanu(;a 
is on many points the more faithful interpreter 
of the Vcdilnta-n&tras. ^aAkiirA is the more phLlo- 
aophical head, while Rfltnauu^a has become the auo- 
cesaful founder of one of tbe must popular religious 
Boetn, chiefly, it fiucme, because he did not carry the 
Vedfinta to ite last consequenoea, and bccauito he luao- 
eged to reconcile hiH more metapliyaical speculations 
with tho rtligiouB worship of ceruin popular deities, 
which he was r«'ady to accept aa Hymbolical represen- 
tations of tlie llnivonwl Godhead. Nor was Rilini- 
uu^a a mere dissentient from iSnAkara. He claimed 
for bis interpretation of the Vedanta the authority of 
philosophers more ancient even than •Sankara, and. of 
course, tbe authority of tbe VedAnta-sAtras them- 
selves, if only rightly understood. Kiim&nu^'s fol- 
lowers do not possettH now, so far ss I know, manu- 
scripts of any of these more ancient commentaries, hut 
there is no reason to doubt that Bodh&yana and other 
philosophers to whom KAm&nuf]m appeals, were real 
diaracti're and in their time inttuential teachers of the 




^k&kM« mat ainJLBnj;*. 
lUmSnu.Ta and iS'aiikara agree, of couts«, on many 
points, yet IIki poinUi on wliicJi tlivy difler po«)s«CH a 
peculiar iiitcix^st. They are not mero mattcnt of 
interpretation with regard to tbe Si^traa or the tJpani- 
ohads, but involve important principles. Both ana 
strictly monistic philoKophors, or. at all events, try 
hard to be bo. They 1>oth bohl that there exists and 
that there e-an exist but one Ahsoluto Keing, which 
tiupprjris all. comprehends all, and muxt help to explain 
all. They difler, however, aa to the way in which the 
phenomenal universe i.s to he explained. jS'at'ikara 19 
tbe more consistent moiiist. According to him, Brah- 
man or Paratnatinan, the nigbeet Self, ia always one 
and the same, it cannot change, and thci-eforo all the 
divcrxity of the phenotnenal world ie phenomenal 
only, or, as it may also be called, illusory, the result 
of avidy& or of imavoidable nescience. They both 
hold that whatever it real in this unreal world ia 
Brahman. Without Brahman evea thi& unreal world 
would lie impoeaible, or, as wo nbould say, there could 
bo nothing phenomenal, unless there was something 
noumcual, But as there can be no change or variance 
in the Supreme Being, the vaiying phenomena of the 
outer world, as well as the individual i4ou1» that arc 
bom into the world, are not to be considered either 
OS portions or sut modifieAtionH of Brahman. They are 
things that could not bu without Brahman ; their 
deepest self lies in Brahman ; but what they appear 
to he is, according to ib'aAkara, the result of nescience, 
of erroneous pci-c*-ption and equally erroneous concep- 
tion. Hero RiliDanu^ differs. He admittt tliat all 
that really exists is Brahman, and that there is and 



can be nothing bosiJcs Brabinnn, but ho docH not 
MCi'ibe tbe elements of plurality in the phenomeoal 
world, including iudiviUuiiI auuU, to U(.-scit.-nce, but to 
Brahman itself. 

Brahman becomes in fact, tu tiia mind of K£m&nu(^, 
not only thocau&c, but the real sourco of all thutexi^tA, 
and according to him tbe variety of the phenomenal 
world in A uianifcxtatiuii of what liet* hidden in Brah- 
man. All that thinks and all that dooa not think, the 
A-it and tbe a^it. are real modes (prsk&ra) of Bmbman. 
He ia theanlaryumin.tboinwardrukrofthuuatcriul 
and the immaterial world. All individual souls aro 
real manifeHtations of tlie unncen Brahman, and will 
preserve their individual chaiactcr through nil time 
ajid eternity. Ram&nuff& admits the great renorationn 
of th<! world. At the end of each kalpa, all that vxists 
is wrapt up for a time (during the pralaya) in Brah- 
man, to appear again as soon as Brahman wills a now 
worlil (kalpa). The individual wuLt will then be o&co 
more embodied, and receive bodies according to thetr 
good or evil deeds in a former life. Their tin&l reward 
ia an ft])proach to Brahman, as dcHorlbed in the <dd 
Upanishad*, and a life in a CLdcHtial paradiete frt-e from 
all danger of a return to a new birth. There is no- 
thing higher than that, according to lUmanu^a, 

&Akara'8 Brahman on the contrary is entirely ftw 
from dilVcronceii, and does not contain in itself tlw 
seeds of the phenomenal world. It i» without quali- 
ties. Not even thought can be predicated of Brah- 



man, though iatcUigiMicc constilutM it« essence. All 
Uiat »(K-m8 manifold and endowed K'itli qualitiM is 
the result of Avidya. or Neacienoe. a power which can- 
not be called either real or unreal ; a power that is 
altogether inconceivable, but the workings of which 
are eoen in the phenomenal world. What is called 
Isvara, or the Lord hy IUinfLnitr;a is, according to 
iSafikara, Brahman, as represented by Avid^'n or Miy&, 
a personal creator and ruler of the world. This which 
with RAmiluu^a Is the Supremo Being. i» in the eyes of ■ 
&ii^l(ara the Lower Brahman only, the qualified or 
phenomenal Brahman. This distinction between the 
Param and the Aparnm BrnJimnn. the Higher and the 
Lower Bralimon, does not exist fgr Ram&uu^, wtiilo 
it forms the essential feature of i^aAkara's Ved&ntism. 
According to '^aiikara, individual souls with their ex< 
perionce of an objective world, and that objuctive 
world itself, are all faUe and the result of Avidy& ; they 
possoes what is called n vyiivahArika or practical 
reality, but the individual souls (yiva) as soon as they 
become enlightened, cease to identify themselves with 
their bodies, their senses, and their intclleot, and per- 
ceive and enjoj- tht^ir pure original Brahmahood. They 
then, after having paid their debt for former deeds and 
misdeeds, after having enjoyed their rewards in the 
presence of the qualilied Bralimau and in a celestial 
paradise, reach final rest in Brahman. Or they may 
even in this life entur at unco into their re-it in Bi-oh- 
inxn if only they have leamt from the VetUuita that 
their true Self is tlie same and baa always bcea 
the Eamo as the UigLest Self, and the Highest 
What has often been quoted as tbo shortest sum- 


tnnry of tho VccUnta in n couplo of lines, roprescaU 
the Vedinta. of i'lifikara, not of RAminnTa. 

* Id half ■ couptot I irlU (Icalont whit Iiut iuxa de«U(«d in mU- 

llobi of volumov 
Brahnin ii truo, tha vortd la fiiUn, tlio MdI la Bnthmk and i* 
noUitng «]iw.' 

AloUrdhvoa pravakUirlmi j-ad uktnm ^nmtbakMTbhM 
Brahnut aat)-!!!!! piiKuii mitliyA, $(va btahmaira uAparun'. 

This is really a very perfect summary. It means: 
What truly tuid really exUts is Brahman, tho One 
Absolute Pc'ing; the world u faleo. or rathttr is not 
-what it eeeme to be; Uiat is, everything that ts pre- 
Eented to us by tho senses ia phciioineuitl and relative, 
and con bo nothing i-lso. The soul again, or niUuT 
every man's soul, though it may soom to ba this or 
tliat, is in reality nothing but Brahman. 

Thia is tho quintessence of the VedAnta ; the only 
thing wanting in it is an account as to how the 
phenomenal and tlic iudividunl comes to bo at all, 
and in what relation it stands to what is absolutely 
real, to Urahmao. 

It IB on this point ^^aAkara and lUmAnujjrft differ, 
B&mlinu.Ta holding the thoury of evolution, the 
Fari))Ama>v&da, iS'ai^kara the theory of illusion, tho 

Intimately connected \ritli this difference between 
the two great Ved^ntJst teachers, is another ditTcrence 
as to the nature of God, sa the Creator of the world. 
R&mAnu^ knows but one Brahuinn, and this, accord- 
ing to him, LH the Lord, who creates and rules the 
world. £afikara admits two Brahmans, the lower and 
the higher, though in their essence they are hut one. 

' A /lUdino' E^lalmn iff M( Hindu rXiloioiiliHal ^•Tnii*, by lirhv- 
miah KllokanUa Cora, tranaUttd b* FiU-£tliraid HalL C«lcuUa, 



Great as these diffurencos on ocrtaLn pointA of the 
Ve(UlQta- philosophy may sei^m bctwocn Stitik&ro. &nd 
mm&nuj;a, they vanish if we enter more dec-ply into 
this ancient problem. Or rather wo CKn i«oo that the 
two tn<.'nnt much tlio enmu, though they exprcasodj 
themfielvea in different ways. Though ililaAkara. looks' 
upon the individual soul and the personal (iod or 
Irvora nx, like everything else, the result of Avidya, 
nescience, or M&y&, illusion, we must remember that 
what ho callfl unreaJ is no more thun what wo sltouM 
call phenomcual. His vyfivahnrika. or practical world, 
is no more unreal than our phenomenal world, though 
wo dij(tingui»h it from the noumcnal, or the Ding an 
wh. It is a« real as anything presented to us by our 
senses ever can bo. Nor h the vyilvahArilca or phono* 
menol God more unreal than the God whom wc igno- 
rantly worship. Avidyfi. or nescience with iSaAkara 
produces really tlie same effect as pttriii&ma or evolu* 
lion with RilinAuuf/a. ^V'illl him there always remains^ 
the unanswered question why Brahman, the perfeci 
Being, the only Keing that can elaim reality, should 
ever have been subjected to pariniima or change, why, 
as Plato aaks in the Sophist and the Parmenidoa. the one 
fihould ever have become many : whik- 6'aAk&ra is more 
honest in confessing, though indirectly, our ignoranoo 
in ascribing all that we cannot undeistaud in the 
phenomenal world to that principle of Nescience which 
is inherent in our nature, nay without which wc should 
not be what we are. To know this Avidya consti- 
tutca the highest wi*dom which we can reach in this 
life, whether we follow the teaching of iSaAkara or 
IUro&nu,9a, of Sokrates or St. Paul. The old problem 
remains the same whether we say that the unchange- 


able Grahniim is changed, though we are ignorant 
how, or whotlicr we isny that it U due to ignorance 
that the unchaogeable Brahman seems to be changed. 
AVe have to chooex; l>etwt^cu acc>.!i)ting AviilyA aa a fact 
not to bo accutintcd for, or nccupting change in the 
perfect Being as a fact not to be accounted for. This, 
however, would cnrrj' us into fields of philosophy 
which have never been eultivatcd by Indian thinkers, 
and where they would decline to follow us. 

But whatever we may think of their VedAntic specu- 
lations, we cannot but admire tlie fcarlcse eonsiittejicy 
with which these ancient philosopherB, and more par- 
ticularly >S*aAkara, ar}j;ue from their premisaea. If 
Brahman it all in all, they any — if Brahman is the only 
real Being— then the world also must bo Brahman, 
tliu only ijueKtion being, howl NaAkora is quite con- 
Bistent when ho says that witliout Brahman the world 
would be impossible, just as we should say that with- 
out the absolutely real the relatively rcul would be 
inipoBsiblo. And it ia very important to obiierv*: 
that the Ved^tist does not go so far as certain Bud- 
dhist pile I'M who look upon the phenomenal 
world as simply nothing. No, their world is real, 
only it is not what it seems to be. ;SaAkara claims 
for the phenomenal world a reality surticient for all 
practical puriKwes (vyivahai-ika), etufficient to deter- 
mine our practical life, our moral obligitliout, nay even 
our beUef in a manifested or revcalctl God. 

Tliertt if » veil, but the VedJUita-philosophy teachc* 
us that the elcrual light behind it can always be per- 
ceived more or less darkly, or more or loas oleuiy, 
through philosophical knowledge. It can be per- 
ceived, because in reality it. ia always there. It baa 



been (Mid that the pcrsonul or ra&.nirested God of th« 
VedAniUbi, whether they call Hiru t^vara. Lord, or 
any other name, possciMcs no &lKtolut«, but m relative 
reality ouly — that he is, in fact, thu resuU of Avidy& | 
or Noscicnco. This is true. But this so-called relativa I 
reality IB again siitlicient for all practical aod religious' 
purposva. It is t» nal as tiuything, whvn known hy us, 
can b« real. It is as real as anything that is called real 
in ordinary Ungoage. Tlio few on]y who huve gras]>ed 
the reality of thu One Absolute Bt^in^, have any right to 
8iiy that it is not absolutely real. The Vedintist is very 
caroTul to distinguifth bctwoon two kinda of I'eality. 
There is absolute reality which k'long^ to Brahman 
only; there ia phenomenal reality which belongs to 
Qod DT t«vara aa Creator and to sjl which be created 
OS known to us; and there is besides, whst he 
vould call utter einptinesa or cAuyatva. which with 
tho Buddbiets rcpresenU tlie essence of tlio world, but 
which the Vcdantist cla^sis with ttiu mlmgo of tho 
desert, the horns of a hare, or the son of a barren 
woman. Whenever he is asked whether he looks 
upon the Creator and his works as not abttolutt'ly 
rml, he (tlwayfl folia back on this that tJie Creator and 
Uie creation arc the AI>»oIute itself, only seeming to 
be conditioned. The pliL-nomcnal attachc-M to tlieir 
appearance only, which translated into our language 
would mean that we can know Qod only as lie is 
revealed in Ule works or as He appi-ors to our human 
nnderstanding, but never in liis absolute reality. 
Only while with us tho ahneuco of knowledge is 
tiubjectivo, with tho Hindu it has hecoino on objec- 
tive power. Ue would say to the modem Agno<ttio : 
We quite agree with you as far as facta are concemed. 



but whilo you aro satisfied with the mere ntatement 
ttiKt wo, as human bein^. are nesciont, we in India 
have asked the further question wlmiico thut Ncacienco, 
or what hoa mule us umcicnt, or what is tlio cause, 
for a cause there must l>e, that we cannot know the 
Absolule, such ait it is, Hy calling tlmt cauoo AvitlyiL 
or MftyA the Agnostics might eay that the Ved&ntiata 
do not gain much ; etill they gain this, that this uni- 
versal Agnoniit is recognittcd as a cause, and as dis- 
tinct both from the subji^cb, as knowing, and from the 
objects, OS known. We should probably say that the 
oaune of Agnosis or of our limited and conditional 
knuwledj^u lies in the subject, or in the very nature of 
what we mean by knowledge, and it waa from this very 
point of view tliat Kant det«rmined the limits and con- 
ditions of knowledge as peculiar to che human mind. 
Though by a different way, the Vedantist ai-rived 
really in the end at thi? same result as Kant and more 
recent philosophers who hold with Kant that 'our 
experience supplies us only with modes of the Unoon- 
ditionud as prvitoutcd under the conditions of our con- 
sciouBUPss.' It is these; conditions or limitations of 
human consciou&neBs which were espresaed in India 
by AvidyiL. Sometimes this Avidy^ is represented as 
a power within the Divine (dcviltma-«ikti, Vedilnto^ 
sftra, p. 4); sometimes, by a kind of mythological 
metamorphoaia, the Avidyi or M&yk has become per- 
sonified, a power, as it woro, independent of ourselves, 
yet determining us in every act of senHUou-t intuition 
and rational conception. When the Vedautiat says 
that the relative reality of the world is vy&vaharika, 
that is practical or BuRicient for all ]>ractical ]>urposc9. 
we should probably say that ' though reality under the 



fomjs of our coosciouBDcss is but a conditioned effect of 
the absolute reality, yet tliis conditionptl offcct Ktands 
in indixaolublo relation with its unconditioned cause, 
and )M.'ing equally persistent with it, so long as tbe 
conditions persist, is to consciousneita supplying thoMi 
conditions, <K}tm)ly rv-al.' 

It may Bccm strange to find the reaalts of the philo- 
sophy of Kant and hia followeiii thun anticipated undcrj 
varying expresflloua in the Upaninhuds and in tha' 
VediViita- philosophy of anck-nt India. The treatment 
of th<.'se world-old problems diffifrs no doubt id the 
banda of modem and ancient thinkeiit. but the Mart- 
ing-point« arc really the same, and the iinal rci-ults are 
tDueb the same. In these compailBons we cannot 
expect the advantages which a really gem^alogical 
trcatmont of religious and philosophical problems 
yields us. We cannot go hack by a continuous road 
from Kant to A'ailkara, a» if going back from pupil to 
teacher, or even from antagonists to the authorities 
which they criticise or attack. But when that treat- 
ment IB impoBsihle, what Icall the aruiloffital tieat- 
ment Is often very useful. As it is useful to compare 
the popular legends and superstitious customs of 
people who lived in Europe and Australia, and between 
whom no genealogical relationship is eonceivnblc, it 
ia instructive also to watch the philosophical problems, 
us they have been treated independently in different 
times and in localitie:; between which no iDtcIlectual , 
contact can possibly bo suspected. At first no doubt I 
the language and the method of the Upanlshads seem 
M) strange that any compamon with tlic philosophical 
language and method of our hemisphere seems out 
of the queatioD. It sounds strange to ua when the 


Upiioishads speak of the soul emer^g from the veins, 
aecending to tlie tnoon, aD<! afl«r a long and danger- 
ous journey nppronchiiig at litst tlio throne of Qod ; it 
sounds strangor etill when the houI is mitdo to sny to 
a personal God, ' I am wbat Thou art, Tbou ait ihd 
Self, I am tin: H,.M, Thoii art the Trup, I am the True.' 
Yot it is only tho old El>.-atic argutnunt aimLnl out 
consislently, that if there is but one Inlinito or one 
Ood. the aoiil hUo can in itn true e-iaenoe be nothing 
but Ood. ReligiouH which are founded on a boHi-f in 
a transcendent yet pei-aonaJ God, naturally shrink 
from thiK conHunion as irreverent and aa almost im- 
pious. Yet this is their own fault. They have first 
ci-eated an unapproachable Deity, and they are 
afterwards afrajil to appioacli it ; tlicy have made an 
abyss bolwcen tho human and the divine, and they 
dare not cro»<s it. Thia was not so in the early cen- 
turies of Cliristianity. Kcineniboring thu words of 
Christ. 'Eynj iv airoit, koI av ir ly.ol, Xra Saatv nrtXtimiiivoi 
tli it; ' I in thera and thon in me, that they be made 
periV'ct in one," Athanasiua declared, J)e Jnrarn. Verbi 
Dei, 54, Aiirii (i rov ftfoC Koyot) tiiriv$ptoiii(Tfv Xva ilfitXt 
BttmoiijOmittv, ' He, the I.ogoa or Word of God, became 
man tliat we niiylit hcoomc God.' In more reeont 
times also similar ideas have found expression in 
sacred poetry, though more or less veiled in meta- 
phorical langtiajjo. Not more tiian 200 yt-ant ago 
there was that noble school of Christian PlatonisU 
who rendered Cambridge famous in all Christendom. 
They thought the same thoughts and u&cd alnmst the 
sanu- language as the autiiore of the Upanisha^ls 2000 
years ago, and as the Indian Ved^nta-philoaophers 
about LOGO years ago, nay as some solitary Uuukera 

Y J 



to be found «t Benares to the present lUy. Tbe 
following Man of Henry Moro might likve been 
written hy ft VediLnta-pbilosopber in India: 

■ Honca tb* aooXm lutor* m dw* pUinljr bb*: 
A bouu It la tl III* InUlkctuiJ Stut. 

A nj IndMd «f thai A«(*n>itj. 

Bnl Miefc a nj u wli#a i( lint oal ah^iM 

Fraa « &«* l%bt iu tliuuiiit tUta Imc«il* 

And again : 

■ But 7«t, IN7 HUM. aUU talt* ut UriMr fllsliL 
8iiMt of PlMoBlek F^lh tB ib* flnt 0««A 
TluU fattb Ihat dnth oar Mwla 1» God nulU 
Sa atrofigl}'. liHtiOr. dial Ui* l»pM Sood 
Of thi« (wift lliix of tliiiui^ Her *ritk fool owd 
Can (Uin, nor itTilw ua ulf from U>' unily 
Wbnvin WB ateadfiut stand, nnahittil, lumiovvd, 
EnffnfUd hj a Arrp rltn-Mtj, 
Tlw prop and tUj i>f tlilnv in Ood'* betiigniljr.* 

The VedintAxptiilocoph}-, aa w« aaw, lit wiy rich in 
nimilcH and niL-taphont, but no philosophy baa at the 
seme time bo courageously removed all metaphorieal 
veiln, when the whole tnitb bad to be revealed, as the 
Vod&nta. particularly in the mouth of iSaiikara. And 
what in peculiar to the Ved^ta is that, with all its 
boldness in Eipeaking uu metaphorical language, it baa 
never c«a»cd to bo a rvligiun. 

The Vedanta sanctioned a belief in Brahman as a 
masculine, as an objective deity, or as an t«vara, tbe 
Lord, tho creator and ruler of the world. It went 
oven further and encouraged a worship of tbe Highest 
DrahniAn under certain pratikait, that is, under cer« 
tain names or forms or pL-ntoos, nay even under tbe 
names of popular deities. It prescribed certain means 
of t^rftco, and thereby introduced a system of moral 
discipline, the absence of whicli in purely metaphysical 
systems, is often urged as their moat dangerous 


cbaractemtifi. Tlie VedAntist would B&y that the 
truly enlightened and releniiAd soul, after tinding its 
tnio homo in Brahman, could nob puBsibly commit ma 
or even claim merit for its good deeds. We read 
(Brill. At. IV'. 4, 23), ' H« who has found the trace or 
the footatcp (of Brahman) is not eulliod by any evil 
dcod.' And again : ' lie tl)at knows it. after having 
become quiet, eatisficd, patient, and coUeRted, eeea 
self in Self, sees all as Self. Evil dues not hum him, 
he burns all evil. Free from evil, free from Bpots, free 
from doubt, bo becomes a truo Br^mana, his self is 
at rest in the BJghest Self.' 

Merkl CIianoMr ot tft* Tvdinta. 

To guard against thu dangers of self-doccit, the 
Vedinttsta prescribe a very strict moral discipline oa 
the esEeiitial condition of tho obtuinnient of the 
highest knowledge. In the Upanishads (Br*b. Ar. IV. 
4^ az) we read : ' Hrilhiiians week to know Him by the 
study of the Veda, by eacrifice, by gifts, by penance. 
by fasting, and be who knows Him Iweome^ a sage. 
Wishing for that worM (of Brahman) only, they leave 
their homes as mendicants. The pcoplo of old. know- 
ing this, did not wish for offspring. What shall we 
do with offspring, they said, we who have Uiis Self 
and aro no longer of this world 1 And having risen 
above the desire for sons, wealth, and new worlds, 
they wander about as mondicaut^.' 

Here you find again in the Vptinishad all the germs 
of Buddhism. The recognised name of mendicant, 
Bhikshu, is the name afterwards adopted by the 
followers of Buddha. 

The danger that liberty of tho spirit might de- 



generate into Uoraoe, «xi«t«d do doobt in ladi* u 
cbnriierp. But nowliere were greater prce»ntMfUl 
tolcco Bg&inBi it than in India. First of aU there was 
the prot«tioD, tfaroagfa trhieit everj jouth bad to paas 
for j-oim in the booM of bie spiriUnl toaefaer. Tb«n 
followed the life of tbe manied man or honsebolder, 
■trictl; regulated by priestly eontroL And then only 
wbtD old age approached, began tb(> tim« of Kptritaa] 
freedom, tbe life in the forest, which brongbt release 
from oeremonial and religioaa restriction, but nt tbe 
■amo time, strict discipline, nar mora than discipline, 
peoanee of every kind, toriure of tbe body, and strictly 
regnlated meditation. 

Hix requirements were considered eMcntial before a 
Eiibman could hope to attain true knowledge, viz. 
tranciuillity (*amR), taming of tlte passions (daina), 
resignation (uparati), patience (litiksbS). collection 
(aamidbi), and faith («nddhA). All tbeee preparatory 
ftageit are intniit<^'ly dcscriticil, and thoir object ia 
throughout to draw the thoi]<;hta away from things 
external, and to produce a dtsire for epiritual freedom 
(mumiikxlintvu), and to opt-n Uie «yc« of t)te f'lul U> 
its tmo nature. It must bo ck'arly undcratood that 
all tbe»e means of grace, whether external, such as 
aaerifioe. study, pcnanc«, or internal, -luch aa patience, 
collection, and faith, cannot by ihcmtwlves produce 
trae knowledge, but that they Bcrve to prepare the 
mind to receive that knowlcd^n. 

i«o«U« PnoUoM. 

It in well known that in India tbe perfect absorp- 
tion of thought into tbosuprvmoHpirtt is nccompaiiiod, 
or rather preceded, by a number of more or leas patn- 

THE TWO 8CH00W 07 THE VEdAkta. 327 

fal prftcticcs, which oro fuUy described id their ttncicnt 
catechisma (in the Yogasfthas, &c.). and which con- 
tinue to be practised to llie ]»re«'iit day in India, I 
bolievo ttint from a patbolo^csl point of view thcro is 
nothing myBterions in any of the strange effects pro- 
duced by restraining or regulating the breathing, 
fixing tbo eyes on oertAin pointa, sitting in peculiar 
pceitioos, and abetniuiug from food. But thciic thin<;s, 
which have of late attracted so much attention, are of 
small interetft to the philosopher, and are apt to lead 
to much sclf-dccctt, if not to intentional deception. 
The Hindus thcmselvee are quite familiar with 'he 
cxtriLOrdinnry performances of «oino of their Yogins 
or eo-callcd Mahatmas, and it is quite right that 
medical men should carefully study this auhject in 
India, to find out what is true and what is not. To 
represent these performances as essential parts of 
ancient Utndu philosophy, an has lately been done by 
the admirers of Tibetan Molintmas, in a great mistake. 

Biotarlo Da«trUi««. 

I It is likewise a mlatafco to suppose that the aneier.t 

Hindus looked upon the Upanixhads or the Vrdiliita- 

sfktras OS something eucret or osotciie. Enotertc 

L mystcrirs seem to me much more of a modem inven- 

} tton than an ancient institution. The more we be* 

eomc faiuilar with tho aaciont literature of the East, 

the loHH wo find of Oriental mystoriea, of esoteric 

wisdom, of Isis veiled or unveiled. The pn/fanum 

vuicius, or the outsiders, if there were any, coiutstod I 

ehietly of those who wished to stay outAJde. or who 

I excluded themselve!) by deficienciea either of kuow- 

P lodge or of character. In Greece also no one was . 

Bachelors and AfaatOTS of Arta ; aiul if b 
were called iaturtinKoC mid othcts V^o 
meant do more at fir&t than that the 1ati 
on the ouukirta of philnRnphical atudie 
foniitT had bt-en ftdniitto<l to tin.- mo 
classes. The Pythagoreans had cvca i 
dreas, they r>b>tcrved a restrtcted diet, ant 
have abstained from flesh, except at sai 
fish, and from beans. Some observed c 
had all things in common. These re^ih 
at iliHercDt timen ami in different cotintri 
Pythagorean doctrines had spread. But 
we hear of any doctrines being withheh 
who were willing to fulfil the conditions 
all who desired admission to the hrotherb 
constitutea mystery or esoteric teaching, ' 
well ftpeak of the mytitericn of nntrono 
people ignorant of mnthcniatics arc exolv 
or of tlio esoteric wisdom of the students i 
tivo Mythology, because a knowledge of I 
fine gvd non. Even tlie Greek Mysterii 
they became in the end, were originally n 
rites and doetrini^ handed down at the aol 





imagined tliot these so-called mywterics conUinrd any 
profound wisdum and were mcarit to veil svcitbt 
which it seemed daogeroua to divulge, they were 
probahly &a much deceived aa people are in our days 
if tliey imagine that doetrinos of oeoterie wisdom 
have been handed down by the Freemasons from the 
daya of Solomon, and arn now confided to the safe 
keeping of the Prince of WuIcb. 

li ia quite true that the doctrine of the Upanishads 
u called Rahaaya, that is, scioret. hut it in si-ci-et in 
one iien«e only, that is to say, no onu was taught the 
Up&nishads in ancient Umea, who had not passed 
through the previous dieoiplino of tlift two stngoH of 
lift-, ttijit of the Btiirk-nl, and that uf the householder, 
or who bad not decided from the first on leading a life of 
aludy and chastity. 'lliU «ocrfcy won cosy whun there 
existed as yet no books, nnd when therefoit; those who 
wished to study the Upaniahads had to tind a teacher 
to teach them. Such a teacher wouM naturally coni- 
mooicate his knowledge to men only who had attained 
the proper age, or had fulfilled other necessary condi- 
tions. Thus we read at the end of the Saiiihttft- 
Upanishad in the Aitareya-nranyaku, ' Let no one tell 
these SamhitoA to any one who is not a resident 
pupil, who haB not been with hi.-( teacher at l<-a«t one 
year, and who ia not himself to become an instructor. 
Thus !tny tiie teachers.' 

As to the study of the VedAnta-sfitras, I know of no 
restriction, particularly at a time when MSS. had 
become more wiifely accessible, and when riiunerous 
commentaries and glosaea euabli-d students to acciuire 
a knowledge of Uiis syst^tm of philosophy even by 
themselves. Nay, it is certainly curiouit that white 

IHttafUow b«tw<*D IndU %aA Gtvool 

What ooDEtitutes. however, the roost iroport 
fcronce Iwtvreen thu uncionl Vc(Iduta-p1)ilc«( 
India, and similar philoeopbiea in Qrccce, ta tl 
logical character retained by the former, w! 
laLK^r t«nded more and more U> become otlii 
political mtber thau thuulogical. With rc{ 
metaphysical apecuIatiQUa the Eluatic philos 
Xenophanes, I'armi^nidea, Zeuo, and Mclis^u 
nviircnt to thfi Vediinta-philoAOplicis. Xent 
may Httll ho culled almost entirely Ihoolo^in 
speaks of Zcua as the Supreme Being, as all 
In fact, he repreaenta the same stage of thought 
18 nproacntod as the lower knowK^d^i? in the V< 
abelierin Brahman, as masculino, nhicb.tojudj 
the Upanisbada themselves, was in India alao 
tlion a beliuf in nrahin&n aa ncut«r. This bol 
the individual aoul face to face with tho un 
but objective deity, it bad not yet reached 
knowletlije of tho oneneset of the Atman and tb( 
man. Xenopliancs retains his bclivf iu Zcua, 
I his Zeus is very different from the Zous of ] 




(EI b' toTif i $tit h-aii^oiV npiriirrov, ivi ^laiv avroi' 
vpomiKeur tlvai' (t yap Svo tf xAd'ou; (Uf oiiK &v /ri Kpdrt- 
imv Kol /SArtoTow airiv tti-oi isJatrutv. Clem. Strom, v. 
601 e.) 

He tnuat aUo be immoveable and unchaogeabla 
{^iiniT^s or Apui'inaU). And again : 

' Ho revolves ovorything in his mind without otibrt.' 

('AAA' iitavtv$t isoimio i-oov (jiptvl TiAt-Ta Kpaiatvft. 
Simpl. Piiys. 6 tk, in.) 

' He is aito^ctbcr mind and tbougbt, and utornal.' 

(-vfiTStiim r «(('ai (rdv Btip) i/oiiv col ^pSimaiv xai 
alliov. Diog. ix. 19.) 

'He Hooa altogetbcr, he thinks altogether, he heara 

(OSAoj ip^ Qv\os ii rotl, ovAos H t ixovti.) 

So far Xonophaneii is still theological. He has not 
gone beyond the conception of Brahman, tut the 
Buprerne and only Being; his Zeus is etill a matieu* 
line, and a puisoDal deity. 

In Bomeof theutterancoH, however, that are a-soribed 
to Xenophani.'S, he goes beyond. Plato at leaat 
KscribcK t« XcnophaneH as vri-ll as to hiH successors, 
the philosophical tenet that all things are many in 
nanii^, but in nature ooo', which reminda one strougly 
of thu Sat, or to Si; of the U]>Anislu)d», that beconK!8 
manifoM by name and form. Cicero, however (Acad. 
ii. S7, 118), states cle&ily that Xenophanes took thia 
one to bo Go«l. 

(Xenopbanea unnm esse oinnia Deque id ease tnata> 
bile et id e-Hse Deum, neque natum uuquam et aompi- 

Even the ailment which we found in the Upani- 

< Sophi-t, 343 s. 

Tasity be mat^Stl ^W^^HHpsIiiLi 
U]iiuiUliBdH, Xenopfaanes iiUlHt^u tb< 
boiiijj intcUigfut (^-aitauya, Aoj-moV), the 
point Iwing whothcr XcQupliaiicH went 
aucccasni-B in aurtendering altogetlier 
Zsua-like chftmotfir. According to Sextu 
i. 225) it would Bctin tliat thiH was 
' Xenophanea,' he writes, 'held that tho 
iinti that Ood was congenital (oi/fx^iijv) wi 
or, aa wn fhoiiid sny, thul Guil wjxa iniir 
world. That Xcnopbaneii conceived of t 
ir^iaipodS^t, or apberical, ie well known, t 
conveya any dcfinit)' moaning to our mil 
will find tliat ancient as well as motlen 
ore by no tocons agreed as to wbeUier 
considerod the world as liniitc-d or unlimi 
What i» preserved to us of tlie pbymca 
of Xcnopbwies Bccms to bo quito apart fn 
physical principles. For while from hit i 
point of %'i«w nil wan one, uniform and u 
from his physical point of view he in i 
considered earth, or eartJi and water, as 

nil Hlil^fH f2r 


• Earth And water are all tbingn, whatever U bom 
or prows." 

Xenophanef) is also ci-editcd with the statement that 
tbc earth arose from air and fire — theories which again 
might easily bo matchuil in Uio UpanishadH. But tlie 
essential point on which Xenophonea and the Upiini- 
shads agree is the first conception of tho One Being, 
OS the suhatoncb of ovcrjtliing, though that concep- 
tion has not yet bucuuio purely metaphysical, hut is, 
like the Brahman in the older UpaniHbads, still sur- 
rounded by a kind of religious halo. 

On this point Parnienidus imtrks a decided advance 
in the Eleatic school, iho same advance which wo 
observed in the later Upanishods. With hiin the 
concept of (ho One Being has bcoonie entirely meta- 
physical. It is no longer God, iu t!ic onlinary sense 
of thf word, an little aa the Highest Bruhman ia Ood, 
though whatever there is real in Ood, is the Highest 
Brahman. Iu the detinitiou and description of this 
One Being, Parmenides goes even beyond the VedantR, 
and we see here once more bow the dialectic flexihility 
of the Greek mind out«trips the doginutic i>u»itivencss 
of the Hindu mind According to Parmenides, what 
is, is; what is not, con neither ho conceived nor 
enunciated. What is, cannot have a beginning or 
an end*. It in whole, unique, unmoved aud at rent. 
We cannot say that it viim or will bo, but only that it 

' Cr. SifflpIielUA, I'liys. foLSl a, b : Kin)% S' tti ii!Hiii iteia Ailmraif 
tii iarir. ToiiTn 8' Iwl o^iiar' taai HoAAit >iiiA', i/i ijirnTBr lAr m) dtw- 

. B r I ,x^. r I . t ... . »# 1 ■ 

parte could be wepmlea. ""All space is filli 
and it is there immoveable, always in tli« luti 
by ibiclf and like iUtolf, Nor ia Uiinking 
from buing', tnwaHse thtro is nothing but b' 
thinking is thinking of being. It is curi 
Parmt^nidea will not have thiH Being to l>o 
becauMu he lookM oven upon infinity lui Homol 
perfcut. bccauee not having dcfiniLe limits. In 
Real Being of PaiTnenidea is by no ineanH im 
•we cnn V-st explain it by the iiimilo wc nid 
the UpaniiihadH, that all that ia made of claj 
differing only by name and form. I'armenides 
deny that these fonns and names exist in thi 
ntonnl world, lio only inxists on the uncertftia 
evidence which the Benses offer us of theeo fo 
names. And as in the Upiinishads this e 
ktiowli-dgo or nc«cionco is sotnvtiiiica called 
or darkneea, as opposed to the light (toi/as 
knowledge, wu find that Parmeniden also s 
darknose (I'v^ aiaijf) its the paune of crruneou 
light (alOfpiov iri'p) as the cause of true kiiowl 
We thus see bow the level of thought rei 
the earlier Kleatica, is much the ^ame as thi 



sic. Sat, (IS Ihe only rwility; they both have Icnrnb 
to look upon tbc mnoifuM of ciipL-riciicu as Jonhtful, 
as phenomenal, if not erroneous, and as the itault of 
name and form (nopiftixr ^■■ofxdCtif. nAraarCipa}. But 
the difTL-rcnceH between tlio two are considerable also. 
Tbc Kluatic pbi)o»ophur» arc Grocka vritli a xtrong 
belief in personal iudividunlity. They t«ll uh Uttlu 
about the soul, on J its relation to tbe One Being, still 
loss do tbcy suggest any means by which the kouI 
conld bccumo one with it. and recognise its on^'iiial 
identity with it. There are some passages (Zeller, 
p. '188) in which it seems aa if Parmenidcs had be- 
lieved in a migration of houIe, but thU idi-a does not 
assume with him the importance which it had. for 
instance, among tJie Pythagoreans. The psychological 
questions are thi-own into the background by the 
metaphysical problems, which the Eicatic philoaophen 
wished to solve, while in tlio Upanishada tho psycho- 
logical question is always tho moi-e prominent 



BcUkIod, V/wtam of Balationa b*tw**n Mfl 

IALLUDKD ill n furmiT lecture to a 
religion which we owe to Newman 
religion,' he writes [Univ. Serm., p. 19), ' 
teiii of n-lntiont* botwouu luo and a Sup 
Aiiotbvr thoU){htftil writer has expretusud tl 
even more powerfully. ' Man ret^uirefl,* 1 
there shall ha direct relfttioiiH between th< 
the Creator, and tliat in thcac- relations 
s solution of the perplexities of esisteace 
Ttiis ri'laliounhip, liuwuver, aBAuniea v 
forms in diffirent reli);ionB. W'k have 
the Ved^ta it was founded on a very 
irrefmgalilo syllogism, if theiie is one b 
dfintisl says, which is all in all, then oui 
in its substance be different from that hi 
separation from it can be the result of nt 
whii-li nr-MPu-rifp. bait to be removed b? 



mwt, like ororjUiing citto. if not more than every- 
tbing else, sharu tho ceaeuco of what alon« is infinite, 
ant} can alone be said truly to eiuaU 

■vfllm, Ita OrlfUi. 

We shall nest have to coneiider a religion in which 
tho premiss sooms to be wanting, but the couclosioQ 
has boconie even more powoiful, I moaa th« Sofiiam 
among the Mohammedans. 

As the principal Utentturo of Sufii.'<m is composed 
in Persian, it was supposed by Sylvestre do Saey and 
othen that these ideas of the union of the soul with 
God had reached Persia from India, and spread from 
t)icnc« to other Hohammedan countries. Much may 
bo «atd in support of such a theory, which was shared 
by Qoethe also in his We^-OstlUhrr Divan. W'u 
know of llio doso contact between India and Persia 
at all times, and it cannot be denied that the t«mpera- 
tnent and the culture of Persia lent it«e]f far mure 
uaturally to tliu fervour of tins n-bgious poctrj* than 
th« stem character of Mohammed and bis immediate 
followers. Still we cannot treat Sufjisni «a gvncalo- 
gioally descended ttom Vcd&ntism, because VedAnt- 
iem goes iar beyond tbo point reaclit-d by Sufiism, 
and baa a tar broader metaphysical foundation than 
the religiow) poetry of Pcn<ia. 8utii»m in Kati.-<fic(l 
with an approach of tho bouI to God, or with a loving 
uuioQ of the two, but it has not reached the point 
from which the nature of God and Soul is seen to be 
one and tJio same. In the language of the Vedilnta, 
at Iiast in it« final development^ we can hardly speak 
any longer of a relation between the soul and the 
Supremo Being, or of on approach of Uie soul to, or of 
(4> z 

remain aJiiiys aisSnct. QioHgV rclatea 
are oecaoional expressions which comt 
the VedAnta similus, huoIi lut that of thu 
being lost in the ocean. Still, oven tin 
admit of expluimtion ; for we are told 
of water is Dot lost or annihiUted. it ia 
and the Pcman poet when he epwiks of 
lost in God need not have meant more 
[)oet when he speaks of our losing ou 
ocuon of God's love. 

Tholuck seems to have been one of th( 
that there is no hijttorical evidence for ii 
(hat SufiiHm is founded on an ancient 
prior to the rise of Islam. Suliism, as fa 
ia decideilly Mohammedan in origin, 
manifestations appear early in thu socoi 
the Hodjra. 

Mohatiimfrd said indeed in the Kor^ 
tlicroisnomoiiachism'; but as oarly as C 
five men of Mekka joined themeelvoa 
others of Medina, took on onth of fi' 
dootrini-ft of tlie prophut and fonned a 
establiith 'tTTif urntirrfT nml ffc 



early days of lalam, or from gttttj, wise, piooa, or IVom 
ftiR, pure, or from Haiti, purity. 

Abatntot of Bofl ItoetilaM. 

The principal doctrineH of Sufiiam have been siimmed 
up by Sir W, Jone» lut follows': 'The Sufis believe 
ihitt the bouIh of men diffbr infinitely in degree, bub 
not at all in kitul, from the divine spirit of which 
they are paHklGt, and in which they will ultimately 
bo absorbed ; that the spirit of Gud pervades the 
UDiveme, always immediately present to (lis wo3'k, 
and consequently always in substance i that He alone 
is perfect in bcnevok-nco. pi-rfoct truth, perfect beauty ; 
that love of Him alone is real and genuine love, while 
that for other objects is absurd and illusory ; that the 
boanties of nature are faint reaemb lances, like images 
in a raiiTor. of the divine charnia ; that, from eternity 
withont lieginning to eternity withoutend, the supremo 
ItenevoJcnco is occupied in Wstowing happinciifl, or 
the means of attaining it \ that men can only attain 
it by performing their part of the jiersoiuU covenant 
between them and the Creator i that nothing has a 
puro absolute existence but mind or epirit; that 
material suffetaneen, as the ignorant call them, are no 
more than gay pictures presented continually to our 
mind» by the sempiternal artist ; that we must beware 
of attachment to such jihttntome and attach ourselves 
exclusively to Ood, who truly exists in us, as we 
•zist solely in Him; that wo retain even in this 
forlorn state of separation from our Beloved, the Utedi 
of fieaveiily btauty and the ratiemlrance of oari 
prirMmal vowt; that sweet musick, gentlo breoxM,.. 

■ Sir W. JoDot, trof**. ISOT, to), it. f. SI2. 

union witb wKicI) will consist our suprcnK 

BftMa. tbt MillMt Bull. 

nb curious tliat the Bnit pt^rson i^uoted 
iBg Sbfl opiniuim is a 'moman of tbo nan 
■who died 135 after the Hodjrn.. Ibn Kha 
number of etoriea of her: 'She would 
inid<]lo of the night go on the roof of th( 
cnll out in her solitudu : " my God. the 
d&y is bushed, the lover dallies with the 
the secret cbftinher; hut I in my oolitud 
thee, for I know tlioc to be my true bclovc 
cddin Attar tollit of the same Rahio, that 
sht* waa walkiug across the rocks, she 
' Desire of God has wi«t'd mo ; true thou ar 
nnd earth, but I ycam to boo thet'." Tlic; 
God spoke directly in her heart : ' Itabii 
not lieanl that whon Mo8(tit once desired 
only a moto of the Divin« Majesty fell on i 
and yet it hurst asunder. Be content tb( 
my name.' 

Again, wo are told that when Rahia cam 
on a pil j-i mage, she esolaimed. ' I want 1 



all intended to show her devotion, nay, ber spiritual 
union with AlUh. Wht-n sho wm asked to get mar- 
riud, she said ; ' My ininoEt bciiii; is inorjiod, tlierofore 
I eay, that my being has peiisbed within nie, and has 
been rcKUticitJited in Ood. Since then, I am entirely 
in His itower, nny, I am all Himnulf. Hi; who wif.he& 
for me as hie biide, must ask not me, but Him.' When 
UasHon Pasri (a famous theologian) anked her by what 
way and by what means she ha<l risun to that height, 
bhv answered : ' By lotting everything that I had found, 
in Him.' And when asked onoe more, by what way 
and by what means bhc had oome to know Him, she 
cxoloiincd : '0 Hassan, thou knowest by certain ways 
and by certain mcane; I know without ways and 
meaiw.' When she was ill and laid up, tlirvc great 
theologians visited her. One, Hssboq Bosti, Bald : 'He 
ia not sincere in hLi prayers, who does not bear 
patiently the castigatioo of th« Lord.' The other, 
Shakik by name, aaid : ' He is not sincere in his 
prayers, who does not lejoice in His castigatioo.' But 
Itabia, still porctiving sornvthing of the self in all 
this, replied : ' Ho is not sincere in bis prayers, who, 
when be sees the Lord, does not forget that he is 
being cha&tised.' 

Anoth«r time when she was very ill, and was asked 
the c&um of her UIuces, she said : 'I have been think- 
ing of the joys of paradise, therefore my Lord has 
punished mo.' And again she said : ' A wound within 
my heart devours me; it cannot be healed esoept 
through my union with my friend. I shall remain 
ailing, till I liave gained my end on th« last day.' 

Ttiis is language with which students of the lives 
of Christian 8aint8 are familiar. It often bocomes 

earlf times. 

But though it is impoAMMo U* tnu! 
aiags of Sufii«m dinictly to a Porsiftn 
be denied that in later times Persia 
particularly after they had been bit 
hanimedan sway, contributed largely 
iDOnt of Sufiism and of Sufi poutry. 

Oonsoetlon of Snfllnn with Si^rir ( 

The chief iiapulsi-, howowr, which 
from without, BL-uiiiii to have como frui 
that form in which it was hei^t known 
the end of the third century, as Mr. ' 
in tiio Pri.'fnco to his translutiou of tl 
tiouB of Plato, of Aristotle, ' the parent 
of the Alexandrian commentators had 
into Arabic The llioosophy of tht 
aud Gnostics vros widely spread in thi 
might almost be callod a parallel stt 
theosophy derived in part from P 
Moees,' as he was callod, but mainly fr 
as presented in t!io spiritual gospel i 



propountlud in the Phaodrus, that buman beAuty ia 
the bridge of communication betwotn tbo world of 
sense and the world of ideas, leftding man by th« 
stimulus of lovo to Uio Oroat Ooc&n of the Bl^ftutiflll. 

Traces of Christianity have been pointed out by 
Mr. Whintit'ld, not only in the distinct mention of the 
chief events of the Qospol biKtory, but in actual 
renderings of sentencee and phrases taken from tho 
Oo9i)el8. Tlie cardinal Sufi terms, ' Tho Truth," ' The 
Way,' 'Univer&al Konson ' (Logos), "Universtal Soul' 
(Pneuma). 'Gi-ace' {Pais), and 'Love,' ar« all tremtc-d 
by him as of Christian extraction. 

Mr. Whinficid might in support of his theory have 
mentioned a poem in the Quishen Ras, the secret of 
the bed of rosea, a very popular but anonymous poem 
on the principles of Sufiiam written about the begin- 
ning of the fourteenth century, in which the mystic 
union of tho soul with God is described as the &" 
sential feature of Christianity. 

There wo read : — 

'Dost thoa ktmiT what ChrintluiUr U? I tlikll l«n tt ttiM. 
It di^ up thy own E;^ knd carrion lhi« i'> (lixl, 
Ttiy ixiHl I* a monnitviy, wltvtolii dnnllk om-iiitv, 
'llioa art Jvruaalrm, whorn llin Kcumnl in eiitlir<.<n«<1 1 
Tha HolfSlptrit irorlu llii* mlrticlv, (or kuow uiat Oud'abelng 
Rwto la lb* Huly Spirit as iu Ilix own ipirit. 
The Spirit of Ood EirM to (hy gpirit tho Urs of tho ijiirlt. 
He inoTtB in Ihy spirit b«au*tfa a ililn veil ; 
If thcu art doliTcrod by tho Spirit from miiQhood, 
Thou hut found olornnl r«l In tho ■nnotoary of (lod ; 
lla who haa dlioctvd himtolf to ihat all fauion* ar* ailMit, 
Will lunlj, Wl« Jmiu, aauaud (o baann.' 

Aim 8^14 Abnl Cb*l*, r«iuia«> ot ■nU>B. 

Rahia may bv cAlled a Sufi before even the ri»o of 
Sutiism. Her Sufiii^m ttt'cms quite bur own, without 
any traces of foreign influence. The i-eal foander, 

v\bv. ]ti&(>i>. one party louowmg xm 
■ilititii, whoso pantheistic views wt-re i 
with the KorAn, the othor following Jii 
to reconcile SufiiHin with orthodoxy 
then, OS at preaent. Siiiifi an«) Sufis. 
Persian, Rudi as SfnAt, Foriil oddin At 
Bflmt {d. U62). JAinl (d. 117^): oU 
such as Otnar ibn cl Fartdh, and Izx ec 
others even in Tiirkiah. 

Some of their poetry is mognificei 
and highly valued even by those whi 
the con9«}iiencc9 of their dootrinc«. 
said to bribed an alarming familiarity i 
and a disregard of human and divine 
Iwiet among those who Iiave not ri-ach 
spiritual purily, and might be tomptei 
outward sanctity as a cloak for human 



The etymology of Svji, as derived I 
Wcause they walked about dressed in 
gnrmenta is now generally acci^pti.'il '. F 
Bupiwscd tha t Suli camo from UieGrgskj 



aayat 'All praiso to Allah, who by His grace u>d 
favour has eaved us from tho rpstarchos of coqvcd- 
tional scieiicea, who by the spirit of immodiate in- 
tuition has lifted 118 above the tediou»n<:S8 of tradition 
and demonstration, who has i-emovod us from th« 
hollow thn-nhing of Htraw, and kept hb pure from 
disputation, oppositiun and ooutradiotioQ ; lor all tliis 
is the arena of uncertainty and the field of doubt, 
of error, and heresy ; glory to Uim who has takeu 
away from our eyes thu veil of oxtcmahi, of form, and 


The Sufis trust to the inward eye that is opened 
in raptures ; and which, if it is weak or blind, cau 
be helped on by ascetic discipline. This aacetjc 
diHcipliuu woB originally so more than abBtAining 
from food and drink, and other pleasures of life. 
But it noon degenerated into wild fanaticism. Some 
of the Fakirs indulged in viok-nt exerci^i^s intended 
to produce convuluons, cataleptic fits, and all the 
rest. The Dorwiahea. who may be seen now turning 
round and round till they break out in delirious 
shouta, arc the degraded dvscvndanta of the Sufis. 
Att&r and Jell&l eddtn Rdml, like true lovers of 
God, rc(|uired no atimulants for their enthuaiaem, 
and their poetical genius found utterance, not ill 
inarticulate ravings, but in enraptured hymns of 
praise. The true SuHh were always honoured, not 
only for thuir genius, but for tlnir saint-like lives, 
and they could well bear compamou with their 
contemporaries in the West, even such aa St 



"Wbea speaking of the true and saint-like Sufis, 

< FtlthAtl tbav tr^ bat iMl (or PutdlML 
OimI'* Will tka OB.IJ cRnrnLng at Uiwtr fklth : 
And tii>t Ibr •MUiiog Btll Sm thcrfrea aln. 
But tlut (li«ir will nutf •prrw Ui* WQI diria*. 
It ti no Btrafi^. 'tia not iliicipliii* 
Win* tbMn ■ will w> mnfnl >r<<l m blad; 
It I* tiial God b-om mi h«rt-f'->iuiiai(i eora 
VUU vp tlwlr jDblUot iDat.* 

It ia trae there is Uttte of what we call tliMwopbic 
pKUomtpliy in their utteraneee. That belongs almost 
exclusively to the Vedlnti«t, and to a eei-uin extent ' 
to thv Vogins also of India. The Sufi trusts to bia 
feelings, nay, almost to hia aeoaea, not, as the Ved&ntiat, 
to bis philu^pbical insist. He has intuitions or 
beatific viuona of God, or he claims at least to havo 
them. He feeU the preitonoe of Qoil, and his highest 
bkaaedn«ason eartli i^ thv mystic iiiiiun with God, of 
which bo apedu under ever-vaiying, and sotnotimM, 
to ua at least, startling imagery. Yet for hb bigheat 
nq>turcit ho too oonfL-sscs that human language baa 
110 adequate expreasion. As S&dy eayB, the dowera 
which a lover of Ood had gathered in his roee-g&rden, 
and wbJcli he wivlicd to give to his fVtcnds, so over- 
powered his mind by thoir fragrance, that they fell 
out of his lap and withered ; that is to say, the glory 
of ecstatic visions pales and fndetf away when it but 
to bo pat into human language 

TlM MMaart. 

JellAI wldtn in tho Prefaoe to bis Mesneri. says: 
'Tliis txwk contains Rtrnnj^ an<l rare narratives, 
beautiful sayings, and recondite indications, a patli 



for tlifl devout, and a garden for the pious, abort 
in expressiona, nuinorous In ita applioftUons. It 
oontAJDs tho rooU of tbu ruuts of the root« of thu 
Faitli, and treats of the mysteries of union and 
sure hnowloilge.' Tlii« buolc h looked upon by 
Molinninu-dnnK as second only to tbv Korft,n, nnd 
yet it would be difficult to imagine two books luorc 
different ono from the oUior. 

Mob»nwd'» Opinion. 

Mohammed's idea of God ia after all tbe same as 
that of Uiu QUI TcHtaiueiit. Allali is ohietly the God 
of Power; a transcendent, but a strongly panioiial 
Ood. He is to be feai'ed rather tJian to be approached, 
and true njligiou is Bubomsion to Uia will (Isl&in). 
Even some of the Sulia seem to ehrink from asaei-tiiig 
thcpcrfi'ct ononoHS of thu human ojid the divini- naturiis. 
They call the soul divine, God-liko, but not yot OoJ ; 
AA if in this case the adjeotive could really be dis- 
tiuguiiiliud from the Mubstantivc, as if an^iJiing could 
bo divine but Qod alone, and as if tlicre could bo 
even a likcii&ts of God, or anything God-like, that 
was not is its cesc-nco Qod. Philosophical specu- 
lations on God were distasteful to Mohammed. 
' Think on iha mercies of God,' he sayB in one placo, 
' not on the MSCQCe of Qo<l.' Ue knew that theo- 
logical speculation would inevitably load to schifim. 
' My people shall be divided,' he says, ' into throe and 
6uveiity KOoUt, of which all nave one ethall have their 
portion in tbu firo.' That one witli Mohammed would 
certainly not have been that of the Sufis. 

There is an interciting poem in which Said, the 
servant, first recounts one moniiiig on ecsto^y ho had 



enjoyed, and ia then warned by Mohammed against 
excessive fervour: 
Said spooks : 

*I1t tenffo* olavo fsTer^ry, my blood nm fire. 
My nigbto wtTD tdi^pliMia witli torixumlnii love, 
Till ni^t onil dny >pod put. ns &jps n limoe. 
Cnuing k buvklut'a rUa ; n hundrod thouund JMts 
Ho lo4)jgor thuu d momoiit. In that faonr 
All put olamlty ddiI nil to pcimo 
Wm gatliwd up In ona *tiip<in(Joiu Now.— 
Lvt iuid«nitaudiD|{ marrel hk It trmy. 
W)ii<n> mi>n vfn dnudx. nn lli<> ninth Iimvmi I g*M, 
And HNi tlii> (liroii'r if God. All Iiwik'h anil livll 
Am bare to mo and all meii'a d<»lmi«. 
The linnvons nod piiTth. tUoy vuniiili at my gluioc; 
The dead rlw at my look. I tear the vol! 
From all tha worldii. and Iti tlio hall of hoavvn 
I lufl m* e«nlral, rndiant n* l)ii> tan. 
Thun upaXe tlm Pmpliut (Unliatumod). FViunil. Ihf alAod b 

Spur him no mom. Tho mirror in thy hcurl 
Did lUp Its llulily CUB, navr put it up — 
Hlda U ono> mor*, or thou vilt come to bum.' 

There are long syBtemattc treatises on SatiiMn. but 
they refer ehielly to outward things, not to the great 
problems of the true nuture of the eoul and of God, 
and of the intimate relation between the two. We 
ri-ail of four stagCH through which the Sufi has to 

Vh« roar atMr**- 

Fii«t comes the stage of humility, or simple 
obedience to the law and its representative, the 
Shaikh (nilsut or sharint); tlien follows the way 
(tartkat), that w, spiritual odomtion and resig- 
nation to the Divine Will; then 'Ar&f, or Marifat, 
Knowleflge, tliat is, in-tpircd knowledge; and lastly 
Kakikat, that is. Truth, or complete oSacement 
in God. 


Til* F«*tlekl Lui(n*f« of Ssfltam. 

When we read some of the Sufi enraptured poetry, 
we niuitt retiioiiilier tliat the Suft poota use a number 
of cxpruiwionfi which liuvc a rx'cuguiHcd lucauing 
in their language. Thus deep signifies lucilitation ; 
perfume, hope of divine favour ; gaU^ are illapitea of 
grace 1 kma aud cnibrnccs. the rapturm of piety. 
Idulatora arc not infidels, but rutdly tiit-u of the pure 
faith, but who look upon Allah as a tcaosoendent 
being, as ft mere creator lud ruler of tbo world. 
Wine IK forbidden by Mohamniod, but with the Sufi 
vine means spiritual knowledge, the ulne-seller is 
the spiritual guide, the tavern the cell where the 
Meorcber after trutli becomes intoxicated with the wine 
of divine lovo. Mirth, intoxi'ution, and uaiUouneM 
stand for i-eligious ecstasy and perfect abstraction 
from all mundane thoughts. Beauty is the perfection 
of iJeity; (reww ore tlie expansion of Hi» glory; the 
tipe of the beloved mean tbo inscrutable mystifies of 
His essence; the down on the cheek» stands for the 
world of spiriU ; » black mole for the point cf 
indivisible unity. 

When we read some of this enraptured Sufi poetry 
we are at first fomowhat doubtful whetlH-r it should 
not Ih.> tnken simply in its natural sense, n« jovial 
and erotic ; and there are some students of literature 
who will not admit a deeper meaning. It is well 
known that Emer^^oii rebelle'l against Uie idea of 
seeing more in the sougs of HaGz than what there is 
VD tho suriiice, — delight in women, in song and love. 
* We do not wish,' he writes ^ 'to make mystical 



'troriti, iet>3, ««i.iT.p.soi. 



divinity ont of the Songs of Solomon, much leoB 
out of the erotic and baochanaUan songe of Hafiz. 
Uaflz himself is determined to defy all such hypo- 
criUcal interpretation, and tears off hia turban and 
throw8 it at the head of the meddling dervis, and 
throws his glass after the turban. Nothing is too 
high, nothing too \ovr, for hia occa.^iun. Love in 
a leveller, and Allah becomes a groom, and heaven a 
closet, in his daring hymns to his mistreea or to 
hia eupbearcr. This liuutidlk'SH charter is the right 
of genius.' So it is, and there are no doubt many 
poema in which HaSx means no more than what he 
says. No one vrould anarch for any but Uie most 
obvious meaning in such Anacreontic viirses as the 

' Wino two years old and a damsel of fourteen ara 
sutBuent society for me, above all companions, great 
and small.' 

' Hon- dolightfnl is dancing to lively notes and th« 
cheerful melody of the flutes, eapecially when W4s 
touch the hand of a buaiitifiil girl I ' 

' Call for wine, and scatter flowers around : what 
more canst tbou ask from fatel Thus spake the 
nightingale this morning: what sayeat tbou, sweet 
rose, to his precepts t ' 

'Bring thou a couch to the garden of roses, that 
tbou mayent kiss the cheeks and lips of lovely 
damsi^ls, quaff rich wine, and smell odoriferous 

But no oneacquaintedwith the Eaat,would doubt that 
some kind of half-erotic, Iiolf-mystio poetry, was a 
recogniecd style of poetry among Mohammc-dans, was 
tolerated and admired alike by laity and cleigy. Nor 



was the mystic meaning a mere afteiiliouglit, forced 
into ttio poutry of the Sufis, but it was meaot to bv 
tbero from the first. 

At lirHt the perfume of auoh poetry hm nomething 
Mckening to UA, nvta when wo know its true moiuiiug. 
But the Sufi holds that there i^ noUiiiig in humnn 
lauguiiLge that can express the Juvo bctwooii Uil' eoiil 
and God bo well as the love between man and woman, 
and that if he ie to openk of the union between 
the two at all. he can only do so in the symbolic 
language of earthly love. 

We must not forget that if earthly love bos in the 
vulgar mind bc^n often df^rodcd into mere animal 
passion, it etill rom&ina in its pureHt sense the highest 
mystery of oar existenooi the most perfect blessing 
and delight on ojirth, and at tlio same time the truest 
pledge of our more than human nature. To be abl« 
to feel the same unseltish devotion for the Deity 
which thi^ human heart is capable of. if filled with 
love for another human soul, is somothing that may 
well be called the beat religion. It is after all the 
Chrixbion command, ' Thou Hhalt love tla- Lord thy 
Ood with all Uiy heart, and with all thy soul, and 
with all thy might.' If once wo understand this, then 
no one can claim to come nearer to the highest 
Christian ideal than the true Sufi, whose re%ioa 
is a burning love of Ood, whose life is passed in 
the constant pn-scuce of God, and whose every act 
is dictated by love of God. 

Itarrow, no mean theologian, and in no way tainted 
by ruligious sontimcntalism, Hpeaks in language which 
might have been used by the most fervent Sufi poets. 
' Love,' he writes, ' is the sweetest and most delectable 



of all passions ; &nd when by the conduct of wisdom 
It ia direct«d in a nUiooal way toward a worthy, 
congruous, and attainable object, it cannot othenrifle 
than fill the beart with mTishiog deligbt : sacb, in all 
respecta auperlatively sncli, in Ood ; who infinitely 
beyond all other things d<M««rviitb our alTt-ctioD, «• 
moat perfectly amiable and deairable. He is the most 
[H^per object of our love ; for we diieSy were framed, 
and it is tlic prime law of our uatun.-, to lu%'c Him ; 
ODr soul, from its onginal instioot, vergi>th ton-njxls 
Him aa ila centre, and can have do rest till it be 
fixed OD Him. Ho alone can satisfy the vast capacity 
of our minds, and fill our boundless desires. He, of 
all lovely things, most certainly and easily may be 
attained ; for, whereas commonly men are crossed io 
their affection, and their Ioto ia embittered from 
things imaginary, which they cannot reach, or coy 
thinga, which disdain and n^jcct them, it is with Qod 
qtlito otherwise : He is most ready to impart Hiitiscif ; 
He most earnestly defdreth and wooeth our love ; Ho 
ia not only most willing to oorrespoad in aflTection, 
but even doth prevent us therein: Ho dolh cherisli 
and encourage our love by sweetest inBucnces and 
most oonsobog embrai^es; by kindest espressi<ms of 
favour, by moat beneficial returns ; and whereoa all 
other objects do in the enjoyment much fui our 
expectation, He doth ever far exceed it. Wherefore 
in all affectionate motions of our hearts toward 
Qod ; in dc«iring Him, or seeking His favour and 
friendship ; in embracing Him, or setting our oatccm, 
our good will, our confidence on Him ; in enjoying 
Him by devotional meditations and addresses to Him ; 
in a reflective nensc of our interest and propriety in 



Him ; in Uiftt mysterious iiuiou of Bpirit, whereby we 
do doeely adhere to, and &rc. os it were, inveated in 
Him; in a hearty compiaceiice in His bunigiiity, 
a grateful eti'nse of Uis kindmtsn, aiid a Kouloua 
dueirv of yiulding somo ruquital for it. wo cannot but 
fcul vury pleufiant transports : indeed, that oeleatial 
Hauie, kindled in our hcarU by the spirit of love, 
cannot ho v&id of warmth ; wo cannot fix our eyes 
upon infinite beauty, wo cannot t^utc infinite sweet- 
ness, we cannot cleave to iutinite felicity, without 
also perpetually rejoicing in tho first daughter of Lovs 
to God, Charity toward men ; whicli in conipk-cUoQ 
and careful disposition, doth much resemblo her 
mother ; for she doth rid us from all those gloomy, 
koon, turbulent imnginatioiiH and potions, which 
cloud our mind, which fret our heart, which discom- 
poau the frame of the soul ; from burning anger, from 
Hbormiug eoutuntion, from gnawing euvy, i'rom ranlc- 
ling spite, from racking suHpicion. from distracting 
ambition and avarice ; and consequently doth settle 
our mind in an even temper, in a nmlate humour, in 
an harmonious order, in that pk-asaut state of trftD- 
quillity, which naturaUy doth rc&ult Jrom tliuvoidance 
of iiTe^'ular passions.' 

I have given the whole of this long passage, because, 
as Sir William Jones haii pointed out, it difTurB from 
the mystictd tlioologj' of the Sufi« and Yogis no moro 
than the fiowers and fi'uits of Europe ditler in scent 
and flavour from tliose of Asia, or as European diffun 
from Asiatic cloipK^ncc. ' The uime strain,' he writes, 
'in poetical measure, would rise to the odea of 
Spenser on Divine Love and Beauty, and, in a higher 
key with richer embellishmenia, to the song of Hafiz 

I*) A A 

— TBe SOB'S l*liel lUm UPW!^iW( 
loDgvr autijeot to Ui« outwar<] )nu- ia 
ootngcoun as ic hu bM>n rcpTr«enb 
mean that thu true Safi cl&ims any li( 
it only mi^acs that be whose besrt if 
of Gwl aii<) who never Iohcs Mght of 
no longer of the outwani law. but U 1 
by the love of Ood only, claimiDg i 
good works, and feeling quite incapab 
any act displeasing to God. 

BxtnMa ttom lal Voak 

I shall DOW TT'ad vuu a few oxtracti 
tranalated by Sir William Joqm : — 

' In eternity witboat beginning, a nj o 
to frWm; when Lore (praiig into bcb 
over all iutun<. 

' On Uat d»y thj c)i<«k apar^Icd CTra 
all thi> beautifnl inuigeTT apixami un 

' Rise, lay «ml, tint I may poor th<« 
of that anprcRW Artist, who ouoi]ih»cd 
CTimuaM alJ thja woDderfnl Kentrf. 



'81ind, O liord, from the cloud of hejiTenlf guidiucr, one 
cheering shower, before tbe nioment wlieu I must riu up 
like A pai-ticle of dry durt. 

' The miin of our tranBBCtiuiii on thi* tiniverM is nolhiuK : 
brin^' us llie wine of dcvutioo; for Ihe poueuioBB of thte 
world voiiith. 

* The tru» object of heart and loul i» the glory of union 
with oar Wlovpd ; timt object r»ally oxitils. but without it 
both h«iirl niid noul wuiild have no nxi.itt'iiRn. 

' lliu Lliw of Ihe day, when I sljftll depart from lhi< 
desolate innnsion ; sliaJI seek rest for my soul ; and aball 
fuUuw the trnccK of my btJoved ; 

' DaiKiug. with love uf Ui^ beauty, like a mot« in n 
sunbrani, till I ivacb the spring and fbuntaln of light, 
wbenoe yoa bud derives kU Iiib lustre.* 

The next extract » from Jellal edd!n Kflmi's Mes- 
nevi, as tranelated by Mr. E. U. Whinadd. JeMl cddtn 
tbua dcacribea the perfect union wilti Cod :— 

A loved one said to her Iciver (o try hicn, 
Karly on« morning; 'O such a one, aon of such a oue, 
I marvd whirlhor you hold mc more dear, 
Or yourself; tell iiiu truly, O ardent lover!' 
lie answered: 'I Am so entiraly ab»oi'bed in you, 
Tliat I am full of you from bend to foot. 
Of my ovni exielence nothiug but the name remains. 
In my being it nolhinK 1jt9>ide« you, object of my desirtt. 
Therefore am I tliu* lu»t iu you, 
Jnat «e viacgar is abwrbed in hoaej; 
Or as a stone, which boa been changed into a pure ruby, 
I* filled nilb llie bright light of the nun. 
In tliat stoDc its own prciperliea abide not. 
It is filled with Ihe sun'* projiortif* nJtogcAber; 
So that, if allerwards it hotda itwif dear, 

Aa a 

TRcro it no diftercnce between tlw two ; 
Oil «illier hand U uauf^bt but tUe light 
But till (list stone liecoiucs * ruby it hi 
For till it bccoioM one " I," it is two si 
For 'til tbeu dttrlcened uwl [iiirbliiul. 
And darkflCM u tbe chhuIlbI euetiijr of 
If it (Aen bold itttlf dear, it i« oji inlid 
Beo«aM tlint self iit nii op[M>:ieiit oT tbe 
Wberel'ore 'tia uidAwful (or the atone Ih 
BecanM it i* entiraljr in dkrimcfa and n 
Flioraoh nid, ' I am tlie Tnilli,' and wa 
Usiuur HaUaJ mid. ' I am the TVatb.' 
Phaivoh'i 'I' was rollowed by ibe cuira 
MiiiiKur'H ' I ' wiiK followrd by Ibc mercy o 
Itvcuiue Fbiuuub wtu a Ntuue, Mantur a 
Fhanob an «iieiny of light, Muianr a li 
prattler, Hnntur'a 'I am Hu* wo* a d 
ExpnMiug oneiicMi with Ibe lif;bt, not i 

This poetical imago of the Sun i» 
the Deity hy SuG poets. Thus JclHl 

None Imt the auu can display the eun. 
If you woidd see it displayed, turn not 


fiVFiisu. 857 

11i0iig)i the iDat«rial Ban is uiuque and un([1e, 
W« on ooncdre Kuniliti- tiiinn liko to it. 
But the Roil of tlie nout, licyuiid tliin firmnmcnt, — 
No like tlieraor ia seen in concrete or abttmct. 
Wliore i» tliprn roimi in pnnrpplii>n fgr Hit cRscncc. 
So that siaiilitwicd of Him iibuuJil bo ounceivniilc 1 

Somotimes the eoul is called the miiTor of Ood. 
Tbua Jell&l eddtn eaya: — 

If K mirror refitct* not, of what um is itt 
Kiiowei't thou wbj* thy mirror rcOeciU nolt 
Brcniue the rmt hiu not heeii Roured from its fuce. 
ir it itm purilied from nil ruat and dc/ileni<-nt. 
It would relleol tJi« shining of th« Sun of God. 

Often the Sufi poet warns agajnet self-decut: — 

WlioKo in n-Klrioted to rtdigiou* nplareii iti but n mno ; 

SonietiniM hia raptura ia exci'saive, aonietini^a deficient. 

Tlie Kiifi ia. ata it were, thn 'son of tlm acaaon,' 

Itut the pure (Silfi) in cinlt«d nbovo fea»on and atatc. 

Beligioua ruplurca depend on fi-elinga and will. 

Dut the piiri' one ia rc^etu^rntn] b,v the lircatti of Jesus. 

You lu■L^ u lover of your own raplurea, not of niH ; 

You luru to me only in hope of experiencing rapturea. 

WhoBo ia now defective, now perfect, 

la not ndorod by Abrahnm; he is 'one that wtsi' 

BtcftUHC the star* set, nnd ar« now np. now down, 

lie loved them not; 'I love uot them Ihut mU' 

\Vhoao ia now pleanng and now nnpleoaiug 

la at one time water, at another fire. 

lie tnny lie tho house of the moon, hut not the trne 

ino«ti ; 
Or oa the picture of a mistress, but not the living one. 
The mere Suti ia the 'child of the seaaon;' 



He c]iti(^ to sen»oiis ns to n fnlber, 

Biit the pure one ia ctrowueil in OTerwfaelmiDg love. 

A cliild of any one is never fr«e from Knwa ond atAte. 

Tlio puri! OUD IB drowned iti llie Ilglit ' that ia Dot b<^t«u,' 

' What liet^eU boI and id not begutt^u ' ia Ood. 

tio ! seek snch \o\e a» thie, if you nre alive; 

If pot. you ore en»lnvcd liy vuryin:; $rmons. 

Giixe not on your own pictures, tut ur u^lj, 

Onze on your love sjid tbe obJMt of your dopiire. 

Gnxt luit nt the sight of your own weakncMn or vilenru. 

Quite at the object of your de»ire, exulted ooe. 

The next extrftct ta from J&roi'a SalAmaD and 
Absfib as truDsltttod by Fiti;goraM, the «aine FitK« 
gcnild to whom Browntng won so cruel. J&mi 
aaciibes all (earthly beauty and all enrttily love to 
tlie Divine presence in it. Without that Uiviao light 
man \\-ould seo no real beauty, would know no rciJ 

SalAuan akd Absab, bt 3km. 

Thou, whose Spirit through thia universe 
In which Thou do^t involve Thysi^lf difluncd, 
Bliftll ao jierrliARoo iiTadiute linmtui clay 
I'hot men, auddeuly liazdedi Io»e tbeuiaelvea 
In cCBto^y before & mortal ehrine 
Who»i: li;!lit ia but ft ahude of tbe Divine ; 
Not till Thy aeoret beauty throiiHh the check 
Of Laila amite, doth she inflame Mujnlia ; 
And nut till Thnu havo kindled Sbirin'a eyea. 
The hcarta of those two riv«lH awell witli blood. 
For lov'd and lover are not but by Thee, 
Nor brnuty; — mcjrtnl bennfy but the veil 
Thy Heuveuly hidea behind, uud from itMlf 
Feeds, and oar hoiu'tB yearn after a* a bride 



Thtit glaDces put oa nil'd — but tnv m» 

Thnt none tlio veil from what it liidea may linow. 

How loug wilt Tliou coutiiiue tbua the world 

I'o razen with the fKitoin of a veil 

From whiuh Thuu only prtpeRtt I would be 

Thy liover. and Tluiie only — I, mine eyes 

Kcnl'd in the light of Thi-e to nil but Theo, 

Yvn, ill the rtYclntioii of Thyiclf 

Lo^t to myiielf, and ull tliut wlf in uot 

Within the double world that is Init one. 

Tliuu Inrlcpnt under itll the (ormti of thought, 

Under the form of all cn-uti^d thiugs; 

Look wiicre I may, Btill uotJiiug I disceru 

Bat Thee tbrougliout tbU uniicne, wherein 

Thywif Tliou ilost refli-ct, niid Ihrouffh those «y«6 

Of liim whom Man Thou modest. BcrutiuiMi. 

To thy Ilnrim, Dividuality 

So eutrancu finds — no word of Thi* and That; 

Do Tliou my «ep&rale and derived self 

Mnkr one with Thy Ewential ! Lcova mo room 

On that Divin which leaves no room for twuiu ; 

Lest, like the simple Amb iu the tale. 

I grow pcrplcit. oh God! 'twiRt 'Mc' aod 'Thee'; 

If I — this Spirit thul inipire* me whence t 

If Tkou — then what this teusiial impotence 1 

We see here the same temper of muid fur which the 
ChriBtian poet pra^a wb«ti he iiaya, ' Let all do all aa 
ia Thy si(fht.' Sutiiitin, short of it« oxtrai-agances, 
may almost b« called Christian ; Dor do I doubt that 
it owed ita deepest impulBea to Chrietianity, more 
particularly to that §piritual Chrintiaiiity which wt» 
founded on Platonisl and Nc-o-PIatouiat philosophy. 
We eaw that the Sufis themselves do not deny 



this: on the eontraiy, th^y appeal to Jirsus or hsa, 
as their highest aatbority, they conaiantly use the 
language of the New T«statncikt, and refer to the 
Itigends of th« Old. If ChmtiaDity and Mobammedan- 
iem are ever to join bands in carrying out thi:! hi<rh 
objects at which they are both aitniog, Sufiiem would 
be the common ground on which they ooald beat 
meet each other, iinderatand cacb oth«r, aod belp 
each other. 



Boli^lon k Brtdf* b*tw**n th* TUIIila knd InvtBlbla. 

TT may be truly said that the founders of th© 
-'- religions of tlie world have all been bridge- 
buildert). As soon as tiw cxiHlcnoo of a Beyond, of a 
Heaven alcove the eartli, of Powers above uh and 
beneath tia bad been recognieed, a great gulf neeroed 
to be fixed botwocn wliitt was colled by varions 
nnincs, the cartblyand tliu heavenly, tho matoriol and 
tbo spiritual, the phenomenal and noumenal, or best of 
all, the viidhle and inviBible world (ApaToi and iv' 
6paT0\), and it was tlm chief objwst of religion to unilo 
these two worlds again, whether by the arches of 
hope and fear, or by the iron chains of logical 6yl- 
logiflma '. 

' A writor In tlio ariiHan Ktyiilrr. Julj tA. 1^^). p. 401. PxprcaKS 
(ho onnK' Ulbiighl* nh«n bo u<ri : 'Al tlio bottom nt kII rollglon* 
l> ninn'* InaliiicI of hla nlBlloDship with tho InSnlt*; anil thl* 
will ni't ha wmkanad, biit on tho contrur? will tm madn ulroiiftr 
>nd Qriner from ag* to ago, *■ th« lurvuy of (ho canvr cif 111* taoa 
K'vii* man wldar anil widnr vxporloncn, and onabba him mor* anit 
more clMtrly to iolorpiwt hU liiHloiy, and m<« it a* a ooiMbUmt 
irhulfi. under the rulo of iiiraruiblii Ihw. Kpligloii tJitnfora la 
aonethiDe ahovn or hejond an)' ToTin in whitih it Ium ev«T ap- 
P«ar«d, and Chtitlionity it ,i <tintir>pliv(v yet natural nlip in aa 
unfolding protHB, not a oupf rnntutal fonn prujootvd iuto bumwi 
lUo Irora w)tli<nit, and not jet abnolule ntigion.' 




Tbifl problem of uniting tho invUiblo uul the 
visible worlda proeonted iteelf under three principal 
lutpoeU. The lirst was the problem of creation, or 
bow the invisible Primal CutiNu ootild ever coiue ia 
contact with viKibU- niuttor and impart to it fonn 
iiiid inuiining. The second problem was the relation 
between Qod and the individtial noul. The third 
problem watt the rvtiirn of the soul from tho visiblo to 
tlio iuvixiblo world, from the prison of its moital 
body to the freedom of a heavenly paradise. It is this 
third problem which haa ohietly occupied us in the 
proneut course of Iveturcs, but it i<* difficult to iti-parate 
it ultogctlmr from the first and the second. The in- 
dividual soul aa dwelling in a materiiil body furmtt 
part of the created world, and the (juestion of the 
ruturu of the soul to God i» thoruforo closely con- 
nected with that of its creation by, or its emanation 
from Clod. 

We Haw while treating of the last problem and 
examining the solutions which it had received that 
most of the religions and philoi^ophies of tlie ancient 
world wire isutitttied with the idea of the individual 
soul approaching ncjiier and nearer to God and 
retaining its teiTestrial individuality face to face vMi 
an objective deity. Tiiere was one reli^pon only, or 
one roli^ou* philosophy, that of tho Vcdanta. which, 
resting on tho firm conviction that the human soul 
could never have been separate from the Divine Soul, 
looked upon a return or an approach of tho soul to 
God as a metaphor only, while it placed tho highest 
happiness of the soul in the discovery and recover^' 
of iU( true nature as from eternity to eternity one with 
Qod. This contrast was most clearly shown in 

THE L0003. 


Sufliam aft compared with Vedintism. The Sufi -with 
all liiii burning love of God coQcciv^H tbu soul m 
soaring upwaxd, oh longing like a lover for a nearer 
and nearer approach to God, and as lout at la-it in 
eostatic rapturt^ when enjoying the Watific visiou. 
Tlis VedAntist on the contrary, after having once con- 
vinced bimHolf by rigoroiu logic, that ihtiro can Iw but 
one Divine Subetance, which he calls tht> Silf or Atinan. 
andlhatbia human Self cannot be anything dilTerent in 
it* cmcncD from the truu and universal ijclf, frow that 
vrhicb vas and is and is to be, all in all, is Bnlisfivd 
with having hy uieaiiH of rigorous reasoning recovered 
bis true SL'lf in the highest Self, and thus having 
found nwt in Srahman. Ho knows no rapturoH, no 
passionate love for the Deity, nor doea he wait for 
death to <k-livcr his soul from its bodily prition, but 
ho trusts to knowledge, the highest knowledge, as 
strong enoQgh to deliver his soul from all iiei«!ii;nce 
and illuMon even in this life It is tnic thitt sumo of 
tlie Sufis also come sometimes verj- near to this point, 
as when Jell&l eddin aaya : ' The " I am Uo " ia a deep 
myatio saying, expressing oncm-ss with the I-iyht, not 
DMjre incarnation.' Still in general the ououess which 
is tho highest good of the Sufi, ia union of two, not 
the denial of the posailiility of real separation. 

There are religiunn in which thcro seems to bo no 
placu at all either for an approach of the individual 
soul to God, or for its finding itself again in God. 
I'uddhism, in its original fonn, knows of no objective 
Deity, of nothing to which the suhjoctive soul could 
approach or with which it could he united. If we 
can speak of Deity at all iu Buddhism, it would 
reside in the Buddha, that is ia the awakened aoul, 




conscions of ita true eternal nature, sjid enliglit«ne<) 
by self-knowledge. But that self-knowledge vraa no 
longer tlie VvdiintA know1c<1gv of the Atmau. or, if it 
wha so originKlly, il hnd ceased to be bo in that 
Buddhism which in represented to us in the sacred 
books of that religion. 

In JadaJsm, ou tJie contrary, the concept of tbo 
Doity is so strongly narked, so objective, so ma- 
jestic, and BO transcendent, that an approach to or a 
anion with Jehovah would have boon comidered 
almost as an ihmiU to Deity. There seem to be 
some reminiscences in the Old Testament of an 
earlier belief in a closer rclntion.thip between God 
and man, but they never point to a philoisophical 
belief in the original oneness of the Divine and the 
human noul. nor could tbey poissibly have IinI on to 
the concept of the Word as the Son of God. In the 
mythological religions of classical antiquity also there 
was little room for a union between human and divine 
nature- The diaracter of the Greek and Koinan god* 
18 80 intensely personal and dramatic that it excludes 
the posftibility of a human soul becoming united with 
or absorbed in any one of thera. The highest privilege 
that some spocJally favoured persons might have aspired 
to consisted in being admitted to the society of the 
Olympians, But here too we may catch some earlier 
reminiscences, for it is well known that some of ttie 
old poets and philosophers of Greece declared their 
belief that gods and men came from the same souroc, 
that the gods were immortal mortals, and men mortal 
immortals '. 

' lletaiUU Itelliiiiiai. ed. Bywoter, No. LVIIl. 'kUran, 9r^ol. 
trijtol i9iraT«i, (witr rir <«<imv Sararar, rdr 91 Imirwr Bi'* Titnirr4t. 




But thongh a belief in the eternal oneiie§s of what 
vre citll Iiuiuati and divine }in>akH otit here and llitn; ', 
ytit it is iu till) VviliLiita n^ltj^iuu only that it htut 
received its full recognition and dcvt-lopuiont. It 
has been reasoned uut there without any of thoae 
mctAphuncul <liiiguUun which we find in other nj- 
hgione. One of the most familiar metaphors is that 
which expreaeee the essential oneness of the Bivino 
and tlie human natures under the veil of fatherhood 
and eonsbip. Hucian longungo oould hardly have 
aupplii^d a better metaphor for cxpresHing intrinsic 
oneDesa and exlrinsio diflercnoe, yet ve know to how 
much legend and mythology tliis metaphor kaa given 
rise. No mi-taphor can be perfect, but tliu weak 
point in our metaphor is that every buman father is 
hiiiiHi'If crwLtid, while wc nxpiii-e a name for a powtT 
that K-gots, but is itself unbugotlcn. Wu must not 
suppose that whoever speaks of God as a Father or 
of men as the sons of God, expresnes thereby a belief 
in the oiKiieas of tho Divinv and human nature. That 
fatherhood of God may be found in almost every 
religion, and means no more than a belief in the 
fatliurly goodness of Ood. Moses meanit uo more 
than that when ho says: ' Vo aro the children of the 
Lord your God" (Deul. xiv. 1); or wbi-n he speaks 
of ' the Uock that begat thee, and God that formed 
thco~ (Dcut. xxzii. 18); or when he asks*, 'Is not ho 

' The fitmoii* OiinMO Inwrlpllon of Iho yrar 133 a.d., dliwoVN«il 
latvly in tlw vtAWy of tho Orkhoo, b<-tiliii> wich Iho follcnrinK 
vti>nl<: 'O Iti'uvvQ m> bluH 1 thei* iit nutlitii;; lliat !■ iiut iJi-'lUma 
by Thar, llcui-fn Miidlneu U* UniUd Uvlli^r, nnil tlx' iiiiiiVTMii* 
ona IbunoKcnooiuj.' See Q. SolileRcl, Id SUtv Kunvrsliv <lu Ti^a 
^h, uoi. 

' 1 muit mnwli oaoa (or all that nrhrii t ituotv Ho*r* and other 
roputod avthor* of OM TraUmciit Booka, I titapij (olI«w ciutom. 




thy father that has bought then ? hath he not made thee, 
tad extahlUhpd thi^c?' (Dcut. xxxti. 6). Thcne ideoa 
are not ihc hinlorical antoocduiits uf that belief iti the 
FatlierliuotI of God and ihe Divino SonsLip of ChrtKt 
SA the Word of God which pervades the Fonrth Gospel. 
Abraham, who in the Old TeHtanient in ainiply oallcd 
the FrU^nd of God, is spoken of by later Jvws such as 
PLilu. as through his goodiitvM an only god ', nbile in 
one pai^iage of the New Testament Adam ia singled 
out lui the son of God. But all this belongs to quite 
A different sphere of thoii-^ht from that in which the 
Stoics moved, and after them Philo, and tlio author 
of the Fourth GoHpcl. and Christ Uiinaelf. With 
thciii th<^ Sou of God was the Word of God, and the 
Word of God as incarnate in Jesus. 

Tbm OrUntal IsSiuaa*! la Barlr ChriaU^dtr. 

Toil cannot have listened to what the ancient 
VedAnta philosophers of India and tJie more recent 
Sufis of Persia had to say about the Deity and its 
true relation to humanity, without hnvinrr (^.o]! struck 
by a number of eimilnritics between these GrientaJ 
religions and the heliefa which we hold ourselves, or 
which were held by souio of the most ancient and 
most eminent Fathers of the Church. So striking 
are some of these similarities, particularly with regard 
to the relation of tlie transcendent Deity to the phe< 
nomenal world and to the individual soul, that for 
a time it was takvn almost for granted tliat Eastern 

wiUtout tcprvMiny an; opinion on t1i» rpvulta of critioal KboUnblp. 
Suntly W(* niBjr bo allnwcd tn Kpi'uk of Ilonipr. wiihout oomtniUtDg 
outwIroB to tlw opiuioD that liu wrotu bU tli« books of Ul« Illaa 

' TtyerSit tlawmiirii ai}T$ plrat iilit, Fllllo, Do Sobrlot,, 11 (1,401). 

TDE Loooa. 867 

influctifOH Imd toM on the minds of tlie early Fatbers 
of tlio Church. Even Dachne, in hin Dar^ellung der 
JiXdiech-AlexandrinUrhen Rdiijiai\«]ihitosophie, has 
not quite diecarded that opinion. But though at 
prcsfiit, afti-r a more careful study of tho Vedinta 
and Sufi philosophy, thu number of nimiliirili^fl haA 
become even larger than before, the idea of a direct 
influence of Indian or Persian thought on eaily 
ChrisUau religion and philosophy, baa been surrendered 
by most ecbolan. 

SorTAWlBf of B>U(loiu Tliang&ta. 

The difRcuHy of admilUng any borrowing on tlie 
part of one religion from another is mneb greater 
than iii commonly supposed, and if it has taken place, 
there »eemB to me only one way in which it can be 
satis fa clorily established, namely by tbe actual occur- 
rence of foreign worda, or poasibly the translations 
of foreign torma vhich retain a certain unidiomatio 
appearance in the language to which they have btM:n 
transferred. It seems impossible that any religious 
community should have adopted tbo fundamental 
principles of religion from anollier, unle;^ their inter- 
course was intimate and continuous — in fact, unless 
they could freely exchange their tbougbta in a com- 
mon language And in that case tlio people who 
borrowed thought^ could bordly havo helped borrow- 
ing words also. Wo see this whenever less eivilised 
oatJans are raised to a higher level of civilisutiou and 
converted to a higher religion \ and the samo thing 
happens, though in a lesser degree, when there has 
been a mutual exchange of religious thought between 
civilised races also. Tbe language of Folyueniaii 


UKiToitE xn. 

convvrl« is full of English tot-ins. The language even 
of a dvilisod country like China, after it had been 
converted to Buddhtsm, abounds with oomipt Sanskrit 
words. Kven tltv religioiut laoguago of Ronw, after 
it hud boon brought for the first time under the inflo- 
«nce of Greece, shows clear tnc^a of ita indebtedneea..j 
We find no aueh traces in tht! langu^^e of the cariy^ 
Christians. All the elements of Ihvir rvligious and 
philosophical teiininology are either Greek or Jowisb. 
Even the Jews, who hod auch frequent intercourse 
wiUi otb<T uuiions, and during the Alexandrian pt-riod 
borrowed no largely from their Greek instructoi-s, 
betray hardly any religious imports from other Ori- 
ental countries in tlieir religious and philoaophic 
dictionary. At an earlier time, alao, the traces of^ 
borrowing on the part of the Jews, whether from 
Babylonians or Persians, are, as we saw, very few 
and faint in Hebrew. No duubt nei^'hbuuring nntious 
may borrow many things from each other, but the 
ideft that they ftteal, or borrow eilently and dia- 
honestly, has Uttlc to support it in tlie history of the 
world. liQuti of all do tliey curry off the very eomer- 
Htones of iheii- religion and philosophy from a foreign 
quarry. It would have hotn utterly impossible, for 
instanee, fur the early Christian fathers to disguii 
or deny tboir indebtedness to the Old Testament or 
to Greek philosophy. No one has ever doubted it. 
But it is vx-ry ditlV-rent with Indian and Persian in- 
fluences. Thu po.'csibility of some highly educated 
Persians or even Indians living at Alexandria at or 
even before the time of the rise of Christianity cannot 
be disproved, but that Philo or Clement should have 
been the u»gi-al«ful and dishonest pupils of Indian 




^indils, Buddhist Bhiluhns, of Poraiftn Mobods, ia 
inoro than, in the present state of our knowledge, any 
serious student of the history of human thought could 
poisibly admit. 

Nor should we forget that most religions Lave a 
feeling of hostility towards other religions, and that 
they are not likely to borrow from otliei's vrhich in 
tbeir most important and fundamental doctrines 
they conniiler erroneous. It has often been Huppotted 
that tlio early Christiana borrowe<t many tbings from 
the BudilhiBts, and tboro ore no doubt BtartUn^ coin- 
cideucea 1>etween the legendary life-storiee of Buddha 
and CLmt. But if we consider ttutt BtiddhiHin 
is without a belief in God, and that tlio mo&t vital 
doctrine of Christianity ia the I'litherhood of God 
and th« soiubip of uiont wu shall find it difficult to 
believe that tbe Christians should have taken pride 
in tmnsferi'ing to the Son of Ood any details from 
tbo biography of an atbeistical tCRclier, or in ac- 
cepting a few of his doctrines, whilo abhorring and 
rejecting tbe rest. 

There is still another didtculty in accepting tho 
opinion that certain religions borrowed from each 
other. A more careful, biatorical study of the re- 
ligioQs and philosophies of antiquity has enabled us 
to watch tbe natural and continuous growth of each 
of them. When we have learnt to uudersland how 
religious and philosophies which at tinit startli^d us by 
their similaritii^, hiivu eacli had tlieir own indepen- 
dent and uninterrupted development, we cease to look 
for foreign inlluenoes or iutruHions, because we know 
tliat there is really no room for tltcni. If, for 
iostanco, we take the Vedanta philosophy, we con 
W Bb 



tra«« iU growth stop by step from th« bym&a to 
the BrftiimanaH, the UpuiishuU, tb« S&tiBS, and 
their commentaries, and no one who has once under- 
stood that unbroken giowth would dr«ain of ad- 
mitting uiy vxtmncous inHuc-uces. Thu cuucopUon of 
death aa a mere change of habitat, the recognition of 
the Hubatantial identity of the human and ihu Divine 
Spirit, and Urn adiniiiaion of true immortality aa baa«d 
entirely on knowledge, and as poBsible even without 
tlie intervention of physical dt^ath— all tin-od arc 
intellectual articli-s of faith which, however ditTorent 
from the primitive religion of the Indian ArvM, are 
utiverthelcHs tlie natural outcome of the Indian tnind, 
left to itself to brood from goueration to generation 
over the problems of life and eternity. If then we 
find tntccB of tliu aamc or very similar aiiiclos of 
faith in the latest pliaei? of Juilai&m. an n>pre«enttid 
by Philo, and again in the earliest phases of Cbria* 
tianity, as represented by St. Clement, and othur 
Hvlleniatic converts to ChriHtianity, wc mti^t firet 
of all ask the question. Can we account for the 
philosophical opinions of Philo who was a Jew, and 
of Clement who was a Christina, as tlio natural 
outcome of well-known historical ant«ci.^cli»it«, and, 
if 80, is there any necessity, nay is there any possi- 
bility for admitting extrtuieous impuiji»t, coming 
cither from India or Persia, fi'om Buddhism or 
Manicheism 1 

PhUo KBd hla aUagoxloK] Iiit*rpr«tatl»n. 

I-ct US begin with Philo, and tiak Uic question 
whether w© cannot fully account for his philoaopliy 
as the natural outcome of the drcumstanoes uf bia 



life. It is going too far to call Pliilo a Father of 
the Chui-ch, but it is perfectly true that the Cbriati- 
oiiity of Clfmont nnd Origon and other Knthfre of 
the Church owes much of its metaphysical ground- 
work an<l ita pliilosophical phraseology to tliat Jewish 
school of Alexandria of n-hicli Philo is only one, 
though the bcet-kiiowD n-prcsentative. Some of th« 
early Fathers were no doubt under the more im- 
mediate InRueDCo of Orc-ek philoHopby, but others 
canio under its swny aftvr it bad been filtered through 
the minda of Jewish philosophers, such as Pbilo, and 
of Jewish convert* in Kgypt and Pal^^fttinc. 

Philu was the true child of hi« timo, and wc must try 
to understand bis religious philosophy as the natural 
outcome of the eircumstonoes in wbicb the old Jcwiab 
religion found itself, wben placed face to face with 
Crock philn»ophy. Philo'n mind was HaturBt«d with 
Greek philosophy, so that, as Sui<las informs us, it 
had become a common saying that either Plato 
Philonixcfl or Pliilo PlatoniKes. it in curious to 
olwwrve' that each party, thetJreeks and the Jewn,a«d 
later on, the Christians also, instead of being pleased 
with the foci that their on'n opinions bad been adopted 
by others, complained of plagiarism aixl were most 
anxious to establish each their own claim to priority. 
Even BO enlightened and learned a man as St. Clement 
of Alexandria writes : ' They have boiTowed from 
our books the chief doctrines thoy hold on &ith 
and knowledge and science, on hope and love and 
repentance, on temperance and the fear of God' 
(Strom, it. 1), These complaints, coming from Clement, 

■ Sn Ilokh. Iltl-bert Letum. pp. 2S0 aeq. 
Brtionii, «<1. Oindlcf, «ap. xlv-ii, noM 9. 


T«rtiilluni Apolo* 


LEcruBG xn. 

inny bo regarded iu< well foiiuded. But it is dilTercDt 
wiUi men Uko Mtiiucius Ftlix on ooe eide and CeUus 
on the other. Those are both eager pAiiutans. Whvn 
UinuciuB Felix aays that the Grock philosophoni 
imitated the shadow of lialf-truths from the divine 
]>rejiching of the Juwish prophets, one wondci-s 
wh<alK-t' he Uioiight thnt Ariiitotlu had studied Isaiah. 
And wlien CcIhiih i<nv8 thai the Christian jthiiosopberB 
were simply wc'aving a web of miaunderstaudiDgi^ of 
the old doctrine, and sounded theui fortli with a loud 
trumpet before men, like liierophantii round those 
whu are being initiated in mysterien, did he really 
vrisl) ua to Ifelieve that the Apostles, and more par- 
ticularly tile author of the Fourth Gospel, luid studied 
the priucipal writings of Plato and Aristotle 1 Ouu 
thing, however, is made quite clear by tlicir SHinubliles, 
nanivly that Judaism, C'liriBtiatiity, and Gret-k philo- 
sophy wtre fighting againjit each other on t«rms 
of perfect equality, and that they had all three to 
iippi'ftl to the judgment of the world, and of a world 
bruu^lit up ainiu-it ttntirtly in the echools of Stoics 
and Neo-l'latonutts. Thus it was said of Origen tliat 
in his manner of life he was a Chriatian, but in Lis 
opinions about Gud, a Greek (Eusob. //. A'., vl. 19), 
Justin Martyr goes so far as to say in a somewhat 
offended and quei'ulous tone: ' IV'e teach the saniu 
H» the Grueks, yet we alone are hate<l for what wo 
teach * (ApoL i. SO). The Bamo Justin Maityr sponks 
almost like a Greek philosopher when he protesto 
against anthropomorphic expressions. 'You are not 
to think,' be writes, 'that the uubegotten God came 
down from anywhere or wont up. . . . H« who 18 
unount&ined by space and by the whole world, does 



not move, 8(M>ing thftt he was bom before the world 
wiw bom.' In another place he Rayn (Apol. ii. 13): 
'The teaohinga of Plato are not alivn to tlioee of 
Christ, though not in all rospecto HiiniUr .... for all 
th{! writtTB (of antiquitv) were able to have a dim 
vieion of realitiee by meana of the indwcUiag seed 
of the implainlcd word ' (thu Logos). 

Srcn eo lato sa the fourth century, and after the 
Council of Nioaea, we meet with a curious intttancc of 
this mixture of ChriittiAii faith witli OrtYik philoHopby 
in a bishop, whose name may be familiar to many 
from Kingaley's splendid novel, Uy/xitht. Bi&hop 
Syneiiius (bom about 370 a.d.) had actually been an 
attendant on Bypatia's lectures. Bishop though he 
was, he representa himitelf in his writing)) as very fond 
of hounds oud hones, of hunting and fighting. But he 
woe Ukvwiee on ardent student of Greek philosophy, 
and it is very interesting to wateb the stmgglfH be- 
tween hii) n-Iigion and hie philosophy, as ho lavs them 
bare in letters to bis friends. Ho was evidently made 
a bishop, Bishop of Ptolemais, very much against hia 
will, and he sees no reason why, even in his episcopal 
office, be should part with his horat-s oud hounds. 
But not only that, but ho declares that he cannot part 
with his philosophical convictions either, even where 
they dashed with Oliristinnity. He confesaes that he 
was by education a hi.'aUi«n, by prolesvion a philoso- 
pher, and that if hia duty as a bishop should be any 
hindrance to hin philosophy, ho would n'linquish his 
diocese,abjuro his orders, and remove into Greece. He 
seems, however, to have quieted his scruples, aud to 



bftve remuned in office, keeping hiB Greek pbilosopby 
to tiimsclf, which, u b« wyat, would do no good to th« 
people at Urge, aod suffering them to live Id the pr&< 
jndiotrx which they hsd imbibed, whatever that may 

If this wavering ChristLanity wai possihle in & 
biahop. and even aher the Council of Nicaea, 325, we 
may imagine what it wan in tho firdt ami the second 
ccnturivs, when people who had bccn brought u[) on 
Greek philosophy persuaded themselves for tbe Brst 
time to join the Church of thtr Ohriittiauti. 

In trying to represent the iui|>urtaDt process which 
in the East, and more paiticutarly at Alesaodri&, bad 
brought tlie rcli^ous thi)U<rht^ of the Semitic world 
face to face with the philo6ophical thoughu of Greece^ 
I have allowed myself to anticipate what properly 
belongs to my next lectures. There can bo no doubt. 
however, that this procesa of intellectual amalgama- 
tion between JF^t and West, which we see atill at 
work in the fourth century, took it« origin much earlier, 
and chiefly in that school of Jewish thinkers who are 
represented to us in Phila He must always ivmain to 
ua Utc chief reprcsontativo of a whole phaie of Jewish 
thought, because though be himself appeals to former 
teachetB, their worka have not been preserved'. Wc 
should not attribute too much to Pbilo's porsonality, 
powerful tliough it was. On the contrarj', wo ahould 
try to understand the Pbilonic phase of Judaism as tlio 
natnral result of the diii{>ei'sioo of the Jews over the 
whole civilised worI<l, over ' Assyria, Egjpt, Pathros, 
Cui>l), Klam. Shinar and the islands of the soa,' and of 
their contact with the best tbougbte of these countrios. 
' Bigg, OirtMM HutiiniA p. 6. 




Like moat o£ hia feUow-exiles, Philo remainod a finn 
hi^lievi^r in Ihi? (>I<I rvstninvnt. Ho in linl a J«w, and 
tlii'ii II pliiloHophur, though thu Juw has to mnko inaay 
coQcessioDB in iGaraing to apeak and think in the 
langua^ of Greek philosophy. Philo 'r position, after 
hit) aoqiiaintaDce with Greuk philosophy, ritiniiids one 
often of that of Rammohun Boy. who waa a firm 
believer in the Veda, when suddenly brought face to 
face with the doctrines of Christianity. Hu uould not 
help bebg ashamed of many things that were found 
in the sacred books of India, juat as. according to 
CVUus. Jew8 and Utiristiatis wru rually asbamud of 
their Bible '. Be had therefore to surrender many of 
the etfete traditions of hi» old faith, but he trii^d to 
interpret others in the light received from CliriHtiaii 
literature, till at last he formuhited to hiinself a new 
concept of tlio Deity and of tnan's relation to tlio 
Doity which aeemod to be in harmony both with the 
intentions of Indian sagos and with the aspirations of 
Christian teacbera. The touuhxtone of tnith which 
be adopted wtia much the same oa that whidi Pliilo 
had adopted from Plato', that nothing unworthy of 
the deity should he accepted as true, however sacred 
the authority on which it might nid. When thiit was 
once admitted ever^-thing else foUowcd. Pbilu, with 
all his reverence for the Old Testament, nay, as he 
would say, on account of that very reverence, did not 
hesitate to call it 'grc^at and incurable sillineas' to 
suppose that Ood really planted fruit-trees in Para- 
dbe. In another place Philo says that to speftlc of 

' B'n> Arii'i"" F^nloniUi, p. t4>. 

■ BlgB. C»n<(:an micmub, p. 61. Philo, Do Saeriflcio Ab. «t 
Cainl, xxviii. p. 1S1, W* Qiul th« ume in Clemaot, Horn. IL 40^ 


Qod n>pmting, is impiety grc»tor thut any that wM 
drownctl in tlio Moixl '. The intorpretotion whioh ho 
pat on thtse aod eimilar passages is of mnoh the aaine 
character as that which is now put by c<iuoht«>d 
native* of India on the hitl<;ot]it worship of lh« godtlees 
Durpl {Anthropotog. Rdifiioii, p. ICO). Yet, however 
implausible such interpretations may seem tou», they 
show at all events « respocl for truth and a belief 
in divine holinc«B. Neither Philo, nor Ck-ment, nor 
Origen could bring theroeelrea to accept pliyicical or 
moral impoittibilitioa as simply mimciilotM^. Ptlieving 
as they did in a Logos or Hcssoq that ruled the world, 
everything irrational became lp»o/ucto imposjiblu, or 
had to be interpreted allegorically. Whun wo con- 
sider bow powerful a philoscphic&l thinker Philo 
was, some of his aliegorical iriltrpi-fttttiona svem 
ftlmuHt iuorediblc, a« when ho explains that Adam 
was really mrant for the innate perceptive faculty of 
the mind, and Eve for the same in ita operative 
chariicter, whidi xpnngH eubMcqucntly into b«ing, aa 
the hcli»r and ally of the mind- In the same way 
Abel, according to Philo, stands for perishableni 
Cain for .telf-oonceit and arrogance, i^eth for irrigittii 
Bnaa for hope, Henoch for iaiprovvmont, Noah for 
Justice, Abruliam for iimtniction, f»auc for spiritual 
delight. In all this Philo is perfectly suriouii and 
fiiinly convinced of the truth of in» interpretations. 
And why I Because, as he cays aj^in and again, ' no 
one could believe such stories as ihat a woman wn« 
made out of a man's rib.' ' Clearly/ he says, ' rib stands 
for power, as when wo aay that a man has riba Instoad 

' Sw Philcs Ounf Anu immufuAiTti, 1. STft, 
< Bl|ii, ChriUian Patmalt, p. 18T. 




of strength, or Uiat a mnn ia thick-ribbed. Adttm 
tli«ii uuirt rtpWMitnl th« tniiul, Kve perception already 
acting through the Henses. and ttio rib the poi-manont 
faculty still dormant in the mind.' Even thus ytc 
inusi admire in Hiilo Che spirit tliat is willing, though 
the flesh i» v/oak. 

These allegorical interpretations had become in- 
evitable with Pliilo. as they had before with some of 
tlii; nioro enlightened Greek philusophi-m, whei-o we 
find them as eai-ly aa Democritus, Anaxngoras, and as 
very popular with the Stoics, the immediate teachers 
of Pfailo. Whenever sacred trailitions or itaered 
books have been invested by human bolngs with a 
superhuman authority, m Uiat all they contain has to 
be accepted as the truth and nothing but the truth, 
what remains but either to call what is unworthy 
of thu deity miraculous, or to resort to allegory? Nor 
are PbJlo's allegories, though they are out of placet 
without their own profound meaning. I shall quote 
one only, which cotitaina really im excellent abstract 
of hia doctrine. When speaking of the Cherubim 
who wore placed, with a flaming sword that turned 
every way, to guard the approaches of the tree of life, 
Philo. after quoting some other attempts at interpre- 
ttvtiuu, proceeds to say : ' I once heard even a more 
solemn word from my soul, accuittomed often to be 
possessed by Ood «n<i prophesy about Ihiuga which 
it knew not; which, if I can, 1 will recall to the 
mind and mention. Now, it said to me, that in the 
one really exi»ting Uod the supreme and primary 
puwcfH are two, goodness and authority, and that by 
goodness be baa generated the univctvo, and by 
authority be rules over what was generated ; and that 

a third thing in the inidttt, vrhicli brings these tvro 
togoUier, iH ReafiOQ {Logo»), for that by R«iuoa God 
ia poeseBsed both of rule and of good. (It said) that 
of rule, therefore, and of goodneftii, these two puvrtsrs 
tli« Cherubim are symbols, and of Koasoo tho flaming 
flword : for Reason is a thing moat swift in its motjons 
and hot, and espeeially that of the Cause, because it 
antJcipatcd and pusuod by everything, being both 
conceived before all things and appearing in all 
things '.' 

So far we can follow, But when Philo proceeds 
to make an application of his interprotation of the 
Flaming Sword as the Aytnbol of reoaon in the 8tory 
of AbratiiiiTi And Isaac, and explains that Abrahani 
when he began to measure all things by God, and to 
leave nothing to that whioli is geuerut«d, took * Gro 
and knife' as an imitation of the Flaminj:; Sirord, 
earnestly desiring to destroy and bum up the mortal 
from himK-]f in oi'dur that with naked intellect he 
might Boar alofl to God, we have to hold our bn»th 
in utter amazement at so much folly united in 
same mind with so much windoin I 

What is important for us, however, is to boo thai 
Philo, who ia generally represented as almost unin- 
telligible, becomes perfectly intelligible if we once 
know his antecedents and bis surroundings. If, 
as some scholais supposed, Philo hail rtally been 
under the imm^idiate influence of Eootem teach 
whether Persian or Indian, wu should be able ta** 
discover some traces of Persiaai or Indian thought. 
Nay. if Philo had commanded a larger view of ttto 
religions of the world, it is not improbable that his 
' Sm Dr. June* Di'ummoud, FhSa Jutbuta, roL 1. p. 21. 

THK 1.0008. 

eyes would ba,v« been opened, nud that ho ini<;hthiivi> 
learnt the eama lesson which a comparative study of 
ancient religions has taught u», nani«]y, that mjtlio- 
logioal languiigo is inevitable in the early BtagcH of 
religious thought, and that, if we want to understand 
it, we most try to become children rather than pbito- 
Hophers. In one «aae Fhtlo boldly deolarcH that the 
story of tbc creation of Eve, a* givt-n in tbu Old 
T«-t>tamont, is simply mythological '. 

The^e pr«liminary ramarlcct neeined to ine nec<'8i*iary 
buforo approaching the problem with which we are 
more immediately concerned, namely, how the golf 
that was fisedin the Jewish mind between heaven and 
eaitli, between Ood and man, could be bridged over. 
Wo saw that with Pbilo the concept of the Deity, 
though it often retained the name of Jehovah, had be- 
come quite as abstract and trnnsocndent as that of the 
only true Being, ru i^trwi 6v, of Greek philosopbera. It 
would not seem likely therefore that the Greek philo- 
BOphfTft, from whom Pbilo had loamt his tliotighto and 
language, could have supplied him with & bond to unite 
the visible with the invittible world. And yet so it 
was^ For after all, the Greek philoeophcrx al»o bad 
found that they bad raised their Supreme Being or 
their First Cause so very high, and placed it so far 
beyond the Hmite of tbix visible world and tlie horincn 
of human thought, that unless some connecting links 
could be found, the world might as well be left witb> 
out any cause and without any Supreme Ueing. 

' Ti ft^ M Totrtv >i>MUi lari { LcKit >lliiK>r. 1. 70). 

* Bigg, !.«., p. £S9 not*; Dntmtnond, I.e., U. |>. 170, 


lEOTCBE xn. 

This conneding link, this bond between the world 
Mid ito cTfttiMt, Ix'twi.'t^'n th« aoul ftod ita Ood, wm to 
Philo'8 mind Uw Loga«, 

Let us Lay hold at once on tHia word. Logoe ii 
n Greek word embodying a Greek thought, & thought 
which h(U( 'no OMlvcwivixtti in Aristotlo, in PUto; nay. 
Lhc deepest roou of which have been traced badi 
OH far OA the ancient philoBophien of Anaxftgoriu Mid 
Huraelitiw. This Qreok word. whntcvL-r meaning was 
asBignod to it by Christioji thinkers, telle uK in Ion- 
gun^ that cannot be mistaken that it ia a word and 
a tliou)j;ht of Greek worknmiisliip. Whot-vcr ii»<'d it, 
and in whatuvor Bcnee hu used it^ he hitd been under 
tile influence of Greek thought, he was an intelleetuiil 
<lcecundaTit uf Plato, Aristotle, or of the Stoics and 
Nco4'lntoiiii>ts. nay of Anaxagoras and UiTaclitus. 
To imagine that either Jt^wa or Christians could adopt 
a foi-eij;!! termliiolojry withviit ado|itiiig the thovi^hts 
itiibi'ddcd in it, shows a strangi- mLsapprehension of the 
nature of language. If, aa we are told, cei-tain eavog^f 
tribce hav«i no nuineralK heyond four, and afterwards] 
adopt the uumcmls of their neighbours, coo they' 
borrow a name for five withont borrowing at tbe 
*«mo time th« concept of fiv« 1 Why <lo wo use a 
foreign wonl if not ItL-cnueo we feci that the word and 
the exact thought which it espresses are absent from 
our own intulWctual armoury 1 

Pbilo bad not only borrowed the Greek language ia 
which he wrote, he had borrowed Greek thought 
that had been coined in the int<dlectu&l mint • 
•ndthtinotal of which had been extracted from Greek 
on. No doabt be used his loan for hie own 



slill ho could only transfei' the Grotik words to conc«pU 
iliat wui-c more or IcK* cquivideiit. If w« soo Buch DiitiiiM 
as P&rliaiuent or Upper and I^ower House u-aosferred to 
Japan, and uned thci'e either in a trnnittalcd or in their 
origiual form to signify Uu-ir own political assemblies, 
we know that however diHi-rGnt the proc«edinga of the 
Japanese Parliatneat may bo from thoiie of tb« Kngli.'di 
PAr]iik.iii<;ut, ttiti wry concept of a Parliameut wuuld 
never have been reaUsed in Japan except for it« 
protot^'pe in I-Ingland. Besides, wo see at once Uiat 
tliiH wurd, Parliament, and what it HJgnific», iuut no 
hJHtorical antecedents in Japan, while in England it 
has grown from a amatl eeed to a magnificiuit tre& 
It i» tho saniu with Lo{^^ Thcro may httvo hccn 
HOtne vague and folut antecedents of the Logoii in tlie 
Old Testament', but the Logon which Philo adopted 
had its historical antecediuu in Greece and in Greek 
philosophy only. Thia is very important to remember, 
aud we HhuU have to return to it a^jain. 

It in often supposed that this Loijm of Philo, and the 
Tt'on^ which waa in the beginning, are something very 
obscure, aome kind of mystery which few, if any, ore 
able to fathom, and which requires at all events a great 
amount of philosophical training before it can lie fully 
apprt-Ii ended. It seema to me to re(|iiiro notliliig bat 
a careful study of the history of the word iu Greece. 

Logos in Greek, before it was adopted for higher 
philosophical purposes, meant simply word, but word 
not M a moru sound, but u» tliought embodied in 
sound. The Greeks seem never to have forgotten tliat 
logos, word, has a double aspect, its sound and its 
mcaniug, and Uiat, though wv may di»tiuguiah the 
> Bl«,Le., p. tS, nota. 

nuLtiTv oFma», In the univcrec the 
which rtlntcs to tho in)ma.tcria1 and [ 
of which the intelligible cosiimn waa 
that which rclat«8 to the visible ol 
accoi'din;;Iy imitations and copice of 
of which this perceptible cosmos waa 
in man ihe one i» inward and tb« otl 
tho ono is, as it wore, a fountain, but th 
(yeywco't), flowing from tJie former.' 

Nothing could fiupply a hctlcr sitcilc 
ing and utloring ihc cosmos than the' 
thinking and uttering his thought, 
complete inisapprohension of th« true i 
which has led pooplu to suppose tha 
was merely fanciful. The idea that 
thought and uttered or willed liy Gi 
being a cobweb of abstruse philosophy 
moat natural and moat accurate, nay 
ccptions of tliu ci-eation of the world, I 
at once, of tho true origin of species. 

I was, I believe, one of the lirat w! 
tiee the traditions of uncivilised to,' 




Til* &of oa MiMnr Ux EUBUtha. 

The Klamaths, one of tho Kod Indiau tribes, Utfly 
described by Mr. Ontcbet and iir. Horatio Uale, be- 
licvtf, OH we arc told, in a Supremo Ood. whom they 
call -The Most Ancient,' 'Our Old Fnthur,' or ' Tlio 
Old One on high.' He ia believed to have created tho 
world that i». to have madp plants, nnimalit, and men. 
But when asked how the Old FatlitT cirt-ale-d the world, 
the Klamath philosopher replied: 'By thinking and 
iviUivg.' In this thinking and willing you have on 
that distant Koil the germs of tlie saitiv thought which 
on Greek soil became the Logos, and io the Foui-tli 
OoApul is called the Word. 

It may ho thought that such on idoa is far too 
abstract and abstruae to arise in the minds of K(^d 
Indians of the present day or of thousands of years 
ago. It is quite true that in a more mythological 
■tmosphere the same thought might have been ex- 
preucd by saying tliat the Old Father made the world 
with his hands, or called it forth by bis word of com- 
mand, and that be brcathiM] life into all living things. 
The world wht-n croat<:^d might in that case have been 
callod the handiwork, or even the oSspring and the 
son of Ood. 

It did not, however, require much observation to see 
that there was order and regularity in nature, or 
thought and will, a^ the Klamatha called it. The 
Togular rising of sun and moon would be sufficient to 
reveal that. If the whole of nature were mere lumber 
and litter, its author and ruler might have been a zero 
or a fool. But there is thought in a tree, and there is 
Uiought in a horse, and that thought is repeated again 

tion and thought, the rpason which a 
vados nature oould not 0M:ape detent 
readily to tho rvftuan of every tbougt 
tliat Kepler, after discovcriu*; thi' law) 
syatcm, could ti-uly say that he had t 
tlioughta of Qod. 

I cannot possibly five you here tl 
of the Logos, and all the phasea i 
parsed in the philosophicAl ntmos; 
before it reached Philo, the Jewish 
Christian philosophers, such aa th( 
Introduction to tJie Fourth Ooxpi 
Orig«n, and many othci^ In ortle 
should have to o&rry you from the lal 
schools were frequented by Philo a 
tho Stofi where Arislotlo taught his 
tho Academy where Plato expounded 
sophy.nay, even Wyond, to the schoo 
and Horaclitus. All tliis haa been 
done by Dr. Drummond in bis I'h, 
short surrey must here suftice. |i 

TUE Loaoa. 


they are but two Mpccto of tho same intelleotual act. 
If we inofti) by thought wtiAt it tncaoit aa soon as it is 
cxprouod in a word, not a mere percept, not even 
what it is often mutAken for, a Vorttellunff, or what 
uAod to be callo'l a Ririisiiiiiis i<k>A, but a ooncept, thi-ii 
it itt clear tliut a wuni, Utkcn as a more Houud. without 
a concept expressed by it, would be a non-entity, quite 
as much as the concept would he. a non^entity n-itbout 
the word by which it is umbodiod. H<mce it it* that 
tho Qruok lorjoa means both word and thought, the 
one ioBoparablo from the other. 

As eooD an language hail produoe«l .such names as 
horse, dog. man or woinnu. thv mind was ipm facto in 
poasossion of what we call concepts or ideas. Every 
one of tbece words embodies an idea, not only a general 
more or less blurred imago remaining in our memory 
like the combined photographs of >Ir. Galton. but a 
concept — tliat is.a genuine tlioiight under which every 
individual horse or dog can \>v conceived, compre- 
hended, eJossitied and named. What is meant by th« 
name horse, can never be presented to our senses, but 
only to our intelleot, and it ba» been (juite truly said 
that no human eyo has over seen a bono, but only 
this or that horse, grey, black, or brown, young or 
old. strong or weak. Such a name and such a concept 
a« horw, could not represent the memory of repeated 
sensuous impressions only. Thi-eo impressions might 
leave in our memory a blurred photof^-raphic image, but 
never a concept, free from all that iit individual, casual 
and temporary, and retaining only what is essential or 
what seemed to be essential to the framcrs of language 
in all partH of the world. It is quite true tliat each 
individual has to Icurn his eouoepts or ideas by means 

tradition from Umo imtDemori 
tliia, wu sliould asik. Whence r 
horse which w« during our lifu 
every unj^lo horse and npcated 
tion 1 What is that typical cl 
cau 1)e named an<l can alU^n 
defined 1 Was theio no artist. 
had to conceive tho idea uf hi 
n single hor^itl Could any art 
of a hoim-, if ho had uevvr 
uiaterial protoplasm, spontanog 
Huooce of environment, the su 
and all tlie reitt — will any pure 
ever lead to a hur»u. whetlKr it 1 
hipparioo ontyl Every name 
one feelit aluiont ashamed if one 
profound in the theory of tho 
couceJTod by Plato than that oj 

TiM Ortvln of Bp 

I oonfeaa I have always been 
old elementarv teacliitii^H of Ph 



whether pknta or animali;, nay, tlmt anything in this 
univor^o, cotild have cotno to be what it is by mere 
evulution, by nntunii fteloction, by survival of tie 
litt«&t, and ail thu n^^t, unlcsit ita evolution mc«nt the 
realisation of an idea ? Let us grant by all moans that 
th« prc8(>nt home isi the Ia»t t«nn of a Aeries of moditi- 
cations, brought about by natural caiiMMt, of a typf 
which has oxiKted ever ainoo the Mcsuzoic epoch ; yet 
we cannot but ask Whence that type t and What ia 
meant by type? Was it mere undilTerentiatod proto- 
plasm that by environment and otlior casual iiiflueuem 
might have become either a borao or »dog? or must w« 
Dot adroit a purpose, a thought, a Kayot, a tnrtpfiariKos 
X6yo%, ill the i'lrst protoplsatic j^^rm which roulil >.'iid in 
one laat term only, a horse or a dog, or whatever else 
woe tliought and willed by a rational Fowir. or by 
what the ancient!! calle<l the Logos of God 1 Professor 
Huxley himself speaks of the t^'pe of horse. What 
can he mean by that, if not tb© idea of horse f It 
irmttcrs Httlo how ttuch a type or such an idea was 
realised, whether as a cell or as a germ, so long as we 
rocognifle tliat tlien> was an idea or a purpose in it, 
or, to adopt the laufjiiage of the K«d ludiaitA, so long 
an we Iwlicve that everything that exists was thought 
and willed by the 'Old One on high.' Is there reason 
in the world or not, and if there in, whose KcaM>n is itT 
Thai certain Bpecie« were evolved from lower species, 
oven during the short time of which we possces any 
certain knowledge, is no doubt a great discovery, but it 
does not touch the deeper question of the origin of all 
species. Whoni;vei' *uch transitions have betn proved, 
we should simply have to change our language, and no 
longer call tliat a speciea which has been proxed not 



(-u*mfti exlstphec of ilir«p idcfut in 
in ihe Primal Cause of all ihitigs, 
for our seeing them realised in nat 
human reason, and nain<xl l>y htimn 
beooni«8 BtiU eloarcr if, insti-ad of oi 
vro think of georoetrical fortus. Ca 
a perfect circle, nay, a single atraij 
fornird l>y rciiontc-il oxporinicntel 
admit, bnfore a perfect ephore hecon 
does boGonie r«sl, the concept of a 
a mtiontil, thai is, a tlivLne Mind? 
tjon is wlictber the world, auch as we 
named it. is rational or coeual. Th< 
lie* between a belief in evolution and 
what^ivcr that may mean, but bet' 
Beaeon and a denial of Kcasou at i 

If we want to account for a mlioi 
th« p^-mianuncc of typical outlines 
our mind has to admit, first of all, a 
or vhat ProfesHor Huxley calls a t 
BCo how every lionte is moulded, oh 
niancnt tvmr bow.-vi^r_imicli-dii.-at 

TUE L0008. 


the rest. What in heredity but Uie permnnence of 
that iDvi»ili]e and yet most roal typo whicli Plato 
cnllcd tho idcB} Humitn roauon hns alwsys revolted 
^aiiiDt ascribing what is permanent to mere accident, 
even to the inttuenpo of environment, to natural selec- 
tion, aurvival of tho tittest, and all tho rvst. It 
domanda by right a real caubo. suiSciwit for real 
(.■tTects ; a rational cauno. Bufficicut for rational etiects. 
That cause may be invisible, yet it in visible in its 
ctfocta, nor are invisible things hatt toai tlioa viniblo 
ones. \Vc rati«t jiostulato inviisiblebut real types, be- 
cauHe without them their visible etfecta would remain 
inexplicable. It is easy to say that like produces like, 
but wht'nce the first type) Whence tho tree before 
there was a tree, whence man himself, before there was 
man, and wbcncu tliat mould in which eacit individual 
ifvums casts and which no individual can burst 1 
Tho presence of these types or specific forma, the 
presence of order and law in the visihle worli), ee.<>inH 
to have struck the human mind at a much vorlicr 
period than is commonly supposed. Tho Klamaths,as 
we saw, said that the world was thouijht and willed, 
Anaxagoraa declared tliat there was Nous or Mind in 
the world. 

And OTon bofora Ana\iu;oras, Hcraclitus, after 
claiming fire, in its most abstract form, ns the primi- 
tive element of all things, postulated something beside 
the material element, some controlling power, tone 
force and law; and ho toocuUml it Ixigos, i.anjMooor 
word. Vague indications of the same idea may be dU- 
oovered in the raythological ti-adilioD of a Moira ur 


taugbt tbnt tho essence of Dentin; 
which porvades the aubatonce of the u 
Logos Is vfbnt wo should caU law or 
thi; ancivnt poets of tho Win called 
When wo ask. however, what seen 
naluml <)ueMiou, who»o that reanon 
th« Inw-givvr. tilways acting in thu 
the univoreu. ho that in all the wi 
of the elements right and reason pt 
answer from Hfraclituit. Somo mIi 
HcmelitiiH look tlit^ Logos to bo id 
Fire, but to judge from certain expre 
seems rather a mode aooording to whi 
(oara rdt- Ao'yoi*). Nor do(« it 8C0m q 
that Hcrarlitus would have called tho 
a part of the I^ogoa, in&tead of sayi 
<lividual aoul alto, as an c-mnnation 
lliu univt-nsnl fire, was under tho cont) 
It is atill more difficult to say wl 
posttoseied iH^foie Heraclitus adopted i 
10 cxprcMS thv orilcr of tlio iinivfrse. ' 
to show that like later philosopbcrs I 
sense of wftrH «a *^" .^^^^.1: — .-j_- 




Horaclitua said, xoril X6yov, aceoriUng to Iav. It U 
quite cle&r that the Logon of Horaclitus had not y«t 
assumed in hU mind that detinite mesDing of a chaiu 
of idtiOA conaocting the Pintt Caune with the pbeno- 
mi.'ii&l world, which it pru)ont«d to thv Htoios and to 
Philo. It was as yet no more than that general rouon 
or reaaonableneAs which etruok the eyes and tho mind 
of limn even on the lowcot stage of civilisation. 

When Anax^DiM suhsUtutt^d tio^t. Mind, for Logos, 
he went a stcipbeyond.and wa^ the 6rstto claim some- 
thing of A personal character for the law that governH 
the world, and was Huppostd to have changed its raw 
material into a oosmos. We may be ahlo to conceive 
a law witliout a person behind it, but Nous, Uind. 
takes a thinker alroost for granted. Yet Anaxagoras 
himself never fully pereonilied his Kous, never 
grafted it on a God or any higher being. Nona 
was with him a something like «vcrything else, a 
XP'iiia, a thing, «.<* ho called it, though tlio finest and 
purest of all material things. In some of hia utter- 
ancca Nous was really identified with the living soul, 
nay, he seems to have looked upon every individual 
itoul as pai-ticipnting in the universal Nous and in 
thia uuivonsal cluxruia. 

On the problem which intereata us more specially, 
namely the relation of tlie Logos or Noun to man 
on ODO sidu and to Ood on the other, we gain little 
till we come to Aristotle and the Stoics. So- 
crates, if we take our idea of him from Xenophon, 

and wben Socr 

I'tati if itavrl), hfi 

an UeraclitUH vrben spea| 

is attl iav, or tta Anaxagor 

which ordered nil thiogf 

(Diog. Laert. ii. 6). 

Though we may reco^ 
coDAcioun attempts to 
something beside mattor 
invisible, posnibly a divine 
disposing, and ruling the 
tht phoDomenal with tlio 
tbo infinite, the hamon w 
deliberate step was not ti 
by FlatOi Tlio eiiuiple qui 
with rwtpoct to thu Deity, 
fi'om these philosophers. 

It is well known that 
permanent typrtt of all thii 
■uleat, by tho Klamatbii, tl 
Creator. These ideas, wh 
what Hcmclitiiit meant. 



general till they riae to the idcaA of the Good, the Just, 
niid thf. Beautiful. But iaatoad of the many ideas 
Fluto speaks altiu of one general and eternal pattern 
of the world which, liko thv idea of God, is nut the 
Creator himself, nor yet separable from him. This 
]>attvrn, tlioti^h eU-rnal, is yet a creation, though an 
ot^^Tiial creation, a world of thouj^ht prior to tha 
world of sense '. This comee vot-y near to the Stoic 
Jx)g08, as known to Fhilo. 

In other places Plato admits a higho«t idea which 
allows of no higher one, the last that can he known, 
the idea of the (Jood, not simply in a moral, but like- 
wIm in a physicul and int-taphynioal svnse, the Nuvi- 
mum Bo^iuvi. Tliis faighost idea of thuGood is what 
in religious language wnuld be called the Supreme 
Being or God. But Plato, as far as 1 can judge. i» 
never quite explicit in lulling us what he conceivt^d 
this Good to be. It is tnie lie s]>caks of it n» the Lord 
of Light (Republ. vi. 508j, and he speaks of the sun as 
the son of the Good, whom the Good begat in his own 
likeness, to be in the visible world in relation to sight 
niitl the tliini^n of sighL what thti Good is in thi; iniel- 
k'Ctual worl'l in relation to mind and the things of 
mind. . . . And the noul, be continues, * ia like the eye : 
whi>n resting upon tliat on which truth and being shine, 
the BUiil pi;ruuivt.'s and undemtitndu, and is radiant with 
intelligence. . . . And that which imparts truth to the 
known and the power of knowing to the knower ia 
what I would have you tenn tbe Idea of Good.' 

Hero Plato leaver us, nor is he more explicit as to 
what the relation of that bU-a of Good is to the otber 
ideas, and how it can fultil all that the old idea of 

■ Jowrntt, InUml. to LLa TtmMiu^ p. S46. 


God orthoGodsTSEiiKmntto fulfil. Whether it 
the only efficient cause of the world, nr whether each 
of th« tnhny iilraa poiU)««se<l it-'i own etKcient causality, 
independent of the Idi« of Good, m a ([uckUod difficult 
to answer oat of Plato's own mouth. Plato spvaka of 
(jod and Gods, but lie never says in .to many words 
' This, my Idea of the Good, in what you mean by 
Tiens.' If we Rskeil whether this Idea of the Good w«B 
jjersonal or not, wo should reoei ve no answer from Plato. 
It h important, however, to keep in mind tliat Plato 
Bpcaka of one genenil and et4.'mnl patlvrn of tlic world 
which, like the Idea of Good, is not the Ci-eator him- 
Hfiir, Dor yet separable from him. This pattern, though 
eternal, is crenu^d, a world of thought prior to Uie 
world of sense '. 

What remaiua dark and doubtful in Plato's system 
is the relation of the visible to the invisible world, of 
the phenomena to their ideas. The exprcseions whlcb 
he usca as to the phenomena participating in tbe 
ideal, or the viitiblo being a copy of the invisible, aru 
similes and no mora. In the Timaous he bocomes 
somewhat more explicit, and introduces his theory 
of the creation of the universe as a living being, and 
like every living being, pusec8»ed of a soul, tJie soul 
lieing a^rain pOR4e«i.-d of mind'. Tliis univcreo or 
<'osiiiOH or Uranos is there ^ep^e^ented as the offspring 
of God, and what is important to remark, he is called 
Mtmogen&s*, the only Wgotten, the uniijenilujf, or more 
correctly the unu-u*, the unique or single, the one of 
lii8 kind. The imperfections that cannot be denied 

' dof' JowHI. Inlrul. In tli<< Timxeui, p. MH. 

' Tiinaeuk, 30 B, rirU tJi- natiiiiiii (Ve' I>ii^yei- trrov *«, 

* tit tit i>ei-ii7trAi eipayit Ttyavwi i«T% n c«l it' faroi. Tim, 





to exist in Uio vorld Mid tn mitn are explained na due 
fithcT to the Apeiron, i.e. fomilois* inutUT, whidi re- 
ceiver fonii Lhrough the ideas, or in the case of mcii, 
to the fiict thfit th«ir orcftticn was entrusted to the 
minor dcitiea, nod did not proceed direct from the 
Creator. StiU the soul is everjwhere roprcsi'iiUid n* 
divine, And tnuftt h&ve been to Plato'a mind a connot- 
ing link bftwoon iho Divine and the Uuman, between 
the invisible and bbe visible. 

Aristotle is far more explicit in defining what in his 
philosophy j» to tnke the place of Zfus, lor it is curious 
to observe how all these philosophers with all their 
sublime ideas about the Divine, always start from thoir 
old Zeus, and speak of their ut-w idi-as iks ULkin^ tlie 
pUco of Zeus, or of the Godhead. It was the Zcu« of 
his childhood or his 6*6i which wan explained by 
Aristotle as being really ro -epuiTov Kn-nh; the Prime 
Hover, possibly r^ upCirov tifioi, the Pritno Form or 
idea, as distinguished from ^ irpun; vAi), the Prime 
Matter. He t<;lU us also what he considers all the 
uoct'sMary qualities of tbiit Priini; Mover to be. It must 
1)0 one, immoveable, unchangeable, tiviii{f, inb.41igent, 
nay it must be active, i. e. thinking intelligence, inlidli- 
)jL-nce thinking itself (4 ^•6t^a\i voifatio^ voith, Metaphys. 
xi. 9, 4). The question of pirsonality doc« not seem 
to disturb the Greek thinkers as it dw^s us. Aris- 
totle's transcendent Godhead represents the onene<sa 
of the thinker and thou<;ht4, of the knower and the 
known. Its relation to matter (\i\i\) is that of tlie 
form (f*fto«) subduing matter, but also that of tlu , 
mover moving matter. With all this, Aristotle has 

wliat Baaili^flBHb by Uie noi 
made the nd^^^ent world c 
tDat«riaU*. Thia could not give 
thv niligiou8 sentiment whicli t«<i 
Htid some expl&nntiun of thu dvpcn 
on ft divine ruler, and of tlie rela 
a SujiriL-me Bving. 

We bftTC tliUH fnr oxftRtincd soin 
which were carried do«Ti the 
phitodopbj till they reached the bi 
(iilicr K>-mitic thinkcni who triwl 
with thi-ir ancient bdiafs in tlit-ir 
transcendent God. Before, howt 
further to watch Uie proceas by 
Mtreams, tlK> one of Aryiui, tho 
thought, became uuitcd, at liret in th 
philosophers^ and aft«rwards in the t 
l>eli>;vi'i-s aliio, we have still to foil 
vclopnicnt of the thoughts uf Plati 
the schools of their succit^som, thu 
PI ■ ton IbI « "" ' ^^^^ 



The Stoics required a God in the old sense of the 
word. They wore not satislled with tba Bupreme 
idea of Pluto, nor with th« Primo Mover of Amtotle. 
Like their predecessors, they also had discovered law, 
order, or neeessity and caosation in the visible world, 
and they postulated a eaueo auHicit-nt to account for 
the «xiHtence of that law and order in the phenomenal 
coi*iiios. That cause, however, with the Stoics waa 
out tmnficendoat, but immanent^ Reason or Logoa 
was discorei'ed by tbem aa present in every part of 
the univemo, aft holding the universe together ; nay it 
VIM itself considered as corporeal, and so far as it 
represented deity, deity also was to the Stoics some- 
thing corporeal, though etliereal or igneous'. Yet 
they placed a difference between liyle, inntter, and the 
Logos or Supreme Reason or God which pervaded all 
matter. This Logos, according to them, wa.s not only 
creative (iroioCv), but it continued to control all things 
in the world. Some Stoics distinguished indeed 
between the Logos and Zeus, tlio Supreme God, but 
tJie orthodox doctrine of the Stoic school is that God 
and the Divine Reiuton in the world oru the same, 
though they might be called by difloreut names. Tba 
Stoics, therefore, were true pantheists. With them, 
as with HeraclituB, everything was full of the Gods, 
and they were onxioun to say that this divine presence 
applied even to the inc-anvet and most vulgar things, 
to ditches and vermin. 

The Stoics, however, spoke not only of one universal 
Logos pervading the whole cosmoa, they likewise 
admitted, as if in rt-membraneo of Plato's ideas, a 
number of togoi, though in accordance with Aristotle's 

-wisna. xor vnai wicd mob penecc i 
call iuhei-iUKl tipccitic qnditjitw. 

These Logoi, wbethtTBbglyorcoi 
ooe aniversal Logo^, had to acooun 
permanent in the variety of th« pi 
Tlwy foniMxl a tiy»t«m oacvadiog fi 
tlte hi^hviit, wliii'li wiut i-vllccted in 
call tJiie evolution of nature. A i 
bowevor. was asaigned to man. 
w«« Hupposed to liavc received in 
portion of the universal Logos, an< 
the intclligtiiw or reason which ma 
ini>n with (he gods. Besides thli 
humut loul WM supposed to bo eod< 
tbe five senses, and the power of i«; 
here we meet for tbe first time a i 
that spceeh is really the external Lo| 
without which thtt internal Logos (X. 
be as if it were not. The word is 
manifestation of rea.ioD; both are 1 
ditferent aspects. The animal soul 
somctliing material, eompoeit«, and 
able, to which tbe Logos waa imp 



Logos and fi'Om mftttor (vXif), wo lut; norer distinctly 
told. What is clear, however, is that the Stoics 
looiccd upon the Logoa as otemol. In on« •enae the 
Logos was with Qod, and, in acolbor, it might l>u sBid 
to be Ood. It was the Lo^^os, the thought of God, 
as pervading the world, which made the world what 
it ia, viz. a rational and intelligible cosmos ; and it was 
the IjOgoR again tliat made man what he L», a rational 
and iutcUiscut aoul. 

ruio'a Inharltajie*. 

You SCO now what a largo inhcrit«noo of philo- 
sophical thought and philosophical liLUguAgo was 
bcijucatbed to men like Philo, who, in the fii&t 
coDtur>- before our era, being theniaclvea steeped in 
Semitic thought, were suddenly touched by the in- 
vigorating bntezijit of the Hollenic spirit. Alexondiia 
was the meeting-place of these two ancient strvams 
of tliought, and it was in its Libraiies and Museum 
that the Jewish religion experienced its last philo- 
sophical revival, and that the Christian religion for 
the first time aissi'rted its youthful strengtli i^^ust 
the philoeupbies both of the Eaj^t and of the West. 
You will now perceive the important representative 
character of Philo's writiugH which alone ttlluw us an 
insight into the histoiical transition of the Jowihh 
religion from its old legendary to a new philosophical 
and almost Christian stage. Whetlier Pliilo poi^onally 
exercised a powerful influence on the Uioughts of his 
conteuipoi-oncA, we cannot tell. But be evidently 
represented a powerful religious and philoHOpbical 
movement, a movement which later on must bavol 
exteudud to many of tJio coiliest Christian converls 

religion and oT the 
tliiukors of Orcoce,'' 
probably about 20 B.C., he 
the first century A.D. H 
temporary of Chriel, Uiougl! 

What concerns ut< are tlic 
philosophy. Philo never 
Jehovah, though b\a Jt-ho 
completely freed from his ai 
but mt»cd HO high above a 
dirtiTod hut liltio fnnn the 1 
did not, however, believe in 
but like the Stoien he admitt 
ttanoc, by the eido of God. 
yet not divine in its oi-igia 
Infinite of Anasimander, thi 
fornilovH, nay incnpable of i 
of what the Divine Being coi 
it is Botaetimee said that all 
vaded by God ', a nd nothing' 

II 1 I l*^M^^^^^^^M 



Idtcui, m order tLnt c&ch goous raigiit take iU proper 

Tbe IiofoB tm ■ BrUtg* b«tw*an Sod kDd th« World. 

Nothing tliiToforw couiil liw more woloomo to Philo 
tb&n this Stoic theory of the Los^s or the Lo^i Tor 
bringing the tranacendent Cauao of the World int^i 
relation witli the phenomenal world. lb hulpod liini 
to Account for tho creation of the world, and for the 
presence of a controlling reason in the phenomenal 
oo»inri8, and he had only to ajiply to th« I^goi the 
more fairiliar n&jno of Angt-ls in order to bring his 
old Jewish helief into harmony with his new philo- 
aophical conviction.'*. As Milmnn h/w truly reiiinrked. 
' Wherever any approximiition had Won made to tho 
truth of one Finit, oitln-r awful religion n 
rovcrencu (Uio Jcw«) or philosophical alwtmclion (llio 
Greeks) had removed tlie primal Deity entirely be- 
yond the sphere of human nenHO. and supposed that 
the intercourse of the Doity with men, tho moral 
govomment. and even tho original crvatjon, had been 
carried on by intermediate agency, cither in Oriental 
language of an emanation, or in the Platonic of the 
wi^om, rcofon, or intelligenoo of One Supremo,' 

Philo, who combincB the awful reverence of the 
Semitic with the philosophical sobriety of tlie Greek 
mind, holds that God in the bighMt sense forms to 
himself, first of all, an ideal invisible world (KuVr^ot 
rorjT^i, ioparoi) containing the ideas of all things. 

rpit rb yirai ttoimr *i^ ipfiomvaar KaBiir iioff^iY. Do 9«orifleBnl. 
13, p. ML 

pcrsoniiic«U6h'(iiid""my!lioI6g'y m 
tli« huly of holies of philcsophy, 
ubsti'act Vr'udorn is npoken of aa t 
the Mother or Nurse of all tilings : 
Tiftjrij rStv uXnir), Yet oven tbua, thia 
\» not allowed to bear oi' suckle h' 
The Divine Wisdom is not allow 
contact wiUi gru.<ts natter as littU 
That contact is brou]L;ht ubout th 
as a bond which is to unite heav 
things^ and to traiisfw the intellect 
the divine mind upon mntti-r. This 
to possess certain predicates, but these 
may be called the eternal predieat«i( ( 
for the Logos also VM originally b 
the Godhead, — are soon endowed wil 
pendence and personality, the moat 
goodness (4 hyv06Tni) tuid power ( 
goodness is also oallt'd the orcatire 
JiW^ic), thn other is called the roya 
(i^^airiAiici) iwafiit), and while in soi 
powers of God are spoken of as 
they ass ume if not a distini-t iif;i 



independeat Activity '. Though in many places t]i«8e 
powerH {&viiaiJ.ui) arc used as fiynonymoua with the 
LogoB, yet originally tbey were concoivcd as the 
might of ilivitiu ocUoii, vrbilo tho Logon was th» 
mode of that action. 

Locos •■ tk* Sos of Ood. 

It nraet always be remembered thAt Philo allows 
himself great freedom in tho cniploymcut of his 
philooophical terminulugy, and is confitantly carried 
away into mytbologic&l phi-aaeologj', whicli after- 
wurdR bvcoiiic'S harik-ni.^d and almost uiuutclligibl«. 
ThuH the tntelluctuo] creation in tho Divine Mind 
ia spoken of not only oa a cosnioH, but aa tlie 
uflfipring, tho son of God, the first-born, the only 
liegotten [vi&t roS 6<ov, novoytirit, TtpoiToyavo^} ; yet 
in other pUoea he is called the elder sou (wpttrjiinpot 
vl6s) OB compared with the visible world, which is 
then colled the younger son of God (pttartpot ulo; rov 
0*ov), or even the othtr Ootl (bivT4pot tfto«). 

All thuae termi), at first purely poetical, become 
after a time technical, not used once or easually, but 
handed down as the characteristic marks of a philo- 
sophical school. To UH thoy ore of the greatcet impor- 
tance as eign-poate showing the road on which certain 
ideas have travelled from Athens to Alexandria, till 
they finally reached tho mind of Pliilu, and not of Plulo 
only, but also of his contemiwrarieu and sucoussors, 
whether Jews, or Greeks, or Christians. Wherever we 
meet witli tho word Logoo. we know that we liavu to 
dual with a word of Greek extraction. ^Vhcn Fhilo 
adopted that word, it could have meant for him sutn 

' BliU. CArutMit JtatonMa, p. IS, BQt«. 

' uiv irriijr MpinBn ur uuih 

wards tt-ansferred by the autlicl 
U> ClirUt, what was predieatc'<l I 
bocn ID substance what was coil 
technical terms, as taod at firsi 
wanlft at Aluxiindria. To the I 
Chriftt was not tho Lojjofl boeil 
Kazaretli, the son of Uary, bul 
lieved to be the incarnate WorJ 
»i.niso of the tonn. This may soeo 
but it shows how sublime the c 
of God, the firttt-born, tlie only a 
of Uiosc who were tliu first to us 
hesitate to traBsfer it to Him in 
that the Logos had beeome lies 
in whom there Owult all ibe fu 
bodily '. 

It 19 true that Christian wrib 
profcr to rlcrive thu fimt idea 01 
pagan Greece, but from Palcstini 
germ in the deutero-canonioal ^ 
ia stee ped in .Tc t^ 



fnn aai W). Again, cvii. 20: 'He sent hia word 
and bealcUi them : ' civ. 30, ' Thou ±teikli#t forth 
thy spirit, they arc created, and thou ronitwiHt tho 
face of tlio wirth;' cxlvii. 18, 'He sendeth out his 
word and mcltoth them.' Still, in all these passages 
the word and the spirit do nut inoAO inucli uioiv than 
thft MiDinand, or eommunlcatioD of JchovaJi. And thu 
same applies to paesa^ea where the Divine Presence or 
ManifeetaUon iscalli'd hit* AngcI, the Angel of Jehovah. 
Indeed it would Iw difficult to say what differfnoo there 
la botweon the Angel of Jehovah, Jehovah himself, and 
Qod, for instance in the third cimpter of Exodus ; and 
again in Qen. xxxii, botwtrcn Ood. tho Angvl, and Man. 
And this Angel with whom Jacoh wrestled in uivn- 
tjoned by bo ancient a prophet as Hosca xii. 4. 

AU these cuuceptionii are purely Jewish, unin- 
fluenced as yet by any Greek thought. What I 
doubt is whether any of these gertu», the theophany 
through Angela the hypostasis of the Word of Jchuvah 
(njn; -qij, ©r lastly the personificatiDn of Wisdom 
C^??) could by themselves have grown into what the 
Greek philosophers and Philo meant by Logos. We 
must never forget that Logne, when adopted by Philo. 
w&s no longer a general and undelincd word. It had 
its technical mcftning <]uite as much as ovala, ivtp' 
mala, &ii\mais, fi'mfrii, 04oi<rti. All th<^sv t«nns are 
of Greek, not of Hebrew workmanship. The roots of 
the Logos were from tho first intellectual, those of 
the Angels theologieal, and when thi- An^vls, whethei' 
as ministers and messengers of God, or aa beings 
intermediate between Ood and men, became <|uiekened 
by the thoughts of Greek philosophy, the Angels 
and Archangels seem to become mere names and 


FhQo Bpi'klcs distinoUy of the et^ 
he uys, ' it is the Euhiott to c&U I 

mMIom «T SopUl 

And as little aa the belief in 
have led to the theory of tlie L 
aa a bond betweon tlie visible 
world, can it be supposed that s 
as that of the Sheohinah or tlie 
the Wisdom of God, woukl by tliao 
ountact with Groek tbooglit have 
philosophical conoeptiona, such as 
and his successors. The SomitJe 
' I was tliere vrben He prepared t 
possibly have led on to Fbilo'a S 
which is with God before the 
WiiMiom of the Proverlv is oortaii 
IkiI, if anything, the iDOthor of tbo 
mythological being. We know boi 
was given to represent the active 
the Got^lhead by oorrespoii<iing fem 

I tiU— lA^— fn.n. j^ it- ■ ■■ ' - ■ 




is veiy different from representiog the InteUigible 
World (th« Koirfint noqrot) as the Lrtgos, the Woril of 
God, tbo whole Thought of Qod, or tho Idea of Ide«a. 
Vet the two ideas, the Semitic and the Greek, werv 
somehow brought together, or rather forecd together, 
as when we we \w« Phtlo reprosonts Wisdom, the 
virgin danghtor of God (Bethnt-l), as hereelf tho Father, 
b^ettillg intelligence and the soul '. Nny, he goes 
OB to wy that though the name of Windom is 
fominine, its nature is masculine. All virtues havu 
the titles of women, but tlie powers and actions of 

men Hcnco Wisdom, tho daughter of God, is 

masculine aiid a father, generatiug in souU learning 
and instruction and Hcienoe and prudence, beautiful and 
laudable aoUons*. In this process of blending Jewisli 
and Grccic thought, the Greek clcmonts in tbo end 
always prevailed over the Jewish, the Logos was 
stronger than the Sophia, and the I^ogot* remained 
tho Firat-bum, the only begottr-n Son of God, though 
not yet in a ChriBtian sense. Yet, when in later times 
wo see Clement of Alexandria apeak of the divine and 
myal Logos {Sti-om. v. 14), as the imiige "f God, and 
of human reuon as the imago of that image, which 
dwells in man and unites man with God, can we 
doubt that all this is Greek thought, but thinly 
disguised umk-r Jcwisli imagery ? This Jewish 
imagery breaks forth once more when the Logos is 
represented as the High Frieat, as a mediator 
standing bctwi'en humanity and tho Oodhoad. Thus 
Philo makes the High Priest say: ' I stand between 
tho Lord an<I you, 1 who am neither imcreated like 

' Bifn. l-c p. l«, note i p. 9U. 
* Fhilo, D» pToL. •, (1, KS). 

' i^ro. uax wft costei unnite wnifin 

vroven fruni Uio top Uirougbout, ( 
so that both the Messianio and 
phucies wciu fullilled at the aarn 
e&iRc mamii'r'} 

To the educated among the Rabb or his diaciplea at Jerutialo 
probablj- as well knonni as to Phito 
lived at Jerusaloin he would have fo 
io rMOgniaing a Otivs Xvyos in 
noogoiscd it iit Abratiaiii aikI in 
oould bring Uiemsulvvs to rccogn 
in Jeaun of N azure th, why shoi 
faftvo dinoovcrod in Him the fulnt 
Logos, i. o. the i-ealiBation of the p 

It may be quito true that all ' 
BRiall number only, and that the | 
Jews were beyond the reach of 
Still, enlightened Jewtt like Philc 
tolcratvd. but were honoured by tli 
at Alexandria. It was recognised 



and pfibrt ; but to know Ood in (he soul, u PhUo 
know Him. was considered wiedom. vision, and peace. 
Philo, liow«ver vo^o und uncertain boiuu of hia 
tbouglits m&y bv, ih quito diutinct and dvfiuilv wtx-ii 
he speaks of the Logos aa the Divine Thought which, 
like a scilI, is t«tauiped upon tnetter and likewise 
on tho inorto] soul. Nothing in tho whole world 
is to him more Godlike Lhan man, who waa formed 
•iceordtng to the image of Qod (xar (uo'ca 6fw, Gen. 
i. iJ), for, u the Logon iit an imnge of God, huinan 
reason is the ima^ of the Logos. But we must 
distinguiith here too between miui as part of tlie 
intelligible, and man im port of the visible world. 
The former is the perfect sea], the perfect idea or 
ideal of manhood, the latter its moro or Iq»s imporfcot 
multiplication in each individual man. There is 
therefore no higher conception of mimhood possible 
than tliut of the ideal son, or of tho idea of the son, 
realised in the ficsh. Ho doubt this was a bold step, 
jTet it was not bolder on tlie part of the author of 
tb« Fourth Gospel, than when Fhilo r^-cognised in 
Abmhnm and others soil!) adopted of tlie Father'. 
It was indeed that step which changed both the Jew 
and the Oontilc into a Christian, and it was tins 
very step which Cclsus, from his point of view, 
declared to be impossible for any true philosopher, 
and which gave particular offence to those who, 
under Gnoi<tic intliieiice»i, had come to regard tho 
tiesh, the aafti, m tho source of all evil. 

Moaogasla, til* ObIj Bii^ittuL. 
We tried boforo to trace the word Logos back as far 
* Eobriot. 11 (1, 101), Ttvvrwt tlatttipis afify itirvt Mt, 

una iD&L irwoaraeeoBMHMrnac' 
ihvTu wcro nii(ilh«r. BHilHl iil<% 
begotten. IB cjuito excluded. The f 
again by PlaU) in the Tiroaens. wh< 
the visible worM, whidi ho cnlU a ( 
vtpUxoy. lui nnimiitu tbinj^ %'iMililo n 
aU things viaible, the imago of its ma 
tilt grontest and Ixwt. the fnirwit an< 
one world fouranoe) Monopi'nfs, uni 
And why did Plato use that wort 
telLeius (Timacus 31). 'Aroi 
bo writv't. ' that thvre is one world 
we rather say that there are mi 
Thoro is on«, if the created untversi 
original. For that which incliidett al 
erefttures cannot have a second for c 
cane there would 1>o need of ano 
which would include thi-Hc two, a: 
would be parts, and the likenosa wt 
said to retteuiblo not those two, hot 
inolade* them. In order then that 
like the perfect animate Being in ui 
the worl d fooamosi. made Him not 




IF i^f^od to the hcgotton or visihlo world, mono- 
ggiuB night hnvo bcon and irag trunnldtod tbv unly 
begotten, umgemtaH, but it« true meaning was here 
aUo ' tb« one of its kiDd.' H«re, then, in those ntiHtruse 
Platonic speculations vo faavc< to diMcovor the tirnt 
germs of }fonofjenea, the only begotten of the Father, 
whidi the old l^tin transliitions render more correctly 
by ujjiVm* than by unirjcnifn*. Hcn\ in thin int<Tl- 
lL>ctual mint, the metfiJ waa melted and coined which 
both Philo an<l the author of the Fourth Qospcl used 
for thoir own piirjwMs, It is quite true thnt mtitw- 
geitfn occurs in the Groek translation of the Old Toeta- 
ment also, but what docft it mean theroT Itisapplied 
to Sarftb, w tho oni>/ dau;;ht(-r of hor fntlK-r, and to 
Tobit and Sarab, as the only children of their ]>arents. 
There woe no noooHsity in casu) of that kind to lay 
any Btress on the fact tJiat the children were begotten. 
Tlie word here mtoins iiotliing but an only child, 
or tho only children of their part-uts. In one pusnge 
however, in the Book of Wisdom (vii. 22), moiio- 
genee baa soiaething of its peculiar philosophical 
meaning, when it ii* said that in Wiitdniii there is 
a spirit intoUigent, holy, monogevev, uinnifold, subtle, 
and versatila In the New Testament, also, when we 
read ([.tike viii. 42) that a man had one only daughter, 
the meaning is clear and simple, and very ditferval 
from ita technical meaning in vlot itovoytin'i't as the 
rec(^iii--«-d nrtmc of the Logos. So n.-eogniaed was tins 
luimc, tlmt when ValentlnuK speaks of 'O Movoya/^i* by 
himself we know that he can only mean the Logos, or 
Nous, the Mind, with him the offspring of the inclfable 
Depth or Silence (BtiOur), whicb alone enibntce<l tho 
greatneBS of tho First Father, it«c'lf the father and 


iuriMiBUiiuui. Ill iiiwin 
coiifoss and proclaim tlie Sun as 'I 
{ytwifov, t-Uc iiouoytfrj), the U 
Ute (Irst-boni of all creation, till 
and PowtT of God, who VfOjs bod 
foreknowledge, but by esaenco 
SOD of God.' 

Philo, of coureo. always nsos 
(vlis nat'oytinit) in itA i>hiloM>pbical 1 
of God, realised and rimdi'i-ud vl 
whether by an act of creation or b] 
He clearly distinguishes tie Supl 
God, TO w, from the Thouglit or \V« 
Myor roB Siiros. This Logos compi 
logoi' ■which Philo might equall 
itl&ui in the Plutonic; sense. In U 
uonally, 08 whan he cnlls the Lof 
of all ideAfi (Uia rwv Ibtm; 6$t<^ X 
Logo* beeame ever penonified w 
to say; I have found no passage 
this authoritatively. But the 
logical tendency of language shon 
When Philo sixal 




as having wings like angeU. The same happened to 
cti« JJogoi and tlio Logm, o-s the tliought of God. Hia 
uotivities bocamo agents, aud Uk^sc ugc-uts, as wo shall 
see, soon becarao angcU. 

What i» more difliciilt to unilorstand itt what Philo 
means wlicn ho rccui*nisc)j tho Logos in Hitch uil-u an 
Abraham, Molchizedek, or Mosee. He cannot possihiy 
mean tliat thoy repix'sent tho wholo of the Logoi^ for 
tho wbolo of thuLo^B, according to I'hilo's philosophy, 
18 realised twice only, onco in tJie noumenal. and again, 
lees perfectly, in the phenomenal world. In the phe- 
iioraenal world in which Abraham lived, ho could l» 
but one only of the many individuals rvpresentang the 
logos or the idea of man, and his being taken as repre- 
Ncntiag tho Logos could mean no more tlian that h« 
was a perfect realisation of what the logos of man was 
meant to be. or that the full measure of the logos as 
divine reason dwelt in him, as light and as tlie njbuking 
coDScienc? •. Here too wo most learn, what we have 
often to leam in studying the histoiy of religion ao<l 
philosophy, (hat whin we have to deal witli thoughts 
not fully elaborated imd cleared, it is a mistake to try 
to represent tJiem as clearer than thoy were when left 
to us by tlieir authors. 

Restricting onraelves. however, to the technical 
terms used by Philo and othei-s, I think we may safely 
say that whosoever employs the phntso t>U« fiopoytir^i, 
the only begotten Son, bi; he Philo. or the author of 
the Fourth Oospe!. or St. Clement, or Origen, uses 
ancient Grtck language and thought, and means by 
them what they originally meant in Greek. 

Philo wa« satisfied with having found in the 

< DnuQinond, I.e.. ii. pp SIO ; SSSteq. 



uwiiig sua IDC pacnoinDnBi~wi)r; 
oSien dwull on ecstatic visions whi 
enable the sou] Ut see and feel th 
In a licautifut allegory of Jacob't 
' This is an image of thm soul sta 
sleep of inilirlercncv, learning that t 
God, a templu of God. The soul h 
' from the sensible world to the spiri 
till it attaiim to knowledge of God, 
cuininuuiun of tliv houI vttli God, i 
the purest, and hy them but randy, t 
of ocjttaey,' 

It Ui clear that this current whlo! 
idcaa iuto a Jewinh Hlrcam of thought 
to the Jews of Alexandria, but reaci 
other towns inlmbitod by educated > 
been written ae to whether the aut! 
Gospel borrowed his doctrine of thi 
directly from Philo. It soems to me 
it is almost iinposMihle to answer 
Wcstcott, whoBe authority is deeei 
not seem inclined to admit a direet 
Professo r Hamack fl-c. i. p. H51 tliiii 


TUK Loooa. 


Oospd also. Such wonU as Logosi and I.o^os mono- 
genvB OTo historical fact«, tuid exist uucc luid ouco only. 
Whoe%-er vnote the beginning of that Oospo] must 
have hi'cn in toudi with Greek and Jiidaeo-Ales- 
oiidriati pliiluNOpliy, and must haw forini.!d liitt viuw of 
Ood and tho world under that inspiration. In th« 
eyes of the historian, and atill more of the stadent of 
Uiogungo, this buuiqb to be beyond tlie n;acli of doubt, 
quitv as much as that whoever epuaks uf ' thv cate- 
gorical imperative ' has been directly or indirectly in 
crintuct with Knnt. 

Tliu early Christians wore quite aware that their 
pagan opponents charged them with baviug borrowed 
their philosophy from Plato and Ari.stotte '. Nor 
was then! any reason why this should have been 
denied. Truth may safely be borrowed from all 
i)uartem, and it is not the leoa true because it has 
lu'eii borrowed. But the early Christian.-( were verj- 
angry at thia charge, and brought the hanie against 
their Greek ciitica. They called Plato an Attic Uunea, 
and accused him of having stolen his wisdom from 
the BiMe. Whoever was right in these rocrimins- 
tions, they show at all events the close relations 
which existed between the Greeks and Christians in 
the early day» of tlie new Ounpel, and this is the 
only thing important to un as historians. 

We cannot speak with the same oei-tainty with 
regard to other mure or less t«cl)n)cal terms appU4)d 
to the Logos by Philo, such as vpcor^mt, the first- 
bom, (Ik^v 0tm, the likeness of God, acdpuiirof Stov, 
the man of God, vap&nyita, thv pattern, irxti, the 
shadow, and more particularly ipxit/uvs, the high 
' UIgs. OtritUan nubniM*, pp. Ssaq. 


by the follower of CErat.. cool' 
accepted hy them in their antec 
Nay, nmy wo now go « st«p fiirtlici 
tiieeo words hn<l been ui>('d in th 
by Fhilo and by liia predecessors 
wo should never have heard o 
Utoraturcl Is not Uiis tho 
nothing of the best thought of tt 
Jewish world was entirely lost, ai 
mmu in<Ii.-(-cl in ttiu fulucsa of lini 
mi'tal that had l>eeD brought to 
oenturies in the Ea^it and in the V 
8troug<T tnetaJ, the religion of Chi 
beginning of the Fourth Ooepul, 
word and thought seema to be of ( 
I put tlic words moKt likely to 
ttuui Jewish origin in italics :-« 
tma the Word (Logos), and the R 
and the (r<mf u-om God'. AU tl 
Aim, In him watt life, and tho 11 
the «!Ortd. It was tlic true light 
/tuxn. And the Word was mi 



Son, whicli is in the bosom of the Father, he has 
declared him '.' 

We have thus seen how the Jevs, with whom 
tlie gulf hotwet^n the m\'uihl« and the visible world 
Imd proliiiblj- Income wider tlmn with nny other 
people, succooded iiovcrthclu&s, nay poK^nihly on that 
veiy account, in drawing the bonds between God and 
man aa clostily togeiht-r a» they can he drawn, and 
tliat lhi<y did so I'hicily with tbu help of inspiration 
received firoin Greek philosophy. God before the 
croation was, according to Fliilo, NufFicient for Himself, 
and nvon aflvr the creation Ho niiiaiiud thu niinie 
(De mut. Dom. 6, p. 565). Wbon Philo calls Him the 
creator (kt{(htj«), the Demiurgos. and the Father, he 
docs this tindor certain wcU-understnod limitations. 
God does not create directly, but only through the 
Logos and the Powers. The Logon, therefore, the 
thought of Qod, was the bond that united heaven and 
earth, and through it Qod could bo addressed once more 
aa the Father, in a truer sense than He had ever been 
before. The world and all that was within it was 
recognised as ilie true Son, sprung from the Father, yet 
insoparahle from the Father. The world was once more 
full of God, and yet in His highest nature God was 
above the world, nnspotted from the world, et«mftl 
and uncbangcAhle. 

Tho one point in PhUo's philosophy which seems to 
me not clearly reasoned out is the exact relation of 

«i i \i-iat aipl JiriMfi). wi ietaai'iuSa rlf G4{av avjoi, M{«v wt 
ILovo^flvevt iTo^d imTp^ t3t^if ci'Stii Jat^bjh nirirvri' 6 ^otfa^tv^ 


the individnal soul to OoiU. Here th« thonglito of 
thv Old ToAtanient suL-tn to cla»li in Pliilu's iiiind with 
the toodiings of his Greek masters, and to confuse 
what may be called his psychology. Tliat Philo 
looked upon human nature as twofold, as a inixluro 
of body and soul (aw/^aand V^X'I) i« clear enough. The 
body made of Uio tdcmcnts U tin? abode, the temple, 
but also the tomb of the soul. The body is generally 
conceived a» an evil, it in even colli-d a oorptte wbidi wc 
havo to carry abuut with u» thn>u(;h life. It includ 
the sensPB and the passions arising from the pleaau 
of the senses, and is therefore consider(>d as the soui 
of all evil. Wf fihould have cxpi-ctod that I'hilo, tlio 
philosopher, would have treated man as part of the 
manifold Divine Logos, and that the imperfection of his 
naturu would have lieon accotinti-d for. like all imper- 
fections in nature, by the incomplete ascendancy of tbq 
Logos over matter. But hero the Old Testament dc 
trine cornea in thai God brcatlied into toan'tt ntvitril 
the breath of lifu and man beottmu a living kouI> On' 
the strengthofthis.Philo recognises the eternal element 
of the soul in the divine spirit in man (ri $eiw 
■nirfvua), while Soul (V^'X'i) '""* generally with him a 
far wider meaning. It couiprvheiidB all conscious Ufa, 
and therefore sensation also (aMijffn), though this 
would seem to he peculiar to the flesh (trmiia or ffipi). 
The soul is often subdivided by Philo, acoonling to 
Plato's division, into thrt>o part-i. which may bo 
rendered approximately by reason (*oCs itol koyot), 
spirit (Oviiiji). and appetite (iisidviitti). Sometimes 
perception (nMrjo-is), language (Aoyos), and mind 

' S*o nn Picellont pnpcr by Dr. Ilatcb. ' PifdiQlogio&l Ternu la 
PbUo,' In £uavs <n Biblltal Gwxdi, pp. 109-]30. 

THE uyoos. 


(mt) arc said to be the three instrumcnU of know- 
ledge (De Congr. crud. gr. 18, p. 533). Then again 
vach part is dividod into two. making xix, while tho 
Beventh. or he who divides them, 18 called the holy 
and divine Logout (i l*pAi koI Btiot X6yot}. In other 
plucea Philo adoptti Uio Stoical divinion of the 8oul into 
Hoven partfi, that is. t\ic five senses, spei'cli an<] the 
reproductive power, but a aeparat« placu U n-aervod 
for the sovereign or thinking part (ri rrytftoviKoi; i.e. 
i vovs). and it iti said thai (j;o<l hreAthed Hi» tiptrit into 
that only, hut not into tb« soul as the a»ecinlilage of 
the Konscs, sppeoh and generative power. Uence one 
part of tliB soul, the unintelligent (iSAoyoi-), is ascribed 
to the blood (ai^d). the other to IIk- divine spti-it(iii-(b(i<i 
0(10)') ; one i.f pc-rlthablo, tlie other imraoi-tal. The 
immortal pnit was the work of Ood Hiinaelf, the 
perishable (as in Plato), that of subordinate powers, 
What has been well brought out by I'ltilo, is that the 
•ensui, wbiob in man are always ««oonipanied by 
thought, are by llieni solves passive and dull, and could 
present images of present things only, not of 
(memory) or of futui-e thingn (fout). It ia not tlie oyo 
that Bcc-4, but thu mind {votis) mot through tho 
oyc. and without the mind nothing would remain of 
the impressions made on the senses. Philo also shows 
how the passions and desires ore really the rt-sult of 
)>erception (aVtOiitnt), and its accompanying pleasures 
and pains that war against tho mind, and he speaks 
of the death of the soul, when overcome by the passions. 
This, however, can lie metaphorical only, for the 
higher portion of the soul or the divine tpirit breathed 
into man by God cannot perish. This divine ai>irit, 
a conception, it would seem, not of Greek origin, 



is somciimoi iii>(>kon of by Uie Stoic term Jnfirraayta, 
hut Pliilo carefully {;u&rds against the sappoeition that 
any portion could ever be detached from the Supreu>e 
DiTine Being. He explains it a« aa txponnion from 
Ood, and calb th<- mind (i-ots) which it confcni on the 
ecu] of man, the nvarrat image and likeness of the 
eternal and bl««seil Idea. 

Wc must not however expect a strialy oonsiateofe 
t«nntnology in Philo, nor allow ounelvce to b« 
misled when we sometimes find him using mind or 
ncrtis in tlie more general sense of soul (ffrex*))- ^^^^t*^ 
is important to im is that when it is neoemiTy, be 
does distinguixh between the two. But even then he 
hedtatea between the philosophical opinion of tlie 
Stolen, that the mind after all is nuiU'rial. thon^ not 
made of the four ordinary elementa, but of a fifth, the 
heavenly ether, and the teaching of Moses that it was 
the imago of the Divine and the Inviitible '. 

But even if the soul is ooneeive<l aa matcriaL or 
at all events, as ethereal, it is declared to be of 
heavenly origin, and believed to return to the pure 
etlivr as to a fatlier '. 

If, on the contrary, the mind is oonceived as ttie 
breath (vvttpa) of God, then it returns to Ood, or 
rather it was never separated from Qod. but only 
dwelt in man. Atnl hvre ngaiu tliv Biblical idc* 
comes in. that M>inG chosen men such as prophoto are 

tftfifm niSr ^pat liatVrii tint. «ffffinfr tttfin^ q^ ilNm.! 
■ QoU ttt. dMa. b«Ma, ST (1, &lt : ti U rntftr ml oipiruw i-$< 

.'Ths 1.0003. 421 

full or the divine fptrity and ditfvrent no far from 
ordinary mortals. 

Yet with all his admiratJon for the Logos as of divine 
origin, Philo Heldoui went so far as the PlatonistH. He 
never allownl that the houI 6Vvu in its highest ucatasy 
could actually Boe Qod, as littlo, ho Hays, aa the aoul 
can see itaelf (De Slut. com. '2, p. 57!)). But in every 
other rt'8|icct K«asoD waa to him the auprt^ine power 
in the world and in the human ruiod. If Uiorofore an 
Alexandrian philosopher, familiar with Philo's philo- 
BO[^y and Icrininoli^gy, became a Obiiatian, he really 
ni»od Christ to the hi^host position, ahort of primary 
Divinity, which h« could conceive. Ho declared ipeo 
facto hia hi;lii,-f that tlie Divine Logos or tite Word 
was made HcAi in Clirial, that is to 8ay, he rcoognised 
in Christ tlie full realisation of the divine idea of 
man, and he claiiiivd at tlie same time for himself 
and for all true Christians the power to hocome the sons 
ofOod. This was expre.'ised in unmistakable language 
by Athanasius, wlien ht; said tliat thv Logos, the Word 
of God, bocamu man that wo might bu made God* 
and again by St. Augustine. Factus ust Dens homo, 
at homo Heret Dous*. Whatever we may think of 
tbeee spccuiatinnK, wo may, 1 helteve, as hitttorians 
reeogniso in them a correct account of the religious 
and intellectual ferment in the minds of the earlieat 
Greek and Jewi&h converts to Christianity, who, with- 
out breaking with their philosophical convictions, 
cmbracod with perfect honesty the religion of Christ. 
Three important poUita were gain<^d by this combina- 
tion of their ancient [ihil(Moi)liy with their new re- 

' 8m tlw mnarka «t Ciumiiu, ia tt&t'* Kitttant Oumfi*, v«l. U. 
p. Ml. 



ligion, the sense of the closest rvUtiotuhip between 
human aa<l divine nature, the pre-cmiiient position of 
Chriit as thv Sun of Ood, in tlio trutat Rewu^, aikI Kt 
the same time thti jiutc-ntial brotherhood butwoun Utia 
and all mankind. 

How fai- ihia inteq>rctation of the Logos, a« we 
find it not only in Philo, but among the earliest 
converts to Cliristianity, may be called orthodox, is 
not a queetion that conct^ruA the hiHturiaii. Thv word 
orthodox doos not vxiut in his dictionary. There is 
probably no tvrm which baa received so many int«r- 
pretatioas at the hands of theologians att thnt of 
Logos, and no vt-inc in the New Tt'stan^ont which 
conveys so little meaning to modem readers as the 
first in the Gospel of St. John. Theologians ar« at 
libc'rty to intcrpiut it, each acconliiig to Lis own 
predilection, but the historical student haa no choice; 
he must take every word in the sense in which it 
was used at the time by tliose who used it. 

JnplUr tm Bon of Ood. 

That the intdli'ctii(i.l pruc-t-ss by wbieh the Greek 
philosophy adapted itself to the teaching of Cbrifitj- 
anity was in accordance with tlie spirit of the time, 
18 best shown by an analogous process which led Neo- 
Platonivt philusophors to discover their philosophical 
theories in their own ancient mythology also. Thus 
PlotiniiM MpoakH of the Supreme Ootl generating a 
beautiful son, and producing all things in his essouco 
without any labour or fatigue. For this deity being 
delighted with his work, and loving bis olTHpring, 
continues ami connects all things witli him»e1f, pleaaud 
both with himself and with the Kplondours his off- 



spring oxhibita. But ninoe all these are beautiful, anrl 
those which rciniiiu arc still morn boautiful, Jupitn; 
the Bon of intellect, nloiie eliiiius forth uxtt-mally, 
proceeding from the splendid retreats of his fathur. 
Fniin which tton we may behold as an image the 
gn-alneiss of hin Kire, aii«] of his brcthi-en, tho:«e divine 
ideas that abide in occult union with their father >. 

Her<^ we see that Jupiter, orig^inally the Father of 
Go(l.t and ini^n, itns to yield his plaoe to tiw Supreme 
P«iii^, and an a phenomenal God to take the place of 
the son of God, or aa the Logos. This is Greek 
philosophy trying to pcr\-ade and quicken the ancient 
Greek religion, as we krw it trying to bo reconciled 
with the doctrines of Chri&tianity by recognising the 
divine ideal of perfection and goodnesn as realised in 
Christ, and as to bu realised in tiiue by all who are 
to become the sons of God. The key-note of all thesu 
aspirations i» tho Kamo, a growing belief that tho 
human soul comes from God and returns to God, 
nay that in strict philosophical language it was never 
torn away (a■so<r1tao^^a) from God, that the bridge 
between man and God was nevur broken, but wiw 
oidy rendered invisible for a time by the darkness of 
pasbioua and desires engendered by the senses and the 

■ Plotinn^ Bonudi, n ; Tajrlor, FlaiMtic Rttigion, p. 203. 


•tolca aaA If •O-rUMttlMS. 

ITItlED to show ill my l&»t lecture bow Ffc 
u tho n?pre«eiitjittv« of on iroporUnt lii»toT 
pbuw of Jewish thonght. endenvoured with thu hulp 
of Greek, wid more partiouWly of Stoic philosophy, 
to throw « bridge from Mrth to hc«vcn. uiJ how 
be Buoec«(l«(l in discovering that lik<« two countries, 
now Mpant«d by a ehallow ooMn, these two worlds 
formod originally but one uodirided oooiinent. Whvn 
the origin&l oneness of earth and heaven, of tlw 
human and the divine natures has once boon dis- 
covered, ttu; <iuc«tiou of thr return of the soul to 
God Kseumvti a dov character. It is do longer a 
qneetion of an ascension to heaven, an approtwb to 
the throne of Cod, an ecntalic vision of God anil 
a life IB a heavenly Paradi»v. The visino of God 
ih rather the knowledge of the divine i-lonient in 
the Mul, and of the oonaabstantiality of the divine 
and human naturea. Immortality baa no loogcr to 
be aseeited. because there can be no death for what 
ia divine and therefore immortal in man. Th«n 
ift life eternal and peace eternal for all who feel the 




divine Spirit &» dwelling wittiin tliom aud have thus 
become tlie Iruv obildrcn of Got). Pbilo bns nut 
entirely freed bitoficlf from the popular eschflto- 
logical terminology. U« speaks of the city of Gud 
lUiil of a mystical Jurusak-m. But tbcHc iict;d not 
bo moro than poetical expressions for that peace of 
Qod wliicb pa«seB all naincs and all undei'standing. 

Anyhow the eNcbato logical language of Pliilo i» 
far iDor« stmplo and sober than what we meet with 
even in Chriatian nTitinga of the time, in which 
the spirit of the Neo-Plaloniiit pbiloHophy has been 
at work by thv Hide of the more moderate ti'aditiunn 
of the Jewish and the Stoic schools of Uiought, The 
chief dilference between the Neo-PlatonisUi and the 
Stoics is that the Ni-o-Platouista. whether Chriittian or 
pagan, trust more to sentiment than to reasoning. 
Houou tht-y rely much more on eeatatic vi«iotu( 
than Philo and bi^ Steic frienda. On many oiber 
pi>ints, however, more particularly on the original 
relation between the soul aJid God, there ia little 
difference between tbu two. 


Plotinus, the cltief repre«entalivo of Neo-Flatonism 
at Alexandria, though Hepaiatod by two centuries 
from Pliilo, may be called an indirect descendant 
of that Jewitih philosopher. He l» Miiil to have had 
intercoarse with Numcnius. who followed in the steps 
of Philo'. But I'lotinua went far beyond Pbilo. Hia 
idealism waa earned to the furthest extreme. Wliilo 
the Stoics wore satiafied with knowing that God is, 

' Porpltyriuv Imd to wrllo • bwik U> prtnv Uimt PloUaoa WU 
not N mere borrowor 1t<an KumMiltu. 



and with diHCOvonng his image in the ideas of tho 
invifiiblo. and in the niRnifold species of the visit 
world, the Neo-Piatoniste looked upon th« inoom- 
prehviiHilile and unmniiifest^d Godhesd ah Uie bigbwfel 
(Tont of their B.spiralioDB, iiity. as » potutible object 
their enraptured viiiioQ. When the Stui« keep* tti 
reverent disUiico, ttie Neo<PIatonist rushes in with 
pa«siou«te love, and allnw^ himself to indulge in 
dreams and fancies whieh in tht> end could only 
lead to aelf-dec^it and iinpoi>tui%. The Stoics looking 
upon God as tho cause of all that falU witliin tl>e 
aeusuouB and intellecuia) experience of man, concluded 
that He could not be an;t thing of what ia eOe 
and that He could have no atti'il>utea {&xam) through^ 
which Ho might bo known and named. God with 
them was simple, without qualities, inconceivable, 
unnameable. From an ethical ]>oinl of view Philo 
admitted that the human soul should strive to become 
free from the body (f/jfyri Ik toS atitiaTot) and like 
unto Qod (ri vphi Otiiv t^ofiolioats). Ho oven speaks 
of ivttoit, union, bub he never speaks of those more 
or less BensuouB, ecstatic, and beatific Tisions of tlisi 
Deity which form a ciiii;f topic of the Neo-Platoaista.f 
ThcHO !to-called deuccndaiits of Plato had borrowed 
much from the Stoics, but with all that, the religious 
elements predominated no coniplctoly in their philo- 
sophy that at tiiiicK the old metaphysical foundation 
almost disappoared. While reason and what is rational 
in the phenomenal world formed the chief subject of 
Stoic thought, the chief intcvirst of the Noo-Phttonist« 
was centered in what is beyond reason. It may ho 
said that to a certain extent Pbilo's Stoicism pointed 
already in that direction, for his Ood also waa 




conceived aa B,bovc the Logos, and bis ciu^nce remained 
uokuowD ; yet knowledge of the cxistoiicf of (lod and 
likcii^s-s to Mini w«rc the highest goal, and refuj^ with 
Him wiw etvmoJ life'. It hait therefore been truly 
Baid that the Noo-Pl&toni»t tliflV-iM fvum tlitt Stuio by 
tt'inperanient rather tlian by argument. 

Tlie the Stoic belicvea in a Primal 
Fciu^, and in nu ideal worM (loPs, K^tffios vqiitoi). a« t!ie 
prototype of the phenomenal world (k Jtrtiut o/JOTrfs), The 
!K>ul iei to him of divine origin. lb ia the image 
of tlic eternal A'uw), on immaterial Hubctance, .stand- 
ing between the JVou^and the visible world. The more 
the »oul falls away from its source, the more it falls 
under the power of what wo iihotild call matter, the 
indefinite (<i7r<tpoi'), and the unreal (rh fi^ 6v), It is 
here that ]iiiiIo80])liy steps in to tt-ach the soul its 
way back to ita real homo. This is achieved by the 
practice of virtnea, from the lowest to the highest, 
aoraetimeei by u very eti'ict ascetic tlii«cipliDe. In tlie 
cod, however, neither knowledge nor virtue aval). 
Complete eelf-forgetfulnees only ctan lead the soul to 
the Godhead in whose embraoe thi-re is iDt-flablQ 
bleKscdDC8». Thux when BpoaJcing of tlie abciorptioa 
of man in tho Absolut«, Plotinus said : ' Perhaps it 
cannot even be called an intuition*; it is another 
kind of seeing, an euttaity, a »iinpliSca.tion, an oxalta- 
tioa, * striving for contact, and a rest. U m the 
highest yearning for union, in order to see, if poasible, 
what there is in thi» hulic»t of the temple. Hut even 
if one could sec, tlierc would he nothing to see. By 
such similitudch the wise prophets try to give a hint 
how the Deity might be peroei%ed, and the wi^e 

■ Dc Prof. Ifi (1. 667). ' Tholuck, jrorjmJdiirftocA* tfyrid. p. S. 

LccrrBE xiti. 

iniest, who UDdctsUnda Um hint in»y really, if b« 
naches the holiest, obtain a tnic totattion.* These 
tDtaitioiis, ia whidi nothing could be seen, letn 
naturally trvatcd as seotvts, and tho id«a of mj-stci;. 
K> furcign to all true philosophy, became more and 
more prevalent. Thos Plutinus himself saya that 
theae are doctrinea wliioh should be conndered u 
mysteries, and should not l>c broa^t before the im- 
inidatod. Proclus also says, 'As the Mystae in the 
holiest of their iuitiationH (r4A<'Tai) mu«t tir>t with 
a nulLifonn and maiiifuld race of go<U, but when 
entered into the aanciuary and HUTTouad«<l by holy 
ceremonies, receive at once divine illumination lo 
tlieir bo«om, and like Ughtly-anued warriure take 
C|aick possession of the Divine, the same thing 
happMiH at thv intuition of the One and All. If 
tlto eoul looks to what ia behind, it eeea the fdiadows 
and illusions only of irhat is. If it tunw into ita own 
eaaence and discovers it« own tL-lations. it sees ttadf 
only, but if penetrating more deeply into the know- 
ledge of itself, it disouven tlie spirit in itself and ia 
all ordci* of tilings. And if it readies into its iiunoet 
reeeas, aa it woi-o into the Adyton of the soul, it can 
see the race of gods and the unities of all tbtnga ertn 
with closed cyt-s." 

PlotinuG and his school seem to have paid great 
attention to foreign, particularly to Eastern religion 
and supcretitioiw, and cndeavounnl to di^oovcr in all of 
them remniuits of divine wisdom. They ovon wished 
to preserve and to revive the religion of the Romsn 
Empire. ClaimiDf; revclntion for themselvea, the N«o* 
Platonists were all the morv ready toacoopt divine reve- 
lations &om other religions also, and to unito them all 



into a universal roligioa But what tre moan by an 
hiatorioU an<] critical study of other religionB was 
impouibloallhattiniu. >Vhiio Fhilowitti IiIm unwaver- 
ing adhcroQco to thu Jowisli faith voa satiKficxl with 
allegorising whatever in the Old Ttstaincnt seemed 
to iiim incompatible with liis philosophical convic- 
tions, the Neo-I^atonists accepted everything that 
seemed compatible with their own mystic dreama, 
and opent^d the door wide to auperstition» even of thu 
lowest kind. It is strange, however, that Plotinua 
does not seem to have paid much attention to the 
Christian religion which was then rapidly gaining 
influence in Alexandria. But his pupiK Amclius 
and PorphyriuH, both deal with it. Amelius dis- 
cussed the Fourth Gospel. Porphyrius wi-ot*; his 
work in tlftceu books against the Chri8t4aiiK, more 
particularly agtiinst thoii* Sacred Pooka, which he 
calls the works of igaorant people and impootora. 
Yet DO sect or school counted so many tUj-cjiti ihrf.jt- 
tores as that of the Noo-Platoni^ts. Magic, thauma- 
t«rgy. levitation, faith-cures, thought-reading, spirits 
ism. and every kind of pious fraud were practised by 
impostors who trnvelk-d about from place to place, 
some with largo followings. Their influence was 
wi<lely spread and most mischievous. Still we must 
not forgi't that the same Neo-Piatonism counted 
among its teachers and believers stioh namea also as 
the Emperor Julian (331-36S), who thought Neo- 
Platonism stiong enough to oust Christianity and to 
revive the ancient rtdigiou of Rome ; alsfj, for a lime at 
least, jS(. Auguetine (!i5t-430), Hypatia, the beautiful 
martyr of philosophy (d. 415), and Pi-wlun (41 1-485), 
the connecting link between Ort-ek philoM>phy atid 


lectuhe XIII. 

tbe Rcholaatio philnsophy of Uie middle ag«s. and with 
UionyMDK oti« of lliv chief authorities of th« meflineval 
UysUcfl. Through Proclus the l)c«l Uioughtu of Uut 
Stoio9, of Aristotle, Plato, nay, of the EtiH more aiwient 
philosophfn of Greece, Hucb as Anaxf^ras and Hera- 
otitus, w«rc handot] on to tho greatest scliolatttJc and 
mystic Doctori in the mediaeval Church ; nay, then 
are currents in our own modem thcol<«:j-, which can 
be traced back through an uninterrupted chatmel to 
iinpuls<.-e springing from tli« brains of tite eariimt 
thinkers of Asia Minor and Greece. ^m 

iJcforv we leave Plotinutt and tbe Neo-Platoidii^H 
lahould like to read you some <-xtraols from a private 
letter which the philosopher wrote to Flaccua. like 
most private letters it givcfl us » better itiKiglit into 
the innonnost thoughts of thu writer, and into what 
ho considered tbe most important points of bis phih^ 
ftophical system than any more elaborate book. 

IMtar tnm ploUana to naoavK 

* External object^,' bo writ«s, ' preeent us only with 
appearmnof's, ' that is to say, are phenomenal only. 
Concerning them, thcrefun:. wo may l>c itaid to poaseas 
opinion ralhcr than knowledge. The distinctions in 
till- lU-Uial world of appcanuico aro of imjxtrt only to 
onlinnry itnd pmcticAl mon. Otir question lioa willl 
the ideal reality that oxista behind appearance. How 
does tbe mind perceive these ide«s1 Are they without 
u«. and ii the muton, like seiiMHtion. occupiod with 
objects external to itself? What certainty could wo 
theji have, what assurance tliat our perception waa 
in&lliUel The object iK-reeive>) would bo a some* 
thing difTerent from tbe mind perceiving it. Wo 



should havo then on imago instuAil of reality. It 
would bo moDHtrous to Wliovo fur a tnumpitt that 
tlie nilnd was unable^ to perceive ideal triitli exactly 
M it i», and thai we bad no certainty udO tcuX know- 
ledge coDConuDg the world of inteUigoiicc. It folluwa, 
therefore, that this region of truth is not to be investi- 
gato<l na a thing outward to im, and so only imperfectly 
known. It in within uf. Here the ohj'Ota wn con- 
template and that which coatcmplates ili-c identical — 
both are thought. The subject oannot surely know 
an object difTt^rcnt from itself'. 

Thu world of ideas lies within our intclligonoe. 
Truth, therefore, ia not the agreement of our appre- 
hension of an cxttimal object with the object itself. 
It is the agreement of the mind with itself. Con> 
Bciousnesji, therefori-, is tho sole baitls of certainty. 
The mind is ito own witness. Reason sees in itself 
that wliich is above itself as itd source; and n^in, 
that which in bi-low itei-lfati utill it«ielf uucc more. 

Knowledge has three <Ie^ees — opiniuu.Kienee, iltu- 
viination. The means or instrument of the first is 
sense; of the second, rca-ton onlialcclics ; of the thiixl, 
intuition. To tho lust I subordinate rea.'sou. It is abso- 
lute knowledge founded on the identity of the mind 
knowing with the object known. Thei'e isarayini^out 
of all orders of fxisteiice, an external i-manation from 
tlte ine&ble One (irpdoSot). There is again a returning 
impulse, drawing all upwards and inwards toward tlie 
ccntrv from whence all came ((Tiar/jo^^). 

' Plolinun, RnniukdiM, I, 0, 0, ri yifi ifSir *pii ri ijwjitmv evfyrit 
col C|>w«r tniijaap^vptr tit im^Kkuy r^ 6iq- att fift Ar iruririTTf vlVr 

■0^4 freftvi. ytritiai S^ tfiirar tfiuiiS^i rdi, ml aXAi (di, ([ fiiAAii 
tiimatai Stir tt ml naXti/. Ed. IHiliDer, p. 87. 

LEOTtTBE xril. 

Love, as Plato beautifully isayi in the SymposIoD, !s 
tli« oliilil of poverty and plenty. In the amorous 
quest of UiD soul after God, Ik-s Iho jiainful aatxsv of 
ftdj and deprivation. But. that love is Mossing, is 
salvation, is our yuardian genius ; without it llie 
ountiifugal law would overpower u&, and swevp our 
souls out far from thoir source toward tlic eold ex- 
Iremitics of the material and tho manifold. The wise 
man recogniHi-^ thi; idea of Qod within biin. Ttiia he 
develops l<y wiUidrawal into the Holy Plaeo of bis 
own Boul. Ho who dues not understand how the sool 
conlaintt the Benutiful within itself, seeks to realLM^ 
the beauty witliout, by laborious production. Hit 
aim should rather Ixr to concentrate and simplify, and 
.so to expand his beting : instead of going out into Uk 
manifold, to forsak« it for tJie One, and eto to float 
upwardn toward.s tbu divine fount of bving wboM 
stream flows within him. 

You aak, how can wo know the Infinite? I answer, 
not by reason. It is the office of rwuiou to distin- 
gviah and dottno. The Infinite, therefore, cannot he 
ranked among its objecLa. You can only Apprehcn<l 
tho Infinite by a faculty superior to nwson, by 
entering into a Htato in which you arc your flnit« self 
no longer, in which tho Divine Essence is oommuni- 
cated to you. This is ecstasy. It is tbo libei'utiun of 
your mind from its finite anxieties. Like only qui 
apprcboiid like. When you thus coaso to be t!nit«, 
you become one with tbo Infinite. In the reduotiOD 
of your soul to its simplest self {oiiKuniiv), ila divine 
«s8enco. yon realise this Union, nay tliis Ideutiiy 



aoitatlo IntntUra. 

Plotinus addR that tbia ecstatic state is not frequent, 
U)«t ho hitnsc-lf lia.s realised it tiut tlirco tlraefi in hiii 
lifo, Tlipro oro dilTuront wayn leading to it: — (li« 
love of beauty wbich esalu the poet; devotion to 
the One, and tJie ascent of science which makes the 
lunbition of tlic philosopher ; and lastly lovo aotl 
prayers by which some duvout and ardent soul 
tends in ita moral purity towards perfection. We 
fthould coll these three the Beautiful, the TVue, and 
the Divine, thv three great highways conducting 
the soul to 'that height above the actual and the 
partioular, where it stands in the immediate presence 
of the lutiiiite, which bIuuc's uut 08 from tho depth of 
the soul.' 

Wc are told by Porphyriun, tho pupil and Tiio- 
grapher of Plotinus, that Flotinus felt ashamed that 
hia Boul should ever have had to assume a human 
body, and when ho died, his last words are reported 
to have been : ' As yet I have expected you, and now 
I consent that my divine part may return to that 
Divine Nature which flourishes throughout the 
tmtver»o.' Ho looktjd upon his soul aa Kmpcdoolea 
bad done long before him, when ho called hims«lf, 
'Heaven's exile, straying imm the orb of light, 
straying, but returning.' 

AlwusdrlAn ObrliUuiltT. 8t. OlamsDt. 

It was necessary to give this analysis of the 

elements which formed the intellectual atmosphete 

of Alexandria in oi-der to understand the intluence 

which that atmosphere exercised on the early growth 

I4j St 




of Chmtianity in that city. Whatever progresa 
Christianity made at Jerusalem among people who 
i-omaioed for a long time inor« Jcwwh than Cbribtian, 
its influonco on the world at large began with tbe 
conversion of men who then represented (he world, 
who stood in the front rank of philosophicftl thought 
who had been educated in the schools of Gi-eek 
pbiloHcphy, and who in oduptinf; Christianity as their 
religion, showed to the world that they were able 
honeetUy to reconcile their own philosophical convic- 
tions wiUi the religious and moral teaching of Jeans 
of Nazareth. Those who are truly called tlie Fatben 
and Founders of the Christian Church were not tha 
simple- minded fishcimen of Galilee, but iiK-n who had 
i-eeeived Uie highest education which could be obtAtncd 
nt the time, that is Greek education. In Phlestine 
Chrivliunity might have remained a local sect by the 
aide of many other sects. In Alexandria, at that time 
tlie very centre of the world, it had cilher to vanquish 
tho world, or to vanish. Clement of Alexandria, 
Origen, Ireimeus, Athanasius, Ba^. Gregory of Nyasa, 
Gregory of Nazianzeo, Clirysostom, or among the 
Latin Fathers, Tertullian, Cyprian, Ambi-o^ius, Hilft< 
rius, Augu&tinus, Hieronymus, and Gregory, all were 
men of cinasical learning and philosophical calture, 
and quite able to hold tlictr own against their pagan 
opponents. Christianity came no doubt from tlie 
amall room in the house of Mary, where inuDy w« 
gathered together praying', hut as early as 
second century it became a very diSerent Christianity 

' St. Clvio«nt, wh«ii he iipeaht of h(* own Chrbtiaa u^abwi. 
s|)cnk« nt tl>cin ait liaviitK prciTvixl llin lru« Iradittoii of tlie 
bipau'tl doctrine, stinigbt troia Poti-r and JiioiM, John aiul Paol. 



\a the Catoehotical School ' of Aloxandria. Si Paul 
had made & beginning as a philosophical apolo^te of 
Chmtinnity and an a powerful aoU^nUt of pagan 
beliefs and custoina. But St ClcmoDt was a very 
different champion of the new faith, fax superior to 
hint both in learning and in philosophical strength. 
The profession of ChrieLianity by Buoh a man was 
Ifaorefore a far moi-« BignilicaDt fact in tho triumphant 
progress of the new religion than even the conversion 
of SauL The events which happened at Jerusalem, 
the ttuditions and legends huidod down in tho carlieKb 
half Jewish and half Christian communities, and even 
the oarlieat written documents did not occupy tho 
mind of St. Clement ' so much as the fundamental 
problems of religion and their solution as attempted 
by this new sect. He aocept«d tho Apottolicitl tradi- 
tions, but ho wijthcd to show that thi.'y possessed to him 
a far deeper meaning than they could possibly have 
possessed among some of tho immediate followers of 
Christ. There was nothing to tempt a man in Clement's 
positJon to accept this new creed. Nothing bat the 
spirit of ti'uth and sincere admiration for the character 
of Christ as concciveil by him, could liavo induced 
n pagan Greek philosopher to brave the flcotfa of bia 
philosophical fiiends and to declare himself & follower 
of Christ, an<l a member of a sect, at that time still 
despised and threatened with persecution. He felt 
convinced, however, that this new religion, if properly 
understood, was worthy of l»eing accepted by the most 
enlightened minds. This proper understanding was 

* Strom. L 1, II ; HnrnBck, I>BvntnvmrAiiAfr, L p. 801, not*. 

* UaniMk, Uosmt'S'MlikJilr, i. p. 800. 




of tho word. The CatcchotJcftl School where Clement 
taught had been under the guidance of Greek pluloso- 
plii;r» M>nverted to Chri»tJftnity, such u AUioa«gonu(T) 
and PiiiiUi-nuM. PiuitaeQiis, of whom it U i«bU«d tbat 
he diiicovenjd a Debrew versioD of the Gospel of 
.St. Matthew in India', bad been tbo maater of Clement 
HU pupil, in opunly declaring himself a Christian and 
ao apologiete of Chmtianity, surrendered nothing of 
liU philofiophical eonvictions. On one side Cbrislian 
teachi-rs were repreecnting Qreuk philosophy aa Um 
work of the Devil, while othurs, such as the Ebioniteei, 
ikssigned the Old Toatanient to the same source. In th« 
He openly expressed bis belief iu the Old Testament 
aa revcuilc-d, and he accepted the Apostolical Dogma, in 
far u it bad been eettled at that time. H« claimed, 
however, the most perfect freedom of interpretation 
and speculation. By applying the same aUegorical 
interpretation which Pliilo bad used in interpreting 
the Old Testament, to the Xew, Clement oonvinoed 
bimAelf and convinced others that there was do an- 
LugoniKin between pbilowpby and religicMX. What 
Clement bod most at heart was not the letter but the 
spirit, not tbo historical events, but their deeper mean- 
iug in universal history. 

Th* TTlntty of ei. OwuMlt. 

It can hardly be doubled - that St. Clement know the 
very ancient Baptismal Formula, ' In the namo of the 
FaUier, the Son, and the Holy Ghost' from the Gospel 
of Si. Matthew. 

■ BI^, l.r.. p. «4. 

* &««, howevur, Uftrnack, Doffnitng«>cliitHI$, I. p. M8, SOI*, 



But whether that formula came to hira with ceclc/iii»< 
tical authority or not, it woulil not have cloithcd with 
hie own convirtions. He had accepted the First 
Person, the Father, not nimply aa the Johovah of tlio 
Old Testemont ur m the Zeiifi of Pinto, hut as the 
bigbeet and mottt sbBtroct philosophical concept, and 
y«t the most real of all realitieB. He would not have 
ascribed to God any qualitieo. To him ahto Clod vttut 
^votot, like the primal Godheud of the Stoics nn<I Nco- 
Plationistfl. He was incomprehensible and unnameable. 
Yot though neither thought nor word could reach 
Him, beyond asserting that He is, Clement could 
revere and worehip Him. 

One might have thought that the Seoond Person, the 
Sod. would hnvo been a stumbling-block to Clement. 
But we find on the contrary that Clement, like all con- 
teinpomry Greek philosophers, required a bridge bo- 
twMrn the world and the unapproachable and inL'tTable 
Godhead. That bridge was the Logos, the Word. Even 
before him, Atlu'nagoras ', supposed to have been his 
predeoeseor at the Cateohctioal School of Alexandria. 
haddvclnredthattheLogosof the Father wax thn Son of 
God. Clement conceived this Logos in its old philo- 
sophical meaning, as the mind and consciousness of 
the Father. He Kpeakn of it as ' divine, the likeness of 
the Lord of all things, the most manifcvt, true God K' 

The Logos, though called the sum of all divine 
idcoH '. is distinguished from the actual logoi, though 
sometimes reprcsont<-d as standing at the head of them. 
This Logos is eternal, like the Father, for the Father 

' Movi ml XiyH t«C warfii i Mt to6 ttti. See Dniniinond, 1.«., 1. 

' Eigg, La. p. ». 


uoonms xiii. 

would never have l)ci-n tho Father witliout tho Son, 
nor the Son the Son without tlie Father. Sue 
uluas vfeTO BbartKl iti cuininon by th« Chricitiaas and!^ 
their pagan adversariuM. Even CvUas, tho great op- 
ponent of Christianity, Bays through tho moutlt of 
the Jew, ' ir tlio Lo^'us is to you a Son of Oo<l, we 
also agree with you '.' 

The really ciitical etep which Clement took, and 
which philosophers like Cel»ua declined to take, was 
to rL'cognitto this LugoH in Jesus of Na/Jtruth. It was 
tho same proccsa as that which led the Jewish con- 
verts to recognise the Messiah in Jesus. It is not quite 
certain whether the Logos had been identilied witli 
tho Messiah by the Jews of Alexandria '. But when 
at last this step wafl taken it meant that everytbiog 
that WHS thouj;]!! ami espcctuil of tho Monsiith 
been fulfilled in Jceus. This to a Jew was (|uitO 
dillicult as to recognise the Logos in Jesus was to a 
Oreek philosopher. How tlien ilid St. Clement bring 
himself to say that in a Jewish Tuachcr wboni ho had 
never seen the Logos had become fiesh ? AJl tfa 
opitbeta, such as Logos, Son of Qod, the first-bom, 
only begotten, the eeeoiid God, were familiar to 
Greeks of Alexandria. If then they brought tbem- 
twlves to say that He, Jesus of Nazareth, was all that 
if thoy transferred aU these* wcU-known predio&t 
to Uim, what did they mean] Unlcs8 wo 8Up[ 
tliat the concept of a perfect man is in itself im| 
sible, it Hcems to ue that tliey could only have 
that a perfect man might ho called tho realisation of 
the Logos, whether we take it in its collective for 

' '111 itfi i Aiyet iarlr (pV atit reS ttoi, ad it"" t^atroiptwkfl 

nuvMk, !.«., L p. 4S8, 609. * Bigg, I.e., p. SB, not*. 



as it was in the beginning with God, or in its more 
qieoial sense, as Uie logos vr ihv uiigioAl idea or the 
divinv coucuptioD of man. If then all who knew Je»us 
of Nazareth, who had beheld His glory full of graco 
and truUi, bore witnees of Him ajt perfect, an free from 
all tliu taintH of thu material crvaliou, why Hhoiild not 
the Grettk philosophers have accepted their testimony, 
and declared that He was to litem tiie Divine Word, 
the Son of God, the firBt-horn, the only-begotton. mant^ 
fustcil in the fleeh 1 Human language then, and even 
now, has no higher predicates to bestow. It is the 
nearest approach to the Father, who h greater even 
than tlio Word, and I believe that the oarliojjt Fatliors 
of the Church and those who followed them, bestowed 
it honestly, not in the legendary sense of an Evangc' 
Hum in/antiac, but in the deepest sense of their 
philosophical convictions. Here Li the true historicei 
solution of the Incarnation, and if the religion of the 
Incarnation la pro-cmincntly *a religion of expert- 
onco,' hero are the facia and the experience on which 
alone that religion can rest. 

We saw tliat Pbilo, whose langoage St. Clemcoit 
uses in nil tli<.-so discussions, had recognised his Logos 
as present in such prophets as Abraham and Mosee; 
and many have thought that St. Clement meant no 
more when he recognised iho Word as incamato in 
th9 Son of Mary (Strom, vii. 2). But it ftcems to me 
that Clement's mind soared far higher. To him the 
whole history of the world was a divine drama, a long 
preparation for the revelation of God in man. From 
the verj' beginning man had been a manifestation of 
the Divine Logos, and therefore divine in bis nature. 
Why should not man have rij»en at hut to his full 


■ltjctuhe xin. 

perf<«tioa, to bo what h« hiul been meant to be ^m 
the first in the cotinsel of the Fatberl We often 
Bpeak of an ideal man or of tb« ideal of manbood, 
without thinking wbat wo ni<«n bj tliia Platonic 
language. Ideal baa coni« to mean not nioch more 
than very perfect But it meant originally the idea in 
the mind of God, and to be th« ideal man meiuit to be 
the man of God, the man bh thought and willed by 
Divioo Wisdom. That man waa recognised in Christ 
by tboee who had no inditr«ta(^nt to do violence to 
thL'ir philoeophical convictions. And if thi<y could do 
H boneatly, why cannot we do it honcatly too, and 
thoa bring oar philoaophioal convictions into perfect 
bannony witli our historical faith 1 

It ia more difficult to dotonnino the exact place 
which St. Clement would have assigned to the Thinl 
Pemon, the Holy Ghost. 

The first origin of that concept ia still enveloped in 
much uncertainty. There seems to be Bometliii^ 
attractive in triads. We fin<l them in many parte of 
Uio world, owing their origin to very d]ffen.<nt caoses. 
The trinity of Plato is well known, and in it there is 
a place for the third person, namely, the World^spirit, 
of which the human aoul was a part. Nunieniua', 
from whom, a« wo saw. Plotinus was suspected to 
have borrowed his philosophy, proposed a triad or, as 
Homc call it, a trinity, consisting of the Supremo, the 
Logos (or Demiurge), and the World. With the 
Christian philosophers at Alexandria the ooncepi of 
the IVity wss at first biuno iiither than triune. 
The Supreme Boiiig iknd the Logos tugctht-ir compre- 
hended the whole of Deity, and we saw that the 

> Bi$K. 1.0.. p. 2fil. 



£ogOB or the intelleotaal world was called not onlytbe 
Son of Ood, but alf>o the Hecond Ood (B<vr<poi 6t6t). 
When this distinction between the Divine in ita Abso- 
lute eiuence, and the Divine as manifested by its own 
activity, bad onc^ been realised, there seemed to be no 
room for u third pbu^e or person. Soinottinee there- 
fore it lonka bb if the Third Person waa only a repeti- 
tion of tike Second. Thus the autlior of the Shepherd * 
and the author of the Acta Arehclai both identity 
the Holy Ghost witL the Son of God. How unsettled 
the mindn of Christian people were with regard to 
the Holy Ghost. i» shown by the fnot tbnt in ikt 
apocryphal gospel of the Hobrews Chiist speaks of it 
aa His Mother". When, however, a third place waa 
claimed for the Holy Spirit, a< Bubtttantially oxiating 
by the Hide of the Father and the Sou. it seetna qoite 
possible that this thought came, not from Greek, but 
from a Jewish aouroe- It fiecms to bo the Spirit which 
'in the beginning moved upon the face of the waters,' 
or 'the hreath of life which God breatlietl into the 
nostril)) of man." These manifestations of God, how- 
ever, would according to Greek pbilosophers have fallen 
rather to the shaie of the Logos. Again, if in the New 
Testament man is called the temple of Ood, God and 
the Spirit might have been conceived a« one, though 
here also the name of Logos would from a Greek point 
of view have been more appropriate to any manifesta- 
tion of theGodhead in man. In Hia last discourse Christ 
speaks of the Holy Ghost as taking His place, and as in 
one sense even more powerful than the Son. We ato 
told that the special work of the Spirit or the Holy 
Spirit is to produce holy life in man. that while Ood 
* nanuMk, L«., 1. p. CSS. * RaiiBD. £«• KjmgiU*. pji. 103, ISS. 



)mpiu1« exist«nM, th« Son roaaon (logos), the Holy 
Ghost imparts eanctificfttiou'. Clouifnt probably ac- 
cepted the Holy Ghost as a more direct emanation or 
radialiou proceeding from the Father and the Son in 
thcii- relation with Uio human soul. For whilu UiOlJ 
Father and Son actud on tho whole world, the inSueDca^ 
of the Holy Ghost waa restricted to the soul of man. Ik 
was in Uitit tseiiHe that the prophots of the Old Tosta- 
lui-nt wi^ifi HHi<l to liavo boon fiilc'l with the Spirit of 
God ; nay. according to some early theologians Jesasd 
also heoame tlie Chrint after baptism only, that is, 
lifter tho Holy Oho»t in tho shape of o. dove liad 
descended upon Him. 

Tho difliculties become even greater when wc ro- 
motnhtT thai St Clement Bpeakn of thu Father ftnd Uie 
Logoa as eubstancea (hypostoaeis), sharing the aai 
MMDCO (ouHia), and att perAonal, the I^ogot* bcing^l 
subordiuntv to thu Father as touching Hi» manhood, 
though equal to tho Father as touching Hie godhead. 
We must iHMncmbcr that neither the Logos nor Ui9 
Holy GhoBt wn» taken by bim as a mere power (b^miut) 
of Ood, but OH Hubsiatinj^ porKou&Uy '. Xow it is quit« 
true that personality did not mean with St Clement 
what it came to mean at a later time. With him 
a mytholugical individuality, such as later theologianaj 
clamoured for, would have boon incompatible with tb 
trac concept of deity. Still self-conscious activity 
would cvrUiinly have been claimed by him for every 
one of the three Pci-aons, and one wonders why he 
should not have more fully expronsed which i>articular 
activity it was which seemed to him not compatible 

■ Bigg, p. IT*. 

' Hurnocli, l.o.. I. i>. HI, 1. 17. 



either with the Father or with the Logos, but to 
ruquiro a scpnrate Poison, th« Hylj- Oho»t. 

It afterwards was P.-cogiiiscd as tho principal func- 
tion of the Uoly Cithost to bring Uio world, and more 
particulnrly tho htimati ma\, hack tu Uie eoiu»oiousn«ss 
of it« divine origiii. audit was it similar function which 
lie was believed to have exercised even at the haptiam 
of Christ', at lennt by some of tho leading author- 
itiea in Die fourth and Hfth centuries, Theodore of 
Mopaucstia, Neetorius. and others. 

The problem, however, which concerns uh more imme- 
diately, the oneness of the human and <livtne natures, 
is not aflccted by tbcM itpcculation«. It fonnii the 
fundamental conviction in St. Clement's, as in Philo's 
miud. If, in order to bring about the reco^nitioD of 
this troth, a third power wan wanted, St. Clement 
would find it in the Uoly Ghost. If it was the Uoly 
Ghost which gave to man ihe full convietioa of his 
divine sonship, wu must rt.-n)ciiihcr that this rccoii- 
ciliatioa between God and man was in the first 
instance the work of Christ, and that it had not 
merely a moral meaning, but a hi(;h>.T mctaphyttical 
purpose. If St. Clement had been quite consistent, he 
could only have meant that tho human soul received 
the Uoly Spirit through Christ, and that through the 
Holy Spirit only it became conscious of Its tnio divine 
nature and mindful of it« eternal home. Wu soniu- 
limes wish that St. Clement had expressed himself 
more fully on these subjects, more particularly on his 
view of the relation of man to God, to the Ixigos, and 
to the Holy SpiriL 

On his fundamental conviction, however, there can 
' Hunuk, I.O.. L |>|i. 91, e3». 


lie no nnoortidnty. It -vm Cli^meot who, before Si. 
Aufpistine. declared boldly that God became man in 
CSinst in order that man might berame Ood. Clement 
w not A confused thinker, but he do«ft not hr-l[> the 
reader as macb aa he might, and there is a certain 
reticence in his conception of tb« Incarnation which 
kaves un in Uic dark on wvcral point*. Dr. Bigg* 
thinks indeed (hot Clement's idea of tho S&riour a 
larger and nobler than that of any other doctor of tbe 
(Hiuroh. ' ni-nii^nt'f) Chniit,' he says, ' is the Light that 
broods over all hiHtory.ond lighleth up ever)* man that 
cometh into the world. All that there is upon earth 
of beauty, truth, goodness, all that distinguishes the 
clTitised man from the savage, and the savage fVwn 
(he beast, is His gift^' All this is true, and gives to the 
Logos a much more historical and univeraal meaning 
than it had with Philo. Tet St. Clement never 
clearly explains how he thoogbt that alt this took 
place, and how more particularly this universal Logos 
became incarnate in Jesus of Naiurcth, while it was at 
the same time pervading the whole world and every 
living Koul ; alao what was aocording to him the exact 
relation of tho Logos to the Pneuma. 

There are sevcml other questions to whidi I can- 
not iind an answer in St. Clement, but it is a subject 
whicli I may safely leave to other and more oompetent 

It may be said that mich thoughts as we have dis- 
covond in St. Clement are too high fur popular 
religion, and every religion, in order to be a religion, 
must be popular. Clement knew this perfectly well. 
But the philosophical thoughts in which he lived were 
' Ur.. p. 71 



evidently more widely spread in bin timt' tlian tliey 
are even with us ; and in the case of babes, Clemi-nt 
is quite tiatialicd tliab their Logos or Christ should be 
Kimply tliG Master, the Sbepherd, Uio Pbysioian, the 
Son of Mary who »unVrod for thuui on the ctos». 
Besides, there was the Church which nclud butli as a 
guide and fts a judge overall ita members, particularly 
those who had not yet found the Inie liberty of the 
children of God. If Clvmunt cniHiders this as the 
Lower life, still it leads on to the Higher Life, the 
life of knowledge and righteousness, the life of love, 
tlio life in C'lirist and in Ood. That purity of life is 
essential for rutiching thi.t higher life iis fully understood 
by Clement. IIo knew that when true knowledge 
has been obtained, sin becomes impossible. ' Good 
works follow knowledge as shadow follows suhstancfi'.' 
Knowledge or Gnosis b defined an the apprehensive 
contemplation of God in the Logon. When Cli^mcnt 
hIiowh that this knowledge is at the same time love of 
God and life in God, ho represents the same view 
which we met with in the Vedanta, in oonlradis* 
tlnction from the doctrine of the SuSs. That love of 
God, he holds, mui^t Ixi free from all paesioQ and desire 
{&ita0^i) ; it is a cout<^ntod solf-appropriatioa which 
reatores him who knows to oneness with Christ, and 
therefore with God. The Ved&ntist expressed the 
same conviction when ho said that, Ho who knows 
Brahma, is Brahma (Brahmavid Brahma bh&vati). 
That is the true, serene, intellectual ecntasis. not the 
ievwiab ecstatic visions of Plotinus and his followers. 
Cletnent has often been called a Gnostic and a Myalio, 
yet these names as applied to him have a very ditfurcnt 
< SlTom. riU. 18, St. 



meaning from what they have wli(»a applied to Plo* 
tinoB or Jambliobus. With all bis boldness of thought 
St. Clement never loses his revei'enoe before the real 
mystcrici! of life. Ho never indulge* in minute d&*l 
Bcriptions of the vieionB of an enraptured soul during 
life, or of the rejoicings or the Bufferings of the soul 
ftfU-r dcftth. All ho assert* is that the eoul will for 
ever dwell with Obrist, beholding the Father. It will 
not lose its subjectivity, though &%ed from its terres- 
trial personality. It will obtain the vision of th« 
Ptomal and tlie Divine, and itself put on a divine 
ioTm{i7X'iiJ-a Oflav). It will find rest in God by know-, 
ledge and love of God. 


I cannot leave this Alexandrian period of Chris* 
tianity without saying a few words about Origen.; 
To say a few words on such a man tm Origon ma} 
seem a very useless undertaking ; a whole course of 
leotures could hardly do justice to such a subject. 
Still in the natural course of our argument we cannot 
pass him over. What I wish to make quite clear to 
you is that there is in Christianity more theosopby i 
than in any other n-ligion, if wo use that word in it 
right meaning, as comprehending whatever of wisdoi 
has been vouchsafed to man touching things divine.' 
We are so little accustomed to look for philosophy 
in the New Tcstamant that wc have almost acquit 
in that most unholy divorce between religion 
philosophy ; nay, there are those who regard it almc 
as a distinction that our rdigion should not bo bur- 
(lencd with metaphysical spcoulationa like oUior roU- 
^ona. Still there is plenty of metaphysical Mpeculation 




uDdorlying the Cbritttian religion, if only we look for 
it as the early Fathers did. The true height tuid depth 
of ChrUtiaJiity oaooot be moa&urcd udIchs vro place it 
Aide hy »ide with the other religions of the world. 
We are hwilly aware till we have returned from 
ahroad that England is richer in uutgntBoent cathe- 
drals than any other country, nor shall we ever 
appreciat« at iU full value the thcosophic wealth of 
the Christian ruliyion, quite apart from ita other ex- 
cellences, till we have weighed it against the other 
religions of the world. But in doing thia we inuHt 
tnat it simply as one of the hiKtorical religions of the 
world. It is only if we treat it with the perfect 
impartiality of the historian that we shall discover ita 
often unsuspected etreogth. 

I hope I have made it clear to you that from the 
very first Uie principal ohji-ct of the Christian religion 
has been to make the world comprehend the onenega 
of the objective Deity, call itJehovah,orZeii8,orThvos, 
or the Supreme Bciug, ri Si\ wiUi the subjt^'ctive Deity, 
coll it self, or mind, or soul, or reason, or Logos. 
Another point which I was anxious to estahliiih waa 
that ihlH religion, when it meets us for tlie fintt tioio 
at Alexandria as a complete theological system, repre- 
sents a combination of Greek, that is Ar^'an. with 
Jewish, that is Semitic thought, that the^ two primeval 
streaius after meeting at Alexandria have ever sinco 
E)een flowing on with irresistible force through the 
history of the world. 

Without these Aryan and Semitic anteocdent« 
Chrietianity would never have become the Religion of 
the woild. It is necessary therefoie to restore to Chris- 
tianity ito historical chaivcter by trying to dibcover 



and to nnderfitaxtd more fully ita historical antecedents. 
It waa Hegel, 1 believe, who used to say Uiat the dia- 
tiiigui.-(bing obiLrnct«ri»tio of the ClirlHtion religion was 
that it was non-bistoricul, by which he meant that it 
was without historical auteocdeuts, or, aa otbero would, 
say, niiracuIoiiH. It seems to mo on the coutmry tbutj 
what eou:?titutc8 the OMcntiul charact«r of Christian- 1 
ity is that it is so thoroughly historical, or coming,' 
as otheni would say, in the very fulness of timo. It 
18 difficult U> uniicTHtuitd the HupcrciliouH treatment, 
which Christianity eo often receives from historians i 
and philosophers, and the distrust with which it is re* 
gardud by the ever- in creasing number of the I'duc 
and more or less enlightened classes. I helieve this^ 
is cbieily due to the absence of a truly historical treat* 
ment,and more particularly to the m.-^'lcct of that moebj 
important phase in its early development, with which.^ 
we are tiow concerned. I still believe that by vindi- 
cating the true hifitorical position of Chrintiunity, and 
by showing the position which it holds by right among 
the hintoricul and natural religions of the world, U'l/A- 
cmt r^erence tu or reliaiue upon tinij auppottiU fipwk 
exceptional, or eo-caUed miraculoiLe revelation, X ma] 
have fulfilled the real intcnliou of the founder of thiaj 
loclureahip better than I could have done in any othe 

Though I cannot give you a full account of Oiigen 
and his numerous writings, or tell you anything now 
about this lemorkahle man, still I should have been 
chaiged with wilful blindness if, considering what 
the highest object of these lectures is, I had passed 
over the man whose philosophical and theological 
speculations prove better than anything else what in 



this, my final course of lectures, I am meet busioun to 
prove, viz. that th« be all and the end all of true 
religion in to rL-unit« tht- bunO butwi-on the Divine and 
the Buman which bad been sevei-ed by the falae reli- 
g^onn of the world. 

Oq icvoral points Origoo is more definite than 
St Clement. He claims the same freedom of interpreta- 
tion, and yet be is far more deeply iiiipreoaed with the 
authority of thu Rule of Faith, and likewise with 
the authority of the Scriptures, known to bim. than 
Sti Clement ', Origen bad been born and bred a 
Christian, and he wk« more disposed to reckon with 
facts, though always recugiiising a higher truth 
behind and beyond the more facta. Ue evidently 
found ^eat relief by openly roco^i^ing the dis- 
tinction between practical religion a*- required for the 
many (xptirnai'iTij.ot o-tufioruof) and philosophical tfuth 
M reijuircd by the few (xptimaviafi&i vitv/iaTiitot). 

AfUr admitting that every religion cannot but 
tssame in the minds of the many a more or Icsa 
mytliological form, he goi^ on to a^k, 'but what 
otb«r way could be found more helpful to the many, 
and beltei' than what has been banded down to the 
people from Jesus?' Still even then, when he mecta 
with anything in the Mtcrod traditions that conllicts 
with morality, tbe law of nature or reason, be protests 
■glinit it, and agrees with bis Greek opponent that Uod 
cannot do anything against bin own nature, the Logos, 
against bis own thought and will, and that all miracles 
arc therefore in a higher sense natural^ A mere miracle, 

> Hamack, l.e., Lp.STS. 

* Contn CqIruih, t. 33 : Bigg, 1. «., p. SOS ; HsnuMk, L p. WK, 
■Ml* i Orig. in Joan. IL SH 


in th» ordinary acceptation of the term, would from 
his point of view Imvo been ui) iiiKult to the Logos 
and indirectly to the Deity. That the tempter should 
hnve carried ChiUt bodily into a mountain Origin 
simply declared impoiseiblo. His jn'eat objvct wiu> 
overywhere the same, the i-econoiliation of pbiloeopby 
witli religion, and of rciligion with philosophy. Thiio 
h<i »aj» that n Crock philoHophcr, on becoming; ac- 
quainted with the ChiTstian religion, might well, 
by means of hist scientiHc acqiiirementH, reduce it to 
a more perfect i^yttem. supply what seemx tleitciout, 
and thus eHtabUsh the truth of Christianity*. In 
another place he prniscB tliose who no longer wnut 
C'liriKt simply as a pbyKiciaii, a ehcplierd, or a rausom, 
but as wisdom. Logos, and righteousnees. Well 
might PorphyriuH ^y of Origen that he lived like a 
ChriHtian and according to the law. but that with 
regard to bia views about things and about thu 
Divine, he was like a Greeks Still it was the 
Chiistiftn Doctrine which was to him the perfection 
of Greek philosophy *, that is to say the Chrbitian 
Doctrine in the li^ht of Greek philosophy. 

Origuii wu:^ certjiinly moro biblical in his perfect 
Monism than Philo. lie does not admit matter by 
thii side of God, but looks upon God as tbv author 
even of matter, and of all that ooiistitutos tho material 
world. God'» very nature consistx in His constAtit 
manifestation of HiiDself in the world by moons of 
the iiOgo!«, wliethcr we call it the thought, tho will, or 
the word of God. According to Origcn, tbie Logos 

' Oonlra Cdnim, f. S. ' Eawbia^ H. &, vL 1«. 

' Hanusk, 1. p. SOI, notA. 




ia all its fulnexe wau manifested in Christ M tlie 
perfo(-t image of God. He is called the secoad 
Qod (3(v'-rpo4 6f<!is), the Son, bciog of the same sub- 
stance ns the Father (onoo^tnos T<f iturpi). He in 
also called the wisdom of God, hut a» siibitiHttiig 
substantially by itself (mplentia dd eufigtantlaliter 
mifm^Unif), and contaioiiig all the forms of the 
manifold creation, or standing between the One 
Unoreate on one side and the manifold created things 
on the other'. If tht.-ti thix Logos, essentially divine 
(ifiaovaioi tif Otif), ia predicaU-d of Chrrist, we can 
clearly perceive that with Origen too this was really 
the only way in which he could assert the divinity 
of ChriHt. There wa» nothing hight<r he could have 
predicated of Christ. Origen was using the term 
l.ogos in the sense in which the word had been 
handcil down to him from tlie anther of the Fourth 
Gospel through Tuti&n, Athenagoras. Pantsonus, and 
Clement. Every one of them held the original 
unity of all spirittial o^ttonoeH with God. The Logos 
was the htghe»t of them, but every human »oul also 
was orginally of God and was eternal. According to 
Origen the intt-rval l>ctwoen God and roan ia filled 
with an unbroken twiies of rational being* (naturae 
ration abilos), following ouch other according to their 
dignity. They all belong to the changeable world 
and are tliemselvcs capable of change, of progress, 
or deterioration. They take to some extent the place 
of the old 8toic logoi. but thoy assumv a more 
popular form under the name of Angels. The Father, 
Son, and Holy Ghost belong to the eternal and 
unchangeable world, then follow the Angels ao- 
■ Usraaek, 1. p. K:t^ 


0m mmm at *« 
«Ua t« mmmtr ike 

M0«iM OnRfc pMctcyhy 
JflfWriw la lU W«w. 

Dai tbontfli tbU {iliilijnopbj besed «) the Logos, 
Wl U — d wi to c>r whieb wo hkve tneed bsek to the gi 

\iff Onaoh ciublcd neo like St. Clomenfc 



and Origen to fight their good fight for tho new faith, 
it must not bo Hupposcfl that this phiWophioal defence 
met with univcrsiil approviil. As Origi-n suw hitnifcif, 
it WAA too high and too deep for largt- natoben who bad 
adopted tlie Chrttitian ivligion fyr otlier exoellftnceH 
that appcaliKl to their heart rather tliiui to their 
understooding. Thus we hear in the middle of tha 
second ctintury ' of an itiiportant sect in Asia Minor, 
called the Alogoi. This sooniH to have boon a nick- 
name, meaning without a belief in the Logos *, but 
abo abiturd. These Alogoi would have nothing to do 
with the Logos* of God, im pruaehed by St. John. 
This shows that their opposition was not against 
St. Clement and Origen, whose writings were probably 
later than tho foundation of thu aocl of the Alogoi, 
but against the theory of the Logos a» taught or 
fully implied in the GoHpel a«cnbudtoSt. John. Tha 
Alogoi were not heretjos ; on the contrary, they wer« 
conservative, and considtired thews^lvi^s thoroughly 
orthodox. They woro uppo8i*d to tin; MontiutialK and 
Chiliasta ; thoy accepted the three Synoptic Gospels, 
but for that very reason rejected the Gospel ascribed to 
St. John, and likewixe thu Apocalypse. They denied 
even that this Gospel was written by St. John, bocaiiw 
it did not agree with the other Apostles*, nay they 
wont so lar as to say that this Gospel asci'ibed to John 

■ TImbm^ Lo. p, 017, noUi. 

' ThuB St, Jolm. the aulhnr of tbo Ai>nriilrp«», wu c>II«d 
TlivnlnBoi. boOBiue ho maintAiiMd tho diviiiitjr of the Loffot. Sm 
yalnral Hfhgiim, p. 44^ 

' Eplpliantiu, III. S. 3S: Ti* \iytir tdv ttei ineitJ-cnat xi* U 

' £j>i|>li. 31. 4 : *iamu«i In ei Wft^iti ri AAXfs roG "Imirrev tea 

Cliriotiaaity. It shows thi 
second century th« four G 
Gospels antl that of St. Jol 
in the Church, liut that 
still possible to qucsUou tl 
curring occlosi&Etical oensu 
time. It shows also bow t 
tho Logoti wnR i<lontilicd w 
with the author of tho Fo 
was his view of Christ, at 
Burnaba«, Justin, the two ( 
oarp', an<] Origun, which 
world. Still, if it was pos 
St. Clement tlcscond from 
the Saints of the Christii 
is there against another Vi 
himself* 1 

Though tho further develoj 
in the East and the West is 
not dwell on it any furthe; 
chiefly philoeophical, while 
becomes more and more th 
What I wished to prove was ( 



in its first struggle with the non-ChriBtiftn tliought of 
the world, owed itt victory ohielly, if not entirely, to 
the recognition of what, aa we saw, forms tho i-Hsi.intitil 
element of all religion, the recognition of the cloeest 
ooonexton l>etn'een the phenoincniLl ami the iioumenal 
worljN, botWL-i-n the human soul atui Gu<i. Tho boni;l 
of union between the two, which had been discovered 
by slow degrees by pagan pliiloaophera and had l>een 
made the pivot of Christian philosophy at AU^xatuiiia, 
was the Logos, By the recognition of the Logos to 
Christ, a dogma which gave the direst offence to 
CelHitn and other pagan philosophei-s, the fatal divorce 
bclwci;n religion and philosophy had been annullod, 
and the two had onco taore joined hands. It ib 
curiotiB however to observe how Home of the efti-Iy 
Apologetes looked upou the Logos as intended rather 
to separate (Jod ' from the world than to unite the 
two. It is true that Philo's mind wa« strongly 
impressed with the idea that the Divine Essence 
should never be brought into immediate contact with 
vile and corrupt matter, and to him therefore the 
intervening Logos might liave Won weleonit; a^i pre- 
venting such contact. But Christian philosophera 
looked upon matter as having Iteen created by God, 
and though to them alao the Logos was the intervening 
power by which God formed and ruled the woild, 
tbey always looked upon their Logos an a con- 
necting link and not as a dividing soroen. It is true 
that in later timett tho original purpose and nature 
of the Logos were completely forgotten and changed. 
Instead of being a bond of union between tho human 
and the Divine, instead of being accepted in the sense 

■ Han>a«k, 1. p. i4S. 


Wo doaU St Ch 
*«» why Dot Sl, 
• gnt Minim- a 

^ CboMBt, tiut 

""peoted •OHM bid! 
C>«nmit an,) St. A 

•g«in»t muBjipreim 

wliHi made tti« difl 

whom He called His 

«f «i«'gw», thai diaU 

Olirbl'a teaching. J 

yol more decided th 

'Thiw 1,0 who Min 

pro|.hecy delivered bj 

i"g to tho image of tj 

ia the flesh •■ And 

rpp\y to CeJaoa iii. 2fi 

it« cornronnion with fc 




take Qp the Hfe which Jeaus taught'.' It is clear 
that Origen, taking this view of human nature, had 
na noed of any other argument in support of the 
true divinity of Christ. He might as well hav<: tri«<l 
to prove bis bumuuty again&t llie Doceta^.'. With him 
both were one and could only he one. To Origin 
Christ's diviuity wm not niirncuIouH, or riM|uiritig any 
proof from moral or phyiiical miraclea. It was in- 
volved in his vwy nature, in his being the Logos or 
the SoQ of God in all its fuhuKs. wlicr«aii the Logos 
in man had Huffercd and had to bo rcdoL-nic-d by tJio 
teaching by the life and death of Christ'. While 
Origen thuH endeavoured to reconcile Greek philo- 
sophy, that is, his own honi-st convictions, with the 
teaching of the Church, he kept clear both of 
Gnosticism and DocetiBm. Origen was as honest as 
a Cbriatiao as he waa as a philosopher, and it was 
this honesty which made ('hrii<tianity victorioua in 
the third century, and will make it victorious tigain 
■whenever it finds supporters who arc detcrniiued 
not to eacritice their phii<janphical convictions to their 
religious f«ilh or their religious faitJi to their philo- 
sophicul convictions. 

It is true that like SU Clement^ Origen also was 
condemned by later ecclesiastics, who could not 
fathom the depth of his thoughts ; but he nfv<'r in the 
whole history of Christianity was witliout admirers 
and follower!*, St. Augutttine, St. Bernard, the author 
of De Imitatiune. Master Eckhart, Tauler, and others, 
honoured his memory, and Dr. liigg is no doubt right 

' 'I*' i) drBfmirln) tj wfit ri tuinpar tattvriif Tii^TTiM ««(ii otu iy 
/ury t(, 'liitov Ax^A mi tSai Tm$ fiiti tdv ticrniw draAdfiJSarsMi 
0l<if hr *Ii)i)ui}i JSitnjir. 

' Unma'^k. 1. p. tin. 

such Buffering as many m 
iinitatt' (ficufjijirtrai ris fia\A 
siikr thu time in which 
testimouj- which hia coi 
ch&ractGr, we may well sa; 
have been miejudged by pa 

'Deon wer den BeHtoi 
D«r liat gelebt far ftlle Zeite 

' L.e„i 



HAVING shown, aa I hope, that m the oorlioEt 
tlieological nipreaentation of Chriatianity which 
we find in t\w Alexaiidriao Fatl^ers of llic (.liurcli, tho 
must prominent thought ui thL^ samo as that of tJie 
Vedanta, how to JiDtl a way from «arth to heaven, or 
iitill lietUjr bow to tiixl hc-aven on i^ortli, to iHttcowr 
Qod ill Dion and man in God. it only riMiiains to ohow 
that tht» ancioat form of Chrifltianity, though it was 
either not understood at all or misunderstood in later 
ages, still ninintatncd iUelf under varying furmH in 
an unintorruptod current from tho second to tho niuo- 
teenth century. 

We ean see the thoughts of St. Clement and Origen 
trniiEplantcd to tho Vi'ostcni Church, though the very 
language in which they had to bo clothud obscured 
(heir finer shade-n of meaning. There is no word io 
Latin to CiOQvey tho whole of the meaning of Logos; 
again the important duitinction between &f6t and i 
Oid« is difficult to render in a language which has no 
artielce. Tiie distinction between ousia and hypoistaKis 
waedifiicult to express, and yot an inaocurato rendering 

we are judged bcroUf 

Vi'e hftvc only to 
Btance, TertulUan — »\ 
order to perceive at < 
langiiajre rikJ 
Wbon TorttiUioD bcf 
about Christ as God, 1 
Thin might lie inteipl 
i 0M(f, niid prodicftt 
Father, which is impc 
dicate is the oti»ia ol' ti 
' We have alreaiiy «al 
Verfjo. el Ratione, H V 
Reason, by Power,' H 
and mfio tn express Ijf 
that ho ought to iiiako I 
'It IB woU known that^ 
that ia Speech {aermc 
aidcrcd an the artist of 
him as the maker who 
and says that he is t 
mind (ifOod, and the ni 



substance, the Spirit', who as Word issues tho fiat (of 
croatioii), aa Reanoii givf<i orilor to the universe, aud 
a8 Power €»mi« bis work on to a complete pcrR-ction^ 
We have learnt that he was brought out from OoJ, 
and generated by prolatinii. and was therefore called 
Sun of Uud and God, fiotn thu unity of thu Mubctancc. 
For God is Spirit, and when a ray is seut forth from 
the sun, it is a portion from the whole, but the sun 
will be in tho ray, because the ray i» the sun's ray, 
not separated from it in Huhstouoe. but extended. 
Tbus cornea Spirit from Spirit, and God from God, 
hke a light lit from « light.' 

Woscc throughout that Tcrtullian(lCO-240) wishes 
to express what St. Clement and Origen had expnssied 
beforu him. But not having the Greek tools to work 
with, his rerbal picture often becomes bluiTod. Tho 
introduction of Spiritus, whidi may mean the divine 
naturv!. but in not Hufhcirntly distinguished from 
pntnivta, logos, the divine Word, and from the epiritwt 
mnctue. the Holy Qboi>t, conl'uites the mind of tho 
readers, particularly if they were Crock philoHOphont, 
accuetom<;d to tho delicately edged Greek terminology. 

It would no (luubt be extremely interesting to 
follow the tradition of these Alexandrian doctrines, 
M tliey were handed down boUi in tho West and in tho 
East, and to mark th« changes which they experienced 
in the minds of the leading theological authorities in 
both Churchca. But this is a work far tieyond my 
Dtrength. All that I feel still called upun to do is 

* Kn]iv*xplAiiiathBtapiril hu tioro the m«M>in|iut Divine nature; 
but, If tit, tlie eipiVMton ii vory impcrfciit. 
' TiiMliari Apoiugillaii Mfrmw Cinlei^ ad. Bittilty, p. Ti, nato. 


religion. Unchecked by 
that ancient stream of 
thought Huws on, and w 
of Alexandria in the wr 
Gregory of Nyssa (332 
{828-381>). as wotl m in 
(364-430). In ite origini 
assorted it«^lf onoe moi-e 
cacy of Procliis (411-485 
it rcccivotl about the sai 
powt-rful renewed impu 
writer, DionjfiiHs the A 
»ome part of my Ivcturv t 
the cxtroordinarj' influenc 
in the hifitorj- of the medii 
been called the fatlier of 
is only a Luw tiiinio for j 
one of its various aspecta 
turiea aa the connecting li 
the mediai-val Church. ^ 
ByeUims of St. Bernard 
Aquinas (1224-1274) with 
sius. No one couM accoii 
very laii^'imt^tL^LMttflklJi 



touclifid t>j- hiH nmc^io wand. Ft-w men have achioved 
130 wide and so lasting a cek-lirity na tliis anonvnious 
writer, and, w« must add, with ao little to deservu it. 
Thoiigli Uionysiiifl the Arcopagitc ih often roprciHcnted 
Its till- founder of Chrifeliikii mysticism. I inuHt con- 
fess that after readiog Philo, St. Clement, and Origen, 
I find very little in his writinga that con be called 

WMtlns* «r DlDiiTxtna. 

It ia welt known that tbia Dionysius tlie Areo- 
pagite is not th<! real Dion>,iiiiia who with Dainoriit 
aud othvi's clave unto St. Pnul afu*r his sermon on 
Areopagus. Of him we know nothing move than what 
we lind in the Acta. But there was a Chriatiau Neo- 
Platonist who, as Tholuck has been the firat to ahow, 
wrote about 500 A. i). The story of his book is very 
curious. It has often been t«ld ; for t]ie laat time by 
the prOKont Bishop of Durham, Dr. Wcatcott, in his 
thoughtful Esatiyn on the History of Religious Thought 
in the Wett, pubiixhed in lf^91. I chicBy follow him 
uid Tholuck in giving you the following facts. Th« 
writings of Dionysius were referred to for the first 
time at the Conference held at Constantinople in &S3 
A. D., and even at that early time they were rojocted 
by the orthodox aa of doubtful authenticity. Naturally 
enough, for who had ever heard before of Dionysius, 
the pupil of Sl Paul, as an autliorl Even St. Cyril 
and Athnnnsius knew nothing yet about any writings 
of his. and no one of the ancic-nls bad ever quoted 
them. But in spite of all this, there was evidently 
something fascinating about these writin;^ of Diony- 
sius the Areopaglte. In the seventh century they 
were commented on by Maximius (died GC2); oud 

„ ■. m. ^VUUIUW 

laeaat by genuineni 

DionysiuB the Areopi 

«ra. I evi-n Houbt t 

meant to commit anj 

lie waa ovidontly a ] 

book was a ficUwn. no 

IS in a certain sense tl 

and the speeches of ' 

never intendt^d to de( 

pi-eseiit day might w 

Swift, ii" (le wished to 

have said if he had 

Why slifjiild not a P 

Bpokon K-liind tJie nia< 

if bo wijilied to srwte w 

naturally have felt a1 

then; are sonifc few tot 

to DionysiuH which w 

colouring and historif* 

fiction ; hut evon such 

put down at ouce as ir 

instjince. a ti-oatise De 

asciibed to I'hiio. But 

panegyric on iwceticisni 



or the I)cginnmg of the foutil) Cftntury. If for some 
unknovn reason the author wrote under the name of 
Philo, tbia literary ortifioe could haidly hav.' taken 
La any of hm conteraporariea, if indnoil it wnn wur 
mettot to do ho K 

But whatever the object of the writer may have 
been, whetJier houe&t or dishont-ftt, certain it in that 
he found & largo public willing bo boUovo in the 
actual authorship of Dionyrius the Areopogite, TTie 
greatest writers of the Greek Chtirdi accepted these 
bookis as the real works of the Areopaijito. Still 
grcAter was their Buccesa in tho West, They were 
referred to by Gregory the Great (c. 600), and 
(juoted by Pope Adrian I in a letter to Charles the 

The first copy of the Dionysian writings rceclied 
the West in tho year 827, when Mieliaol. tho stara- 
nierer. eent a copy to Louis I, the son of Charles. 
And here a new mystification spi^ang up. They were 
received in tjie abliey of St. Di-nin, near ParU, by tho 
Abbot Ililduin. They arrived on the very vigil of 
the feaet of St. Dionyeius, and, absurd as it may 
sound, Dionytuua the Areopagite waK identified with 
St. Denis, the Apontle of Franci;, tho patron saint 
of the Abbaye of St. Denia ; and thus national pride 
combined with theological ignorance to add still 
greater weight and greater sanctity (d these Diony- 
luan writings in France. 

The only difliculty was how to read and translate 

' Luciuo. Dit ncrn/vulm, StrMiburg. ISSO. Kuvapu, BiMvrt Itc 
(lira, p. JOl. 

CD Kb 

tn tsvo a LbHd tnndatl 
Dcnift, the patron aamt of 
Ust a competent transUtoi 
Erigena, wbo Uvod at liis oou 
a kindred spirit, and fdt Bt 
mystic Bpeculationa of Dim 
must havu been made boforo 
year Pope Nicholas I complai: 
the Bald that tbo Latin trand 
never hoiiD et-nt to him for J 
proliably sent to Rome at on 
AnaAtAfiitiR, the Librarian of th< 
iL k'tti:r t J Charivs, ouinmondii 
Jation made by one whom I 
living at tlio end of the worli 
ErigDtiA, whether Irishman > 
waa fully convinced that Dioi 
porary of St. Paul, aiid adn 
antiquity and fur the aubli 
graoca which had been bestow 
Aa soon aa tiiQ Greek text 
tioii bad bi-cumo accessiblo, 
rl-irrt nf niiTajiMi»J— ^^^I^B 



wonderci] bow thoeo compositions could uvof have 
been accepted aa apoatolic. We need not entor into 
thetto arguments, ft 18 no longer heresy to doubt 
thoir npoetolical authorittiip or date. No onu doubts 
at present that the writer waa a Neo^Platonist Cbria- 
tian, as ThoUick fliiggcitted long ago, and that ho 
livod towards the end of tho fifth cvntury, proViubly 
at Edessa in Syria. But though deprived of their 
lictationa ag« and authorship, thexe writings retAin 
their iinportAocc e^ liaving itwn^-ud ihc wholu of 
mediaeval CbriBtianity more than any otbor book, 
except the New T(;»itomi.-nt itttelf. They conaist of 
tri^ati^'H (1) on the Heavenly Hierarchy, (2) on the 
Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, (8) on the Divine Names, 
(4) on Mystical Theo1oKy> There arc other books 
mentioned as hia, but now lost '. They are most 
easily accessible now in the Abb^ Higne'a edition 
(Paris, 1857). 

Tbm inJInaao* of tka Sl«>nyBl«i WrltUfa. 

If wc a«k how it wait tliat these books exercised so 
extraordinary a fascination on the minds of the most 
eminent theologians during the Middle Ages, the prin- 
cipal reason seems to have been Uiat thoy satisHcd a 
want which exists in every human heart, the want of 
knowing that there is a real relation between the 
human sou) and Ood. That want was not satisfied 
by the Jewish reHgioa. It has been shown but Iat«Iy 
by an eminent Scotch theologian, what an impassable 
gulf the Old Testament leaves between the soul and 
Ood. And though it was tho highest object of the 
teacliing of Christ, if properly undentood, to biidge 

> Sw> H^niaok, L *, voL U. p. *26. not«^ 

earth ; and it was Ibis kdd 
npjx'alod HO strongl}' to the s 

No douH the idea that he 
St. Paul added to hia authn 
thiogi in his works wltich 
tolerated by the orthodox, ex 
month of an apostolic t«acher 
that the Hcbri>ws wore in ii 
K'fore the rest, that the lot 
that God has a like care fo 
gtil] holdiT )(tat(^mont of Diott 
His resurrection was simply 
ferior, as it were, to the angi 
tlio r(>eiiim.>otion did He beoon 
and God of all. Thcie ant otL 
doubtful orthodosy which seei 
in Uionysius, but would havi 
CC'nDUrc if coming from any ol 

BOUTOM of Str 

It must not be KUjiposod, 1 



caugo wbich u out8id« its eflecta, and yot multipliwt 
itself so as to be dynamically prc^ciit in evory one of 
tbcni. This multiplication or this streaming foviti of 
the Deity iji ascribed to Love (fpwf) within Uod, and 
is supposed to bu carried out according to certain 
designs or types {TspoopiaiioC, mifiaittynaTa), that is to 
Bfty^notat random, but according to law orruuon. In 
this wo can n-cognino tbv Stoic logoi and the Platonic 
ideas, and we shall see that in their intermediary 
character they appear once more in tbe system of 
DiouysiuB undur the nami^ of the Uicrarchi(» of 
angtils. The soul which finds itself separated from 
God by thia manifold creation has but one object, 
namely to return from out tbc Dianifuldnosii of created 
things to a state of likeness and oneness with Qod 
{i^onoluiais, ivwais. dtuxrts). The chaitin between the 
Deity and the visible world is filled by a number of 
beings wbich vary in name, but are alwa^ tJie same 
in bSNenci;. Diunyeiua calls tliem a Hierarchy. 8t. 
Clement had already nsed the same term ', when he 
describes ' the graduated hieraj-oby like & chain of iron 
lings, each sutttaining and sustaineil, each saving and 
saved, and all held together by the Holy Spirit, which 
is Faith.' Origen is familiar with the same idea, and 
Philo tells ust plainly tJiat what people call angelsare 
rcatly ttio Stoic logui ^ 

VIm DbIbiobsb. 

We can trace the Mune i<loa i^till further back. In 
Heaiod. as we saw. and in Plato's Timncus, tht- cliasm 
between the two worlds was filled with the Daimones. 
Id the lati-r Platonlst teaching these Daitnonei^ became 

' Bigg, L «., p. «. ' &« pp. lOt, t;3, 478. 

moJ^m Bonae ^ the vr\ 
ancient mythological ] 
place Kinong thetsu UaiiJ 
supplk^] in fact thu o\a\ 
and man, and the more 
came in the philosophy] 
bocanM) their belief in 
given of Uicm by Maxil 
others, ih often most touc| 

Thus Aptiloiua, De Dcoj 
and hut followers are hi 
purely spiritual and cmo 
eluded Him from diruot 
matter, they imagined a U 
mllod Daimonea, partakii 
It-aeon of their immortalil 
reason of their sabjeotic 
therefore to act as interm 
tuMTeo, betwouD Cod and 

Stasimus, the TjTian (1 
Daimones as a link hot; 
divine beauty, na bridgii 
mortal and tmmor 




liunuin life, by bclprng the good, avonging tbu injured, 
and pimiahitig Uie unjust. They &re ^]e^8e^gere of 
unseen things, ft}7(Aoi rm- ^<^ai'u»' ; and Plutarch, too, 
calls them mOSSODgora or angols betwoeo gods and 
men, deacribing tliem as tlie spies of the former, wan- 
dering at their oonunand^, punishing vrong-doora, and 
guarding tb« coune of tbo virtuous (CveBatioQ of 
oracles, J 3 ; Face in the orb of the moon. 80). 

Origen points out that the anj^cls were nomoUiuea 
spoken of as gods in thi' FsaIids (c. CvU. v. 4), 
but when challenged by Cl-Isus why Christians do not 
wunOitp the l^aituones, and particularly the heavenly 
luminaries, ho anawvra that the Kun himsidf and the 
moon and the stars pray to the Supreme God through 
Hia only-begotten Son, and that therefore tliey think 
it improper to pray to those beings who themselves 
offer prayora to God (ifiooiyfn yc fithir nat riu Movoytvii 
aimv. c. Gels. v. 11 ; viii. G7). 

Celsus, who doubts everything that does not admit 
of a philosophteal Justification, is nevertliuless ao con- 
vinced of the reality and of the divine goodneaa of the 
DaJtnooes that ho cannot understand why the elms' 
tiana should be so ungrateful as not to worship them. 

Then is an honest ring in an ofton-quotod passage 
of hia in which he exhoits the Christians not to 
deapiae their old Daiuonea : 

' Every good citlM'n,' be says, ' ought to respect the 
worship of his fathers. And God gave to the Dai- 
inones the honour which they claimed. ^Vhy then 
should the Christians refuse to oat at the table of the 
Daimonesi They give us oom and wine and the very 
air we breathe ; we must either Huhmit ti^ thi'ir itcuefits 
or quit the world altogether. All that is really im- 

kiH» the hand to thone t' 
barm if ncglocU'd ? It 
great Itoinan Empire wil 
ci«nt ffbitli for a barliai-oua 

Plutarch vx]>ri'Bsi;H t)i 
Daiinones, when he says : 

'He who dGtiiea the Dl 
and bri.>nk» the diiiia that 
throne of God." 

We can well understand, 
the Flatonints who bad b 
EomutbiDg to fill the emp 
which had formerly been 
DattnoDce. In order to hr 
into contact with the worl* 
l>ainiones, or rather gave 
St, Ck'iiH-nt npeaks glibly < 
that all the host of angcla a 
jection to the Son of God ". 

EvoD St. Augustine docj 
UiQ t^ds who dwfll in tha 
tion. but be mc 



Wc Kftw that when the logoi bad been conceived as 
one, tbo Logos wu coUod tbc Son of Qod, the tlrat 
begotteD or even the only begotten. Wlica coiicuivcd 
tta many, the game logoi had been spoken of as <\ogel8 
by Pliilo, and n» Aeons by the Onostic-f '. They were 
now represented as a hiurarchy by UionyMiua. This 
hierarchy, however, has assumed a very different cha- 
roctur from that of the Artittot<-liiin logoi. The St«iOB 
saw in their logoi an oxplatiaUon of created things, 
of trees, anitiiah), and lishes, or of universal elemenUi, 
not only water, earth, fire, and air, but hvat oud cold, 
sweetness and bitteme&s, light and darkness, etc The 
Flatuiiut^, and more particularly the Neo-Platonist 
ChristianH, hod cuasod to care for th<.'Bo things. It was 
not the origin and descent of species, bub the ascent 
of the human eoul tlint principally occupied thoir 
thoughts. The names which were given to these 
inteniiediate creations which had come forth from 
Gild, which had a««umcd a i>ubHtautiaI cxistenco by 
the aide of Ood, nay after a time bad become like 
personal beings, were taken from the Ilible, though it 
in difficult to understand on what principle, if on any. 
Origen already had spoken of Angels, and Thrones, 
and Domiaions, Princedoms, Virtues, and Powers, and 
of on infinite wiairway of worlds, on which the souls 
were perpetually descending and ascending till they 
reached final union with God. 

' TboM Acona of VaJcntuiinn wi-ns «■ Dr. Bleg, p, 27, tnily r»- 
mntkt, Uia IdoM of Plato, men lhroui;h tbo tog of in Egyptian or 
Mri-in mind. Anon wu probulily uliia orl|(liially to lhi> *eaiti at 
age, ginitvrBlluii, ItiKn vrurld. Our own ward nurld mauit orlgliuJIjr 
'a(^ of invQ,' MftWom. 

•.lurini; Uio whole of tliLi 
alike by the moet orthodc 
inoHt apeouUtivc pliiloM;pl 
to bo ChriiiLiaus. His fil 
gona, used him as a ti-uaJ 
anta^ouUto. Thomas A({| 
cvory opportunity, and «> 
him treats him aa an aut 
Apoattes, if socood oven to | 

One explanation is that 
and certainly the Christian, 
the 80ul for God, must it 
Ood. Creation, even if com 
in a separation from Ood ; h 
Christianity promisoB to Bti[ 
Ood, who is all in all, the i 
tliinj^. Dioiiysiusi tries to I 
spiritual light goes forth an 
creation from the Father of ] 
is oni^ anil entiri'ly th e samj 


of the hfittventy light, Iight«.'np(l &n<I liftud tip closely 
to it, nay innde one with it. lu this fjri-at h&ppinras 
arv all thoer spiritual natures which we call atigelB>on 
whom the light ia ahed forth in itM uiitKnipcrcd purity. 

Hut a» for men, who are clogged by the li<.«vy mat» 
of the l'o<ly, thoy can only receive a kind of lempered 
light through the ministry of the angeU, till at laat 
tliey find truth, conquer tho flesh, strive after the 
spirit, Mid Tdtit in nptritual tmth. Tbua the all-mer- 
dful God recalla degrailud men and restores th«in to 
truth and light itself. 

But DionyitiuD is not satisfied with th«ite broad out- 
lines, be delights in elaborating tho ininuti) and to our 
mind often very fantastic details of the emanation of 
the diviDO light. 

He t«ll« ufl how there are three triadB, or nine 
divisions in tho ooK^tial hierarchy. I'ossibly these 
three Triads may have been suf^estcd by the three 
triads of Plato which we discussed in a former 
Lecture. In th« fimt triad th<-re an> first of all the 
Seraphim., illumined by God Rimseir, and po»»v«Mng 
the property of pcrfoction. Then follow the C/io-vhim 
as illumined and taught by the Seraphim, and pos- 
sessing the property of illumination. Tho third ploco 
in the tiret triad is assigned to the Thrones, or stead- 
fttut natures who are enlightened by the second order, 
and difitinguished by purificatioD. 

Then follow in eucoeesion the Dominations, thft 
Viilues, and the Powers, and afl«r that, the Prinoi- 
paliti(!S, the Archangels, and Angchi. Those nine 
atations are all minutely described, but in the end 
their m^n object is to hand down and filter, as it wore, 
tlio divine light till it can Ihj mado fit for human beings. 



Humui beings arc below the angels, but if properly 
eiiligbteao<l tlioy nuiy bt-oome like angels, nay Uk* 
goda. Partial ligbt vas ootDmunicated by Moees. 
purer light tiy Chnsl, tbough HLs full light will shine 
forth iu hcavvn only. Thero the tnio Son is with 
the Father. The Falter ia the beginning from which 
are all Uiings. The Son Ls the means ihrough which 
all things aru beautifully ordered, th« Holy Qhost is 
tilt ond by which all things aro oomplet«d and per- 
fected. The Father created all things because He U 
good — this is the old Platonic idea — and because He 
ia good, He ako recalls to Hiuiwlf all thiagu aooording 
to their capacity. 

However much we may agree with the general drift 
of this Diunysian theology, »ome of thece <k-tails hv.-ir 
extremely chiMiah. And yet it ia these very details 
which soetn to have tak«u the faaey of generation 
after generation of Christian toachera and preacher? 
and their audiences. To the present day tbe belief 
of the Charoh in a liiemrchy of angcla and their 
functions is chiefly derived from Dionysius. 

Mil man ott SfottTvliw. 

The cxiKtcDoe of this regular cdeataal hierarchy 
became, as Milman (vi. 406) remarks, an admitted 
fact in the higher and more learned theology. The 
sclioolmen reason upon it as on the Godhead itaelf: 
in its more distinct and material outline it boeame 
the vulgar belief and the subject of frequent artistic 
representation. Milman writtis: 

'Hie separate and occasionally discernible being 
and nature of aeraphim and cherubim, of archangel 
and angel, in that dim confusion of what was thou^fe 



revealed in the Scripture, and what was Banctioned 
I>y the (liureh — of imagi> auil n-ality, this Oriental. 
half-Mogian, hair-Talmudie, but uow ChristiaaiKi^^d 
theory, took its place, if with letiA positive authority, 
with hardly less unt^ueslioued credibility, oniid Uie 
rest of the faith.' 

Dr. Milntan eag^sts with a certain iroiiy that what 
mule this celestial hierarchy so acceptahle to the 
mediattral clergy, may have hcon the corresponding 
eccleeiasticat hierarchy. Dionys'tim in his Eccli-»iu^tirnl 
Hierarchy proceeded to show that there was another 
hierarchy, reflecting the celestial, a huinnn and ma- 
tttrial hierarchy, communicating divine light, purity, 
and knowledge to corporeal l)eingH. The earthly 
sacerdotal order had its type in heaven, the celestial 
ordcre their antitype on vartli. An there was light, 
purity, and knowledge, so there were three orders of 
the earthly hierarchy. Bishops, Priesta. and Deacons; 
thrre Siierann-nts, Bai'tism, the Eiirliariet, the Holy 
Chrism ; thr«o classes, the Baptitt^d. the Cummuni- 
eanta, the Monks. The ecclesiastical bierarchiea 
themselves were formed and or^anLied after the 
pattern of the great oidern in heaven. The whole 
worship of man, which tliey adinini^tored, was an 
echo of that above; it represented, as in a tnirror, 
the angelic or superangelic worsliip in the empyrean. 
All its splendour, it« lights. itH incense, were hut the 
material s^-mhols, adumbration of the immaterial, 
condescending to human thought, embodying in 
things cogni^tabIe to the sontM-s of man the adoration 
of beings close to the throne of God. 

Tliero may be some truth in Milman'a idea that 
human or rather prie»tly vanity was tiattered by all 

The real fascuiation 1| 
cviiiimU,t] in the ttaUsfiK 
to thoBu inoBto cmvin^ ol 
with God, eravinga all the | 
<:xt«nials of religion and vt\ 
iht tainds of pricothood 
aatisfaclion could not have ' 
if only they had Iwim proJ 
laity had bc«Q allowed ot^ 
Wfui dogtoa and cerumoni&l 

Tiw ruth c 

As Dr. Westcott says, th< 
disorders of the fifth century 
tjlorii'» of tht! Chiu-ch and 
churds touched on by Dion 
epoDHe in all truly religious 
I'^nging for the real preseDCt 
union with Qod. Tliis is vrb 
them. To him everj-thing f 
the apprehenBion of the Infli 
know ledge 

a&ainiilaUoD to, or union vith God '. In order to 
rouch this union the Inil^ iuiliatcd b&vb to bo rcli^iisod 
from the objects and the powers of eight before they 
can penetrate into the d&rkni^sa of unknowledge 
(iyvairia). The initintcd i* tliun ali«orIx<d in the 
intangible and iuvLsihlo, wholly given up to that 
which is beyond all things, and belon^ng do longerJ 
Ut hiinaclf nor to any other finite being, but in virtue 
of some nobler faculty united with that which ib 
wholly unknowable, by the absolute inoperation of 
all limited knowledge, and known in a iiiannvr 
boyond mind by knowing nothing (Wostcott, l.c., 
p. 185). This is called the mystic union when the 
uoul ta united with God, not by knowledge, but by 
the devotion of lovo. Hero was tin- n-al ntlrnctiuu of 
the Dionysian writings, at least with many Christiana 
who wanted more from religion than arid dogma, moru 
than vain symhols and ceremonies from the Church. 

It is difficult for us to imagine what the religinua 
state of tlie laity munt have been at that time. It is 
true they were baptised and confirmed, they were 
married and buried by the Church. They were also 
taught their Creeds and prayers, an<l they were iuvitfd 
to attend tlie spectacular services in the ancivnt 
cathedrals. But if they asked why all this was 
so, whence it came and what it meant, they would not 
easily have found on aiiawfrr. Wu muat remember 
that the Bible was at that time an almost inaccuesibte 
book, and that laymen were not encouraged to study 
it. The laity had to be satisfied with what had K'^n 
filtered llirough the brain of (he clei^-, and what wim 
considered by the Church the best food for babes. 
• WMrtoott, L c, pp. 15}, IM), Ml. 



Aoy aitempt to t«t and verify tbi« derictal t«acfatng 
would bave been oonsidervd unful. Th« olci^gy agiiio 
were oflen wiU>oat literary cultivation, and certainlj:- 
vrithoiit tliAt historical and philosophical trmining 
that would liave enabled them to vxpluin tlio theo- 
logical teaching of St. John in its true Eonse. or to 
explain in what nonnc CliriRt was called the Sod of 
Qod.and mankind belicivvd capable of Divinu 80Dshtp. 
Christianity becanie altogether legendarj-. and instead 
of Btriving after a pure conception of Christ, as tlte 
Son of Ood, Pope* and Cardinals iuvented immaculate 
conceptions of a very diEToicnt chnroctor. And the 
which i& the source of all religion in the human beartt ■ 
the perception of the Infinite, an<l the yearning of tbe 
iwul after God, found no ro«)>onito, no satisfaction 
anywhere. How Christianity survived tbe feorfnl 
centuritrs from the 61lh to the ninth, b indsod 
a iimr\(tl. Both cler;!y and laity Bccin to have ted 
Godforsaken lives, hut it was to these very centurioN 
that the old German proverb applied, — 

'W%f>n pui^ arc hlshart 
Then 0<m1 !■ nlgliot.' 

Nearness to God, nnion with God, was what many 
Bouls were then striving for, and it wa« as satisfyii 
that desire that the teaching of Dionysiua was weleomo' 
to the clci^' and indirectly to the laity. 

riv* stKgM or i^Mo unlML. 

The mystic union of which Dionysius treata, was not 
anything to be kept aocrct, it wa« simply what tbe 
Neo-Platonistfi had taught as the last and bighe 
point of their philosophy and their rolit^ion. Tho3 



rGcogniscd a number of prelim inarj' stogeB, audi M 
parilicatlon (naOapan), illimimtttion (tpufriiTii6v), and 
ioilititioa (fivqiru), wbich in tlie cud led to unllicAtion 
witli God (ivaiTit) And deification (Sitatriv), n chniigv 
into God. Sometimea adUtiuction was made botvrcen 
oneoess {ipaurii) and likenesa (oiioCaim), but in tho 
eoBO of likonetM with Ood, it would bu diHicutl to 
explain any difference between likeiiess and oaeneas, 
between what is god-likt*, aiid wliat Li godl^. 


If there was an initiation (fiin]a-t(), it muBt net be 
lapposed that there was anything secret or myaterioua 
in tiiia pi-eparatiou for the liij^hc-st ^oal. Tlie Hunosis 
or union with the One and All woa no more of a secret 
than was tlie touching of St. Paul ttiat wu live and 
move and have our being in Ood All that was meant 
by initiation was preparation. iitn&>a to receive the 
Higher Kiiowludgc Still, many of the Katber« of 
the Cliurcli who bad been brought up tn the schools 
of Neo-Platonist philosopbent, apoke of the union 
of the 80ul with (lod aa a mystical union, and att a 
iny«t«r)*. Thus Origun (o. Cvlaum, 1. l,c. 7) aays that 
though Christianity was more widely spread than 
any otlior philoHuphy, it poaseaiwa certain tilings 
behind tho exoteric teaching which an not ri-a<lily 
communicated to the many. St. Basil distinguiahes 
in C'bristianity between Kffpvynara, what is openly 
proclaimed, and M/fiora, which are kept Kecn-L Thoeo 
who had been baptised were sometimes spoken of aa 
liviiTai or it>aiTi(6fui-oi, enlightened, na di>linguiRhc(l 
&om the cati'chuinoiiH, just lut in the Greek inyetcrius 
a distinction was made between the initialed and the 



exoterics. The Lord's Supper moro piuiiculitrly. vm 
oftoD spoken of m n great uivMtery, but though it was 
calk'd a inynlcry, it was not a socrct in (be ordJtiAi^' 
teoae. Cleineat denies expreusly that the Ctiureh 
poKseiiecit any itecrct doctrines (Siinxa^ i\Xat ivop- 
pi'lTuvf '), though, no doubt, he too would have held 
that what is eacred inue<t not be given to dogs. 
What may be called the mjstvry in at the 
B&inc timo the higlu-st truth, whether in Christiaoity 
or in Neo-Platonism. namely the ti-toaa or iitkimnt, 
thv purfect union with Uod. Thii» MarartUH (c. 330) 
says in his Homiliw (xiv, S) : ' If a man Burrender 
his hidden bein^, that is his spirit and his thougliU, 
to Ooil, oocupied with noUiing eW, and uioved by 
nothinjj else, but restraining himisolf, thco the Lord 
holdn hiin worUiy of ilu- inyittvriAS in much holtnci* 
and purity, nay, Hu offiTs HitUKclf to liiin as divinu 
bread and spiritual drink.' 

It is (hifl ao-cnJk-d mystvry whidt forms the highest 
object of the teaching of Dionysius the Arcopagite. 
lie also admits certain stages, as preliminary to the 
highest njy»t«iy. They are the same as thoev of the 
Neo-Platonists, beginning with xaSapan, punficatina, 
and ending with Oinati and ii-onrit, that m, deification, 
union with God, or i.-hangc into God'^. Wo shall 
now uiidcretand btttcr why be ealhi that uniom 
mystic and bis theology mystic theology. 

It seems to me that it was the satisfaction which 
DionyniuH gnvc to thiit yearning of the human heart 

' Uigs, pp. 07. 140. 

' WV wniitit wort] likothnOi^Tman VttteHuitfi, which i*«tiIillDreiit 
Aom VtrgUtrrim} Ui ftawir U from Amtiaiaii. 



after union with God, far more than the satisfaction 
wKidi be may have given to eccleaiantical vanity, 
which explaiiiH tlii.> extraordinary influcnco which he 
acquired both among the laity and the clergy. After 
hiH time tb>; wliol<- ntri-am of theological knowledge 
may bu said to have rolled ou in two parallel chauiiele, 
one tho iirhnlaatie, occupied with the definition of 
Christian doctrines and tlieir defitnce, tlie other the 
Myiftic, dcvotvd to the divino element in man; or 
with what waa called the birth of Christ within the 
son). The Christian mytdica, so far a» their funda- 
mental position wue crjucvmcd, argued very much like 
the Vedantists and Eleatio phi)o§ophere. If we believe 
in the One Being, they Daid. which eau^ea and deter- 
mines all things, then that One Being must ho the 
caiiite and determination of the human soul also, and 
it would bo mere illusion to imagine tiitit our bt*ing 
could in its eseence be different from that of God. 
]f,flQthe contrary.taanis in his essence different from 
the One ftindameJital and Supreme Being, self-deter- 
mined and entirely free, then there ean l»e no infinite 
God. but we shouid h&vo to admit a number of Gods, 
or di^■ine beings, all independent of the One Being, yet 
limited one by tho other. The ('hrUtian Myslios 
embraced the former alternative, and in this reepoct 
differed but little from the Neo-Platonists. though they 
looked for and found utrong aupport far their doctrines 
in the Xew Testament, moro particularly in the 
Gospel ascribed to St. John and in some of the 
KpiHtlos of St. Paul. Tho ChrLstian mystic theo- 
logians were moi^t ouxitmi* to establish their claim to 
be considered orthodox, and we see that for a long 
time Dionysins continued to be recognised u an 


b« gtUhered &oia the wifl 
Lo^p.144). I 

MyiUelmi, uid ■ 

In our (Uytt 1 cluubn 
DionyuiuB would bo col 
Dr. Tiioluck, a most orthl 
admiriTof the mystic pool 
draws a brood diEtinctiol 
Chriiitian mj-stic. He dJ 
who. conscious of bis afSuJ 
the I'U'jftdvH to tlio grain o 
Htreaiu of life that poura 
p<.Tc«iTing alao Uiat Uiv ^ 
forth in his own heart, 
world which is turned to 
finitv, turning hia eye in tl 
the mysterioua ahyes, whei 
finite, aatistied in Damelesa 
opem^l within himself, an 
by a blissful lovo of the sec 
(p. 20). ' In his imjra 


Etcmftl may mo^T freely in the motionless muI, and 
the life of the houI may bo absorbed in the kw of 
God.' Even thin langnage Bounds to our eara Bome> 
what extra vn^nt and uutoal. Norvroiild Dr. Tholuek 
btniBolf accept it without considerable quaU^catiun, 
Eu) applicable to Ibe Cbridtian myHlic. ' The C'hrieitiaa 
inynlic,' hi! says (p. 24), ' need not fear such apeculations. 
He knows no muro and wants to know no uiom than 
what is given him by the revelation of God ; all 
deduction!* that go K<yond, aro cut .ihort by btm. Me 
warms himself at the onv ray that ha» dcacoudud from 
ettTnity into this tiniteness. unconcerned about all the 
fircwurks of purely human workmanship, unconcerned 
also about the objection that the ray which warmi 
him more than any earlbly I'mhi, may itnelf aUo bo 
of the earth only. A Christian knows that to the end 
of time there can be no philosophy which could shake 
hia faith by its syllogisms. Ho docs not care for what 
foltowB from syllogisms, he aimply wuts lor what is 
to follow on hia faith, luimoly sight.' 

Still, with all thin determined striving after oi-tho- 
dosy, Dr. Tholuek admits that mystic religion in Lho 
richest and profoundent production of (he human mind, 
the most living and the must exalted revelation of 
God from the realm of nature, nay that after what he 
calls evangelic grace, it occupies the highest and 
DO blest place. 

There are Christian royetica, however, who would 
not place internal revelation, or the voic« of God 
witliin thu heart, eo far below external rvvelation. 
To those who know the presence of God within the 
heart, this revelation ia far iiiori^ real than any otlier 
can possibly bo. They hold with St, Paul (I <'or. iii. 



16) that ' mftn is in the fall sense of the word th« 
bMnplo of Qod aDd that the iipirit of God dwelletb 
within hiDi.' uay iJioy go «ven further and boUi as 
Chmtiaos aod as myBlics they cling to the belief that 
all iiu;n are one in the Father aad the Son, as (he 
FatliiT M in th« Hon, and the Son in the Father. 
Tfacru IB no conflict in their uiudB betwc«u ChriHtiao 
doctrine and mystic doctrine. They are one and the 
name iu chaiacl«r, the one ii»part«d through Christ on 
uarth, thu ocbur tiaparLod thri^u^h the indwelling spirit 
of God, which again is Christ, as bom within ua. The 
Oospel of St. John is full of passages to which the 
Christian myatio clings, and by which he juatiiius hi« 
bolief in the indwelling spirit of Qod, or as he also 
calls it, the birth of Christ in the human eoal. 

Ol>]*atloiia to llTBttd Batlglea T*oonaid*T«d. 

The dangers which have so often been pointed out 
aa arising from this mystic belief which makes God 
all in all, and therefore would render Him reapotiKible 
for thu evil abo which cxiat« in Uiib world, or wouI<l 
altogi-ther uliminate the distinction between uvil and 
good, exist in every religion, in every philosophy. 
Tlicy are not pecuHax to tliijt mystio religion. The 
myeticn chief aim is not to account for the orip'n of 
evil, as no human understanding con — hut to t«ach 
hiiw to overcome evil by good. The dangers to morality 
are much exaggerated. It is mere pbariaaism to aay 
tliat they exist in mj'atio rehgion only. It is to falsify 
hintury to cliargc myitticB with ignoring th« laws of 
uiorulity. Are those laws observed by all who ore not 
mystical Did the majority of criniinala in ih« world 
evar conaiat of mystics, of men such as SL Eemard 



and Tauler ? Has orthodoxy always proved s shield 
^ainttl temptation and sin ? A man may bo lenient 
in hifl judgmunt of puLlioaiis and sluueni without 
losing his eense of right and wrong. Th«re may 
havi! bwn casfu whtirt' tho lilwrty of the spirit has 
bctn used as a veil for UcontioiiKncsM, though 1 know 
of few only ; but in that case it is clear that true 
royatic union had not hei-n efTected. When the soul 
has once rcaohod this true union with God, nay when 
it Itvc-B in the conetant presence of God, evit becomi>8 
aknost impoesible. WV know that most of tho evil 
deeds to which human nature ta pruut.-, aro poBsihlu in 
the dark only. Before the eyes of another human 
being, more particularly of a beloved being, they lie- 
coniu at oncu impossible. How much more in the roal 
presence of a real and really beloved God, as felt by the 
true myHtic, not murvly as a phrase, but as a facti 
We ore told how the Russian peasant covers the face 
of his Kikon with his handkercliief that it may not 
see bi.^ wickcdno^tt. The mystic fowl;* the «ame ; as 
long as thoru is no veil between him and God, evil 
thoughts, evil words, and evil deeds are simply im- 
powtiblo to one who feels the actual presence of God. 
Kor is he troubled any longer by questions, such as 
how the world was created, how evil camo into the 
world. Ho is satistied with the Uivinv liovo that 
embraces his soul ; he has all that he can desire, bis 
whole life is bid through Christ in God, death ia 
swallowed up in victory, tho mortal has become im- 
mortal, neither death, nor life, Dor angels, nor princi- 
palities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor iioight, nor depth, nor any other creature, ia 
able to separate his soul from the love of God. This 

ia the language used by St Paal ; this is tbe language 
rc*«cho«d by tb« noble army of Chriatian mystioa, and 
more ta leaa by uU tbosc who, whether iu India or 
Ferna or Arabia, nay in Europe aUo, hunger and 
thint a(W CJwi, nay who fwl ihtmstilvea children of 
Qod in tbe vuiy fullest and dvupvst mdho of that 

II has been said tbnt the times in which -n-o livs 
are not congenial to mystic Cliristianily, that we want 
a ntronger and aleroer faith to carry ua through the 
galM aiid the conflicting currents of the day. That 
may be bo. and if tbe Church can supply ne with 
Btrouger and safer vessels for our passage, let her do 
BO. But let her never forget that the meJiaevaL| 
Church, though gloryiug in her scholastic defi<ni)erB,' 
though warning againat tbe dangers of Platonic and 
mytitio Cbi-iHtionity, though even unxaiiiting St. 
Clement and denouncing tho no less saintly Origen, 
never ceased to look upon men as St. Bernard (lOitO- 
1152), Hugo (died lUi:. and RichoH (died 1173) 
of St. Victor, as her brightest oruamcuU and her beat 

■t. Bnurd. 

While tho great echulastic tboologiana wore laying 
down definitions of dogmas, moat of them far bcyor 
the reach of tho gieat mai-R of tbe people, tlie gi'eai 
max» of men, wour^u, and cbildron were atlracti-^l by 
the sermons of monks nnd priests, who, brought up 
in the doctrine)^ of mystic ('lirivtianity, and filler! with 
res|)oct for its supposed founder, Dionynius tltu Areo- 
pagite, preached the love of God, a life in and for God, 
BB the only true Christian life. Christ, they held, had 



but rarely taught how to believe, but bad eonstantly 
taught how to live. His fundaiiientat doctrine had 
biH'i) Bin own life, and thu chiof IcsFion of that life had 
been that Christ was the Son of God, not in a mytho- 
logioal sensd. but in its d«e[>est philosophical meaning, 
namoly oh tho thought and will of God incarnate in 
a perfect man, aa the ideal of manhood rftalixud in all 
itfl folneas, as the Logoii, the true Son of God. St. 
Bernard of Ckirvciux ateo prraoht-d that a ChriNtinn 
lifowoBthebrat proof of Christian faith. ' The reason,' 
ho writes. * why we should lovo God, Is Ood Himself; 
the racastirc of that love is thitt wv should lovo Him 
beyond all mcaeure '.' ' Even mere reason,* he com inues, 
'obliges ua to do thm ; the natural law, implanted 
wltliin UB, calls iiloud that wu should love God. We 
owe all to Him, whatever we are ; all goods of the 
body and the euuI which wc enjoy, are His work ; 
liow then should we not bo bound to love Him for Hia 
own sakcl This duty applies also to Non-Christians; 
for even the heathen, though he does not know Christ, 
knows at least himitelf, and must know therefore that 
he owcJi all that is within him to God, In a still 
higher degree the Chrielian is bound to love God, for 
be enjoy« not only the good things of creatiou, but of 
salvation also.* 

I«Ta or Ood. 

This love of God. St. Bernard continues, must be 
such that it does not love God for the sake of any 
rewanls to be obtained for it. Ttii^ would bo mer- 
cenary love. True love is ratisfied in itself. It is 

' rn ddttewh Dia, vol. 1 1 CauM dtli^uidj Deunt Doiu ut, modun, 
•In* mod4 dUieiira. 



true our love is not without ita reward, it ia tiue also 
thnt the reward U Ho Uiniself who U lovoil, iiAtix'ljr 
God. Um ol>ji;ct of our love. But to look for luiothor 
reward bceide Him, la contrary to the nature of love. 
God gives us a rewarcl for otir love, but we must not 
seek for it. Nor ie this lovo perfect at once. It luu 
to ]m8ti through several stages. On the first Btage, 
acQordiog to St. Bernard, we love oursclvM for our 
own Hakv. That is not yet love of God, but it ie a 
preparation for it. On the second stage, wo love God 
for our own sake. That is the lint atoge toward ihc 
real lovu of God. On the third litii^, we love God for 
HiH own sake. Wo then enter into the true esseuoe 
of the lova of God. haBtly. on the fourth iit«go, w« 
not only lovo God for His own eake, but wo alao love 
ourselves and everjlbing else for the sake of God only. 
That Ih the highest porfuution of the lovo of God. 

This highest degree of love, however, is reached in 
all ita fulness in the next life only. Only rarely, in a 
moment of mystic vcstosis may we rise oven in this 
life to that highest stoge. 

Botaala, •eoordlnK to at. B*n>rd. 

St. Bemanl tlien [.roci'ijils in bia own syftlunisUe 
way to explain what this ecstasie is, and how it can 
be reached. The fundami'utal condition is bamility, 
the only way by which we can hope to reach truth 
There are twelve dcgrMSof humility which St. Buroai'd 
desorihos. But besides humility, perfect love ia ro- 
quirod, and then only may we hope to enter into the 
mytitic world. Hence thu first stitge i» eviuiUicratioit 
of truth, based on examination and etlU carried on by 
discursive tbought. Then followa contsmpUition o£ 



truth, without ducimivo exnuiiniitioii. This con- 
tcmplAtion IB followed at last by what St. Beruaid 
caUa the ailm initio nuij^tiitis, the admiration of the 
iiitijesty of truth. Thia roquiros a pur^d hutirt, fres 
from vice, and delivered from bios, a heart that may 
rise on high, nay may for aome mom<'Qtt> liold thu 
ftdmiving houI iu a klud of Htuptifaction and ccatusis 
{Degrad. Iiumii^ o. 8, Ti eeq.). 

It i» in a stato huHi an thiu that tho soul will enti.-r 
iuto tlio nttxt Ufo. Uur will will ttufton uud will ini^lt 
away into the divine will, and pour itself into it. 
And here we often find St. Bcmai-d tining the name 
ttimilcs 08 to tho ri.-liitiou of tho soul to God which wo 
found in the Upanishada and in the Neo-Platonists. 
A^ a Hinnll drop of water, he saye. when it fall.-« into 
much wine, Heema to fail from itttelf, while it B^aumea 
the colour and taate of wine ; aa the ignited and 
glowing iron becomes us likv as possiblu to fire, 
deprived of ite own original nature : aa the air when 
permeated by the light of the nun ia ohangisd into the 
brigliUiess uf light, Hn that it iiov» not swm tto ntudt 
lighted up. as to bo light iteolf, so will it bo nvccfHary 
that every human affection should in &ome ineffable 
way melt away and U.-coiho entirely trwisfonnyd into 
the will of (!r»d. For olhcrwino, how should (jod be 
all in all, if eomcthiug of man n>maiiit-d in man? 
Nay the very caution which waa UBod in the Vedinta, 
in used by St. Itenitml nko. The houI, though lost in 
God. is u»t annihilated in thi.-^ ccstnKi.ii. The oubBtancc, 
as St. Bernard says, will remain, only in another torm, 
in another gloiy, in another power. To be in that 
glory IB to become Ood, evt deijlcari. 



■t. Bsrnard'i Poiltlon In tk* Ohunh waA Stat*. 

To iDodiMii oArft tlioae idt-as, ((iiite familtar in the 
Middli- A^cs, Houiid iftriui^jL-, BOinv might look upno 
thoin as aliuoat blaaphemous. But St. BcrnaiJ was 
never coimiiercd oh b. Maxplii^riM^r, even hui orthodoxy 
was nuvvr »uspvct«d. He vias the ^c-at chnnipion of 
orthodoxy, the only man who oould successfully cope 
with Ahi-hird iit tlu> Syiiod of S«na (1 140). 

St. BLTuai-d'tt thflology and his wholo life supply 
indeed the beat answer to the euperficial objectjoiu 
that havi! iiftrvn Ixhn raisod a^ajtiHt myalic (.'brLitianity. 
It httn oftun bi-«a said that true Cliristiaiiily doi-a not 
teach that man should spend his Ufe in ecstatic coo- 
templation of the Oiviiic, Imt expects him to show 
hiH lov(> of (jod by his octix'o love of his nuigbbours, 
by an active Qod-fcaring life. In our time particn* 
larly retigiouci (|ui<.-tii<m, and a uionastio rotirtimeDt 
from tb(! world are condcuiDed without meroy. But 
St. Bernard baa shown that the contemplative state 
of miud U by no m^aim incompatible with love of our 
nci^hbuurs, uay wich a (goodly hatred of our unemicfl, 
and with a vigorous paiticipation in the affairs of the 
world. Thin monk, wc nbould remember, who at the 
ago of tweDty-tbr(.-« had luttrod from tliu world to 
the monaster}- of Cieteaux, and after three ycftra had 
become Abbot of Clairvaux, was the same Uurnard 
who fought tho battle of Popo lunoocnl H aguoBt 
th(> Antipopo Anaclot II, who with bU own weapons 
Bubduotl Arnold of Broscia, and who at last rouwil 
the whole of Christendom, by his fiery baranguca, to 
the second Cnisade in tl4~. Thix ahows that bi-DcalU 
the Btormiest BuriJ&Do the dccpoat ground uf the soul 


may remain tranquil and undiiitiirbed. It shorn, u 
even the Vvd&niUtM knew, lliKt iimn itcod not go into 
the forest to bo an aDclioTitp, but tliat there is a forest 
ia evei^' nmn'a heart where he may dvcll alouu with 
the Alone. 

Mag« of BL VUMt, EDOWlad«v Mar* oanaln Ihui rklA, 

Another charge often brought against eo •called 
myfltica nnd quictist«, titat ihvy arv narrow-minded 
kod intolerant of intelloclual freedom, ia best refuted 
by the intiiiiate friend of St. Bernard, the famous Hugo 
of Sl Victor, the founder of thu VictonneH. When 
defining faitb in it« Bubjective Bcnso as the act by 
which we reci;ive and hold truth, Hugo of St, Victor, 
like many of the schoolmen, dii^tiuguishw between 
opinion, faith, and science, and ha placett faith 
above opinion, but below kuowUKlge due to seienco. 
Opinion, he Bays, does not exclude the possibility of a 
contiadtctory oppofiite ; faith excludes such poaalbJlity, 
but docs not yet know what is believed ua prusent, 
resting only on the authority of another through 
whose teacliing what iit to be beliuved is conveyed by 
means of baaiing (.Sruti). Science on thu contrary 
knows its object as actually present; the object of 
knowledge is present to the uiind'd eye and is known 
owing to this presence Knowlmlgo by science there- 
fore represents a higher degree of certainty than faith, 
because it i» mure pt^rft-et to know an object in itself 
by means of its imuiediHtv pivsencv than to arrive at 
iU knowledge by hearing the teaching of another only. 
The lowest d^ree of faith is that when the believer 
Rocepts what ix U> bo believed fi-oui mere piety, without 
understanding by his reason that and why be should 



W'licvo wbnt ho hati aoccptfil. Tht- next hifther stags 
of failb is when failli is joined to rational initij^ht, wicl 
retMnn approves what faith aoceptfi aa true, ao tliat faitb 
is joined with tiif knowlo<l^e of Hcivnw. The highest 
degree is when faith, founded in a pure heart ajid an 
unstAJned conscience, begins to t«st« inwardly what 
has been cmbraood and held in faith. Hero (aith is 
perfected to higher myatio contemplation. 

How many people who now kneel liefore the iniogos of 
St. Bernard and Hugo of St. Victor, would bo horrified 
at the doctrine that the higher faith must be founde<l 
on reason, and thnt fnitb has less oeitointy than 
thu kuowk-dgo of eciuaoe. 

ThonuLN Aquinas thought it nccMiMUy to guard 
agauiAt this doctrine, but ho also admits that froinl 
a subjective point of view, faith stands half way 
between opinion and scicntinc knowledge, that is to 
say, below scientific kuowled^, thou^ above merei 
opinion. He argues, however, that faitb has mora 
certainty than seifntitlc knowledge, lo^cause Christiao 
faith has the authority of divine rovvlatton, and 
we believe what is revealed to ua, because it ha* 
been revealed by Cod as the highest truth. (I4oD 
eaini fidex, de qua loquimur, ossontit alicui, nisi quta 
a Deo est rcvelatiim.) Ho does not tell us how* w« 
can know that it was revealed by Ood exct-pt by 
means of reason. Tliotnas Ai]iiiiiiv^, however, though 
on thix point he; dilTL-ni from St. Hugo, and thougl) bo 
cannot be called a inystio even in the sense in -whlchJ 
St. Bernard was. nevcrtheles-i i* most tolemtit toward 
his mystic friends, nay on certain points the stora 


echolfistie is almost a mystic hini».-lf, He speaks of 
a atalc of bK-ssedneBii produced by a visioD of the 
IMvinv (vieio divinau eeticntiae), be only doubU 
wbetber vri^ can ever attniii to u koowlodgo of Uiu 
esBence of the Divine in this life, and he appeals to 
iJionyHius the Arcoiiiigite, who likowine says that 
man can only he joined to God &» to Hoincihing 
altogether unknon-n. that is, that man iii this lil'u 
cannot gajn a quidditative knowledge of Qod, and 
hence his blcWMlncss cannot be perfect on earth. In 
support of this Dionysins quotes St. John (Ep. I. iii. 2): 
' Hut we know that, when He iOikU appear, we shall 
bo like Him ; for wo shall sec Him an He is.' 

Thomas Aquinas ditters on other points also from 
the mystics who believe in an ocitatio union with 
<iod even in this life. According to him the highest 
end of man can only be Iikem*.t with (Jod (Omnia 
igiiur apixtuiit, qxuiai tUtimum fin&in, Deo tiwimi* 
fan). Only of the soul of Christ does Thomas 
Aquinna admit that it saw the Word of God by that 
vision by which thu Blessed see it, so that His soul 
was blessed, and His body also perfect '. Likeness 
with Qod ia to him the «ummum honum, and it ia 
the high<-Ht beatitude which miui can n-ach, Tliis 
highest beatitude is at the same time, as Thomas 
Aquinas tries to show, the highest perfection of 
htininn nature; because what diMlin^^i.thcs man from 
all other ci-eatarea is his intellect, and it follows, there- 
fore, that the highest perfection of his intelleot in ita 
Bpcculatire and coutcntphitive activity is likewise bis 

■ aiinima, 111. II, I ; Anlmn Cliridi vidobst Tortnim Dot m tialon* 
(IDA b<i«ll vliJtint. «t In anlmo Chriitl armt bcaU, wd U bcatilndluo 
ftuiniMi KloriScatur oorpua. 




hlgbcn bcfttitudo. (S«atilutlo igttur nef ftUriVu i» 
actuinleilecttucontittUmhttanti-iliterft prineipttlitrr 
magU<iuam inactu volnnUilia (C. G. xiii. e. 261.) The 
bigbeal uliJMt of tbix epvcuUtive and ooal«inpIativ* 
activity uf the iotelk-ct can only be God. AmJ 
h«re again Thomas A<|iiinas shows an extraordinary 
freudom from theological pnyudioc Granted, be 
says, that the highest end and th« real beatitude of 
man constBta in tlt« knowledge of God, we nuM still 
didLinguUh K-twi-cn (1) a natoral koowlcdga of God, 
whidi ui oommon to all human beingB; ('2) a dfiuon- 
fitrative l£nowledj.'e of Cod, (3) a knowledge of Ood by 
faitii, and (4) a kouwlvdjji] of Uod by viMon {visi 
Dei per eseentiam). 

If the qaestioD be *»VtA whid) of these ia the 
{Mrfuct knowledge of God. Thomas Aqnmas answen 
without the leaat hesitation, thd last. It cannot bo 
the fliHtv t)ccau»e ho h<Jd tlint a knowledge of God, aa 
KUpplied by nature, by what we should call Natural 
Reldgioo, is imperfect on account of ita many erron. 
It cannot bo tho second. iKcaune demonstrali w know- 
IcdgG is imp«rf«ct in being acotssible to the few only 
who ran follow logical demonstrations, also in being 
uiiocrtuiu in iu rcMultA. It cannot be tho third, or 
knowledge of God by faith, which most thixdogtans 
would collider as the safeHt, because it has no inter- 
nal evidence of truth, luid is a matter of thv will 
rntliiT than of the intollect. But tba will, aooording 
to Thomas, stands lower than the intellect. The only 
perfect knowledge of God is therefore, acconling to 
tluB highest authority of scbolaetic thcolo^, the 
immediate vision of God by means of the intvll>.-ct, 
and tbia can be given uti a» a aupematuraJ gift only. 



So for M imnii;(]iutc vision u) conci-mod, Thomu ogroefl 
therefore with the myiitics; he even admitfl, goiog 
in this reeipect beyond Dionyaiua, tlie poHsihility of 
ft qtiidilitutivo kttowlodgo of Qod, only, it would seem, 
iiot in this life. 

And while be admits the po-i^ibltlty of this intel- 
lectiinl vision, he holds that more loving dvvotinn 
to Gud c&n never he the highest beAtitudc His 
reasons for this aie stiimge. We love tlie good, he 
itaya, not only whi-ji w« hnvo it, but ul»o when we 
bitvc it not yet. and fixtni tJiis love there arises 
desire, and desire is clearly incompatible with perfect 

Hugo of St. Victor, on tho other hand, accepted 
tbat vision ns a nimplo fiicU Man, ho said, is 
endowed with a threefold oye, the eye of the flesh, 
the eye of reason, and tlie eyo of contemplation. 
By the eye of the flesh man s«os the external world ; 
by the eye of reason ho sees the spiritual or ideal 
world ; by tho eye of contemplation he sees the 
Divine within him In the soul, and above him in 
God. Parsing through the stages of eo^tation and 
meditation, the soul arrives at last at contemplation, 
and derives its fullest happiness from an immvdinte 
intuition of the Infinite. 

Hugo saw tliat the inmost and the highest, the soul 
within and Uud above, ore identical, and that thcris 
furo the pure in heart can see God. 

Hugo is rich in poetical illustration. He com- 
parvft, for instance, this spiritual process to the 
application of Hre to green wood. It kindles with 
diDiculty. he says ; cloudii of smoke arise al iirst, 
a tiaino is seen at intervals, llunliing out here and 
W Kk 



there; as the fins gnins Blrt-nti^h, it surrounds, it 
pierces the fuel ; pr€S>i>ntlv it li-aps and roveit in 
triumph — the nature of the wood is b^g truuiformetl 
into the iiaturv of tiro. Thon, l]iu Htnig^lo over, the 
crackling ceases, the Hmoko is gone, there ia Infi 
a tranquil friendly brightaesa, for the uuutterH^luuivnl 
hns Bubdued all into )U'<clf. So, »ays Hugo, do ftiu 
and grace contend \ and tho siiiokv and trouble and 
anguish bang over the strife. But wbeu grace growo 
stronger, and tlie soul's oj'e doarer, and trutli pervades 
and swallows tip tho kindling, aspiring nature, then 
comes holy calm, and love is aU in all. Save God in 
the heart, nothing of Kclf is lefl', 

' TliU pnun^o. quoted b]rViiaghBii in til« BMtr* idO, Ua M^^irt, 
Till, I. ji. Ifii3 ^.ini 41(1.], Miitiiu lo hATf aiw*t^ what MMtur 
Evklinrt wril^it, p. 131, 1. 10, «d. Ifuiffor. 



cnnisTUN TireosopHT, 

Krattc 0brUUult7. 

THE rtrc&m of mystic Christi&Dity which we bava 
watched from ita distant springs flows on in an 
everdeeju^ning and widening cliatiiifltliToiigliUii^wholo 
of the Middlo Agea. In (Jermany more partioulaily 
there came a time wh«n what is called mystic Chris- 
tianity fonned nlinoet the only Hpiritual food of the 
people. Scholafiticiem, no doubt, held ite own among 
the higher ecolesiaBtioa, but the lower clergy and the 
Uity at large, livcfl on the teaching which, aa we 
Baw, flowed originally from Dionyaius, and intor- 
pcnetmted even the dry scholasticism of Thomas 
AijuinaA ( 1224-1274). of Hunaventitra (1221-1274), and 
others. It then cauie to the surface once more in tho 
labours of the German MyeticH, and it beeamo in tholr 
handit a very importAUt moral and politjcal power. 

First of all, these Oernian Sfyatics boldly adopted 
the language of the people, they apokc in the vulgar 
tongue to tho vulgar people ', tlioy spoke id tlie Un- 

' Til* ourliesl tnieo of Srnnont in Qurmtli U fxiiiid in ft list of 
book* of tlin toalli ccniury ^m St. Emmtnim at Aupburg^ 



gti^e of tlio licjirt to the li«>Art of tlio people. Secondly, 
they adapted tlicinsolves in other respects alxo lo tlio 
vcfiiils Olid to tbe undei&taDding of tlieir flocks. Thrir 
religion wu a religion of tlift hoart ».nd of love 
nther than of tho head ui«] uf lu;;iciil doductiou. It 
arose at the very time when sfibolastic l-'IiriMtiKnily 
had outlived itai^lF, and whiiti, owing to nuhforlunee 
of e^'cry kind, the puopK- stood inoab tu need of reli- 
gious support and consolation. 

TlM roartMnlh Oantwrr la Ocrsuar. 


The fourU'fiith century, during which the Germta 
mystics were moat active and most powerfa), vras a 
lime nut only uf political and eodociaiitica) unreBt, 
but a time of intense suffering. In many n-spi-cta it 
reminds us of the fifth century vhieb gftve rise to 
mystic Neo- Platen Irid in the Chrifttian Church. Tb* 
glorious period of the HohpnEtaufeu emperoi-K had eoioe 
to a miserahle end. The poetical entbnsiasm of Uw 
nation had parsed away. The etiugglu hotw«H'n the 
Empire and ibo Pope soemid to tear up tho vtry roola 
of religion and loyalty, and the spectacle of an ex- 
travat^nnt, nay oven an openly profligate life. U-d hv^J 
many mombcn of tho hij^bur clergy had dcstroye^^| 
nearly all reverenco for tho Church. Like the Church, 
the Kmpiro also was torn to pieces ; no onv knew vbo 
wa» Emperor and wIjo was I'opo. The Intertlict fell 
like a blight on the fairc:st poTtioun of Germany, ovetY 

SiriMXM atfjKfiWiim trutmin ; rt Knitmvtn'it SfTitpntm, IHIl, n SAI 
Aa Mliet of Cliarli'innLEnr. ia wlii«li he coniiuDnila tti* Biijiopa | 
proairh in thv lanisuAKv uiictfr-trfxl by tliu iwoplc. Riw* luMh lo || 
yru S18. It wna repvatnj lu tU7 •( tli« fifooil «i II«junoa 
UhAbuiiiu Muurui. 

OHnirrtAV THKoeopitT. 


kind of pestilence broke out, ciuling At Wt in the 
ft-arrul visitAtion of tlic Black Yhe,ih (1348-l&4g), 

Th* IntardtEt. 

This Interdict meant far inoiu tJiou wo b»ve any 
idea of. Tito cburcbctt wcrt- cIoKud, no bells wcfo 
allowed to bo rung. The priests left their pariBhcs; 
in many places tlici'o were no clurgy to baptise 
children, Co pcrfonn marringcs. or to bury the duftd, 
In few places only sonii' priests were brave enough 
to di.^fy the Papal Interdict, and to remain with tlioir 
flocks, and thi» Uiuy did at tho peril of their body 
and their bouI. Tho people became thoroughly scared. 
They saw tho finger of Ciod in all the punisbnicnta 
inflicted on their country, but tlioy did not know how 
to avert Ilia anger. Many people banded together 
and travellcMl from villnge to village, ainging psalms 
and scourging tbemselves in public in the most hor- 
rible manner. Others gave themseh'ea up to drink 
and every kind of indulgence. But many i-vtiied 
from tho world altog<!ther. and devutud tlieir lives 
to contemplation, looking forward to the speedy 
Approach of the end of the worltl. 

Til* F*opl« mai the PrlaMliood. 

It was during those times of outwanl trouble and 
inward despitir that Kome of tlio«c who ore generally 
called the Geiman Mystics, chiefly Dominican and 
Franoinoan monks, devoted tlicmselves to tbo service 
of tho people. They felt that not even tho Papal Inter- 
dict could absolve them from tho duty which they 
owed to God and to tlieir flocks. They piwtofaed 
wherever they could lind a congregation, in the streets. 



in tbe meadows, wherever two or thr« were gnUbmi. 
together, and what they preached wa« the aimple 
QostK-], inlerprvlcd in it8 true or, as It waa called, its 
mytttic DicuniDf;. The monastic orders of Uie Fno* 
ciscaos and Dominicans were moBt active nt the time, 
and sent out tiavelling preachers all over the country. 
Their Hctrnions were nu-ant for the hour, an<l iii few 
cases only have they been preserved in Latin or in 
Oerman. Such were the sermons of David of Augs- 
burg (diod 1271) and Horchtold of Be^ensburg (d 
1272). Tlio etlV'ct of their pn'aching mast have 
■very powerful. Wo have descriptions of large gatber- 
inga which took place wherever they catne. Tbe 
churchoH were not large enough to hold tho nmlU- 
ludeit, and the eermons bad ol^en to be delivered 
outAtde the walla of tho towns. We hear of mcwt 
of 40,(X)0, 100,(100, nay. of :i00.000 people, though 
ought to remember how eaaily such numbers are < 
geratc-d by friendly rcporUrs. The ctTcct of thuse^ 
sermons eecma to have been instantaneous. Thus wo 
are told that a nobleman who had appropriat«-<l a 
oaatle ancl lands belonging to the cloister of I'facfurs, 
ht once roBtored them after hearing Berchtold's sermon. 
When taken captive Berchtold preached to his captor,i 
and not only converted his household, but pr;r»uaded1 
hin to Join his order. He was even bcIiovi.Hl to possess 
the power of working miracles and of prophesyingj 
One year before his own ilealb and while ho waa 
pn.«ching at Katisbon, he suddenly hail a vision of 
h\» friend and teacher, David of Augsbui^. aii<) be 
prophewied his death, whieh, we are told, had taken 
place at that very moment. A woman while listening 
to hia Bormon fell on her knees and confessed ber sins 


Ixirore the whole congregation. BerchtoM aeceptfld 
hor oonfessioii tuul askvd vrbo would murry iho woman, 
promising to give her a dowry, A niftn came forward, 
and Berchtold at once collected among the people the 
nxct Kum which ho had promised for licr dowry. Wc 
koOT^ of course, how easily such rumours spring up. 
aod how rapiilly they |rrow. HtiU wu may avoi^pt all 
theac li>gOQdM DM symptomH of the feverish movement 
which these popular preechera were then producing all 
over Qermany. No wonder tlial these German myntic^ 
and tlio Friends of God, as they were called, were dis- 
liked by the regular clergy. Even when they belonged 
to Ritch ortliodox orders a» the Dominicana and Francis- 
cans they were occasionally carried away into saying 
thiogB which were not approved of by the higher clergj-. 
Thi^y naturally «id«d with the people in their protcste 
against the social sins of the higher classes. The 
luxurious life of the clergy, particularly if of foreign 
nationality, began to ittir up a national antagonism 
agnintit Rome. Nor was this unfriL-ndly feeling a^aiii^t 
Kome the only heresy of which the German people 
and the German niyxtio preadierR wera suspected. 
They were suspected of an inclimitioti towards Wal- 
densian, Albigonsiao, and in general towards what 
were then called Pantheistic heresies. There ia no 
doubt that the influence of the WaIdeni<ianB extended 
to Germany, aud that some of them hail been netivo 
in spreading a knowledge of th« Biblo among the 
people in Germany by meann of vcmacular transla- 
tiuna. We read in an account of the Synod of 
Trier, A.n. 1231, that many of the people wcro found 
to be instructed in the sacred writings which they pos- 
sessed in Utinuau trauslatiuuii (Mulii <:orum iustructi 

— dodles inter ali<[ii 
vorba eviMiyf]ii ot t 
aliorum in vulgnri lii 
genaes neam to have 
tlitt ])UT«, possibly in' 
which was a ppeliinm 
Kmiiari became in G 
hi-R'lic. Tlif! tiiquiiiitio 
unablo to qncU the re 
'i'he very orilere, Domi: 
were mejint to counto 
a^aiiiHt boi'ctical iufccti 
nicans who were celebra 
is to say, who w«re able 
the iiaiuo of tho notorio 
burg, who was elain b; 
cruelties. Tlifc myatio 
wt-re writtoD in Latin k 
tiei-tnan. The people ni 
»\d(ii\ with them. To 
Chri'-tiaiiity was Uii> oi 
stood and cared for. Thi 
to occupy theii' thoughts, 
comfort bec«me al 



Poinlal <# nM uid yrn a<| ion na. 

It may truly be Mitit tlmt the gi-eal bulk of tbv 
QenuAD people wore then i'or ttip Krst tiuio brongbt into 
living contact witb their religion by thc-se Boininicao 
and franoiitcnn frioi-s. Huwever much we may adrairo 
tlio learning nud the Ioj;icAl BuhtUay of Iho school- 
men. it is easy to see that the qtieBtiuns which they 
diacuased were not quentiona tlmt could poNvihly 
influonoc the rcligioiis tliougbto or conduct of ttio 
maeses. It had long been felt that something else 
and something more waa wanted, and this aomething 
elso and something mure socmod \-mi to ho Eiippliud 
by what was called mystio CbristJanity, by what 
DionysiuH had called the Sfulta iS'iiyxVrifid cf hieing 
laudtnitet^, 'the simple-minded Wisdom t-xceeding all 

This simple religion was supposed to spring from 
the love which God Himself has poured into the 
human soul, while the human soul in loving Ood 
doca but return the love of God. This religion doett 
not requiro mtich k-nrning. it is mt^iunt for tb<i puor 
and pure in apirit. It was meant to lead man from 
the rttormy nca of hia desires and possionit to tho 
safe haven of the otoriial, to reinuiti there firmly 
anchored in the love of God, while it waa admitted 
that tho scholastic or aa it waa ealk-d the lit^^rary 
religion could give no rest, but could only produce 
a never-ceasing appetite for tmth and for victory. 

There was. however, no nect-ssity for separating 
learning from mystic religion, as we see in the 
ease of St. Augustine, in Bonaventura, St. Bernard, 

■ 8tOckl, OMJItOft dtr »fiiw«>Ai( dtt itUbhikn, vol. L p. lOSO. 



And oneo more in Muter Eckbart ukI many of the 

G4:rman mj sties. These men kail two fuce«, one for 
tbe doctors of divinity, their learned rivali<, Lbe 
otbi-r for Uio mva, wodk<ii, and children, who camo to 
besi- such sermons as Master £ckhart could preach, 
whether in Latin or in the vulgar tongue. At first, 
thoM popular prcachore wcro ii<»t lcarnv<I thoolu- 
gianSi but simply vluquent preachers, who travelled 
from village to village, and tried to appeal to the 
coti»ci(;nr« of the peasants, to toon and women, in 
their native tongue. But they prepared the way 
for the Utinnan mystics of the next generation, whu 
woru no loii^iir mere kind-heartod travelling friars, 
bob learned men. doctors of theology, and snmo of 
them ev^ high digitilariea of tlie Churcli. Tliu boat- 
known names among these are Master Eckhi 
Tauter, 8uso, Kuj .ibrook, Gei^n, and 

£cUurt uid Tnilar. 


Everj' one of tht'se men deserves a fltuily by him- 
self. Tliu liest-kiiown and most attmctivo is no 
doubt Taiilor. His seniions have been IVcquently 
published ; thoy wore translated into Latin, into 
modern German, some also into English. They nn 
still read iu Qurinany as uitirful for inatniction and 
vdificatiuii, and they have escaped the au^picion of 
heresy which has so often been raised, and, it may be, 
not without some reason, againat Master Eckhart. 
Still MfttU-r Kckliart is a miicli more powerful, an<i 
more original thinker, and whatever there is of 
philosophy in Tauter seems boiTowed from him. In 
Eokharl's German writinj^ which were edited for 




Die first time by Pfeiffer (18iS7), myetio Christianity, 
or aa it luij^bt tiiore truly be caII^, the Cbri&tianity 
tin coiicuiv(.-<l by 8t. Jobti, fiiidx its highest i-xpro^-Hton. 
It 18 difficult to say whi^ther he is more of a schala«tic 
philoaophcj or of a myotic th(.-nl(>>;iiui. Th« unholy 
divorce hetwofu religion and philosophy iVn\ not 
exist for him. A hundred years later bo holy nnd 
orthodox a writer as, Ueraon had to warn the clergy 
iliat if they Hqiaratcil religion from philoHophy, they 
woiihl dcHtroy both >. Master Eckhart. though h« 
constantly refera to and reliea on the i3ible, never 
appeals aimply to ttfl authority in order to establial) 
the truth of his tedctiing. His fct-ncliing agrwa with 
the teaching of St. John and of St. Paul, hut it was 
meuit to convince by itaelf. Uc thought he could 
hIiow that Chi-istianity, if only rightly uudei-stood, 
could satisfy all tlie wants lioth of the human heart 
and of bumaa rcMOD. Evtry doctrine of the N«w 
Testament is accepted by him, but it is thought 
throngb by himself, and ouly after it has pa«sod 
through tlie fire of his own mind, is it preached 
hy him 04 otumal truth. He quotes the pagui 
masters oa well as the Fathers of the Church, and 
he sometimes appeals to the fomii'r as possossing 
a truer insight into certain mystcrtcB tJian even 
Christian teacberB. 

Ho is most emphatic in the assertion of truth. ' I 
speak to you,' he says, 'iu the name of vUtuoI truth.' 
'it is (18 truo as that Qod liveth.' 'Bi gote. hi gote,' 
'By God. by God,' oceunt ho often that one feels 
almost inclinud to accept the derivation of 'htgot' 

< Dom a r*IEiiio(i» M<i;vm*rc puMut philoMphiun, uimniqu* 
pndunt. OwMru, Sara). L 

Uie BiMc. It in 
tliitiker, who njotcc^ 
of Ilia own spixuliitl 
wore bidden, in thu[ 
far as I remombw. a{ 
Uie truU) of CfirtHtiml 
ChrUt. Wtivn hv (oiil 
sees an &11«i;ory ia th| 
as Uio SU>ics treated 
Old TostaaicDt Other 
fgr bitu. In a irorld u 
not one sparrow conld' 
your Father (Matt. x. 2 
a miniclct No doubt, 
self, his interpretation i 
in aocoTxknc« with tba 
Church. Some of his . 
one duvH nut wonder 
auRpiciun of berwiy. E 
dnytt Mdiiio of his thcori 
no doubt sound very bU 
l)ent on startling bis c< 
' Hv who xayn tbnt Qod 
as if he. 


in hie Trritings, but ho called on his adTorsark'H to 
prove first of all that it waa heretical. Tho n-oult 
waa tltat though he was acouacd of heresy by the 
Archbishop of Cologne- id 1326, nothiug very seiious 
happened to him during his lifetime. But after his 
death, out of tweuty-«ight sta.tem«atH of bts whioh 
bad Wva Hclcctutl as heretical for Papal oondcinnation, 
the first tiftoen aoO tho two last wero actually con- 
demned, wbilo the remaining eleven were decJared 
to be auapioiouH. It was then too late for Master 
Sokhiirt to provu that thoy were not heretical. 

li^khait was evidently a learned tlieologian, and 
Ilia di<tractoi-s were afraid of him. lie knew hia 
Plato and hia Anstotlo. How ho admired Plato is 
best shown by hia calling hira I>er pciije S'faffe, tlie 
great prienl (p. 261, 1.21). Aristutli: is to Lim simply 
the Master. He had studied Proclus, or Procnlua, 
aa he calls him, and he often refers to Cioero, Seueca, 
and even to ttiu Arabic philosopher, Avicctina. He 
fre>iuojit]y appeals to St* Chryeontom, DionyMua, St. 
Augustine, and other Fathers of the Church, and has 
evidently studied Tliomaa Acjuinaa, who may almost 
be ctilled his eootompoiiiry. He hatl rvooived in 
fact a thorough scholastic tiiiining ', aud waa a match 
for the best among tlie advocates of the Church. 
Kckhart had studied and allei-wards taught at the 
■University of Paris, and had received his Degree of 
Doctor of Divinity from Pope Itonitaoe Vlll. In 
1304 he became the Provincial of the Order of the 
Dominicans in Saxony, tlioagh his reoidenco remained 

* How mucli Eckhart owmI (« hi* icholMtlc Inlnlnit hw bava 
mil bronsht oul t.y H. IX-nld^ In li!> li«nii><I arllcln, il,iinr 
ElMlOtft lal4tiil*t^t Srhri/I,,, viul HU ffnmrfiiiurAiiiiiini; Miwr £*tn, IM 


unru XT, 

at Cologne. He wu also Appoint*^ Tiear-Groea] 
of Bolunoift, ftnd travelled mocb io GenoanT, 'vimting 
tbe inonast«rie« of bit order and trj'ing to rttom 
them. Hut li« always retunied to the RbiDc, and ht 
ditnl at Co\offne, jvobalily in the year \S'27. 

Eckhart has been very diffcri-iiily judged bj differ- 
ent people. Ijy thoDu vho could not understand him. 
he luu been ekUvd a dreamer and altnoat a madman ; 
by otbere who were bia inteUeetoal peeis, he haa 
been called tho iriseiit Doctor, the Mend of God. the 
best interpreter of ihv thonghte of Clirut, of St. John, 
and St. Paul, the forerunner of the ReformatiotL 
He was a rir mnfttui, even aoGording to tbe testi- 
mony of his hiUercRl enemioD. Many people think 
tlii<y liave diKpo«ed of him by calling him a mystic 
Ho wan a mj'Htic in the tietise in which St. John waa, 
to mention tio greater name. Luther, the Gi'rman 
Boformer. was not a man given to dreams or senti- 
mentaliam. No one would call him a myatic, in 
tho vulgar MnM of (ho word. But bo wiui a great 
admirer of Eckhart. if we may take bim to have 
boL-n the author of Ute Thft)loffM Grrmanira. I oon- 
fens I (loubl big autltomhip, but tbi> book is certainly 
pcrvorlod by his spirit, particularly as regards tbu 
practical life of a true CbrisUan '. This is what 
Ltillier writtfs of the l>ook : 'From no book, excopl 
the Diblc, Mill the works of SL Augintilte, have I 
loamt more what God, what Christ, what man and 
otlitT things ore, than from this (Luiher'» Werte^ 
1883, vol. i. p. 378J. A very dlH'urent thinker, but 

It liiu \ir^n treiiRlatvd into Enslish lif Mim Wlnkwnrtk, and 
<**■ iDUch jiriMd by my dcpuiicd iriaadt, £^«duriuk Utturioo, 
Clurlai Xiaipklajr, ud fiaron Buawo. 



likewise no dnamor or si-DtimoDtolisl, Srkopenkuuer, 
says of Eckbnrt tliat his teaching stands to the New 
Testament as essence of winn to wine. 

Henry Moro, tlio Ciudliriilgc Flntoiiiflt, another 
afdent adinircr of tliu Th^loijia GerirKiriiVu, sptaks 
of it as ' that gulden UtUe book.* 

BokHkit'a MraticUw. 

It is A. groat mistake to suppose that Eckhart's 
so-called mysticism was a matter of vague itentitiient. 
On the contrary, it was I>uilt up un the nuli<l basis of 
scholastic philosophy, and il defied in turn the on- 
slaughts of the most ingenious Bchotastic diRputant«. 
How thorour;hly his mind vras stcopt'd in scholastic 
pliilosophy. has lately been proved in some teamed 
papers by Dr. Denifl^. I admit his writings arc 
not alwaya ea^y. First of all, they aro written in 
Middle High German, a language which is separated 
by only about a c*.'ntury from the German of the 
Nibclutigc. And his laugun<;o is so entirely his own 
that it is sometimes very difficult to catch his exact 
meaning, still more to convey it in Knglish. It is 
the same as in the Upanishads. The words tbcm- 
flclvcH arc easy enougli, but their drift is oft«n very 
hard to follow. 

It seems to me that a study of th« Upanishad« ia 
often the very best pi'cparation for a proper uuder- 
Btaoding of Eckhart's Tracts and Sermons. The 
intellectual atmoHphere is just tlie same, and he who 
has learnt to breathe in the one, will eoou feci at homt 
in tho other. 

I regret that it would bo quito impossible to givo 


lectubs XT. 

you «TCB Um ahortcrt alstnct of ibe wbola of Edcbut'i 
{Miyebologieal and mel^ibjrsic&l sTsben. It dcMrvn 
to be atudunl for lU own a&ke, (juite u moofa »s the 
mct«pbyiiieftl bjbLohis of ArisloUe or Deicartas, and ll 
woul<l we]) repay the LabcurB of Mme fttttm Giflbtd 
Lecturer to bring togetber all the wealth of thoagbt 
tb»t Yu» •cattercul altoat in £<:ktArt'» writing*. I am 
Imiv t<iucli OD a few points only, >>ucb aa bear oo ottr 
own special subject, tbc natura of God aiMl of tbt 
Soul, and the roblion between tbo two. 

BeUktt'a DaflalUok of tka ScUy. 

Fckhart diifim-H tin- (tiMihi-ft'l aa aimple «M^ BM octet 
fruruo. This is purely bcbulsstic, and even Tlioinifl 
Aquinas himself would probably not have objected to 
Eokliart'fi rupcatod itot^'tnent that £*>**■ eat TVtut. 
According to him thcro is and can be notliiiig Ikighcr 
than to bo'. Be naturally appeals to the Old Teetamoit 
in order to show tluit / aii* is Uieonly possiblo name of 
Ooity. In this \w <lo<w not difl«r much from St. Thomai 
Aquinas and other scholaatio philosophers. Si. Ilioniu 
Bays; Ipeum esse est perfedissimum omniani,con)| 
turcnim od omnia ut aetuM . . . xmilf ipsuin esao 
octualituM omnium n.Tiim ct etinm ipcsanmi formaram'. 
Being without qunlitu-e God is to us unknowable 
iocoinpi-L-heOBibJe, hidden and dark, till tbo Godbt 
ia lighted up by its own light, tiie light of self-knoi! 
ledge, by which it becomes »uliji-ctive and objectiTe, 
Thtnkor and Thought, or, as the Christian myHtica 
express it. Father and Son. The bond between tlie 

< Cr. Dtnin«,l.a., p. tso. 

' 8m Donlfl^ U*()ttr Sdulurf* LalMnbdu &Ar(lV.v p. 430. 



two is tho Holy OhoBt. Thus the Godhead, the 
Divine Essence or Ousia, beoomos Cod in three Per- 
sons. In thinking Himwlf, the Futher thinks uvery- 
thing that in within Htto, that is. the ideas, the logoi 
of the unseen world. Here Monter Kc^khiirt ntiuidd 
oompli-tely on the old Platonic and Stoic plutfurm. 
Ho is convinced that there is thought and reason in 
the world, and he concludes in consequence that tlie 
world of thought, the KoVfioj voiir6i. can only be the 
thought of God. Granted this, and everything else 
follows. ' The eternal Thought or the Woi-d of the 
Father, is the only begotten Son, and,' be adtU, ' be is 
our Lord Jesus Christ',' 

We see here how Eckhart uses the old Alexandrian 
language, and concoivea the et«mal ideas not only as 
many, but also as one, as the Logo», in which all 
things, as conceived by the Father, are onu bufuru 
they become uiaoy in tho phenomenal world. But 
Master Eckhart is vcrj' anxious to show that though 
all tilings are dynamically in God, God is not actually 
in all things. Liku tho Vcd^tiitt, ho ttpuaks of God 
as the universal Cau!>o. and yet cluimtt for Him 
an e.\ti'a- mundane existence. ■ God,' he writes. ' is 
outside all nature. He is not Himself Nature, He is 
above it ^' 

■ Dai aol man »1«& vnndin, Dh «wlgs worl M 4u ^"H d<n 
Tator nnd iat tla aiiilicirn »un, OaMT b»tr» JMM Krlitu*. 
Eckhait, «d. Pfciffcr. p. 70, 1. S5. 

' Da> got olurai ut, du von n6t Dber wraon itn mfioi; Wm 
wiwrii liAC, lit i>J<.-r lUt, da> hOrot m goU iiiht. er iat <kbar du 
rcIIhi ; dax rr Ut In allcin arMtOren. dal »( «r dii«li dar fibcv ; iraa 
dl in vil diogon oin Iat, dax muoi van nttt flbor diu dlno aln. 
lYf iffvr. 1. 0.. p, SOS, I- 10. Sm> aba Bekhart'a Latin nnlon : Ddim 
tie lolui eiit in quolilipt, luwl Inliu aat axtrn quodUIxrt et pnplar 
hoe M quae rant rujuidilvt. iptd non eonvRniunt. putA variali, 
wamoon) aut oorrumpi. . . llinc est quud aniina u<in larlalur boo 

W 11 



And yot Master Eokhaii is csllcd » pantheist by 
men wlio hardly seem to know the tncaniiig of pan- 
tbeism or of ChrUitiiinity. And when lie further on 
ventures to any. that the worlds, both tbtt ideal and 
tho pheDonKMiftl. were thought and created by Ood on 
account of Qls diviae lovo, and therefore by necessity, 
and from all elornity, this a(;ain is hrand<>l as 
h(.'rcBy, ns if there could be any variance in the Divine 
Counsel, nay. aa if there could bo in God any liitTcn-nco 
between what we call noces»itynnd liberty'. If human 
lingua^ con roacb at all to thcee dixzy heights of 
apeoalation. nothing seems more in accordance with 
Christian dortiine than to say what Kckhiirt says: 
'(lod is always working, and Uis working U to beget 
His Son.' 

Oivatloa la BmasKtlMi. 

What i« gi'ncrally ojillwl Cn-ation is conceived by 
Eckhaii its Emnnation. Un this point he is at on« 
with Thomas Aquinas and many of the most orthodox 
theologiann. I do not appeal to Dionysius or Scotus 
Eriguna, for their orthodoxy hax oJtcD bevn questioned. 
But Thomas Aquinas, in hisj^umma, p. 1, qn. 19,a.4, 
without any hesitation esplaina creation aa emanatio 
totius cntis ab uno, emanation of all that is from One. 
Nay, ho goes further, and maintains that God in in all 
things, potentially, essentially, and present : per poten- 
tiam, c««cntiam «t praei«entiam ; per cssentiatn, nam 
omno onfl est participatio divioi cbho ; por poteotiain, 

HFiKnoit ner {luflnit ritruto oculo >ut pod«, quia ipsa M> tola rat 
cxttk oculum cl podiMii. In mniia l«U nC in qiioitbot pttrtn oliu i«ta. 
Dvoiiiv, I. c. p. 4aa Pr»i(r«r. I. e., p. «I3. I. £8. 

' The caiidomn*d iMDMiioa wu : Qiuin dto Dmih fuit, tarn riCo 
■nnndiun cToavit, Coawdl wvo potMt quod muudua kU ftet«ma 



in quantum omnift in virtute ejus agunt ; per prae* 
sentiam, in quantum ipisu omiiLn. immodiat*- onlinat vt 
(liBpoDit*. Such ideas would be stigmatised as pan- 
theistic by many living theologians, and so would 
consequently many pu«age« even from the Now Testa- 
niunt, whvTE) God lb represented ae the All in All. But 
£ckbart argued quite consistently that unless the 
Boul of man is accftptod an an efflux from Ooil, there 
can bo no relUix of tlio soul to God, and thLe according 
to Eclfhart is the vital point of true Chi-tatianity. A 
clock cannot return to the clookmalcor. but a drop of 
rain can return to the oocan from whence it wa« liAed, 
and a ray of hght is always light, 

' All creatures.' he writ«K, ' are in God as uneroated, 
but not by tliemaelvea.' This would seem to mean 
that the ideaj< of all thinga we-re in (lod, beforo tlio 
thing* thvmsulvoti wui'g created or wero made mani- 
fest. ' All creatures,' he continuoa, * are more noble 
in Qod than they are by themselves- Ood is there- 
fore by DO mvantt confounded with the world, aa 
He has b«on by Amalricfa and by all pantheists. The 
world is not Ood, nor God the world. The being 
of the world is from Ood, but it is ditl'erent from the 
being of Qod/ Eckhart really admiU two processes, 
one the eternal creation in God, the olhtT tho creation 
in time aD<l s)>ace. This latter creation dil)L>i-a, as he 
aaya, from the former, as a work of art differs from 
tho idea of it in the mind of tbu artist. 

Tha BaniAS aoul. 
E^ikhart looks upon tlio human soul as upon every- 
thing eUe, as thoughts spoken by God through 
creation. But though the soul and all the powers of 

■ StSeU, Omk. ila l*>h4. Oa Hiiulalla; vol. U. f. Olt. 




the Eoul, such lu porccptioD, momory, unOorstanding 
and will, aie created, he holds that there is ftomethiiig 
in the houI uncreated, something divine, nay the God- 
head itself. This was again one of tlie ihosett which 
were declared heretical after Ms death '. 

In the name way then as the Godhead or the Divine 
Ground is witliuut any kuowablo qualitJco and canitot 
he known except as bcin^. the Divine Element in the 
soul abo is without qualities and cannot be knows 
except as boing. This Divine Spark, though it may 
be covered and hidden for a time by ignorance, paaeioo. 
or sin, iii itu perish a hie. It gives us being, ODeneaa, 
;>'-t'.-<iiiiility, and subjectivity, and being subjective, 
like God. it can only bo a knower. it cAn never bo 
known, Rn anything else is known ohjectivoly. 

It is through this Divine element in ti\c human soul 
that we are and become one with God. Man cannot 
know God objecUvely, but in what Eokhart calls 
mystic contemplation, he can feel his oneness with 
the Divine. Thus Eckbart writes : ' What i« seen with 
the eye wherewith I see God, tliat is the samo eye 
wherewith God sees me. My eye and God's eye are 
one eye and one vision, one knowing, and one loving. 
It is the same to know God and to be known by God, 
to see God and to be seen by Qod. An<l as the air 
illumined is nothing but that it illuminea, for it 
illuminut because it ia Uluroined, in the same manner 
we know because we are known and that He makei 
us to know Kim^.' This knowing and to be known 
is what Eckhart calls the liirtli of the Son in the aouL 

* AJiqut'l Ml in «n(in& qum) mA iavnaXam ti inoroabiltt ; at tota 
■nima •mt-t Uli*. p-w>t incintiU ot inciwJitlii, et buo nt intoItMlw. 

• PUiittfT, L (S p. SS, L 10. 



'If His koovring ts mine, and His aobetance, Hia very 
nature and esnenco, in knowing, it follows that Hiti 
e«iM.'Dco ttnd substaiico ru<1 nuture nrv mino. And it' 
Hia nature and essence and eubatance are mine, I am 
the ma of God.' ' Behold,' he exdaima, * what manner 
of luvetbeFatbfir lioii W»towod upoiiim tbnt wuahuuld 
be called the sons of God ' — and be the sone of God. 

Tbia second birth and tbig being born an the son of 
God is with Et'khart eynonymuug with thi- ^un of God 
being born in the soul. He admits no ditference be- 
tween man, when born again, and the Son of God, at 
least nu more than thore 10 K-twvon God the Father 
and God the Son. Afan becomes \>y grace what Christ 
is by nature, and only if bom again &a the son of God 
can men receive the Holy Ghost. 

What Kckbart caJla the Divine Ground in the soul 
and in the Godh^-nd may be, I tliink, justly comijarcd 
with the neutral Brobman of the Upanitihads, a« dis- 
covered in the world and in the soul. And aa in the 
Upaninbads the nmttculinc Hruhman in di.-'tinguiithcd, 
though nfit separated, from the neutral Brabmun, so, 
according to Eckbart, tlie three Persons may be distin- 
guished from the Divine Ground, though they cannot 
be sepanit«.'d Irom it. 

All this sounds very bold, but if we translate it into 
ordinary language it doc-s not seem to mean more 
than that the throe Divine Persons sharu this under- 
lying Godhead as their common essence or Ousia, that 
tliey are in fact bomnousioi, which is the orthodox 
doctrine for which Eckbart, like Hi. Clement, tries to 
supply an honest philosophical explanation. 

If wo want to understtind Kckbart. we must never 
forget that, like Dionytiius, he is completely under the 



Bway of Neo-PUtouiBt^ in one wnm i)v«n of Platonist 
philuso[>liy. \Vlien w say that God created tbe 
world, Kckhut would aikv Uiat th« Father apoko the 
Word, the Logos, or that Ho bugat the Sou. Both 
exprt:<>Hions mean exactly the same with bim. 

All thuw are really echoca of very aooie»i thought 
Wo mu8t remombor that the uf«u, according to Plato, 
ooDstituted tbe etornol or cbangoleee world, of which 
th« phenomenal world ia but a ahadow. WiUi Flato, 
the iiloait or tho ti&i) ttlouo eau bu eaid to bo rua). and 
they alone can form tho Bubjvot of true knowledge. 
Much as the Stoica protested againtit tho indepemient 
cxi»tcue6 of tlic;»o idcuit, the Neo-flatunista took thorn 
up B^In, and some of the FaUteni of the Church 
reprf^Hented them aa the pure forma or the perfect 
types according to which tho world was created, and 
aJl tlungs in it It wa« here that tbe ancient philo- 
Bophers discovered what we call the Origin of Spvcies. 
Wc saw how the whole of this ideal crvation, or rather 
manirestation, was also spoken of aft the L<fgoa or the 
inanifeated Word of God by which Ho created the 
world, ojid this Logos again was represeutod, an we 
saw, lung before tbe rise of Christianity, os tbe off- 
spring or the only bogottvn Sun of God. Eckbmrt 
like some of the earliest FaUiere of tbe Church, slart«d 
with tho concept of the Logos or the Word as tbu Son 
of God. the other God (bfCrtpot $t6f}, and he prudicatod 
this Logos of Christ who wa» to him Uie human reali- 
sation of the ideal Son of Uod, of Divine Ileaauu and 
Divine Love. 



Tha Mflah tat th* iMgoa. 

What thv Jow8 did with the name of the Messifth, 
tho Greeks bad to <to witli the iiami? of thu Logos. 
The idea of the Meesiah vras there for ages, and though 
it niiiHt have requirefl aii immense eS'oit, the Jews who 
embmced Christianity brought thoinnftlvoa tfl say that 
this ideal Messiah, this Son of David, thin King of Glory 
was Jeans, tlio Crucified. In the same manner and witli 
the tsamo vlTort. and, as 1 bclkn'o, with the situie hoot^vity, 
the Oreek philosophers, who embraced Christianity, 
had to bring themRelvca to say that this Logos, tliia 
Thought of God, this Son of God, thin Monogcm^a or 
Only begotten, known to Plato as woll as to Philo, 
appean:-d in Jesua of Nazareth, and that in Ilim alone 
the divine ideaofmanhood had over boon fully realised. 
Hence Cliriiit was often called the Fin>t Man, not 
Adam. The GriM'k converts who becamo th« real 
conqueroni of the Greek world, raided their Logos 
to a much higher meaning than it had in the minda 
of the Ktoicd, just «« tliu Juwixh convert* imparted to 
tho name of Messiah n much more sublime import 
than what it had in the minds of the Scribes and 
Pharitiees. Yet tlie best among tliese Greek converts, 
in joining the Chri.tlian Chuich, never fontworo their 
philosophical convictions, least of all did thoy commit 
themselves to the legendary ti^aditions wbioh from 
Very early times had gathered round tJio cradle of the 
Son of Joseph and Mary. To the teal believer in 
Chriat aa the Word and the Son of God the^t; tradi- 
tions seomsd hardly to exiHt ; thuy were uoitlier denied 
nor affirmed. It ia in the same spirit that Mast«r 
Eckhart conceives the true meaning of the Son of God 
aa the Word, and of God thu Father as the speaker 



ftnd tbi&k«r and -vrorker or tb« Word, freely using 

ilicsc G&lilean legends ciB beaulifiil allegories, but never 
appeAling to theiu fts proofs of the truUi of Cbri8t*a 
t«iiching. Eckbart, to quot« his ijMugimu t<er6u, r«pr9- 
eeots the F&ther as Bpenkicig HU word toto the floal, 
and when the Son ia barn, ever,v soul becomes MariA. 
He expreH»cs the »anie thought by tftying ttuit the 
Divine Ground, thnt is tliu Godhead, &<lmit« of no 
dUtioctioQ or predicate. It is oneness, darkneact, but 
tlie light of the FKther pierces into that dftrknces. 
and tbo Fiithcr, knowing His own cssonoe, b«geta in 
the knowledge of Uiroself, the Son. And in the love 
which the Father lias for the Son, the FatlKT witli 
the Son breathes the Spirit. By this process the 
eternal dark ground becomes lighted up, the GodLood 
beoonies Cod, and God in three Pemoiis. ViTien the 
Father by thus knowing Himself, apeaka the eternal 
Word, or what is tho same, begets His Son, He speakK 
in that Word all things. His divine Word is the one 
idea of all things (that is the Logos), and this eternal 
Word of the Father ia His only Son, and the Lord 
Jeaus CliriRt in whom He has spoken all creatures 
without beginning and without end. And this apeak- 
ing does not take place once only. According to 
Eckhart 'God is always working', in a now. in 
an eternity, and His working is begetting His Son. In 
this birth all thingn have Hown oat. and eucb delight 
has God in tJiis birth, that He npends all His pover 
in it. God begets Hiineitlf itltogethor in His Son, he 
speaks all things in Him.' Though such language 
may sound htrange to us, and though it baa been con- 
demned by thu^i! who did not know ita purport, aa 
> rCoilTar. l.&,p.SU. 




f&Dciful, if Qot OS heretical, wv should ri^raembor tbat 
St. Au(,'uatine aUo usea exactly the sam« Inngaagc: 
'The Hpeaking of God,' ho sayt), 'is His liegetting. and 
Hts begetting is His spcakiDg' fp. 100, 1. 27), and 
Eokhart continues (p. 100. 1. a'J): 'If God were to 
oeose flrom this speaking of the Word, even tta one 
moment, Heaven and Earth vruuM vanii^h.' 

With UD, word has so completely loet its full mean- 
iag, as being tho unity of thought and sound, th« one 
inBcparable from the other, that we cannot be rrtininded 
too often that in all these philosophical spocutatiuns 
Logos or Won! does not mean the word aa mere sound 
or as we find it in a dictionary, but word as tho living 
embodiment, as the very incarnation of thought. 

What how seemed so Btrange to some modem philo- 
sophers, namely, this inseparablcncss of thought and 
word, or, a« I sometimes expressed it, the identity of 
reason and language, was perfectly familiar to thcHo 
ancient thinkers and theologians, and I am glad to see 
that my ci'itic^ have cea«eJ at lust to call my tierienrt 
of Thttagfit a linguistic paradox, and begin to eco that 
what I contended for in that book vaa known long 
ago, and that no one ever doubt«d iL The lA>go«, 
Uie Word, as the thought of God, a» the whole body 
of divine or eternal ideas, which Plato had prophe- 
sied, which Aristotle had critidaed in vain, which 
the Noo-PIatoni»t8 re-established, U a truth that 
forms, or ought to form, tho foundation of all phi- 
losophy. And onlesa we have fully grasped it, a« it 
was gracped by some of the grcatcJtt FiithorM of tho 
Church, we shall never be able to understand the 
Fourth Gospel, we shall never be able to call ourselves 
true Christians. For it is, u built upon tho Logos, 




that Christisiuty hol<ls its own unique poeitioo ain<»ig 
all the reii^iuna of iha world. Of course, a Kligion !s 
not a p1>iluiophy. It liiis a dilTvrcnt purposi;, uinl ii 
nuHt speak a diderent laoguago. Nothing is morft 
dilfioult tb&D to express tlie results of the deepest 
thought in latigun.<^« tlutt should hs intelligible to all, 
and yet not misleading. Unless a religion can do 
that, it ia not a religion ; at all evento, it cannot live ; 
for every gcnui'tttion Uiat is bom into the world 
requircH a popular, a childlike traii:>1ation of tilt 
sublitneat truths vhich have been discovered and^ 
Btored np by the sages and prophets of old. If no 
diild could grow up u Chmtinn, unl«sa it under»tO( 
the true moaning of Logos, as elaborated hy Platoaic 
Stoic, andNeo-Platonic philosophers, and then adopted 
and adapted by the Fathors of the Church, how many 
Christiana should we hsvet By using tlie words 
Father and Son, tbo Fathers of tho Church felt tliat 
the}' ustd c?:prt.-SBioDB which contain nothing that ia 
not true, and which admit of a satisfactory interpre- 
tation aa Boon as suoli interprntation is wanted. And 
tho most satisfactory cxplnnatiou. tho best wlutiun of 
all our religious difficulties seems to me hero sa eU«- 
where supplied by the historical school. Let us oaly 
try to discover how word^ and thoughta ato«M>, how 
thoughts came to be what they are, and we shall 
generally find that thei'e is some reason, whether humi 
or Divine, in them. 

To mo, I confess, nothing seems more delightful 
than to he able to discover how by an uubroke 
chain our thoughts and wortU ciiry us back froi 
century to century, how the roots and feeders of ou 
mind pierce through sti-atum after stratum, and atUl 



(irnw timr life uid DouriHliinviil from the decpoHl 
fouodations, from the hearts of the oidvut thiukei« of 
mankind. That is wiiat given us contiiletice in our- 
selves, au<l often liclps to impart new lifo to wluit 
threateHB to become hard and petrified, mytholoyicul 
&n<l unmeaning, in our intellectual and, move particu- 
larly, iu our religious life. To many jx'0|df, I feel 
Bure. the beginning of the Gospel of St. John, ' In tho 
be^nning was the Won!,' and again, ' The Word was 
made fli--vli,' can oidy bo a mere ti-aditiou. But as 
soon as wo can trace back the Word that in the 
beginning was with God, and through which {6i aircSi) 
all things were made, to tha Moiiogen^x, aa pos- 
tulated by I'Uto. elaborated by the Stoics, and hand«<i 
on by the Neo-Platoniste, whether pagan, Jewish, or 
Christian, to the early Fathers of the Church, a contact 
seems established, and an etwtric current seisms to 
run in a continuoui* olreiim from Plato to St. John, 
and from St. John to our own mind, and givv light 
and life to some of tlie hardest and darkest sayings of 
the New Testament. I^et us reverence by all meana 
wliat is called childliko faith, but let us never forget 
that to think also is to worship God. 

Now let UB return to Master Eckhart. and remember 
that accunling to him tho soul is fouudvd on the .tamo 
Divine Ground aa God. that it Bharos in fact in the 
same nature, that it wouM be DOthin;; without it. 
Yet in its croated form it is Bcponted fVom God. It 
feels that separation or its own incompleteness, and 
in feeling this, it becomes religious. How is tliat 
yearning for completion to U: saunitLil? How is that 
divine homo-aickncss (o Iw healed 1 Host mystio 
philosophers would say, by the soul being drawn near 

EiUKiiurii, uuwvveri 11 
that there can be suol 
be coiisiiiurs it only a 
BftyB. p. 80 : ' While wol 
como to Hitn.' — alinostl 

ICckbai't, while recoj 
this lo%'o of God as a 
higher view of tJie trJ 
God. That ray of the] 
spirit of tho Houl and int| 
(Fiinkloin), root, epringl 
real Self of man, ia the] 
the soul. In it God ai: 
potentially, and tb«y bei 
Son 13 born in Uie aoul o 
boa di))covor<.-d its cUirnol 
that God may enter the 
firMt he ihiown out of it 
uvory kind of attochnuiol 
LosUy, there must be a c 
eelf. In order to live ii 
self, till bis will ia swalh 
must bo perfect stillness 
whisper His word in to ij 



is at re«t. Tou will have obeorved ia all tbis th« 
faiKJatni'iitiil idea of the Vod^nta, Umt by n nioval of 
ncdcii'^nce thv individuul iioul recovers its true nature, 
as identical with the Divine Boul: nor ciin it have 
escaped you on the otlicr sid<t how many expreHsiuns 
are used by Eokhart which arc purfoctly familiar to 
lis from the Neo-PIatouiats. 8D<1 frt>m tho Ckwpul of 
St. John, which can convey thuir true tneaniog to 
tboae only who know thoir origin and their history. 

^•■■«C«« firani th* ToorUi Ooapal. 

The passages on which Kckhart relies and to which 
be often appeals are: 'He that hath BL'On mit hnth 
seen the Father ' (xiv. 9) ;' I am in the Father, and tho 
Father in tne' (xiv. 10); 'No man oonteth unto the 
Father, hut by mc ' (xiv. 6) : • This is life eternal, that 
they might know Thee the only truu God, and Jesus 
Christy whom Thou haat sent' (xvii. 3). And again: 
' And now, <J Father, friorify TIiou nic with Thine own 
Se^fviilh the glory which I had with Tho; before the 
world was; that they all tnay be one, as Thon, Father, 
art in me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one ia 
us* (xvii. 5.21). 

Thcso are the deepest not«B that vibrate through the 
whole of Eckhart's Chridtianity, and though their true 
meaning had bet^n explained long before Kckhait'i 
time, by the great scholastic lliinkors, such aa Tbomaa 
Aquinas himself, the two St. Victors, Bonaventura, 
and others, seldom ha<l their devpent purport been to 
powerfully brought out as by Eckhart. in hia 
teaching of true spiritual Christianity. Dr. Deiiifl^ 
is no doubt quit« light in showing how much of thtt ' 
^iritual Christianity may bo found in the writings of ' 



thoHR whom it u the fashion to okU rather oon- 
t«iiipluouii1y. inoro nchoolinen. But he hardly iloesj 
fulljtistico to Eckbsrt'a personality. Not every echool- 
man waa a vir wiruius, nob every Dominican preM^c 
wati 80 unworldly, so full of love nod oooipaKsioti for^ 
bis fellun'-crMtures ba Eckhart vraa. And thotigh hta 
Latin terminology may bo called more accurate 
i.'igoroua than bia Uirinun utl«ranoi?s. there is 
warmth and bomuliutSTt in liia German scrmoDS wl 
to my mind at least, the colder Latin sevms to destroy. 
Dr. Denid^ is no doul>t quite right in claiming Kckhatl 
as a scholaittio and as a Koman Catholic, but he would 
probably allow his bcreaies at lca«t to bo those of the 
Qerm&n mystic. 

O«)«otioos to Kywtt« BaUglMi. 

We have observed already a number of striking 
analogica between the Bpli-it of mjatic Christianity of 
the fourto(.-nth century and that of the Ved&nla- 
pbiloeuphy in India. It ia curiou§ that the attacks 
aleo to which both Hystemii have been expoac*], and 
the dangers which have been pointed out as inherent 
in them, are almost identical in India and in Qer* 

SiccaalT* Aaoatlelam. 

It in well known that a very severe asceticism tviu 
strongly advocated and widely practised by tlie fol- 
lowers of both fiVBteme. Here again there can, of 
course, be no idea of borrowing or oven of any indiroet 
influenoe. If wo can understand that atrcetici-tm waa 
nar.ural to tlio bclievora in the Upaniahads in India, 
we shall be equally able to understand the motives 



which lod MiWitor Eckhnrt and Iiis fi-ionds to mortify 
tlic fli^sh, and to livo an much as poegible a life of 
solitude and retirement from the world. 

That Itody and soul are aiitiigoiiiittic can hardly bo 
doubted. Pinto and other Oreek philosopherH vera 
■well aw&j'e that the body may Wcome too much 
for the soul, obscuriug the rational and quickening 
the animal desin-s. Even when the pasbiotiA of the 
6es.\i do not degenerate into actual excess, they ar« 
apt to dissipate and weaken the powers of Uic mind. 
Hence we find from very early times and in almost all 
partM of the world a tendency on the part of profound 
thinkers to subdue the flesh in order to free the fpirit. 
Nor can wo doubt th« eoncum-nt testimony of bo 
many authoritiea that bj- abstinence from food, drink, 
and other hciimiiiiI enjoyments, tlie ewrgien of the 
apirit are strengthened*. Tbis is particularly the 
case with that spiritual energy which is occupied Viilh 
religion. Of course, like everything eluo, thia aa- 
eo4icism, though excellent in itself, is liable to mis- 
chievous exaggeration, and has led in fact to terrible 
exoesaes. I am not iticlined to douht tlie testimony 
of trustworthy witnesses that by fnsUng and b}' even 
a more painful chastening of the body, the mind may 
be raided to more intense activity. Nor can I resist 
the evidence tliat by certain exercisea, such aK i>eeulisr 
modes of regulating the breathing, keeping the body 
in certain posturcM, and filing ihe sight on certain 
objecta, a violent exaltation of our nervous system 
may be produced which quickens our imagiiuttionii, 
and enables us Ut see and conceive objects which are 

> Tho Suukrlt Iwm ftnUirarttBi^ applied to MMtiia, i* mj 


bey on<) the reach of ordinary mortals. I believe that 
the beitt phyiiio log Lite are quite aware of all this, atid 
iwrfoctly able to account for it ; itacl it would be 
carrying ecepticiam too Eu*, were ve to dedioe to 
accept the accounts given us by the persona theinftelves 
of thi'ir beatific visions, or by truaburoiihy witmrsnes. 
On the other hand, it ts perfectly veil known that 
wh(>n those ascetic tondcnclcs onoe break out, they an 
Koon by uiL^re emulation carried to auoh extroiooit that 
they produce a diseased state both of body and of 
mind, 80 that we have to deal no longer witli inspired 
or ecstatic sainU, but with hysterical and halfKie- 
lirious patientei. 

Another danger U an almost irreuBtiUe tetnptatioa 
to imposition and fraud on the part of religions 
nHcetic-<(, so that it requiroo the inont discriniiiinting 
judgment befoi'e we are able to distinguish between 
real, though abnormal, visions, and intentional or half* 
intontiuuul fu-lsoliood. 

The penances which Indian ascetics inflict on them- 
svlves have often been described by eye-witDesMS 
whoso bona fiilew cannot be doubUnl, and I must say 
that the straightforward way in which they are 
treated in some of the anoient text-books, makes one 
feel incUnod to bolicve nlmoKt anything that tbcee 
anient mart^TS axe said to have suffered and to have 
done, not excluding their power of levitatioo. But wo 
also see, both in India and in Qennany, a ittrong 
revulsion of feeling, and protests arc nut wanting, 
emanating from high authorities, gainst an esoessive 
mortification of the Aesli. One ease ia most intereating. 
We are told that Buddha, lx.'forc he became Buddba, 
went through the most terrible penaocw, living with 

caaiaTUB THEoaopni. 


the BrfLliDiaiiic bermita in the foiest. But after a time 
he became convinc<^il of the oseleaancu, any or th« 
tnischievousncBS of tliiu Eyfttcm, An<l it is ono of th« 
characteristic features of his te&ching that he declared 
tbeRe extreme aelf-iuilictod tortttres um1««s for tho 
Attainuiont of truo kiiowlucI},ro, and adviuod a Via 
^}le^lia between extrumo aBc«tici£m on one side and 
vorldliness on the other, as the true way to onlighten- 
ment and beatitude. 

Much till! Bitinu protcHt was mado by Eckliart 
and Tauler in trying to restrain their enthusiastic 
pupila. They both recommended a complete sur- 
render of all tho goo(U of thiB world ; poverty and 
suScring were in their oycs the greatest help to 
a tnily spiritual life ; not to be attached to this world 
wae the primary condition for enabling God to appear 
again in the eou) of man, or, aa they expreased it, 
for facilitating tlm biriti of the Son of God in man. 
But with all that, they wished moBt otrongiy to see 
the love of God manifefitcd in life by acts of loving- 
kindness to our fellow-creatures. They believed that 
it was quite possible tu take part in the practical 
work of life, and yet to maintain a perfect tranquillity 
and RtillnesH of the soul within. Both Eokhart and 
Tauler took a prominent and active share in the aflaira 
of Church and State, both tried to introducL< mucb- 
needed reforms in the life of the clergy and tlie laity. 
StillnciM and aileneo were reoommendL'd, because it is 
only when all paauona are Htilled and oil worldly 
de&ires silenced that the Word of God can be beard in 
the soul. A oertmn discipline of the body was thero* 
fore encouraged, but only as a means toward an end. 
Extreme penances, even when they were supposed to 



lead to beatific viaionB of tbo Qodhcsd, were Birongly 
diftcouraged. The original oneness of the bunun soal 
n-itb God ta aucept«d by nil GermaD mystics aa tbe 
fandamcntal article of the Clirutian faitb, but tbey 
differ as to the means hy which that oneness may be 
restored. The speculative school depends on know- 
ledge only, TIk'V hoM that vrhiit wo know oursvlve* 
to be, we are yyeo facto, and they therefore Uy the 
chief stress on the acquiaition of knowledge. The 
ititoctic school depends on peiiAnc(!$ and niortiticationA. 
by which the soul is to gain compk-te freedom fixim 
(he body, till it rises in the end to a vision of God, to 
a return of the soul to Ood, to a rcuniim with Ood. 

' 'W'hat ih penance m reality and truth 1 ' TbuIct 
asks. ' It is nothing,' bo answers, ' but & real and 
true turning away from nil tliut i» not CSod. and a 
real and true turning towai-ds the pure and true good, 
which is called God and is God. He who has tluit 
and does that, docs more than penanoe.' And again : 
' l^t tho.«e who torture the poor flt^h leant this. What 
has the pour flesh done to thee 1 Kill lua, but do not 
kill the HcsLf 

Taulcr tiiscourages even confession and other merely 
outward net^ of rttli^iou. ' It is of no u»c,' h« says. 
' to run to Iho Father Confi-esor after having oom- 
mitted a sin.' Confess to God, be says, with n.'al 
repontanoe. Unloss you do lhi.i and flee from ein, 
oven the Pojk' with all hiit Cardinals cannot absolvo 
you. for the Father Confessor has no power over sin. 
Here we can clearly bear the distant rumblingH of 
the Refunnation. 

But, though these excessive penance* could do no 
good, they are nevertheless interesting to tta as 



Khowbg at nil ftvL-ntn wliat tvi'riblo oamostncss 
there waa among the followeni of tho Vedinta 
aa well as among the disciples of Eckbart and 
Taulor. Wc read of Siiso, one of tin.! most sweet- 
minded of German myetica, that during thirty years 
he never spoke a word during dinner. During six- 
teen yoars ho walked about and ek-pt in a shirt 
studded with 150 itharp nails, and wore ^lovoti with 
sharp blades inside. Ue Hitrpt on a ^vooden eroas, bJs 
arms extttndfd and tli« hack piorced with tliirty nails. 
HiH bodat^-ad woa an old door, hia covering a thin 
mat of reeds, while his cloak left the feet exposed to 
the frost. Ho ato but once a day, and he avoided fish 
and egga when fasting. He allowed himself so little 
drink that his tongue becamo dry and hard, and he 
tried to Btifteu it witli a drop from the Holy Wator in 
Church. His friend Tauler strongly disapproved of 
theso violent measures, and at last Suso yielded, but 
not buforo ho had utterly ruined his huxiltli. Ho 
tfavn began to write, and nothing can be sweeter 
and more subdued, more pure and loving than his 
writings. That men in audi a Ntato should see 
viaioaH, is not to bo wondered at. They constantly 
speak of them a« matters perfectly woU known, 
tlven Tauler, tliough he warns against them, does 
not doubt their poaeibility or reality. Ho rv-latM 
(tome in his own sermons, but bo is fully aware of 
the danger of self-deoeit ' Tlioee who have to do 
with images and visions,' ho my* '. 'am muob deoeiv«d. 
for they come oflen from tho devil, and in our time 
more than ever. For trutli has been revealed and 
discovered to us in Holy Writ, aud it is not neocwj 

■ C*zl Selimldl, JulianiiH T^iilor ron Slrambui'g, ]>. 138. 



thorefon- that trath BbouH bo revealed to qs in laty 
otJior way ; and he wlio takes truth elsewhore but 
from Holy Writ, is straying from the holy faith, and 
his life is not worth much.' 

Another even (n-e&ter danger vos discovered by 
the adversarios Iwth of the Vedinta and of Macrter 
Kckhart'a philosophy. It i« not dillicult to uuder- 
Blond that human hotngs who hod completely ovor- 
comd their paH^tionn and who had no doairea bat to 
remain united with the Divine Spirit, should have 
boon declared incapable of sin. In one eense tbey 
wore. But this superiority to all temptation was 
soon interpreted in a now Hcniw, namvly that no stn 
could n-ally touch such beings, and tJiat even if they 
should break any human laws, their aout would not be 
alTected by it. One sees well cnoti^h what \\a» intended, 
namely that many of the distinctions botweea good 
and evil were distinctions for this world only, and 
that in a higher life these disiJnetions would vanish. 

We n.a.1 in the Brih. Up, IV. 4, 23; "ITiia eternal 
greatoees of Brahman does not grow larger by works, 
nor does it grow smaller. Let man try to find tlie traee 
of lirahmnn, for hnvin;; found it, he is not sullied by 
any evil deed.' The Bhagavadgtti also i» full of this 
sentiment, as, for instance, V. 7 : ' He who ix posaeeacd 
of devotioa, whose self is pure, who has resti 
bis self, and who has controlled bis senses, and 
identifies his self with every bung, that is, who loves 
his neighbour e» liiuisdf, ie uut tiiinted. thuagb ho pe^ 
fonnfl acts.' And then again : ' The man of devotioa 
who knows the truth, thinks he does nothing at all 



when be sees, beats, teaches, HmeUs, eats, move^, aleep». 
breathes, talks, tftkes, opeus or cIorca Uio eyelids ; hc 
hol<li^ that the seuseii only ileal with th« ol)ject« of the 
senses. He who, casting off all attachment, perfonus 
actions, dedicating them to Brahintm, is iu>t taiutcd 
by Hin, lut the lotuit k«f U not ■oiled by water.' 

T&ulcr's utterances go often (juito as far, thoDgb 
he tries in other places to cjualify them and to rendt-r 
lb«ni iimucuous. ' Having obtained union with Ood,' 
h» says, 'a man is nut only preserved trom sin, and 
beyond the reach of temptation, but all aina which he 
has commit ed without his will, cnunot pollute him ; 
un the cODtniry, thoy help him to purify himsolf.' 
Now it is quite true that Tauler himself often in- 
veighs Bgaini^t those who called tlieiiiN<-Ivc8 the 
Brothers of the Free Spirit, and who maintained tliat 
no sin which they committed could toudi tlium, yet 
it must bo admitted that his own teaching gave a 
certain countunaace to their extravagances. 

You may r«mem1>er that the VccUntista too allowed 
the pOHsibility nf men even in this life ohtnining per- 
fect freedom and union with Brahman (j;ivanmukti). 
just as some of the mystics allowed that there waa a 
positibility of a really poor soul, that is a soul freed 
from all attndimcntH, and without anything that he 
oould call liis own, obtaining union with God even 
whilo in this mortal body. Still this eOitalic state of 
union with Ood was looked upon as an exception, 
and lasted for short momenta only, while real beati- 
tude could only begin in the next life, and aft«r a 
complete release from the body. Hence so long as 
the soul is imprisoned in the body, ita sinlessne«s 
could be considered as problematical only, and both 


B84 LBCmntE XT. 

in Germany and in India saintJy hj-pocrisy had to be 
reproved and was reproved in tlie HUx>nge6t terms. 

There is one more charge tltat ba« been brottgbt 
against all inystics, but against tbo mediaeval for 
more than against tbe Indian mystics. They were 
nccuHcd of luwering the deity by bringing it dovn to 
tliu luvvl of huuiHuity, And even identifying thu 
human and di%Tne natorcs. Here, however, we mu&t 
hear both sides, and He« that they use the sane 
hitiguugu and really imdviKtand what they say. No 
Vfonl has so many mcajiings as God. If people con- 
ceive God an a kind of Jupiter, or even as a Jebovali, 
tiieu tlm idea uf a Sou of God can only bo coiuiderud 
blaHphomous, as it was by the Jowb, or can only be 
rendered palatable to the hiimun tiQiUir^tanditig in the 
form of charactent such as Uornklcs or Dionysus. 
So long ae such ideas of the Godhead and it« relation 
to humanity are entertaiaed, and we know that thi^y 
were ent4.-rtuiucd own by Christian thuologiaoB, it 
was bitt natural that a ckim on the part of hiuaanity 
to participate in tliu nature of the divine should )iav« 
excited horror and disgust. But ofler the IX-ity tiad 
been Creed from its mythological charactor, after the 
human mind, whether in India or elsewhere, had once 
realised tlio fact, that God was all in all, tliat thvra 
could be nothing beaide God, that there could be one 
Infinite only, not twp, the conclusion that the bunuui 
soul also belonged to God was inevitable. It was 
for religion to detiuo the true ri-Jatioti bctweou God 
and man, and you may remember from my first 
course of Lecturea, Iiow some high authorities have 
defined all religion to bo tbo perception of this very 




relation between God and num. Notbing can be 
said against this definition, if only wo clraxly see 
that this recognition of a relation between the 
Divine and tlic lliiman mwet Iw preofiled by wlint 
I called the perception of th» infinite in nature and of 
tho infinite in man, and the final recognition of tbelr 
oneness. I wi^h indeed tliat our etymoloj^tcal cou- 
xcicDoo allowed us to dvrivo religio with Lactantius 
and others from religaro, to re-biud or re-unitc, for in 
that case religio would from the fii-st have meant what 
it iiicanH at la-tt, a re-uniting of tlic soul with Cod. 

Thlti re-union can take place in two ways only; 
either as a restoration of that original ononees 
which for a time was forgotten through darknesd or 
nescience, or as an approach and surrender of the »oul 
to God in love, without any attempt at explaining 
the Hcparation of the soul from God, or its indt-pen- 
dent Hubsiittouco for a time, or ito finoJ approach to 
and union with God. And here it seeina to me that 
Chrifiliaiuty, if properly understood, liaa discovered 
tb« best pos^iblu expression. Every cxpreiiaion in 
human language can of course bo metaphorical only, 
and so ia the expreaaion of divine sonBbip, yet it 
clearly conveya what is wiuiU-d, identity of substance 
and difTcTcnco of form. Tho identity of Hubstanoo is 
clearly expressed by St. P«ul when he says (Acts xvii, 
28) tliat we live and move and have <jur being in 
God. and it ia very significant that it was exactly for 
this, the fundamental doctrine of Christianity, that 
St. Paul appealed to the testimony of nou-C'hri»lian 
propbeta also, for bo adds, as if to uuirk hia own di-ep 
regard for Natural and Universal BcligioB, ' fts certain 
also of your own poets have said.* 



The cli0<erenc« in form is expressed by tbo very 
aame of Son. Tbougb Uie oonoept of FaUier is 
impoBeible without that of Son, and tlio concept uf 
Son t>iipo«stble without that of Fatb^r, yet Christ 
Himu-lf, aflcr saying. 'I and My Father are on^' 
(St. John X. 80), adds {xiv, 28), * My Father is grcat^j 
than L' Thus the pre-«miQ<;iice of tho Father ia 
iw«ured, vbether we adopt the simple language of 
St. John, or the philottopbieal tvnninulog>' of Diouy- 
sius and bis followers. 

A much greater difficulty haa be«a felt by some 
Christian theologians in fixing tho oneness and yet 
difference bctwi-en tho Son of God and hunianily at 
large. It was not thought robbery that the Sou should 
he (-qua! with the Father (Phib ii. 6), but it was thought 
robbery to make human nature equal with tbut of the 
Son. Many were frighteni^^l by tlie thought that tho 
Son of Qod should thus bo degraded to a mere vitm. 
Is there not a blaepboiDy agun^t humanity also, and 
is it not blasphemous to speak of a vurn man. What 
can bo Uie meaning of a mtrt -man, if we onco ba 
rMOgnised tlio divine essonoe in him, if we o: 
believe that unless we are of Ood, we are nothi 
If we once allow oumelvoa to speak of a toerc man, 
otliers will soon speak of a mere God. 

Surely no one was more humble than llfaater 
Eckbart and Tauler, no one showed more revcivmtv 
for the Son than they who had looked so deeply into 
tho true nature of divine eonship. But they would 
not allow tho clear statements of the New Teatament 
to be ai-guuil away by hair-splitting tbeo1o^aii& 
They would not accept the words of Christ except in 
their literal and natural siense? They quoted the 

"hat , 



verses; 'That they all may be ono; M Then, Fathtr, 
art ia Ue, ant] I in Thee, that they aleo may 1)0 0li« in 
iw' (St. John xvii. 21). And again, ' The glory which 
Thou gavest Me I have given thom ; tliat they may bo 
one, oven as wn ai-« one ' (St. John xvii. 23 ; eee also St. 
John xiv. 2, 8). Th«»o wurds, th<ry maintain, can have 
on« meaning only. Nor will tlioy allow any libcrtiiM to 
be taken with the eleor words of St. Paul (Rom. viii. 
Ifi), 'The Spirit it«clf liwinsth witucse with our npirit, 
that we are the children of God : and if oliUdrou, tkea 
heirs ; heirs of God, and joint-h«ir3 with Christ ; if 
so bu that we BUtVcr with Him. that wo may he alao 
glorified together.* They protest against wroncliing 
the sayings of St. John from their natural and 
manifest purpose, when he says: ' Beloved, we are the 
Honti of Uod. and it doth not yet apjtuiir what we tthall 
he: but wo know that, when Ho Hhall appoar, we 
Rliall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as Ue is.' 

&iany more pa.iMLgei« to the same vQvct might bo 
quoted and have been quoted. Evciy one of them 
has been deeply pondered by Eckhart and his friends, 
and if it was a mere question of reven.-noe for Christ, 
nowhere wa* greater rcvon<nco shown to Htm than in 
the preaching of these Friends of God. But if they 
had surrendered their belief in the tme brotherhood 
of Christ and man, thoy would havo sacrificocl what 
Memud to thom the very heart of Christianity. W© 
may make the fullest allowance for those who, from 
reverence for God ami for Christ and from the purest 
iiiotivoa, protost oguiiist claiming for man tlie full 
brotherhood of Christ. But when tliey say that the 
ditfert-nr« between (lirist and mankind is one of kind, 
and not of degree, they know not what they do, tluiy 



nnlliry ttw nrfaolo of Christ's tcficliing, and they deny 
Uio Iccanuition which they proU-nd to teach. Let thvj 
ditfenmce of degree be tts lar-^'d as ever it can hv 
twecii tlioKc who bulong to tlio Hftmc kind, but to look 
for one or two passages in the New Teetament vrhidi 
may possibly point to a difference in kind in »urvly 
uulew against thu overwhelming wuiglit of the ovi> 
denco that appt-als to us from the verj- words of ChrisLj 
We have lately been told, for instance, that Chriii 
never speaks of Our Fattier when inc]udiug Hiinsulf, 
and that when Ho taught His dieciplvs to pray, Our 
Father which art in hea%-eii. He intentionally excludud 
HiniAclf. Tliin iniyht douml phiitj-ihio in a court of 
law, but what is it when confronted with the words 
of Christ: 'Qo to my brethren, and say unto them, 1 
AKOODd iiiito my Father, and your Fatliur; and to niy 
God. and your God.' Was that also roeaot to imply 
that His Father was not the same aa their Father, asd 
their Qod not tho same an His Cod 1 

B*Ufl«B, th* Brtdr* bMWMB tb* Ylulu »aa tba tnSnlt*. 

It was tho chii'f object of thc«e four coursoti of Lec- 
tures to prove thflt the yearning for union or unity 
with Ood, whidi we saw a» the highest goal in other 
relir;ions. flods its fullest rvcngnition in Chrifltianity, 
if hut properly understood, that is, if hut treated hiiw 
torically, and that it is inseparable from our ba-Uuf in 
man's full brotherhood with Christ. However ivai 
f«ct the forms may bo in which that human yeamii 
for God baa found expression in different religions, it 
has always Wun the deepest spring of all religion, and 
the highest summit reached by Natural Religion. The 
diflbrent bridges that have been thrown aorosa the 



^ir that seeins to ti^jtta&te enrth from heaven and 
inaD fn.)m Goil. wln-lher wc call them Bifrost or 
ICiRvat or Es Sirilt or any other name, may be more 
or less crude and faulty, yet wo may trust that many 
a faithful ttoul ha» t>vcn carried acrons by Uicm to a 
licttcir homo. You may rememhor how in the Upaoi- 
ehads the Heff had Ik^-r rcoogniHed aa the true bridge, 
the best connectlDg link bcttweon the houI and G«d, 
and the same idea meets us again and again in the 
religions and philosoi)hie:i of later tintes. It h <]uite 
true that to spcnk of a bridge between wan and Ooil, 
even if that bridge ia called the Self, is but a meta- 
phor. But how can wi> opruk of these things except in 
metaphors? To return to God is a metaphor, to Htand 
before the throne of Rod is a metaphor, to be in 
paradise with Chiist ia a metaphor. 

Even those who object to the metaphor of a bridge 
bi>twvL-i> earth and heaven, between man and God, 
aud who consider the highest leeson of Theosophy to 
be the perception of tlie otcmal oncneae of human and 
divine nature, must have recourse to metaphor to 
make their moaning clear. The metaphor which is 
almost universal, which we find in the Veddnta, among 
the SuliM, among the Ooiman MyxUcs. nay, ev«n aa 
late as the Cambridge Flatonistfi in the eovonteentb 
century, is that of thu nun and its rays. 

The nun, a« they all eay, is not the 8un, unlese it 
shines forth ; and God is not God, aniens Be shines 
forth, unless He manifusta Himself. 

All the rayH of the son are of the sun, they can never 
be separated from it, though their oneness with the 
souroe of light may for a time l>e obacured by inter- 
vening darkness. All the rays of God, every soul. 



the U>Te of God, on which bang all the Laws and th« 

Prophets; the final aoian u rxpreMed in our Wing, in 
the trite bnaae of the word, the sons of God. That , 
aoDnhip may be obtaiaed by difTcrent ways, by 
M> truly an what Ma^u-r E«khart calle<i the aai 
of our will to th« Will of God. You may renkeml 
bow thin wafl the very definition which your own 
rovercit Principal haa f^ven of the true iDeaniag 
reiigioo ; and if thu truv meaniDg of nUgioa is 
bigheot porpose of religion, you will see how, 
■ toUaome journey, the historian of religion (uriTCS io^ 
the end at the same aummit wliich the pbilosopber a( 
reli^on has choaen from the first as hie own. 

In concltision I roust once more thank the Principal 
and the Senate of this UniverKity for the honour tJtey 
hav4! done nic in electing mo twioo to this important 
office of GiSbrd Lecturer, and for having given me an 
opiwrtunity of putting iogetlM^r the la.<)t reeulta of my 
life-long studies in tJte religions and philupopbies of 
the world. I know full well that some of theee renulu 
have (^ven pain to ttome leanKHl theologians. Still I 
bvliL^ve it would has'O given them far greater pain if 
they had suspected me of any wont of sincerity, 
whether in keeping back any of the facta whidi a 
study of tlie Soored Books of the World han i>roii<'ht 
to light, OT in hiding the convictions to which theea 
facts have irresistibly led me. 

There are different ways in which we can show true 
faith and real revcrcnco for rolijpon. WlmC would 
you say, if you saw a strong and powerful oak-tree, 
enclosed hy tiny props to keep it from falling, made 
hideous by Hcnrvcruws to drivo away the birds, or 



8l)ielded by flimay Horeens to protect it from the air and 
tiic light of hcavi'ul Would you not fuel that it was 
an indignity to the pant of tho foroM! Would you 
not fe(d called apon to pull out the tiny props, and lot 
tho oak fnctt tbe gales, and after every gale ding more 
strongly to tlio cai-th, and ecud ita routs more deeply 
into the rock beneath t Would you not throw away 
the Bearccrowfl and lot the birds build their nestt> on 
it» strong branches? Would you not fcol moved to 
tear off the screen*, and let the wind of Leaven 
shake ita branebeii, and the light from heaven warm 
and brighten it«i dark foliagol This ia what I fvel 
about religion, yea about the Chrifitiaji religion, if but 
properly understood. It does not want theae tiny 
props or those hideous scarecrows or useless apolo- 
gies. If they ever were wanted, tbey are not wanted 
7I0W, whether you call them physical miracles, or 
litonil inspiration, or Papal iufnillbility ; they are 
HOW an atfiont, a diahonour to the majt^sty of truth. 
I do not believe la human infallibility, least of all, 
in Papal infallibility. I do not believe in professorial 
infallibility, hast of all in that of your Oifford lecturer. 
We are all fallible, and we are fallible either in our 
fneU, or in tint deductions whidi we draw from tJiem. 
If therefore any of my learned critics will tell me which 
of my factfl are wrong, or which of my conclusions 
faulty, let mo aJtHure the<m. tliat though I am now a 
wry old Professor, I ehall always count those among 
my be«t friends who will not mind the trouble of 
supplying me with new factn, or of pointing out whore 
facts have been wrongly slated by me, or who will 
correct any arguments that may seem to tliem to 
offend against the sacred laws of logic. 








^^~ B44 







^^ft^ Brth. At. Up. 

K^Und, Un. 




^^^^ t. » 

r. 10,L 

IV. u, t. 









^^H iiiuiif 








^H pduhM 




^^^^ tkutnbU 




^^^H (odd) 



^^^V <l»o^>kk» 




^V IdlOi* 





^^t nldrnun 




^^^H uniiuho * m^n- 







^H hnhmalukU 




^^H (uti irnau AttH* 


bnluM (dtnpib 






(» pBBU tnit. 



^H dhltiMA 





^H liuU 




^H •|itUil7uid>Ht 



^H piUuA 


^H •liMailaU(il>k. 

thtji (nbAA 


^H ilitKl) 



^H [iltrflokl* 



^^1 AAEiitnA 



^^H fcftrt%w 


^B «UaA 



^H *lr>A 



^B TrUhOt 



^^H 4DnAin 










Brih.Ar.Up. Pniu Uu, 
V. 10, u LB, 


Bund. Up. 

XMnd. Up. 
VIIL 6. S. 

MMr. Ttrlh. 

L'p. VI. ao. 

tdit)!* <puDU iTutaJh) niHliA (luD) tnnuluiMuritiiA MitjaA (la- bnhinsiiaUu* 
kandnA >dktj>A biatiLiulakAJb k^d T>nm) ■iuhiuiaii& 

lotiA (na puou Mtmt. iMinm dTlnun 

UA> bnJunilakiA 






-I- ^^^^^^H 


ADD AL BAZZJLE, iiige 344. 

Agnl. so, 111. 130, 13s, igi, 134> ^^| 

Abrl. 3-6. 

Abdinl ftnd 9t. Buswd, 491. 

13£. ^^H 
— nttJ purpoM of tLc h\t)ipvf}rj uf, ^^^H 

Abnbwn, u only hui of Ooil, J&6, 


— ft* i\rr, 19. ^^^H 

— KUaiforiou BMDing of, 376. 

— lliii riiililii aiwl jntuible, 154, ^^^| 

— utd Imm, j;S. 

A):nil'ili», tb« vKald of Agnj. 116. ^^^H 

AbwIuU, •biorj.tian in Uic, 41}. 

Atnic"". uuiterwl, 311. ^^^H 

— Bmngi one. 314. 

Agnoatiii. mnd«ni, uiJ tho UJodui, ^^^| 

At»U«iTt nouDi, ;8. 


Ahu.lallr AlUvuri, 3S. 

Aham, (GO, 348-149. ^^^H 

Abu 8*I<I Abul ClisSr, raiiudBr of 

AhlLllil, ^^H 

Sllfii"lli, 3+ J. 

Ahl aly^yn. J44. ^^H 

Aba YihIc] slid Juiuti<J, 344. 

Aliiiii jtl aliuij. f 1. ig^ n. ^^^H 

1 Audciay, tlie, 3S4. 

— Zeod - Mini, ^., j5 h. ^^^| 

' AnuJian pr»j«r, 14. 

Ahrinikn, in cbe GIUim, 45. ^^^^ 

AoW'Dit'i^ikn liucri)>lti>lu, 44. 

— word not knixm 10 oatly Qntk ^^^| 

AclA ArcUelu, 4(l. 
AHivily, wU or, 161. 

irdten, 4J. ^^^| 

— kuoini to UtE <lr(sk aiul Komnn ^^^| 

Ailnrii. \iie H<ii uf CIikI, jIM. 

ttriton, 45. ^^^1 

— ra[)I.ilned by Phllo, 3;6. 

— ftlut Uriiiuil, iHj, ^^^1 

Ailiu»* hb, Fblls^a iaisniretatioD 

IKll IllVlltinniHl M oppODNiU ^^^1 

-', jri- 

hy DaHiit, ^^^^ 

Adftin*, h6, 119, 

— hit ooimoil of »ii, igl}. ^^^H 

Ailctiiin, 19}. 

Abur*. iS. 19, lOb ^^^1 

Aithylfw, 9;$. 
AdiU,MHof, 17. 

~ lamtm of. $4, 5<„ ^^H 
— Zuuhnilttra'* udk with, 54, 53. ^^^| 

— nwa recUmd t», b; Agn), 140. 

Abanlfuda,iS. 51, iHo, ibi, 183, ^^^| 

Adliyk, 17. 

1B9, Mj. ^^H 

A'lrwiii'iu, 64 •. 

— — u Uu l)U)if«ma UoEng, 51. ^^^H 

AilriAii I, ^Aj. 

girelUiv tc'ul t1i«(boi1dirttraed ^^^H 

Ailrtnn uf lliu booI, 4)3. 

for Ui« g>Dod, 116 n. ^^^H 

Ai'liali, 145 FT, 

— — Ilia ditooa'M cu gnMdiwi •&• ^^H 

AcoQ. mc^QIDg ot^ 473 It, 

gel*.)a,s-)07. ^^H 

A COW oj Vdcnltalui, 473 n. 

AlryuuHD, \ edic Aiyamaa, 181. ^^^^ 

Aedun, 101-101. 

AfrlnglD, tha tbr**, 43. 

AltutakUn bMvon, 118, iig. ^^^H 

L _ 



j h IMP. 1*9. ijo. 

AfctB mtmi. IM. 

AlbMtOi M^BUtt 4IK, 504. 
AlbiitMHi. »e>J. 

— odkd KatWi, M4. 


— J i Ml BTtd MOM of Iba Mcnd 

— but tha ZMd And* inotfatnl 

iMoVn«k. 39. 
tUfifcia, pnntiwH b«(v(iFn Arjaa 
■ml SnailM tboanVt at, ii. 

— Jtnriak kLooI of, uhI Iu inflo- 

enoe on Clirirtikiiil)', 371, 374, 

— the lneeliDg'f4Aee of Jirwkh ui 

GrHk UioughL 399. 
«t Jsoitb ud Cluinliui tmnii, 

AieuiMlnui CliriUuuiil;, 8l CW- 

— J»m and Gntk n^p/m, 81. 
Allali, the God of Poira, 347, $49, 

All<f(i4(Bl MlopnUliau, tjj, 

--^\td UmUikm, 41J. 

— 4ipIi«Md th« Fotuth Uoip*!, 4U. 
AllihabMio wnting, ti. 
Aflwlricli, SI5. 

ABbnwiw, 434. 

AdhHiu, 4}o. 

AniereUct (Amwdid), ImmaruUtj, 

AmartUl, 4a. 
Anvkkn, Kn^i■I^ uid Iriili ooi- 

UBB, Ai. 
*—— *■— r""'v of tbe AtmU, iS$, 

AmibiuijM. tbionc. lit. D.V 1 14. 

— iu l-Tti uid iM« and fuTullure, 

I S3. 
Anunon, 14. 
Amuareiii. Fiwneh, and ainuurau, 

Maiiililiu, 6a 
A ID I lilt Ik Jy, 41A M. 
Aiiin'U, ;g. 
AiBcId I^ Antifoiie, 49*. 


ftTlHHl. T-* 

AMbyU Mdwd. >tt. 

— iwuiiwt, 311. 
laud*, UoaNaMM, 94. 
AaMta^n*. BbnriaB. fOfi, 

*«»««i^ j;;. 3»o. 3*4. 

limiMiBJM'. lotanc ol^ 40^ 
AbcmU n»rwB. 1 1, 

— bnto kM, sj. 

— nHgioM ud ph<le>eph'w^ b»« 

to toaiMM, sH. 
AiB«l of J^ikli, 40$. 

— wmdiag •hti Jaonb^ 405. 
Aagdi, aaaHOw oT OrawBl. t»%. 

-- «f at. Ud lh« AmMkMflNt 

cf tlw AtmU, 187. 

— PhUo «1M U» Lacoi, 401. 4e«. 


— K JmU eonceptkn. 405. 

— noti «f tW, 403. 

— 0fOrigra.451.473. 
~U«rmnUM o(, 406, 469. 473, 

— iinkta afM Q«dii, 471 

— St. AofOTttM on, 471, 

— lBharfdD».47S. 

— wAn fc*lM ia. ohJ^fly ilaiMi 

btaa DioBjtiaa, 476. 
Aagi« Ualnrn or Alutuiaa, 45. 183, 

1S4, 185,103. 
Aniiiul bodSis, bankD aooU wl«i> 

ingiaW., 117. lij. 131, 

— — miiral grouiuU uT tUa bdU 

)I7, llM. 
Animiim, I5>, r{$. 

— col <uoii*ct«il with M< 

eboiiii, 153. 
AmiUlMkin, twt kitown !■ 

ADUrjrlmiv. 315. 
AnUuvpological nJigion, Sa u. 

160. S4I. 
AntbnipoliiiEj, 6|. 
AatbraiHiniiirpliiaii, ig^ 
ir^pvrwtfiav, 415. 
Anliflah, Sjuck] of, 4 i i. 
A i H i m ta a , dcdoctloii, i^j, i^j. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 ^^^^^^^^^1 

^^^^^^^^^^^I^^^^^H^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^1 

1^ INDEX. B40 ^H 

AparAiiSlA. 111. 

Ami. g6. ^^1 

A|iRian, ToniilcM nikller, 395, 40O. 

Amwlii: ulioat, 5J0. ^^^| 

AjihriHliU. 6], ;6, 

— pncltcu, 316. ^^^H 

paA«wi(, 481. 

AsMlica, Rli. nMnc far, JlXMi ^^^B 

ApMiyphkl book* ef N*w T«mii> 

~> tUodi of, j)8. ^^^1 

ment, jj. 

— frkud unong. ji8. ^^^| 

imos. 437, 

— Indian, ^^^| 

Apglajfetci, Ul* •U'ljr, liii, 455. 

— tiiiluononi. 531. ^^^H 

A{>o5!i>, JJJ. 

Amllcimii of ihtf Kufia, 34), ^^^^ 

A|xilliin, 64 n. 

— eimvivg, 5](i. ^^^H 

iiiitinaiui, 4JO, 41 J. 

— d>Djnn of, 517, S34. ^^H 
AMi> the At-biti, 169. ^^^H 

itioBiamu. 4"'». 

Api'niach to God, JJ4. 

Aahk, rlahloiniiincM, 44. ^^^| 
— Tlhittll^ 1X6. ^^^1 

Apuiw; III. 1)1, 1S3, 199. 

ApuUlD* on Dnluu'tiei, 470. 

AiiDodeni, AAtlmifi (UArt in 1\)bil. ^^^| 

ApOrrt. 306, 

1 87. ^H 

Ara, lulio, 111,111, 114. 

— IiruvM InUmonrH Intwesn J««b ^^^I 

fr>iu ari. «nini)f, 141. 

mtid PvTuUn*, 1^7. ^^^1 

Anbio, trnmUtiuiu of Gmk booki 

Airtyn, itlH>.I« of tbv goal, 306, ^^^| 

int'>, 3)4. 

Auli, la'; tit, ul. 7S. ^^^1 

Arvhiini;cl>, 475. 

Anavii\M, loi, 101. ^^^| 

ipX"P'ii. 41 f- 

Aatiftl bodf. ic6. ^^^M 

AtDliitni'ilii*, 70. 

Anil, broK))), !ik., 33, J4II. ^^^| 

Arritnaaiot. 45. 

Aiura Vnriina nr Abani Mkidft, 49. ^^^| 

Arir, nnrne Tor Sofif, 344. 

Avuni. and ai, to be, fiuukrit, 53. ^^^| 

1 Ariiiiiln on Jupiter, 11. 

— tniro uu, 181. ^^^H 

AH'ioklci, 83. 

— and Deva. 1S1. ^^^| 

Arialokntn, ion of ]Ilpp»rchu«, fij. 

— bkd (entc of, 181. ^^^| 

Aiiitotle, By. toi. 371, ^So, J84. 3<(j, 

— liiuliuK dolly ill thff Araata, iSl, ^^^| 

— knev Uio word ArolUKoloa, 45. 

Aaurai, «han|[e nfiniianing of, iSj. ^^^| 

— and Surw, IB7. ^^^| 

— Zcu* of, 395. 

%titalMl«#«n, 188. ^^H 

tliB Prlui* UoTWof, 395, 397. 

— bit irsMMndant Gad}i(*i, j^. 

— Wdi-fDd*, i!*^ ^^^1 

— iippiiBmita uf iba llcraa, 150, jjl. ^^^| 

AiUloKtBcm, 83,84. 

Ater. An, i8a, ^^H 

Artnkiti. Arvnftti, 18), 18S. 

Athanuiai on onanou vrltb God, ^^H 

Arnold of Brndft, 491. 

Aitnksliklu, (Ardtihtr), 40. 

313- ^^1 

— vaUio Logtia mad* man, 411. ^^^H 

— a min of clamlEal IvijmiDa, 434. ^^^| 

ArtlcW, lll^ 78. 

WrOr ,ir Muibt, 34(1. 

— Diiiuiiiiin unknowB to, 463. ^^^| 

Ary»n h'liantiiill. ;i. 

Alliuia-xiln, 138, 140, ^^^| 

— r«ili^nnuiil mjtholnf^iOatnmaD, 

— Kell knntin in tii«, t6j. ^^^M 


Atbarvan, 6j. ^^^| 

— D>tioDB. 74. 

Atbdan, 19$. ^^H 
AUinii.OdoDi, J49. ^^H 

'- oiiiliiilEon, 74. 

— •tmcApbvrn in Iiidijui and Gr*«k 

AUienasorai on tba A>n nf Qod, ^^^| 

tiliil'jurjplila, 77. 


— KOTili, coDimon, 78, J9, 

— Unvk philoaophfT, 436, 4JI, ^^^^^M 

— on tbt iiogoi, 437. ^^^^H 

AMti-uiula-ilag, 14, 



AtUr, j4i^ 


iibfU. *. hM priM. 




— Md O. T., Ktedas Utaoa. 47. 


— nll0Ma cl MktwrMMMad , I M. 

I (7, III. 

B of, iBg. 

— iiMtnallty of Um Mid is tb^ 

— • Md Vala, BMiuiun btfc p wJ 

of. JO J. 
AtmuZcikI, ilJScnll, ■•». 
AraMlc inj-tr, tS. 
laBfMtf* nmliBUr^ In ba lo^ 

MdmtoMl, 4:. 
^ nl%lM a niMarv, l3j. 
^■(•MadnrMunfmin ttw V*dte 

nikim, 189. 





IltUiAeTKiaMt 517. 5»S. 
BmbiUbI. lb. b Dm an^ 43^ 
— Ua. U» Tmn, tlM Uvte*. 4U. 

B>B<an*C. *^. •filbnml mi 

.< ia tJM P|«iAlah. at. 
DvUwte. i8j. 
Bchrta Md BAarn Vaabb il«. 

BdlmpbM. 64 «. 

B«<p>D<]t ui iDiiiiU*, tU. 

— Am 68. 361, 

BUdnpa-i*. 14^. 
Bb^S, mUt lUity, iSa, 
BUpTUa, Ibc, 3S4. 

rhherfiblifjstldk and SalykUMdft- 
«iid», 175, )76. 
Rliik^liii, 3JJ, Jjo, 
Biblf, J em uid ChrUtikiu uhamtd 
of llirir, J7S. 

— k fmblddcn book, 479. 

— ckrlvtlcniiikii iruuliUoBa 0(503. 

lount by liwrl. fio-t- 

BlfrAtt, lh« lin'lur, l&S, 174, ($9. 

— DTjly thfv* soioun in, 171. 
K((|I. Dr.. IT. 90 •„ 3;< • . 37s "■■ 

.^79 ■„ 381 ».. 396 B,, 401 n.. 
*°T »■- 436 "., 41* "-. 449 »■■ 
473 "■ 

— on I'Umwit'ii Idra of Cbrlit, 444. 

— <in Otiiprn. 4J8. 

BlKiJt, ilrrivUiim of, JO,-, 50$. 
Birch i.f lh« Sou in tli« luul, Jiti, 

BiiJicipi, J*i1«U, uid Dcuon*. 477. 
Blulc D«th. f,oi. 
BioniJ, rriiiiiniiiiitjr of, tfl, 
Rlwiiificlil. 110 n. 
FknJiiA^rina, loo. 101, J13. 
Bod?, ibo «ttbtio and outM, igG, 


— ftiaajjonlitlo to tint wdI, 517. 

— ■uUjwliem of, £17. 
Boilitliiijik, no. iijii.,iifiik,li7it,, 

iitiH, 110 B., 118 ■. 
IV<^, SlaTOBio God, I Bi. 
BobUn, 8|. 

BouvMiuiv, 409. 50J, s»5. 
Boadbo*, vlli, $09. 
Bono, bomi of Kckbirt. 509. 
lb>itk-wHl;u^, ilatd vf, 31, 
B..|.|>. 73- 
Uotruwing nf liitu and nama 

ttmnn^ au.'ienl natioiu. fS. 
Bnlimilmrfl, iia, 119. 
BiaihmMaua*, 98, 

wort^, tiQ, iiot 

Brahinl tlia b'uliMl ativr nf cood- 

now, 164. 
Brnliiiiui, tos-108, Ijc, 147, 149, 


— uid Atman. one, 94. 

— tbo Self, gg, 

— » thal>ua, 115, ■■£ n. 


ltrBtimaB.imU«f^l)i, lafi,! i^ijto. 

— and Iba dtipartod, diaJogiw be 

twvrD, i<;9, 

— and Abunmaadh arriral of tho 

njal btCora. Mt. 

— Daator, naiiio fir th* blgbatl 

««lbM«l, )40^ J41, 144, 148. 

— iliirii alion of, l^O. 

— and br>'1)Ht. 141 a. 

— ni«anaVcd^ 140, nt. 

-~ Tuioui Dwaning* of, 140, 141. 

— Vlihiiu and Siri,, ).f 1. 

— Dout. clianfod lo brahnulo niali, 

*4'. MJ 

— •• wutii, J4>. 

— ebaii|[» of mMAiog, 14*. 

— and bribman, 143. 

— aa nvut. foUotrtd bj maic (urn*, 


— omW, 147. 

— tdtuily of tho (ool bIUi, 17*, 

ia>, ]Hj. 
-^ and tbe individual ton\. 17J1. 

— npprtach of tbo Mul lo, 177, 178, 


— lalvr •pecaUtlrau on, 17S, 

— til* Itniit, 179. 

— n*u(*r,M>niic*of all tliis^l79. 

— nulhinu bwiilo, )8a 

— Ailin Ail.iSo. 

— bring I'nfcct lbs BuI ji tn, iSo. 
-• inaMulino and ncuhr, iSj. 330, 


— tl» whole world i>. tfW. 

— nodifiod iMnonal, 31/0, i^t, 191. 

— tba KiBb«*t, 190. tgt, 19J, 

— SStimaon, *9i. 

— i( ovnylbing, »o). 

— Indian »tgb tuAvi to d«*ctib«, 


— a« lac, M I'lt, M tutnda, 193. 

— alwavi Kulijwtive, 194. 

— bow oien kb'iuld htliova !n, agj. 

— tbo worlil, Finanalinn froui, jt/t,, 

— pmvnta itaelf m thi> <ri-tld, 499, 

— or Iba loBniM. onrywharv, 304. 

— wc ATfl. 194, ^01. 

— and Aiidji tlio cauxoftlH pb»- 

U'lUiiiial •riitUt. 303. 



iriHllMllilUlMlll lllllll Jl, 

— £<tkm% iMddig Aoot. JI5. 

— tk* Atawn Dot loM 1m, Jto. 

— aM.3it. 

— H^bar ul Lo««r, jt«. ttj. 

— ii atM roIW nial*, 317. 

— do BcA IwraooiK «ilb lb* Tp^ 

BiAad>, 141. 
BrtknuMM, f ri mu tnnv^rUtiag 
wcrifciiil pwfrnj. 161. 
ki< tftj. 
Md BsMkbl^ tcId- 
BdoMM HMnton •€, 179. 
BnkMM iDwrtwiJ by BomUbi. 

46 ii 
Bri^toMa(» 167. 1 7;- 

— aaiad Srtiw in tk» ItUhUUnl^ 


— Atdua tke tn*. 167 •- 


UUOBg lb* VllhdWilll lUlH, 17*. 

— aJuptad bj Um Je*» in Pcnd>, 

— wgiy >W To^M. 17.1. 

■Mlw**!! in thcr>lBail, 174. 

-- kaowa la prim mi of Nlkfrv, 


— of Iha AtoNb Md of Ih* UfVnt- 

— bMwMB 41cd **1 auM, 470, 539. 
Iiri( »■ DMd, 174, 

— Bat HUM M BifrM, 174. 

— tram crn'Ordcn. 1 7Ji. 
BrAad-lxuiTkk*, 1 14, 1 1 7, t tS, 1 ij, 

'7'. »:7- 
BrfbM-FMi, IlnJuuuu»-|«b,VUa«- 

f*d. J41. 
BrDUfn of the fm RpiHt, g^ 
Boa In*. 119. ijo. 
ISti'LUu kh no MSS., J). 

— aiUniN «f, CO tbc •ouJ kfttf dMtll, 

— a'^J6: 

— tt*^ 

— oppOMd* 

«M(MJ*e WMtlditn, 5 tiy. 

BadJktiM, so obJ«cih>« Daiif i^ 

— Md CbitdMl^, MMtUaf ooia- 

aliB n i. ifiy. 
BoMbiM)^ |nj«' >nkatt«a to Iha, 


— in lUetrik. 46. 
B;«M*r, jfifB. 

CALV. 316. 

Ctabritki Plateairta, 313 

UkMM to tb> U^ 

■1*4 V«illaiiMi. 31 1. 
Ckni* UniwMd Hwor, tk* XkaaT 

Oity iM T. J. BMUn, 39 "• 

Ohm, wftiHl rabnnea to tba (mt, 


CiMMbV, hAmgi t« God sltw^ 

54' • 
Ca-n,. 37'.i7S4^. 45i.45$.4:t. 

— One** • itfil* i<s 4$6, 

— on llw Logo*, 4JH. 

— 00 UkltoOH*, 471. 
C t r iB W Bi d . 87. 

— in llw V«4«, SS. 

Clunot. njlli of, in tliv HniiTiS^ 

Cb*riaU#r »od b wj »». 11 1. 

— In Itaui, Mid ta ibo D) 


fliiiri*, irir* «f HrfhaUo», 7«, tia. 
(.lianm-HftHU*, 76, 177. 
Cbari«inacn*.«DBMBda ilia IWaliiaB 

to praack i* tk» pofsW |w 

iriMiS B*ia. 466. 

-~ Uia OrMt. 463. 
Charintto btaadi, R«v. O. 

on, JU. 
Cb«nUM, PUIa on Um^ 377, 
—■ DiOBftioa <m the, 475. 
Ch*irBr, ProC 48. 

or Ucht, Mj. 

CUaa, Sanikrit worb ia, yff, 



' IXDBX. 5&S 1 

Cblniuis prajrar, M. 

Obijitiud^, fklth In, i«l«d b; ft 

— iDi>r^ri|>lic(n on facavf n maJ iiipu. 

cumparaUie ttady of rEliKJum, 

J'lj «■ 


('hiUl, tM Iba Lo}^ ur Won], li. 

— ths OHt Olftll rrlit,'tnii*, ID. 


— ftiirl [lUni. rval snlccvltnta of. 

— «ul Hi* brallimi, (liffcrcncc id 

liltl" known, i;. 

kind, not dri^r*, xui. 

— Cftrlj'.ilt ooDtinilionwithSu&inii, 

— religion of, Uendlng tli« Ewt 

34 >- 

and Weil. 416. 

mpntloo of, in the GuUlien 

— knd BU br«llir*ii, dlffcceuoa 1>«- 

1"". 3<3- 

t>Mn, 4ilS, 

Ufl*nt>l IniluancM In, 360, 

'-dlvlnltror. 4J7. 

lf>7. 3*8. 

— DioDjiUu*' Ti«w of, ^6K. 

— SulUun una tha Vadlnt^phHo- 

— thv ahief Icnon of tb* lifa of, 

•apbjTi caionidonon batwaan. 

— ckUoiI thcfint nun, 519. 

— and Bnddhitm, iliuttlng ocdnoi- 

— Bli Uith In lb* lonl. (,)o. 

doDSH, 369. 

~ M Ih* Word of the Faibtr, 

— indaanocd by llis Jewiih acbool 


of Aloiandrla, J71, 

— > — tllir«rtDO*b«twMin,otwDfkfnc], 

— In AlDiftndrla. 4^ 

Dflt tfTdagTM, 13$. 

— illlfcrvnt from tl^at of Jndaa, 434. 

Clutottu IMOloST H dlitinet rroiu 

— Thfianpliy in. 44(1. 

— miiat bo weighed i^untt other 

' -^ Mad «tbcf f*U((lo&^ iruo object 

ToHirioni. 447. 

of eofopnrtng, 8, 

— nnhiiiOTlait, 44S. ^_ 

— advoeato, 16. 

— truly hlatoriol, 44!t. ^^^H 

— wliT It triunipbacl, 454-45S' ^^H 

— dootriim borrowed froin GrMoe, 


— built u|ion tba l^ogii*, $11. ^^H 

— I!i!Ei(leT, writer ia, an tba InR- 

— ytaniiDS for union vitli Ood, ^^^| 

nito, jSl •. 

finds ila hightat «i|>n*ilaD Id, ^ 

— doctrioF. lli» prrfcotion of Grnlt 

}J9> 54 >- 

philooiphy, 4.;a. 

Chrrwatoni, 434, 

— •ipmainn f <rtbe rc-unionof tliS 

Ci«ro, ti), sM. 

Clucro on the Zooi of Xenophanee, 

■uul with (Jod, 5,15. 

— nligion, need* do ynp* or kuo- 


oowi, 543. 

CTftflii, UooL-OilL WUberfditw, 

— Mjntioii, ihdf rwrnbUtifio totbo 

3J* "■ 

VfdintiM* ud Kt«iiic |>liila- 

CltftntliM, 4((o> 

•aplitn, 4$i. 

Clfinerit of Alaxaodrift, Sa, J70. 



— — l^oludi ott. 4«s. 

— un GeDliltia borrowis]; from the 

6i)>lo, jg, fi). 

their iMliof. 4K6, 487. 

— di<< not boiTuw from tha KmI, 

do not lifoiiTB iniirnlity, 4KO. 


Uliiuyiiut lookad vn u Uislr 

— did O'lt ai-Mpt phyttcal Jmpoaai- 

touniUr, 4!vB, 

hillllaa a« iiiir»clci, 376. 

K»th»r Hid Sim oftha, ju. 

^ an llio I.i>|;iia. 4^. 

Cbtutikoitjr, ft (^ihriii of AryftD 

— »ll*d (inoatio aiul Mytlk, 44). ^^^M 

kud SioDltie thought, U, 447. 

— en the toal, 44^1 ^^^H 

^H" rr^P^^^^^H 

^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^^_^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M 

554 iHDrx. ^^M 

CiMDMt «r AkMa*K dMh* an 

Dih, til* root, 173. ^^1 

mdm AmriBM fai tba Ch«<k, 

OmMK tlw tvo. 45«. 

— dffmua touta of c<o«d ikm, ■ 

Orr|7 in Ui« fifth o*Mni7, 4S0, 

4;a J 

CWl of (.'hiiil, 40S. 4o3 M. 

— Crfiii.i».47i. ■ 

Csnwpu w iilMc, 3^ 

— riQUrab ««, 4|a. ^^H 

— 1«a>nit b; •eiuaDna peimptlos, 

IMtn^tCf. ^H 

OcodDstim, 134. 

tUrll JHOMfTod fOIMB of Uio Av«M> 

CmImImi, Th1«t on, $30. 

nd Zand, jS. 

CmhicUtu IxliaTS la prayer. 11. 


Oiaraciu), no loi^ t<i oar iiolKhlnitir, 

— ifuaipdoni of, 45. 

„ *■ 

DatkMW. acU o^ i6>. 

Con'UntrDoplf, oonrorMuM at, ^6s. 

— and pcuoa, perw-niGoBtloai of, 

OoDtnxI'DliMU in Stwiwd Book*. 


OMida, 113. 
Covpin, iulup, 79. 


1,5. 17) ■. 
-» on laU uio of AtmIIc, 47. 

OcrailDTaHM, n^ 

l>«'»hb. 344. J45. 

— — fcawWMo«|w, i}a 

Ihuaia and Mis, 301. ^^^ 

Oownw, Qnd thinkiiig and nttsriiiK 

Daiid of AaiP^iK, 5«i. ^^H 
Davn, Iffend of uo, 1 78. ^H 

tli», 38*. 

Covvkda, Uii^ 60, 61. 

Dtir awriHood U ha«n1 entaamef. 

Iilaad*. it J. 
Dwili, rotum of aoul la God afur, 


Craatlon (v cmannuon, fg6, 914. 


— U|»iiiittiiult on, »9;. 

— joum*7ori)r*ioiil after, tIJ-iiA. 

— out of noliiing, 197. 


— like ■ (fnilcT'i web, ^97. 

— — pmmtgn tfuio tko Ufviuabail*, 

— like hkiragrawiDglnnnllwRkuU, 

1 14 <l Mf. 


— to the Voilliitlbl. 300. 


— problon of, ,161. 

— thrnDgfa Ihv Lugo*, 4I7. 

nuutd* oa, 195-199, 

— KokWtwliiiito twot $ij. 

Ondidi, 70- 

De Iniilali'ine, 457. 

Orouiui, 144. 

DoiiT, in Buddbinn no obioMire. 

OniMden and the Brig 0' Dtt%i, 

36J. '^ 

'75- „ 

— b JndniMn, 364. 

OuMnui^ Canliiiul, 411 tt,, f,D(i, 

— to Greece and id'iiio, 364. 

— b!* Dneu Ij(nar«iilU. 371. 

— nt Alexandria, Udim noi triua* 

Pn>"«'. -t Jf 


C^i, 45- 

Draniurs*, 440. 

DADD, 11. 

Demakiitni, St. 84, 3T7. 
DonlllJ.buaTliileMi jfcik b*ii, sno «. 

Duhno, 367. 

Datvft-trOnlilp, abjarallan of, iSt, 

ill. jU"., 515. 

D&A*M, 44. 

I>c|iaitBd,aUxleor Ih*, 1^ 


1 ntDEX. 559 ■ 

Dcpartcil, nltad lo ihe nak nfiiiMli, 

DIoDplui, Uttle or^einal in Ua 1 


wrilluKi, 4S,t. 46S, 478 ■. ^^^1 

— ll«rbvrt SiMDMr'a rUtw on tliii^ 

— •rilfNKB of, 463. 41^. ^^1 

— bii lifv. 46j<464, 467. ^^H 

— hla book a iiclion. 4n4. ^^^| 

— a Xco-rUconio, 4O4, 467. ^^^| 


IVjilli nrdlmM, SvtSt. 4I 1. 

DpsrairtH, loi.fli. 

Dc^F, free ftam, JIA 

— hii book anvfitFj M gonoilw bj ^^H 

Dcuucn. 99, 99 n., IIO, tl} n.. 

EailFTii and VTealmi ObnitliH^ 1 

1 19 It., 34a H. 

465 -f (.6. ■ 

Dara, nut dan*, Jj. 

— Idi'uiirii.-a wllb St. Danla, i<5. ■ 

— in tlin Vwla mkI Ar*at«, l8t. 

4''<'- I 

— tiriubt t>«in^, 181. 

— aTilgpirit la tho AvcaW, iSt. 

— ttsnulal'on by (iC4tu« Erigena, ■ 

46J. 4''6. ■ 

— tnodrtn Piniari dlf, lEr. 

— induaDM of hia <iinlint;«, 4'>7. ■ 

DsTiJoka, Ijj, 146, 

wliy ao popular. 467, 46S. 47+, ■ 

D«vw,49, IJ4. 150, »SI. 


— aauJaMtanl^ iha, 146. I47, t^H. 

— on thu Hirbrew nwe. 40S. ^^^H 

— gada.bM»m« DaAiru,HVil e|iirila, 

— on V-iitiU. 4'<^ ^^H 

iSS, idg. 

— •OOroia •>(, 46!!. ^^^1 

l>*TB>iiiia. palli of tho goda, tt;, 

— Gnil a* To Gf, ^OH. ^^M 

lij. lio. >5i.»77. 

— l«*a within (JoJ, 469. 

— or Milky Way, jji. 

— > hierarvliiM of anjftil^, 469. 

— or ntlnbuw, i}i. 

— Infliiesco of, duriov tbo Middto 
A(". *74' 479. *»»■ 

DbtU of Ui* out TaUammit, ba1'«f 

In a, 186. 

— iTtWm of, 474. 

— wan it borroned tKoa tlw P«i^ 

— hi* Uirr* tri»(l> or niiM dirialuua 

timn»> 18G. 

of anKflU. 47 J. 

Ditiagvw bMwcrn Braluiuin atul tlie 

JepanciJ, 159. 
— «i Ule Sett ]iO-ij4 

— work of hi* Tnnitjr, 476. 

— beiitf in nngdi, ohieUy ilvlirad 

ftvin, 476. 

dedL)clii>n> from, j6a 

— UUiiiin on, 476. 477. 

— hli cclatlij liianuvliy r«fUctad 

— — ^'aAkan*ii rtniArkii 'm, a6l. 

— fraiii lt>* A'Aloiii^a- I'paDiihail, 

on aanli, 477. 


— not attraaiioD of, 47S. 

Dllbmit niadi otUaaiiHil. 11?. 

— bit iiiyllic nnlou, 479, 480, 

DilluiaDD, 53, 


Unkw^, tlw. jS, 40. 

— mjiliuinn of, not uriliodox. 

— MMont ia tbe ZonjaMrian wli> 

— loDktd on aa Ihfi fonnJoi' of (h« 

slon In, 4). 
— voon U^iun and flnlUinJ, 4*. 

Clirintian mjtiiat. ^hS, 

Monriua, wMblp of, tmait fran 

— tmiaUtHl In Socnd Huika, l.y 

Wart, 4». 47- 
Diodonia 8ioalu« and 1>U a|i|iMJ l« 

I>lr)[)iManiii«. 140. ^^^| 

OiaravU, un rviifiun, jjfi. ^^^| 

bouki Id EtU|it. 9j. 

m*. Dara*. iSi. ■ 

Dl0|{OI10t I«el11u>, jS. 

[>irino nami, mtuiing in «rvry, 1 

Dloiijtlaa Uio Arsop;>tpta, 164, t6j. 


'91. 4J* 461, 461, 499. joj. 

— and human, knovlodfta of t^ ^^^H 

}>>y.Si't>5>T. S.-.4- 

unity 9J. ^^^^M 


Di(ine »tiiilii(i. 94. 

loat l<f nil, 94. 

by nncicnoe, 94- 

— !■ nun. )f,o. 

— •pirit of t'hilo. 419. 
la Ih* pc<f h*U, 4*0. 

— I^OfM in Clirt*!, 4JI. 
<>w>llini; IB 111, 415. 

— )^iind i4Kokhvi, f,i6. J17. 

— — Ilka tlM Bcutnl BnluuiD, 

— — w oneneM. s»o. 

tko nul fi'uoiWl oa, J»J. 

Dlitolvof t'hriil. 4SJ, 

lK..ina«, Ihn, 4f7. 

iJivta it;n<:ruil» of Canlinkl OoM- 

na^ J71. 
Doctrine* iKirTawfd by tbc J«n 

frmn iLe Zoruulriknt. 47. 

— ProfsDor Clicviiii «i, 4S. 
Uogi pHwd kj' (to de)iuic<t, I j)l. 
IknnliwUani, 475. 

PVIuiliiCHII, tli«, jot, 1(01. £0J, 
}0|, 10 <- 

— Eckhatt, protindBl of, (09. 

Drtnuikdir DrAn'ifa, loo. 
Dnmm (mTs lh« fmi Uoi nf koI, 

D.1TW, IV., J.V 

DrvmniwDd. Dr. J,, J7fl n., j;{i n., 
2^1 n., 40J n., 41J 11., 4tj «. 

— on (he Liit;M. 404. 

Oualinn, nal taugbt b; ZoTOMter, 

— of tW Atmu, 185-18IS. 

■ — rcp1iuiu«thaaH||;inu MoDothaimt, 

— na tipi of. in Ihv Tnis, 187, 
Iturgi, irolKhili at, 376. 

EA BLV ChHirtlaii iricv of tbo loul, 

laDKDay!, Grwk or JowSih! 


raoiiiE fnim tirerk, 4IJ, 

— — (hr [»iinl Fftiimt 1, 4 1 5. 
Kanhtjt lore W the Bufi*, jjl. 

Em. CrMk pMlct^hy b u rn>»«J 

froei iha, So. 
Emi, m«( Wm«. Ifc« pUo* «r Ik* 

— kndWcMbUa-kdiaChriitiuMrt 

EmMim t«l>g<MK ICBunMit Bl— • 

taMnos, Ito. 
EMoaltM, 43&' 
EcUiart, M»>l«f,90, 19T< 4i7>4*>< 

— »wi |ncU d of W«rM7, go6, goS, 

-> powcfM Mrntoii*. $06. 

— ioUiHn St. Juha, 507. 

— arpMU W ragas Sia*t*n, 507. 

— a-wrtinn of trulB, 507. 

— nenr k|>pm1i to biraolM, 50B. 
~ amtU to *!■« f athvn, 50Q. 

— hit Mholartie Irainii^, 509a. 

— nodiod Bt Pari*, 509. 

— 11t«I at Rma, 509. 

— hit ohanwter, 51 Ol 

— SohcftrahaDFr «i, fll, 

— bb BiTTtidnn, f II. 51 >. 

— diAcuIlv ofhii tanouagc, gil. 

— Vwniakiidi » good pr«ii»ntttna 

i<'r. t;ii. 

— hi* .lefioltion of tb* WMtj, $t i~ 

— Fottim Plato and tb* 9taja», 51J. 

— nifa AlpianHrian laagaa^, J13. 

— called a PanlbsiM, $14. 

— on crHtlon «• enMUatloa, 514, 

— on the unl, 515, 516, 

— bii Ihvin* (■(oiwi, f 16, (I7. 

— bnw In nnilsntanit, 517. 

— a Noo-PlaUiuiA, f 18. 

— LosM or Word, a* the Soti of 

God, s<S. 

— Chri>t the ideal Son of Ood. 51S. 

— hit Ti*w of CIkui m t]M> Woid, 


— ii>B> Ibe IcgaadAty traditioBs m 

aU»gori«^ $10. 

— bia Tinr ol CliriM'* birth 1« Um 

tool, 5K.. S'*. 

^^^^Hi '9 

r IHD&X. 5.')V 1 

Eokhwt, MMUr.nlKtinnnrtlu wml 

EiDfnoik on SuG Ungua^, $49. ^^^| 

to Giul. 514., 

Empfiliikln, 8j, ^^^H 

— Iik« \\\e VoIiDliiU uil the No<i> 

— kud Lia foul. 433. ^^^1 

Plutoniit*, CJJ. 

Endlm ligliw, r^s. ^^^| 

— pMiaan in the Fourth 0«»pul 

— dnrknea. l(|9. ^^^| 

ciLcO by, 5>!,. 

Kudyniioa, 64 h. ^^^H 

— hi* i/w\j liln. f iS. 

Knerxiiui, 153. ^^H 

— lUtlntitt kiiil «il*nc« eolBiDiiiiiJfl 

RnnwiiU o( PUto, 16^ ^^^1 

by- &»!»■ 

3;6. ^^H 

— diidtungad eitiwne peDoncc, 

Kai, ditwn, 19. ^^^| 


lirra. 93. ^^H 
Cpicier, apniiw, 74. ^^^1 

— IM itn notiTs lii«. fig. 

— on tlic Iruo Lriil>crlirj.Kl of Chrlit 

Kplclctua ({Uotcd, IOl ^^^I 

■nil oiui. f.lA. iij. 
Ecituli (if ^>t, liiariuiil, 490. 

Eplpbanlui, 453 n. ^^H 

Kr, Mary of. ^^^M 

Edlslli: iiitiiiUiio, 4 J J. 

— Marv ilir tlirro Palvi. Ilg. ^^^^ 

EUi-n. liulf uF, 14. 

FCriiJii, KoJ of, 14, ^^^1 

%", Uio, J^S. 349. jiH- 

Eriuji, (ijtwn, >■). ^^H 

— lliu hriaii brbiiKl rverji, log. 

K-Jj«gtl, |ial40(i t^tlisi^id), 16. V 

— wlifttiait, 15;, 164. 

Eiich«ta1af[iDBlla(;(md>,geuorikl>iiiu> J 

E^pt, influence of, oo GrMco, Si- 

Urilioi in. 177. ^^fl 


Eiottric dvotriooa, 317. ^^H 

— fmii'iu* Grvvlu kIiq •tuiliwi in. 

a moclvrii Invmiion, 317. ^^H 


'BuewlDoua.'Ei'Uiiirt, jii. ^^H 

— Pylh»);<<ru in, 84. 

£»-Siilt, the briduu of, i;^, 539. ^1 

^ypu'kn pm.vw, ij. 

•>• •— iTiiahed Mohkuimeil tbioU(b 

— ruliginn, worlu on, 105. 

tbe Juw*, 100. 

Eliyth iQdJelinT«!i, Ueb., JJ, 

KtenuJ U^jlit bcliind llie Toil, 119. 
SiUobI oriKiu uf luetBmpijoUout, 

tBoi, III IMCI™, 3B6. 

■ (■ui> diuu, 415, 

>SJ< >f4- 

Kilelllijuw, 63 ■. 

— di»r«t«r «r tho AtwU, t^, 

Kkbtmit, (kailMiD, 1 19 n. 

— ItMhioK not fnuiid In thi U|i>iii- 

Ekun UL, 117. 

Eleatio ftiuummt, ,^13. 
— vivw of Iha InAniu. gj. 

ihxh, 190, igv- 

BOiioa, ij. 

— monkm, 9,v 

Euripidta on Ui» worUng <f di» 

— ]>liilofophiT». 69, 77, toS-107. 
'70- 33*- 3JS. 330. ■*6r. 

eod*. 3. ^ 

BuTOp*, O4 M. ^^^H 

— Ganiinn MviUc* kud VvtllntifU, 

KuMbiut, Hj, 4J0 n. ^^^H 


— ID«iitinM bnhinkna. 46 n. V 

— like III* tArlier Upuithiidi, 334. 

Kie, PliIIo un tlie orMtton of, 379. 1 

— mvUfJi I nml problcnu, j3j. 

E<3 *pirit n<it (oaad in the tally 1 

'Ell>b& and Elynon, 63. 

part oTth* AtMb, ji. H 

4Av«, 64. 

— problem of Uietiiri|>in ef, 184. fl 

El>«pon. 63, 63fl., 64. 

iWatliaihira tried to aolTe U, ■ 

Enuiiktli-u, novvr eonilfm&o], Jg!i. 

1S4. J 

— upli«UI by Duuij, 197. 

— no nnl good witboDt powiblc, ^^^H 

— *U^M of. 300. 

■85. ^H 

Emliryv, wlieiio* ft oomWi 301. 

— (lialcDse of, 307, ^^^^M 


Enlutlon in lliv r|«niili*i]i, 197. 
~ h«li4 lij KimiiDUji*, 7<)1, 317. 

FAlTn. lUffemt d(gn«a «(, 493, 


F»klH. jj*. 34S. 
Fktlwr, God M th«, 417. 

— piv-iailDOUM of tlir. 536. 
Fa^tbw and Sun, <ili. 5jf>. 

th« Udy Uhcat Um U»d !>•■ 

— — limjiU meaning of, jlt. 
Fktbon, world ef Uie, 1 1^ : path nf 

Ui<r, 117. 148, 169, 170, 177, 

— — mrlleat coDCfjillaD ot life after 

dokUi, 115. 

(ailli la, einii up, iSj. 

Patlnni of tlw t'liiiTsh, tnvn atOnak 

mltiira, 4J4. 
Ffrid wlUIn AtUi, 344. 
Feridttn tnA (be >ir*-t»m|il« of 

Fev, tin, not iho omnj, who Infla- 

*aee nftllcot, 69. 
Fick, 64 n. 

Fidli ocutury, 4;!', joo. 
< — (tnU of lli« Uily, 47n. 

— Bible, unknown to lutj. 479. 

— the olergy, 4^9. 

— no true nllgion, 480. 

Flu, borrowed frmu Kcaodiiuf lani^ 

Firiliiij, tuii;ui(* of. 37. 
Firu-w<ir.!iii., not Uu^jlit by Zoro- 

UtlT, I go. 

Firo and aiurk*, 175. 

— BJr. nnlur, >iid ocrlh, 1&7, 167 fh 
Unl petwD, tiie Father, 4^7. 

b-*- niui,Cbri*t called, 519. 
^t^BNiiR 35S. 

'^v> rlemeiiu and Gvo aeruM*, 300. 

— iinilflt «l iiiVKtIo union, 480^ 
Flacciiii, rii.tiiiiu' UtMr to, 430. 
FlumltiR nxjrd and Beaton, 376. 
Ftoet . 99 n, 

l'(ir«t. lire in ihe. 316, 

— ia cac)i man'* heart, 493. 

FoigetMMMv teort pUin of. tM, 

Four Mat** of tlw Mvl, 307, ^aS. 

— uasM of th4 Sufi, 348. 
Fourt«mth otularj in (I*mia>i;, 

FootUi Goptl, JJi, 3»4. 4JI. 511, 

— «■• of Lego* in, 404. 

— Ideal •on in, 409. 

— QM of MotLogeDtl. 411, 41^ 

— wkoDM Iho aiithur got Um U« 

of Ilia LofBt, 4I4. 

— tnioiicli wiiliOr«(k and Jud, 

AlFiandrina ideal, 415. 

— Greek thooiTht and ward* in 

fiitt diaptcT, 4t<;, 41$. 

— qqioaed bj tk« Aiocue, 453. 

— allrfliDtad l» Ctriiuhna. 454. 

— pa»««a Amu, a m aalail tu by 

Eckhart, jij. 
Franoiemiut, Or, £01,50*. 5«J, 504. 

Fraod nnuiue aMeliw, gi8, 
Fntiiu^iia ^ aaht, >05- 
FraTathSeorSlane^ ■45>' 

— «t FtaTanlbi, m. >o& 

— wMn meaning of, 105. 

— Ilie k'<'niiit tit anjiliiiif;, loj. 
Praalililrt, :oi. 
FrcdnaHOia, 310. 
Frienila of God, 1^ 
Fnadamcnt^ tiriodple 

cat eehool, 1. 
Punaral idU, 1 14. 
riung from, 11^ 

gAk. theliTa, 43. 

Oaiiiiini. 9Q, J^. -_ 

GalCi'DioomUnsd pliotognphi^sSSi 

GatulliarTia, i$], 

OaotaiuB mpDuuncd In tba TrKm- 

dlo Yiilit, 46. 
Oaio-iieiiiriUB. 10 J. 
Gait", It., 174. 
(•'Aiavuilui, 191, 193. 
Githa litmaliin^ ac* <f, 45. 

— boluDged to Hfdia. 45, 
Githtt", th<, 43. 4*. 4& 





Ctthlc. th* (Nuiln), 44. 

G«iu«lagiuiJ melbcNl, vi. 

Gcnml nlnim, tlw, of tli« Va)ai> 

tudaiif, 396. 
Onill. loj, 
Oenitive. irfnii^, 75, 
Geriimii Manila, 499. (at, 50], £0$, 


— ~- Klf»tio pliiluMphm ontl Ve- 

<l*nli>t*, aSo. 
tlifir Biippotcd hvTMiM, 503. 

— tniiulBtloiu or tho Bible, joj. 

leacnt by heftrl, {04. 

0*nuB]r,ri>arU>nll>0>alury In. 500. 

— ftoUng •Kkimt Ktmi* in, joj. 

— pq>aUr pmochen la, 506. 
Otnon. 46 >, (lofi. 

— agniiut dinirring philiwipli; uid 

religion. 50J. 
0«rvuiui> nf liiliuiy, llS K. 

ri-r>'i!»T'»-. J<S. 

Gill. KoY.W. W., ss;. 

— on the Hkt-rcy IiUnder*, tjj. 

— DO tmn of lran>iui|[TBiiun In 

EHlera Pacitlo, ijt. 
filTft, lifiDit loal, 349. 
Olranniakii, Lf»liti<rretii>n, jog. 
QltOmA, On- 
OU, B*atkril, 36. 
('Riiwblnib, 95, ■04. 
Cnoatio bfliel in tho Sr»h m tbe 

Kiunn of vtil, 400, 
Qnoalin. thenophj oC in Ibe £*at, 

7™"". *3i. 
(iuU, uMunl rrlijclon th* fotiadatian 

of our \ieiirl in, 4. 

— (ptvUl ti!T(l>ti<iii iicfdud for • 

brlivf in, 5. 

— anil tho KUl. 90. 91. 91. jfit. 

— tl'niDc of. I4I. 

— of llio VedlnlitU, 3JO. 

— MuliiuamcJ'a 1<Im> of, HJ. 

^ V14J Mi»ii, liciw ihii Jr«H <!rff« ti> 
([PlIifT tliv IxinJfl brliriirn. 4tf. 

— luffiDivDi tor EUnuclf, 417. 

Ond, m&da nun. Si, Angiiktiaa on, 

■■'■' , 

— THiun or. 4J4, 

— anil etil. 4$6. 

— IboH who thint Mftcr, 4SS. 

— love of, 489. MO. 

— Mid Um (odI iiicDtioal. 497. 
~- In thm I'Anunf. 51 j. jio. 

— 0lil>l>k Noliir*. jij, jij. 

— In all thint-*, JIJ. 

— a« al«jir« njieak^iii; or bcgalliiig 

tile Word, jjo. 

— appniaoh lo, 5)4, 

— oiienm with, f. 13. 

— want of nveieaco for, 534. 

— laaaj matidag* of, 534. 

— and man, nlalion M, 5,15. 
Uu(lb«ad, atiuiEEU for liij^hn' oMi- 

•fptioD nf tli«, 137. 144. 

— CKjnvMcd in the Vedai, I^J, 

— — ia iha Upaiiitludt, i^S. 

— piedioatoa «f tba, 401. 
Uodljanddod-likt, 4SI. 

tiodii, UJiof in, ahiioiii imiTanal, 


— pruMBDon of thf. it). 

— mading in animali, 131. 

— and mcD coma from ibe mma 

— Uia, Si. CleniMit on, 471. 

— 81. Aiicoillna on. 47 J. 

— I»th oT U#, iij, lij, 118, 111, 

148. '1% lOg. '77. J*". 

f&ilb in, Bi**" lip. 18.^ 

(JDod birth, ihe g«od alUin i, I jfi, 

— -Iloualtt ratwdiie, 197. 

— -Word I'and lie, 197. 

— -Dwd PandiM, t^ 

— Plaw'a, 393. 

— and «vil, dininrtioni b«t*r*ra, 

GoodaM*. acta of, 16). 
Gorft'i JIamplen Lnturt*, IJ a. 
OoaptI of 8t. John, 141. 
Goapalf, lbs bur, cnil of ttonai 

Bantnrj. 4J4. 
OotAina, 106. 
Oniamar, certain procoiaea «f, ori- 


^V !^^^^^^^H 

^^^^^^^^ I^K^^^^^pH^^^^^^^^^^^H 

560 ^H 

G»Mic, rmt philnopby ootDM from, 

n*id». i«anibU»c« to riMriin 1 

66, 67. 

Idui, III. 1 

— ftod laUik, (llffcraoo* lietwacD, 

IlajliiMd, tnicri[>liDa« of, ^7, H 


HnUli and HnUiii, 4S. fl 

Oravk |iliilao|i1>jr. iU influme* oil 

Hiilv, Hnnliu, jHj. ^^1 

Cliriiliaii ibeolof^, x. 

Hall. I^UEdwud. s>7 *• ^^| 

— pTBy*r, 1 J. 

KMna*p>4t>jMMk, ao;. ^^1 

— work* Itnl, j.i. 

Haoiiia, Aj. ^^^H 

— atid Indian Ibougbt, soil}' leiik- 

H»riluknd01uril««,6i,7& ^H 

t»UoD of, 6}. 

B»rD*ck. IV. 95 «., 4J« «., 4j8 «, 

— Uld Itdiiiaii toUtii'iiUt liiituricfcl 

441 n.,44]i>., 4«»v 45' ■■ 

iMctmruuiid flit llio, }i. 

— UU Orlg«ii'* view u( tb« Tltinl 

— ftnd V»dip lluitivi, 74. 

Pvtson, 451. 

— (lUlaaiiphT, K iialiie prciduetioD, 

Karrtti.n, Kov. (X. OB tbe CharlvU* 

77. B<>-8<. 

UIaH'Ii, 1*1. 

•»• it tnnuwid from t!i« 

Ut.rtty Uiuuint. Kcv, W. W. GtU 

E»lt So. 

on ills, 117, 131, 

• Kiurce* of, 85. 

IIuHUi Buri, 34C. 

— myfiUtict. jjS, 

Ilntcb, Dr., 371 a., 416 «., 418 a. 

— uiil .Icwliili tbuuk'bt, bleodini; uf. 

Haus.l8«., 37n., 41. 44 n., 4S.4*. 

4°7. *'■*■ 

47S''i!. •*' ■•■. '8*, "8s.**!. 

UirM poiiiU gniaed oj. 

116 11., 340. 


— hit wr<ni|{ (ruulMioa of Jkhimt 

■ — knu Jcwiih convcrU, Alt. 
Greclii bomiwed nuuw al|;ud( from 

nuof . f f. 

HkurvkUrJ. 49, 1S6. 

•^ Bad Rnhmuu^ colnuldaticM b»- 

Uwivdd IsSuncM, itS. ^^H 

— In Muig*i>, 118, 119. ^^^1 

twn, 64. 

— in Kaiktongi, aiS. ^^^t 

— of Hnuirr'* tiiiio, 74, 

— in AiluUku, lift. ^^H 

CJrspiri' ibp llnst, 4J4, 465. 
— of »)-•>■. 434. 4(18. 

— in Tkbiti, 3}8. ^H 

— ID the Soi-ieljr IdADji, lift. 

— of NuitwuHD, 434, 468. 

— aod men united, 36$ n. 

Qriuitn, 7.1, 174 II. 

Habro* bomwtd UtU* fnioi tUkf- 

Grat>H, Sa. 

GiiU'dUn uu;eli^ Ahiinnniudn'ji 

lon « P«nU, 36$. 

— propbali tuA Uui Divltia WimL 

lli-omlnH; uU, Joj-107. 


Oubu-n, 14. 

— nKn, IMnnytlat on. 468. 

Uiihi«kiu>, i6j. 

Hclinir*, ApoorypbU UiMpd <if, 44 1 . 

Culthen Km oh ChrlMianity, 343. 

Hci^bI, ID). 

Guj^jii, M*d. de, 461. 

— on Chrittijuut; m ttnliiauvial. 


Hc^rlikn niFthod mtdoJing, vL 
lliumkriiiont, dtMinjr. S)fO. 


llDlnidall, tlio watdunaa, 1$^ 

HiilhAklit Nfttk. 4 j. 

Hslioa, nun. 19. 

on XUn Boiil h/Ut dtiilh. 195. 

Hi<tl. not kuuwu In Uw Rir-**^ 

Hiifii, lonm "f, J^'j, 350, 353. 


Ukidu nil the ilNUigtldiitj' of th* 

— kniiwn ia tha AUwrva-raW 

•odI, ji), »>i. 

167. ^ 


^M "^3 

r ^ 

^p niDex. &6I ■ 

Htll in tha nribnuMu. 167. 

HnUI and the Jeviih reli^oii, 9. ^^H 

Hellt, kbMDM or. In tho Upkaiihada, 

Hinilu (irater, nodern, 11, ^^^| 


Hiraniragarblia. 130, ■£■. ^^^| 

— tl>t ZorouMui, igS, 199. 

UiiUirioDj methml, ». ^B 

— of Plato, iifi. 

— wbool, (uadauiiinlal prindple nf 

Henoch, 3f6. 

the, 1. 

HBDiwUor i>n«n««nf tti*in<Uirii)iift) 

^ daeuiiientarnruudjringtheori^'iD 

with the !Jupnina Soul, 174, 

of rrlifinn, >7. 

4tA. 4Bt,4Sj,504. 

— contaotUtwesnliidiaaiidlVnia. 

ItvDolboium of lli« Veda, 48. 


llepluUiUu. 80. 

— h1iih>1, jia. 

Ilcnolitn*, Sj, 3S0, 384, I9j, 410, 

Iliitory, dulne drama of, tL 


— of the world, ooiulant aieeot la 

— Ill* l^i|i>». jHi). 390, J91. 

tlio, ). 

— hie uto iif Hviinnruirtifi, Jji^ 

~- of religion tha true philoeoph; of 

— hi* vi»w lit Fiw, ji>o. 

rvllgioo, i. 

— llii l»;;cn u riili. 390. 

lloUiimoran theory, 180. 

— Ill) mra Xuyvr, 39I. 

Utfly Gb'Mt, VuliAmao a paimll4 to. 

Hermklei, A3, {54. 


Ilandity. 3S9. 

St. CUmenta t(««, 440. 443. 

Ileniil(>pu*, 3«, 39, 45. 

— — a» the Motliw of ChrL-i, 441. 

— PUnj 00, 3$. 

([•edal work uf, 441, 441, 

— bit aoalvdi of ZotomIm'* booki, 

4«J- ^ 


at thebapdimof Cbrlit.44i^ ^^H 

Kernlalio*. 4^, 81. 

44S' ^^M 

Heilod, 460. 
I[«|i*Hb, 64. 

— — l>oQ(l betvpca the Falhiv and V 

the Ron, j I J. J 

lIollIK, 111. 

Homer, 165 ». ^^M 
HoiD'ilciei* or Henorii, i6i, 481. ^^^| 

ll>ljrwanUna, H11II, *}4, >1«. 

' Ha wliD aliove all gOiU U the onlj' 

HiiniiioiKini, 317. ^^^H 

God,' 49. 

ipOTUlf ^^^^M 

1 llisranhic* of Proclm and Illony- 

Ili'Ur or Athnrrnti. 6;. ^^^H 

' HDi the Arwfpikf^l*, 164, 165- 

tl'itientct idea of tlm JuDoa. 14S. V 
tluDrii. none nmonK the Jew*, ^^J 

Ulenmlif , cdeallal, «d DioDTalui, 



— tiiH earthly, 477. 

Huio uf St. Victor. 4flS. 493. 49^ ^^H 

UlvranymUf, 434. 

— on kiiowliuI|{e. 493. ^^^H 

High Friral'p lioLhra, 408. 

^ on 4117, ^^^H 

tliubt*^ firing. )68. 

— aalfudtlieindiriilual Baiil,>73. 

— rich in putlical itlmtnitinn, 497. ^^^| 

49S. V 

174. 176. 308. 

Uamiis and Oivloe, gulf betwetft, ^^M 

— itoiil, 174. 


— BelngandUioioul identical. 179. 

HomaD natulv lirnbld, 418, ^^H 

— Aunan, 191. 

— beoMotng divine, ^ffi. ^^^B 

^niRvnl eUgo* in the belief 

— tuitl* inlgrailnit Inta Milnial 1 

in, 191. 

iKHUn. It;, lij.. M 

HiUriua, 414. 

— — ninral ({todiiiIb of ttut Iwliet ^^fl 

IlUJula. Abbot of St. Drnla. 466. 

HumUiWt, 73. ^^^^^^M 

ILllebrandt, li$ a^ 1)8 n., I47 •■ 



tnm tt, 490. 
Uftea ua lUoo. I. 

— atna^^oo. 
UnuOa. 171, 419. 

I AM that I Am, 4<>, 5). 

r allBbd la fuai b OU 

I mt I— J <^«B a gj wa* 

iriaa ■lOrm, sj. 55. 
whatl Aa, S5. 

what Uma an, irL 

Il«. JdlU >4d)B f«, 363. 

I«ch>du<t X>cw«;,«). 
)<ltal aiau, Uie. 44O. 
Iilotiatic phiLnao^jr, 191. 
Iitai*, aMraal, 104, 

— •* nalo, 105, J87. J89. 391. 469. 


omt hmAity. 3S9. 

ew niEcis, 391. 

arelbe i>iiihi»I«m ■ialil.5lfl 

prmwm tplnW by lUHuiia. 

takm ap bj Um Nao-Plaloa- 

— iifnife.«oi. 


laaita M eiimmtataw <m EaWew 

niBitia, iliaM7 of, lidil hj «aAkafa, 

II>«,«fcaiM«^ 111, i«>. 
IlaagM, asFiat nft* think ia. 141. 
laiMMnalilj of (ha mil. tf8. 
atttt dcuBtacd in th* Ufwu- 

flUrdl. I to. 

uDung th« Baidai, lai. 

Fuliner^uu on. j j6. 

anviBtf Ibc Jcwi, IJ3. 

iIm BimUUm*, lU- 

— Miaf la, Tai7 grttnl, «il. 

— Vadinta ducuioa 00, J34. 

- nd Ftnh. rdatMhaMaatha 

— eon|««« at,*md fUaj, 701 

— Jri^in «< 71. 

— aad G r n l» Jr M g H tiL baMan. 

— 3«. UMAtm'tQmrdim. ^jH. 
InJian ami Pw iaa Ik-i^ la^ 

C «M M W d.6». 

— aad titrck tktni^ «wljr 

— pbohiuihT. ii 

ut it. A. 67,19. 

— - a Mtin l i l i f iHillB. n. "^ 

8j, », 
r*callarchM«cl«at Ml. 

— Tif« of 1)1^69. 

— At7a*,67. 

tbcir laanag* vmm, 71 

— p m Bai|fc»a la Atfaeu. «f 

MM Sakrata. ^4- 

— Ofaek, Bonaa ralTnew 

•f OMMM AlTM ld«H, Ss 

— and GtMk l^i^uiA^ 1 inlliUM 

lutu m^ 111, 115. 

— Pt»^u.tb9. 

— »ic« *i ca . jjg. 

ladlTUoal anal, traa bmom «t 

abd tba lllsfaaM Srft tjj, 

»:*. »7S. »»■ 

and Brahttuii, 17^ 

Srif. 17«. ^ 

_ _ Rimdao^'a t — ^liji^ j|^ 

^H "^M 

^^ — 3 


IniUiidnal loul, ^'nbkark'a iMwhinc, 

JAmi't IRalUmta and AbaAd, eitrkc* ^^H 


friiin, 353. ^^^H 

Inilrn, CO, tti. 111, 1,^0, 133, tS6, 

Julicr. buuk of. 34. ^^^1 

'35. 'A »,W. »3'. '53. »6o. 

Ja^iar.-va, 3J4. ^^H 

^ M dumnu, iNj. 

Jclinvali, ji. .<], 40R, 414, 447. ^^H 

— (iU[irBUiB Uod, 15r). 

^ I'HiLniivt'i wc.rtl* nii, ^Oh ^^^^| 

— u* Andn ia t1i« AtcbI*, l!t>, 

— uid eliyvh, Hvh., 53. ^^^H 

Inilriyiu, 305. 

— of Fliilo, 4OO. ^^H 

Inliniu, penie|itiaD of, nlmreJ bj all 

JcUil editin Kami. 344, 34^ ^^H 


on Ihe troE ^an«. 346. ^^^^| 

— Elcalio view of the. 93. 

titni't* (fian hu Mcamvvl, ^^^H 

— ID nature. 89. loj. 535. 

35;- ■ 

— in nun. 89, 105, 535. 

— — un the Sun m \aimgfint Mtiy, ^^fl 

— oDe, jn. SM- 


— wr>l«r in tlia (Htrltlian lUgttltr 

un Iha Mol, 357. ^^^1 

OD ll»\ .161 1, 

na Klf-dwcit. 3.S7. ^^^H 

— of Anntiiiiauilcir, 400. 

on * I am He.' 363. ^^^H 

— how can <r* knov tha 1 .(SI. 

Jeaui of NuaiEth. inHoenm «f Uit ^^H 

— popceplion o{ (be, 4(10. 

pcnonalilj. lili. xtv. ^^^H 

' In Uim «« Uv* uid moTa,' Ao., 

M (■■tfra.-l, 439. ^^H 


a* UiB idnl inan, 440. V 

IimiKwiK II, 4Q1. 

J«Mi*h t«ii)^('u, Uud fai ktdovciI ^^fl 

InipirKlion or £niti, lol. 

fiom man, ii. ^^^H 

— the Idek of, 103. 

— jntlurnce on the Znroaif rialu, 48. ^^^^| 

— liw™l,S4J- 

InlalUot, ui>tr'i*K* ■'» oDt«r form 

— ilDct«ra at tha Saiaauian euur, , ^^^H 

>7.t"> 1 

oftiw, 61. 

Jew*, Influtno* of Pentian idea* »», ^^fl 

Intsntict of tbuflcsnth onntiirjr, 500, 



— dill not telleTs in Hourii, lOo. ^^^H 

InUTi.rFtalinn. itiSiiiiilUi^ of, t>3. 

-^ eRiKit of the di«]>eninu iif, 3; 1 . ^^^| 

I'.iinilili- tiling*, nalily of, 1 J4. 

— and ChriTtiani aahamfd of tlieir ^^^| 

l|itr. 149, 

Bible, 3JJ. ^^H 

IrcDBoui, 434. 

— borrovciJ very few >«liglouitenii* ■ 

J»A«o, 376. 
loll, (clleJ, 317. 

frmi the liaei. 368. ^^B 

— enUithtoued. honoured al Alex- ^^^| 

' IirUtn, on mmiachlani la.' jjflL 

aniliin. 40IS. ^^^| 

U\i\m, Htl] iif All«h, 34*. 

JnR*>, SirW., on Salii«ni, J39, .l.'J. ^^H 

I'iK>rs(M, 84. 

— lian'UliiHU of tJuS pwU, 31,4 ^^^| 

IiTKiK. ths lArd, «95, 306, 316, Jio, 

timf,. ^^H 


Jowvtt. 393 n., 344 H. ^^H 

Juilaliui and DuddliliB, 1^ ^^^| 

.— !• Dnthnuui, 31 J, 311!. 

lt«ll&D and Luln, ;i. 

linily in. j&f. ^^^^ 

Iculi, Iha tliirt;, 43. 

Jii|;i{]tir>, Indian, 303. ^^^^| 

Isnlian, ncriScm. 140. 

Julian, the KmpecM. 4*9. ^^^| 

Ia cildia MntwIdMl, 344. 

Junald, 344, ^^^^^ 

Jupiter, Ariitidea on, 1 ^^^^^^^ 

JACOB'S droun, PhUo on, 414. 

— limiied. i3f. ^^^^^^^ 

J*o<>l)i<.t. Si, 

— a* Sod o( QtA «r I^ot, ^i^^^^^^H 

Jambllcliu*, 446. 

4>3- ^^^^1 



^^ lI^^^^^^^I 

^^^B Hbhh^?^^^^^^^^^^^II 

^H SC4 ^^1 

^^H Japitcr. Pinlinui on, 4*1. 

JTioTal brid^ «mrii>e frqa «■»!> 1 

^^H Jutcin Sf*rt}Tiiiriiin-t uilhiDfrnnn^ 

t« hMi-an. 539. ■ 

^H phic cipnuluiu, 3-1, 4J4. 

Kir}ubafph(r, dly of latMsi^ yt. B 


fit. pcreelTlog, 94. ^^^t 

^H KAAn.\, tbo, )40k 

— BnUimui «^ tgi. ^^^B 

^H Knfu*. '19*- 

— miMilne uf, 19J, 194, ^^^B 

^^B K>kIIi*t, J48. 

— Hill u^i, }■{. ^^H 

^^P A'*t.>liuiihl, tji, 114. 

A^tn. IK). ^^^1 

^^H K>lf«, jif. 

Kitld, 13. 

^^1 — In kijpk. 395. 

Ktaoiathr. Uifl tj>gtM MDonit llit. 

^H JTbiuJIU, i5<S. 


^^g Kant, on liiiaurl*d{t^ }ii. 

— Uwr Ido of «ieMiini, 383, jtf. 

^H — utidp&Md by th« VvJinUtUv 

KUnue, 75. 


Kiionledg*, Gndk lova of. 85. 

^^H Kant'a ptiilcKiphr, ]. 

— dapeniU va two wHiuiritiai, IM< 

^^1 — ' Criltt/nt 0/ Part Jlranm, 5. 

— blH*ili)«> aeqiiirvd hy, 1^- 

^^1 KinKi; 161., 


^^H Kkiniikkiirrii. 9^, 104. 

— no retnni for thoM soiiU >lio 

^^B Ki^i-an or ApOm, 306, 307. 

havi! tru(\ 149. 

^^H Katlikri. f;«4. 

— trttc, 160, i6l. 

^^H — bMune ksutr, (04. 

~ or Ulth W(t-< Uiui c«ad •orka. 

^^B (dfaprnt, 49t, 4S), 

in tlio trpanMbadr, iqo. 

^^1 Kkupat, lAme Tor th* Milk]rW«j, 

— brttrr tlun nood ilnnla, 104. 

^H *70' 

— n>i( lovaof (iwl, 191. 

^^H KmuiililMka. 130. 

— aboiifw of, an »bj«t4ir« povir le 

^^M Katu>i1Uki-Upuii>lu>d, 110, 159, 

ikr Binilii, 3>o. 


— *lsrK|uircinoDt*for uuUnlfig,3 16, 

^^H Kny*. nwanlng of iplrlt. 461 n. 

— Iliraa ianrunianu u(, 41^ 

^^H Kapler, <tH4. 

— llirae ■!«);•*(■ ot, 4)1. 

^^B K'-tuT, $04. 

— niLini cdrtiu n tliiui fvUi, 493. 

^^B A'Aiti<1i'gy*'Up*iiiib*d, 118, iig, 

Knii.ii, L)r^ iS-, !oo, 101, 


Kiinnj uf Mu-I'uric, $04. ^^^H 

^^H — (lislo^ie on the uniecii in man. 

li.'.eiim »vru>, 407, jt^ ^^^| 


~ ^^^H 

^^H — diuogiie&niii.oiitheS«ir.t(;o~3jA. 

KrariULntuktit 3^^ ^| 

^^H — not btloii^^iig tnthsMirllui Vd-lic 

^^1 IlKnliivi-. 

K(ulin*piipU, t3J. ^^^H 

^^B — not lalst tliau rikto, 159. 
^^H — ilmliiFtlatw fniiii, 159. ilio. 

Kn'SOii, &^ H. ^^^H 

Kahadimvairn tSC ^^^B 

^^H — (lialo|-u« frniD, 18^-190, 

KnliaLnjat, Ijlt. V 

^^B K*i<«ra««, 41. 

Kiitncn, 91K, J811., e3.4fiAK, M 

^^H A'tniivar liriiljca, 101. 

KuLn, 73, 171. ^^H 

^^1 iTiDfuf brid:,'!), 194. 


^H — Idclilincfl with tlie AtiiiM, Self, 

LACTANTltT8. 535. ^^B 

I.aity in the litUi o-ulary, 479, 1 

^^B in the Upwild)»di, 195, 

Ijutfuago, the vntwut) tonu of th« 1 

^^H — liuw iiiiule, l<)j. 

loMllect. 61. B 

^H — In P«nl*, 16K, :;g. 

— eniniiinn liMkfTDUitd of nialt, 1 

^^B — Mill kfiar pMa'D],' th«, 303. 

tajJiT. 71. 1 



I^npaua, help ilerivcd bj pUlo- 
iopliy frolD, 77, 

— ctenuti, lOi. 

Law. tha (Nuka), 44. 

]^wk of Maua, or uf th« MADHTma, 

I.iMilLiiv«, pUnof th«M, g4I. 
I.rgcDcti Aurta, bridga in tlic, 175, 
Li^eDiUn tnuUtJoni of Chnn re> 

jcplcoby the Greeks. J19, 

— nied u ftllc|;iirie* by Eckbut, 

Lctbo, tba rittf', lai, 

Ltvorlar, 86. 

Leiiy, Dr. H., 00 deririn; Grpfk 

Crom H«brvw. (i.t. 63 n. 
LSabrMbtiiiotcatoGErvuiu*, i;j n., 

IJf*. IndikD view of, 68, 69. 
~ mudnn view of, 6s. 
Light, dalUtt r«|<r*MaUn^ 134, 

■ 3t- 
l.ttcbtoinfc and tbnmoon, ii^n. 
Ltttnry doonnwitti^ y>. 
LiUnurOk mriUta, • modern iaven- 

tka. 30. 
L-«kD, 101. 

Log»u, quolnlJoii frrim, 3. 
Vxioi, 4<A, 4I), 4},T. ili-j. 

— u( tho Slut™, joj. jyK, ^jj, 

— ki« tlio ui^U uf fhito, 401,413, 


— eoustlTHl M one, 473. 
w in»ny, 47]. 

— ipokao of u Avuni by the Gno*- 

rf* 4;.t- 
LonM. 34). J73, 376. 378, 380-381, 
4l'.447-4i'>. SM. i". 

— doatrlno of, eiduilvvly Aryui, i. 

— kiiil Ibo InoitrnktiDn, lii. 

— tbe Ziirau<ri*n, iiuallal tOv f ?■ 

— iiieiuiiDijc of, 300, 

— Mnt »nion><lmU of, ia Otd 

TMUineut, 181. 

— of Phila, poroly Gr«pk, 3S1. 

— hi.loTj of, s8i--384. 

— unong Uia Klunallii, 3A3. 

— 'ibiiiklu^ and w11I1di[,' 3Sj. 

Logo*, biitorioal ssMctiltnu of ihe 

— word *nil thougbt, jSj, 

— of God, 387. 

— of HetMillcu*. 381). 

'^ oannoclJng iha DmOnoMMul Uke 
plian<iiiienitl ■roi'lil, 391, 

— kud Nuni^ 391. 

— the, u & linditti brtWfsn GoJ uid 

tliti wiiiM, 401. 414. 

— > jinUiuala uf the G'ilh<»d, 40}. 

— HI tho Son of God, 403. 

— nf Gnck extraction, 403. 

— only b«gotl«ii or uiil^ua iod, 


— ID Fonrtb Gc«[i«l. 4O4. 

— t1ieu1u)iinl uwuf, rruui ['iJettinv, 

— tiv.lii of, 403. 

— nUMiiytT ibkn the SopbU, 407. 

— M tbc high print, 407. 

— known lo tbo Jen* of Cliriil'i 

liiiia, 408. 

— th* idM of alt id*M. 41 1. 

— raoosnlMil by Philo in tbc patrl* 

■mil*, 413. 

— ivfttinn.) in Uic nounuual and jilie- 

nomc&Hl wortd*, 413. 

— knd I»t[>M Muiiu[;eu6i bijtlorlcjit 

f«t'. 41 J- 

— *nd tlie iHiwm, 4 1 j. 

— uitd for crtnii'in, 41^. 

— Lccuuilu): iiuin, 411, 

— Albunuiua on, 411. 

- — liiituricul inttqicptmion, 4M, 

— of St. ClflUipol, 437. 

— of Ath«iii{,tirH. 437. 

— hcul of the logij, 437, 

— idcnlifinl nvltli Joiii^ 43*. 

— muilfi>t«d iu mail fri'itilb* brgin- 

nintt. 4.W. 4.17' 

— and III* pnviiiiiii, 444. 

— ofOrimn, 450. 431. 

— M Itfdcemit, 4JJ. 

— kMthts of (-'<l>ua. 45>. 

— duolrino of, IdnuUfiail with Sk 

Jobn. 434. 

— Inlrrvcpnln/ bKwnn the Dirin* 

tCMVuca Btut ioM(*r. 43^ 



r 1 

I/>X(K, > enonfotini; link, not ■ ilirJiU 

iui; ■ric-n. 45^, 

AI<M>ivbtiu, 14J. 

^ Uler « waII ip^ }ru(ilU>1i» 45^^ 

MMlbs'iit. JS3. »f J. 

— In ibc l«tm CUunJi, 45S- 

Mih;^ pBrii« from Mcdtvi, 44^ 44 %. 


MuHliliumt'i. quoted, on Wn I* 

— nutjillnward vithtbtfull idmo- 

utiicn. Q, 
— i^tiu ur bridgsa cf Uw, 16;. 

Ui'i ut. 4.VJ 461. 

— Zcnr.'" <lrHiiiliiin. ^i^O, 

MabitniA% )l}. 

— <l"Vi<1n]>ineiil m Eut and WmI, 

Mwiba, gooA vnrii* m • bcMa^M, 

45* *^'- 

'99. »<». >*>■ 

— the bonJ botWHa tbe hunuta 

— inlluinor ottlii* idM<n H«ta^ 

aiiul unci (Jud, 4ij. 

nieduiinD, 199. 

— tocii^ieed in Clinit, 45J. 

Mftkliir, gutl of drciua*, 16. , 

p • 

— vivw of Uin tatljr A|i->l'i|;>U*, 

MallM. 16). ^^ 


Mtn, to Iblah. 79, 98. ^^H 

— llie iimnuilioD of tlmuf'lil. 

Man, inBulia In, log. ^^^| 


— OMMwa at, ^. ^^H 

— rc-Hlahliihe'l by the 1>b>-P1b> 

— Phi1o*i *i*w of, ^09. ^^H 

loniaL!, ftt. 

— BmaiiitHUttwnM'Ibaljiifw.fSf, ' 

^ ChritUkuily bull Dpaa, J)I. 

Muw, mind, I9. 149, 305, 

— blitoij ot, tnocd tiuik, 513. 

MluuBAiWMn&cavitA, 11$ ■., 134. 

— Jianoseut*, 51), 

Mtnad, Uiab*b»«<J, iji, 114. 

— pmphnrikdi uid andiilthato*. 

MsiiMiui bwrrii, aiH. 119. 
Masheuil, perfM4, ■■ r«ftliM»d ia iL* 


— avtftiatMiit, 384. 

iAtt.1 •011,409. 

li<*». "13.,'3S 

Mtat, 40.41. 


Mniiii'bMinn, 40, 41, 370, 


Lord'* SupFWET, 481. 

Hi*, "ff- 

Larii)»er, S5. 

Biit <nIi»TtBonj wiikiliaL'i*- 

Loat book*, 3J, 

aktaJ*. 1 .17. 

litiUo, i<r. 

Uoau. Uwi uf, tmiaiiiirnUMH ibUni, 

Lnaii I, 465, 


Lot*, iblld of [lOTerty Kid plenly, 

— aiie of lli»D Uw*. 161. 


— •artlily, u ■ typ* w loto to Ofid, 



— ulna cUhm of tranioBiirn^NiL 

— ot(i<i«l, 44J, 489, 490, joi. 


— — ir*nliri^ in tlie V«diuU* 

— [laninilunmu of tbo wielud, iB^ 

•ntrni, tgi. 

— Ulna eta-«N <>>, it 5,. 

four mn;^! of, 490^ 

Msraa* AureUiu (||*Min), iq. 

I.over Bnlimui, rctnni a( the Mul 

Morut, Marii ilonuiiuid, M, 

10, 114. 

Mitaiiivan, 134. 

l.ticn:ljii*, x!. 

lUmUi. Mutu, 14. 

LuiWi)!, 1 Jl N, 

MalUr, }ty Gnd. ^\^, 

Lnllwir, 510. 

Main.oiMatTiu. Um* Milk* War, 

— OD (1i* Tiftloyia Otrmaniea, 


Muiiniut M Ui« writitiB> of I}teH> 

Lykargui, tr»reU ot, Ej. 


' IMD£X. 567 ■ 

Muitntii IVri'i*! 470. 

Minnolu* Pe1i>, 371, ^^^| 
Mira, not nilraciua, ij. ^^^H 

— on Dkimunta, 4^0. 

UA}i or Naciu)o«, 303, 316, 318- 

MIniclM, 34. ]{. ^^H 

MuiU, tfl, 19, i;t. 

— |>ijr^iMi, 143. ^^H 

Mini, ur Muru, mittraa* of Ilia V 

Mixd&iniii, 41, 

liolller world, 119, jjo. 130N. H 

M*dw. birtliiJiw* of ZaniMt«r'( i«- 

Hithni, Vadio Miln, \St, 194, ^o^, H 

liincn. 44 Ik 

loG. ■ 

Mvlikertut. 63. 

Miln, iKi. ^^M 

XbUhui, 3,^0. 

Modnn dku of Su-ml lliioki, 30. ^^H 

fiiim, mcLului, 79. 

Moh&iiiiuedMi |ir»ynr. >i. ^^^| 
— conquest 111 KiTMH, 41. B 

Msmory, puwn» iT, 31. 

Mm doBs*<l b; tha bud;, 475, 

— i>oetry, hklt-vrullv, lMlr-iu<rtUa. fl 

jii'ivt. 79. 


' Mfro i"»(i,' 536, 

M.ihuiiiirinl It IdM of God, 347. ^^H 

hli'milAcli, I4, 16. 

Miiira, 3N1). ^^^H 

Mvoitri, thp, 346, 3f4. 

Mntiri<«i, 46J. ^1 

— •ccoml oolj lo ilie Kormii, 347. 

Money, PhnnioihO Mtd EgjrptJUl ^^1 

— Fiinct from. 333. 

tote ^^H 

Menikli, the, 40)). 4«8 •. 

]k(oiii«n ia India utd Cinooa, ajo. ^^^H 

— recounliiil ii> Joun. 438. 

— uf Orl^ii, 439. ^^^H 

— uid the l^v*' 5>V* 

M'<nii|^iiAi, X, 366, fto. ^^^1 

Iwlli rwliied in Christ, 519, 

— I'lato, 394 ^^H 

MelfTngv^rhcwi, Sl> Si, ifi. 

— thrr oDly'bc.p>tlea, 409. ^^^H 

— belief m, 77, 15*. 

— in Fuwcniiifa, 4tO. ^^^| 

— not cuBiiMMd villi Aalmian, 

— Su)4VUM Ititiug, 4 10. ^^^1 


— in the Tlmaeiu, 41OL ^^^| 

— of Dililo*! oriifln, 133, 154, i.cG. 

— M u*D>l by \'aleiitiau>, 4II, ^^^H 

— btiUuf in. In Plittii uiil llie Uja-iii' 

— aiipllail In lliu vi>il)lii ■"■nl, 411 ^^^H 

bIuuI>, »i4-]ijl. 

— utnl in OM TutJuiionl, 411. ^^^| 

MiohMl, llii^ ^uiiimmr, 4^5. 

— in Bonk of Wimloni, 41 1. ^^^| 

MSgns'i clitina v( IHonjuut the 

Uonothoiim nf the Annla, 48, ^^^| 

Arpojuj-iie, 467. 
Msentinn of fouli, 33J. 
Milky Wsy. 14J, 170. 177, 

mJ l')ll>ii;iorm«, I4J. 

— the orij^innl, of tbo Zaraaalriani V 

repLwd bv Dualjsn. iM. 1 
— no tru» ot tbU Id tbe V«i1a. 1 

1S7. I 

Uriuu uiil CaoI*. Ii^ 

Mcintdiilnti, 433. ■ 

tuiiiTC for, 170, 

Mirio quiMtiuuK tha miuI, tio, lat, 1 

MllU. iSn, 

— *a<il ia tb*, 14A, 14;, 130. ■ 

■Mill, of God.' 3. 

— anuriM of lite. (47, 14?, 149. H 

Miluukn on tbe iQlermrdUta tgvnej 

— wftKing and iraniii); uf, I47, I4R. H 

hrtwevn (rod kud erektiuu,4<il. 

MDOBS HottoUMIa, I4&. ^^^1 

— aoul* ItnvlQg, ifS. ^^H 

— on DIonyiUi*. 476. 

MlmlaMA-aflinw. qK. 

Mora'*, Hannr, vmw on tha Mill. ^^H 

— Cftrri uii) t'lurt, qS, 95. 

jjS. 1 

Mini), tho brvalb of Gi>d, 419, 4)0. 

— and tbs Holnunvrian ihaoij, tSo. M 

M>nakhir«d, woiKhing of tha dead 

— ijuolad. J14. ,141. ^^fl 

in. 101. 

— so tha T&tvioyia GtrmQKi<a, ^^^M 

Minos Gfa- 



MnM* knd Ui« 8b*pli«id. *j. 

— Ji!ic> M tha titnv of, TO. 

— iiH cf DUM M ksUicir, 365 n, 
Mothor-of-inul tod idlvct, 198. 

— or nun« of kU tliiugt, 401. 
Mr<t]ni. 79, 
/>i'7>ni, 4H1. 
Muir, l>r., ilvriTation cf bcihnus, 

Miililijrii|<tin». 3o<;. 
Millirr, Kriedricli. 37 h. 
Murufalu-tTjiKaltWl, IIO. 

— togl after •Icalli In, 114. 
Mtupol, MIDI of. 169. 
fiinai or ^amfd/iovi. 4^1. 
M;>lDrS(« uniiiit' the h'eo-llalen- 

iau, flS, 414. 

— and luiLKtc. 4>9. 

— ■iiiiaDiiu;ni>lhingiiiTiteri<it)i^4Sl, 

— deaied by Clainrati ^Si, 

— Macurlua or, 481. 

— of lMoDy*iiu, 48). 

MjtLfe Cknitiuiit;, 461, 499, joj. 

— UkeuoB to Vedildiidii, jilS. 

— onenau with God, ;jj, 

— pliiUnopby, 134. 

— Migioa, gi. 

— objoctioni In, f iti. 

■^ — cxcearire iMMIdnn, g)6. 

— thaulug:;, 4X1. 4SJ. 

— Tli<ilu«k'l deSiiiliiiD ol ^ 4S4- 


— olijoctiom to, ^8;. 

— union, 4:9. 

fi»« HUqet of, 4*0. 

— Uogbl by the NeO'PlatonUt*, 

Itlyntiul thenlflgy of the Sufi) uid 

Vo^fl^ 353. 
llytticliiD and Chmlian mydidnn, 


— of Eokhart. Jill. 
Mytlio. Gfnuan. 197. 
Mythologioal atudiei. Aryan fonndo- 

liou of, 74. 
•— lao^^uage miiundrirHlvxl, 141. 

Niiiiaii, nam*, 79, 

NiLmarllpk, M. 
Nionhftilhya, iVL 
Narnkn, bill, iii;. 
Nu-unmu. NaJjyftManhfc, iSt. 
N4iatyaa. iSi •. 
Naakt, tbo, 41-46. 

— eollM«wl to •ifktb ami end 
ninili e(vlDri*«, 41. 4). 

— Ibn* only coioplnl*, 4*. 

— impiFtfHl inl^ tiu» ol VolofMi* 

— diririon in tha very cariy, 41, 

— tluM nm- hold Mcnd, 45. 
- — thna [laow of, 44. 
Nl(a<, l6<i. 

Niturr, Infinite In, log. 

— the foundation of Mir balM In 


— St, Pnur* rc^rd fcr, 538^ 
Kaiiml nvel>U<-B. 7. 

traced is Ibo Vadk, 8. 

Nfandvr, xt. 

Nahnntata NlbkaiiUa Gnr«, 317 •. 
N«o-PlaMii>in, aiirtad ol, ba U* 
Bart. 341, 3f o. 

— In it* p^(u furtB ia PimIu^ 

N«()~I>latonlrta, J71, 380. 

— hdiI iha Hixdoiii it Uh- Bwl. Sj. 

— and thair trott tn aenlliucui tiiA 

ralaay, 4'5-4)r- 

— and tjti»iM. 4)5-417. 

— ihcor tUIoq*. 416. 

— belief In a tSrimal Baiag, 41;. 

— *<ialaainaetafUM«t«taalN«a, 

— myxtanr amimit, 498. 

— olaimad retvladon, 418, 

— nsivenal nliffioa, 418. 

— their nlMibievaiM tDllunaor, 4x1^ 
Ne«inwe, >AS, 171, J74, 184, 3. a 

i". 5 '5- 

— diiJdfn we individual And the 

eupreuic eau], J7J, 

— or AviUyli. tbo ranao of pWiK 

xntj^al ecmblarior. 17^. 

— can ba niuirrtd by Sivti uall> 

[ N«t£ 



K«iti]r1ii(, 443. 

NfWiii&D, li]* defliilltai of Mai r*U- 

N«w Ta<lairi(inl, retarcinas to loM 
bwit., i4. JS. 

— bngiikge nuy. 174, 
Nibelongo, Ocmiika of tho, |ii. 
NiowM, onUDdl of. 373, 374, 462, 
Nicholu I, Pupe, 466i. 
NIodiMr, IT. 

Nina ciMtd* of tnii»rDil;^tlnn, 163. 

— — «f Mnau, ibj. ['•4. It J, lit. 

of Platu, 164, IIJ, JJl. 

Nio1)c, 64 fi. 

Nirulrta, 17*. 
N'trrink, 108. 

— of tha Vedintlin, j*9, jio, 
NliliM. lot. 

Ni*'i, 376. 

in » lirid;i« bvtwcnD thii morld 
Uiil tlu IIBXl. 16S. 
KoUmcDBl '•orld, 170. 

— t)D* did It Imoiius pbonomclULl, 


— Indiui Vnllntifl fiew, 171. 
N-mt, ot inin>l, jSg. 411, 4)0. 

— DfABu^^on*, 39t, 

— *XPi(". SO'- 

— Ills cMrou, 4*7. 

Niiiuber, oonM^lMi of anlveml, 

Nmnirnlii*, popll of Pliiln, 144, 415, 

4'S "■ 

— triiiiiji iif, 440, 

NuiQeriUi. tniiiv urnj^M with DOua 
bejBnJ four, j8o. 

— bor'owcd tiuui Uieir Dcif^Uiun, 

KySjUh, ilw flte, 43. 

'DAB. 14S. 

(MlBWUH. lift 
01 M, 71J, 

'NlilOneon KT-h,' 187. 
OM TotiAiDBui, wriuog tDBntUncd 
in. .11. 

nfcrvnra In ln«l b«-k» in, S4, 

nainn «llii|[ijri>«<l b; PhUo, 376. 

Old T«t>m«nE, faint anteosdtnU of 

Uio Lo|j^»i», iSt, 
^ — t«chini;nn tha »»1,4i(l, 419. 
Ibv«* a^ltlMtiifMii iioJnnJ 

miUI, 4A7. 

— and Naw Tpftainant, Inngna^^ 

adopted Iti trandating wilalu 

liMHWva of tbe SaertJ lleolt of 

(A. &•(. 57. 
Out, 118. 

Otnar lb« •) Partdb, 344. 
ft of PanmnSiIci, 33 4. 
Out BHng, tbe, and lh« Iiamui 

•Mil, 483. 
Odchm* of uod and tlio muI, riii, 

— oT Uud. (a tlia AinU and UM 

T*rtam«ui, 4!. 

— of (h* hatnan and iliTiaa natiirf*. 


— of ilio obj«et!(« and mbjoctif* 

Dciiy, 44;. 

— how It can Im ralnrod, 330. 
Only b«|[t'll«ii Pwin, 413. 

— a UrMk tbouijbt and uied m 

nioh. 4 1 3. 
Opport, 35 ». 
Otiantal andO«n)<laiitat plitlaiophy, 

*tliklli)i eulDclilencD* bvlaoen, 

— luch mhudilonoM wplcr>ni«, !ir>. 

— l&HuMioa on t^Aj Cliriiiiaiiitj', 

irlsa BOW p"" op, 367. 

Ori««n,xiii.37». 3H4>4.44li,44^ 
*H- -ISS. 463- 

— did nil anv pi phfiipal Stnpoa!- 

tdlilin M mirado^ 376. 

— hU dciiendsuoa on Iha IfottpluKa, 


— nnnilletDnrnrUwioaiiy,449,4A3. 

— ht» liiiir i>f mirtcln. 450. 

— gnat ol^««t "f bia tcuUtur, 4fo. 
~ CbritUan doctrine, tbe pcrfniuun 

of Qrark phJlgaopb;, 4(0. 

— Moui»ni of. 4 jol 

— .- on tbu \j-iff*%- 450. 

— I>iviiilty oCCbtut, 4JI. 






^^U Url</*B, BSKvU or ntttuiul Mnf* <i. 

FarkdltM ef Oo(id-T1>aut[lii, Uood' 

^^M — iiu tb* Third Farcin, 45 1. 


ParU paiiraUA, 116, 116 «, 

^^H ^ MMptod Uta Trinitr, 4f I. 

rafat^ifim, 416, 

^^H '— m null u hllcn, 451. 

i'tnm and Apamn BrahiMtt, 31IS. 

^^H — hi* boooity, 457 , 45S. 
^^1 — tiOgaU, te., <J. 473. 

ranuiiitln«n.ik«Bigb»t ScU.jtf. 

Pariirtina. 198. 

^^H — daDnnnoad lo tba Uiildic Ajur*, 

Fufi>4ma-ljvk. 317, 318. 

^M 48*. 

fatUamunt In Jafaa, i*t. 

^^H — on doairinw to t)i« tvw, 4S1, 

Vtmmaiin, mo, t.i.v 41a. 

^^H (Irinn of airaM, ^S6, J18. 
^H — Plato'i>d(ru,2S& 

— lilt* tba laWr |;f>*iii>1>«»U, JjJ. 

— hit IdM <il Uw Ou B«Bg, 33^ 

^^H Orion, &4 ■. 


^H — Milky Way ud Cani*, 146, 

— darkniw aod ti^t, li^. 

— and C)ic mignUuiti hmU, UJ. 

^^H Omuud, 36. in:. 

H - Vubt, It. 

ranin, revclaMm u* botf qaaitv.B, 

^^H •» -^Mi eiiiiiiiHmtlm of th* mmtc* 


^H ofAkunt. 54. 

_ atiJ tht iiiwwar itlllto^ 14$. 

^H — ftU'l Drukii, 183, 

VarthiaD*, 37. 

^^M — oiiuiioil uf, 186. 

— not Znouitriao*, 40. 

^^1 — '"gvU, ijuulitiia of, 185. 

FkUanfthsGodi, 115,117, tiS, 111, 

^^M Umiuucb, 45. 

"5. 143, iSih I6«l. 170. »;7. 

^^H Orphlea, llio. M5, 


^^H OtthuJox, 41}, 

FalhoPi. 117. 115, I4S, 169, 

^^H <limii<«, 410. 

>;?. 30S- 

^^M 'Our Kklhtv,' Chriit atrer iptaki 

— failli in. i!>v*>> up> l8j. 

^H of. 5.1^. 

r&thjika, Mi., » ». 

^^M OuMaL,5i3, 517. 

Paul and ttaiuUa qnolad, & 

^^H — Father and t^on iliarlns tho lune, 

IWend. 3". 

Peer, •iizkiie of the, tM. ^^^| 

PEliIevi, Of Talilari, jfi. ^^H 


^^H — and hypatuii, dillsrsiioa b<> 

^H twno, 45.;. 

-- fir>( Irtoea of, 37. ^H 

^^H oiuia. 78. 

— c lilm, 46. 

^^H DUTia iktrpip^t, tSo, 

— liutBlur*. Vt^uiac of, 4C 
l>vliuL>ian* Inrroxd Uie lunw of 
iTinr itorli bvta Egjrpt, 4t, 


^m l-AUA. v8. 

^^M r.ihUr, parthaT, 36, 37. 

Fananoe, ii/o. 

^^H J'4Al'arulrik*-. 176. 

— abom aMiwUlMit J31. 

Porolo. tiM.aad lb* tineaUi>Md. ui- 

^^H ranlBCMii*, nil. 4j$, 4J11, 

^^H — found Ht. MMibnw'i 0«spel En 

S06. "^ 


PvraapoIU, palaca of, bamt bjr Alex- 

^^1 Pknllii'itRi, 170, 514, 515. 

andnr, 3q, 

^^H — .iikI ^t. Pant, 94. 

Ponia. loM uf tb* Mcnd UutMim 

^^H I'>atheiiU« honidca of faun«entll 


^^H century, 503. 
^H r«pal laralUUlily, {43. 

— Mtervd bnnlii nt knoam ttiflrwto 

uid Bouiftm, 3S, 

^^H I'apiai, ilr. 

— — dnirorcd bjr AlrxMidar, jK 

^H V'>piMiii>a,4lg. 

oslloctod OMcr Vial Mb, 3K, 

Iiraaarvcd by Dirii. jai 


^^1 I'uadlw, 103. 


ISDEX. 671 1 



Psnnft, M olutn mvclM ooni) iiM of, 4 1 . 

{"hilo, RTtbilncfiaJ {ihrMMli^ of, 1 

PeniMt ud ladMo Uionglit laug 

4Q.l.4<i.4<3- I 

' OOtlBMUd, $5. 

— ■(••'{•(■l in J(«i*h tlioi'Eht, 404- m 

— influanee cm SuSinii, 34). 

— did not idtnlify ibc Ixigna vlib ■ 

— mobadi, 369, 

the Mcwiab. 408 n. M 

' Panofi. not a nuui,' 115, (15 n., 

— hti ilULioel Uacliiug about llie ^^M 

■Ml ■a.*- 

L<«u«.409. ^^H 

— follDwi kIW uw lIsbtDiiut, I tj, 

— h!* vlaw uf man, 409. ^^^H 


— uw uf Mcii)0|[<n^. 411, 411. ^^m 

fi-nnul spti* nf (b« knrienU, ijf. 

— rec'itniita tbo lAijoa is tbi 1 

Fencoklily of Jt«a», iiiHufnoa uf 

|.striMi>h>. 413, 43q. 1 

ihp, xiT. 

— cm Jacob'* drrain, 4I4. H 

— of Ibc wuU 31a 

^ bia kuowlctlge of Tftrioui t«b- H 

— k lllntUttanot tbo Godbntl, >3fa 

. nilgai Icnna. 416. 1 


— IndUUucl on tbo wol and God, J 



PMIbr, •<IUi<in u( )->kbKrl. ,(o;. 

— b>. (■johnlnyr, 418, 419, 410. ^^B 

I'hwlrua.tsjrihof tlis ol>M-iut, JII- 

— I'D Mi» •tnii'*, 419. ^^W 


— bi> IIM of DCIU*. 410. 1 

I'heniciaiit and Grvcki, Al, Gj. 

— bii bridge frvm autb to heaveo, __t 

t'honoinpiiik) and reul, 1^9. 

*>*■ ^M 

— anil anumcnal vorlil, 17CX 

— oDbnUilnsiMl laDipaea of, 4J1, ^^H 

— wurlii, titJiku*'; JI9. 

— bl« ■tulcluu, 41& 

1 Philo, xii, 14$ "^ j6G, jftS, jyo. 

— allmnriMil, tba, Old TWlaoii^ni, 

37'. ir*. 375 "-. Jrs, 3^4, 


451 ■1,450. 461. 

— tbeLogoaa InV-rrpDin^bolwnn 

— iuriuencs of kii uorki, Xr, ivl. 

ihe liiTinr and niullDv 4,45. 

— didltaCburrow&uintheKA><..V'!l. 

— traallNv l>e Vila CottCtmpLuira, 

— bu allcguit'Bl'iw, 

a*crib<td b>, 464- 

37».j:6. 37;. 

Pli1Iiuo|ibir vl rv)l|^uo, 3. 

— nataPatheruf llianiiirch, 371, 

~ InilliLx, 66-'>'i. 

— a Arm bcligvor In Olil Ttvlainvot, 

— Uni^uaife tUt cotiitnon bock- 


KTOUud of, 71, 77, 

— hii ti>uoli*lflTie of tnith. 37f. 

— lalar growth nf. 77. 

— (IH ni>t accept |iliyric.<l iuipowi. 

~ btvint silh doubting tb> an- 
clence of tbe Hni^, toi. 

biiiliM M> luirMlM. 376. 

— on the CbfiTDbiiit, 377. 

— on the crmtion nf Lid, 375, 

— and reiigton, 194, 44C, 4JS. ^^M 

— <•[ Pbilo, J70. ^^H 

— hii l>>Di[uacoaD<lciaice|iU(>retk, 

~ of C'tameul, 370b ^^H 

3 "a- 

4^1 416 ^^H 

— an lliB liotot, 3S1. 

«amar>v(, 481. ^^^H 

— hu inh«HLanc(, 399. 

I'hiplioa, 464. V 

— hi* Itfr. 400. 

Pbtatirtn, Iron Grtek PnirartI, 1 

— hii pliiliwoiili;. 400. 

— Ilia JvhoTab. 400. 

ia;- 1 

Pbyiical iiapnuiUlitiH not a«eptfd ■ 

— Iiii Hjlr. 40a. 

a) miracle* hj I'hilo, Cleuieitt, 1 
or Urigan, 376. M 

— Wcai uf, 401. 

•— wolonaia tbo tbMTJTof Uie Log«a, 

— iwlleiun, B9, ya, 106, ite* _^^M 





fkjiriaal R«11gii>n, ImparUne* of tlio 

VnU tor, gj. 
^ — iMt Miilte of, igl. 

— mSum, vlU drum* or, jRI. 

— InaUag <if Xcnophnnet, 33), 

rindsr, 110. 

Piuru, pot in Arwia, 105. 

— ihc V«Jlo, 107. 

— vhe I^itlliETii in th* Vndn, Frk- 

vm1>I> in lb* Av«u, 104. 
Pilrb, III n, 

— uul tlic tiiRimcr tnUtiet, I4J. 

— or F»lhrr». 190, ii)i, 

— uaiino^*cUiiiUicV«lfan]rmi», 


— Invoked in th* Vwlic llymiu, 

PiMjILnN, Uu l>iith of lli« Kxlion, 
"r. "30. M"- 

— luflivf in, the Mirliot prrioci, Ifo. 
fUto, Sg, loi, m, *44, »87H,, )99. 

i"». 3:3. 375. 3*9. 3»4. HOO. 
4>e, 4.10, j)i. 

— an* Oronuwo* for Ahurunulit, 

•- the plillnwipbor fram tb* !!<<• 
Ijrrwr^ Si' 

— in Kgypt. S), 84. 

— Kud AriitDtl« knew Zorouter'* 

.— in tbg Eul, 84. 

— nino cImiiu of nblrthi, 184, 115. 

— iJc^ 104. lOi.JOj, 387,389,391, 

469, J 10. 
^ ftiiil ih« I!|iiuiia1iiul* Htd Atwu. 
tiii.ilaritiiK bstirovn, 108, toy, 

— Itii inythDlnf^oal lftn)-a*g«, 109, 

— uivrLa (JiD iinmortijicy of llic 

•nul. ItO. 

— leo^tth of p*r[ad« of ni«Ienip(]i- 

cbcwU. 116. 

— tha |>lillu*<ipliBn of India, eoinel- 

(Innco* IwIwRVD, 117, t)0. 

— •lniii|[«r AiHiininoM, 110, 

— 6r.i idrn ol mettmftjiiuaia 

jiursljr Mbiual, llS. 

PUtK,oa XmiojiIuuiw* l«B*t«> gjl. 

— PhJIonliM^ or Pliilo Plkloniu*, 


— Juitin Martjr on, J7.1. 

— hii idea* uD tJie ori^B at wpfof, 

JW, 391. 

— his oHc |«tUm of Ibe «««^^ 


— biiit'ui Idn of Uio piod, 39^ 


— nil Crtaiat, 394. 

— ■>«] ilivinn, jyj. 

— »1Ie<l Ibr Attid MoMk 415. 

— hia Trinily, «4i>. 

— on Ibg bndy M op|uacd t« th* 

nnl, (;i7. 

— det g>fiw Praffc. 509. 
PUuiiniaMBtt'«nibndii«. .113. 

— tiidr UkeneM Ia thu l'i«iiiiiliaila 

kiid V«dAnlt4U, j*l> 
Plfthi'ii innboritT, Joi, 
Piny on «onl<, 178. 
ntiiy no ilennippiM, 3% Sj. 
riutinus ECMbing of, un Uia aonl, 

— on Jo|ill*r. 411. 

— fulluwiT iif Phllo, 414. 

— im fcbwrptidB ia the aimttatf, 


— bi* kIMnlloa to Euitvra rril^inB, 


— uid the Chrlitiui nlliri<Mi, 419. 

— 1ii> ItUci Xii CUocui, 43», 

— uid tbe ectudc ouita, ^33, 


— on lii* aou], 4JS. 
PliiUrsb, 3\|l3. 470. 

— on PaiDiiinn^ 47r, 471. 
Va, night, liH. 

Piirtiul luigiunef SnflUm, ^49, 
TonVy of ilu H«lMminMUna, iwlf- 

crotlc bal(-ln;r>tle, J30. 
Palycir|i, 454, 
Pulynxiui oaavmVt, huigiHn tt 

Poljn««iKna Ml tn* uamoartallly of 

cb« tonl, tifi-iit, 
Popntw pnacben ia Gcni^ay 

1 rsDEX. 678 ^J 

Pnpular religion tot tha usltuiwd. 

Pr«il!oAU*ortbDG«dhMd,40i. ^^H 


PrapiKitiniui, 78. ^^^H 

P.rrphxrini, 144-145 ■., 4JS ■., 419, 

Primkl cUDiF. 3SS. ^^^H 


Prime niovn oT AliMotlo, J^g, ^^^| 

— OD lbs tropici, I44. 

Principalille*, 475. ^^^| 

— on Otigrn, 4.10. 

t^oclu*. ymtrchErt cf, ilS^, i6j. ^^^| 

I'utlBc't wliDr], iJiiiilg of, applied to 

— on the Myilw, 41K. V 

die (Ttii Hiul, 309. 

— hi* ciinnoctiiiii wilb tbu nmiiMVkl ^^^ 

Huwnrt, 4;j. 

■■•yuliot, 4ig. 4J0. ^^H 

Pnct'cnl nligiou tor tha nuu]'. 

— >nd Nm-PUlnnifm, 46*. ^^^| 


— or Procului. itudinl bj Eckhirt, ^^B 

Prft^i'iiU, 96, lit, t», ijo, 133, 

5°9- 1 

141, i«, .50. «Si. >7»- , 
— hi* nr*l li'MHin on tMl, (bo refloc- 

ProphcU and the Divine Spin), 4)0> 1 

invTiinfam, 4JJ. 1 

tiun, >i;i, i'ji. 

PniUiloko", X. ^^^t 

— till tpoiiod Inkiq, ilreun*. )£4, 

pMltai>i'>iieworj*boi»h, fo. ^^H 


i-xi- >37' ^^H 

— nix 'liiivl 1«uon. drwnilai ilvep, 

P»ji(--hir, ^^^H 

'.'?. ''•.I. 

Piiithiiln^iiiiil Mylbobjgy, 75, ^^^| 

— ' hia lut l«»oa, the true Self, 356, 

— Itutigiun, iji. ^^^1 


— meonitig of, 91. V 

— OD Die HiichMl S*ir, 167. 

— — imporUiio* uf tlu Vtdinta fw, ^^H 

— k \tU'! il*ity, ijw. 

— hi< U'ncliiDt; l« liMnk, )6l. 


— — lbs girt ttt, 106. ^^H 

l^jr'tA. knonk-deo, 113. 114. 

— Kcli^un or Theuioph^, 541. ^^H 

1 Pniuii-tiulu.ijt Mitm uid ihc limUv 

PulolU, W pDRllU, die SiklDCftn 1 

of iho pMr, J99. 

besTvn, iiS. 1 

rnmiMM. twr>, to>. 

PnaWhueat of Uie wicked lo the H 

rruim, brcdlli, (or tho jtodhvkd, 

AttkU, 10 j. ■ 


^—little aliuut, In Uie Upsui- H 

— (plrit, J4S. 147, (4S. 

*lMii*. 10 J. 1 

I'ntlka, i^y 

PutK»iiiTy >ni'<iiE ihn Jew*. 100. H 

t'tntynktii*, Miuaoui pancpUon, 

— niltvd IlaniliUkiniu llir Amlfc 1 

101, J9(. 

116. ^J 

Prte»rtm, Sk.. JOS- 

Poniiha, 344. 146. J47, 151, ^^H 

Pikver. u petitiou, aDknown (0 th* 

Punubo iDBiuuajl, iij h.. |[$ a. ^^^H 

'Buddbtit*. ti. 

rOrrl AllmAmit. 9^. 09, 306. ^^1 

— knotrii tu tlio Confuoluu^ Ij, 

awTtbed tu lliilarajaju, 99, '1 

— Cmh, IJ. 


— Egypliiui. tj. 

Pnirapakibin, }6j. ^^H 

— Aoeutian, 14. 

POnhaii. 13H. ^^H 

— BubvloEUkii, 15, 

Pjt1iatci<ru and bU itudJM in Eg7i>(> V 

— V«(lc.l6. 17. 

8j, S4 ■ 

— AvaMle, r8. 

-• wbetite hia brlief in meteaipiy- 1 

— ZoroMtrlMi, 19. 

cbuila. 8:. isj. ■ 
-• and the Milky Way, 145. ^^^ 

— CtittWMv 10. 

— MabunniodiiD, ». 

Pyllia^reiini, 77. ^^^H 

— Mndtm Hindo. iU 

— vjbool* of ibr, 3>8. ^^^| 

Vnyen, aiMJaat, 19. 


— diBereal oUmm, j*S, ^^H 



K\, Ihn (uii'i^, 117, *l^ 

RabS&. (liw farliwiC liufi, ]1^]4>i 

Bkblriii thfir t(«ching on mui'i 
gDoil kDil ceil vorki, 100. 

• — on I'kTwIiiF, »id twotve 
Blonihi' |iur){>tor7. too. 

— — in nlvum of Xba Old 

TnatAinaDl. Ml. 
llAiUinnlitlliii. 6( n. 
fiijiui}*, r/urivr-caaiit, I47. 
l;ik"u, 1*0. 
IIjudIhiv, l6q, ITO, i;7. 

— lUiiQ ■■ the Dcnviiu, 171, 

— flfc oolocin of, 171. 

Kain u<A >p«i m iUuHnttion of 

C.d'i urork. 3:7. 
BikakuM. 1 6 J. 
Btmlaiv^ 17J. JU- 3<5> 3>^' 
^ mmnoiiUijt by, 100, 101, 107, 

108, II J. 
^ holdi tba thaoiy of anlutlon, 

^Bokmanuf, loA. 
^ W MW u u all vullor pttiod of 

tTnuiialia-l-il'iclrin?, ii], 

— «n U» (oul nflir dcall>. 1 1 4. 

— Mid &Ak>n, their diflcrenn*. 


— bli teuhtog kbont Brthioui, 

3'5- J';- 
^ -~ util kbuul Ibe Indltida*] kuI, 

Kimailnlui, 111. 
itHnnMbiui Koj, ht* bith, ]75. 

lUabMI, km; 106. 

— wotfhi tb* Jm4, *ot. 
RMlhy, two ktadi of, to (ho Todia- 

BMna, iS, srB, mj. 

— Mid til* Samine vwmd, 37B, 

— whoH iaitr 387. 

— npirit. anJ aipyttit* m fwrning 

ifac toill. 41^. 

— the luimiDQ power le Pbllo, 

4JI. . 

It«uon, obhf ub>Mt Af 6tib 

(ltuO);lit, 416. 
RaUiioi]>lil^ ilaa to coiiia»in 

llUlllfklUtj^t 5^ 

("■miiniii Iwinage, <i. 

— rwiUy LiabirioA^ 6i. 

— of men ncjgbbaarbodl, 6*. 
lUlatiTs prmuna, 78. 
lleli^io, fJS- 
ItctiuloD. pliikMfiliy oif, v. 

— kiiUin'okl dovcnunu for RndTb^ 

th* ur^a of, 17. 

— Kill ayUiolo)^, mamMi AT7U, 


— conatilnnit rictnoMU of, ttj. 

— ■jncen of ndatiuaa bMnrna maa 

and God. 336. 

— Dlwaoll un. 336. 

— a tiriilfM lietwren the nalbl* aai 

isi^uUe, jfti. 

— aiui iihiloo^h;, 44$, 45J. 

— objort of tnw, 449. 

— ID oit opo* o ntum of Ui« mo) ti> 

G-xl. 474. 

— PhyateaJ, AalkrofxiidgUal, ull 

yff]^<Eh<dofkBlj M^- 

— Uia liridgv botwesu Um Ftaito 

and tbc InlU>il«, 53**. 

— Principal Ckird'a dafUutioA dL 

Bdijtloni, (ompantivo noilj of, 
raiua our (ailh In CtuiatiakltT, 

— ailranU^ of thii Madji, 14. 
Rfl'flMiu kangoan. iS. 

of aMccM India, 19, 

Ifna «f , *9. 

— UoagM, booDwlDf of. 367, 

RlHUB, 464 ■. 

it«amMloii, Ikto of Ui* aoa] ■! 

lb*. accecfiiH; to Uw Zuru» 

tiunf, 1 9 J- "9*. 
R«-Dntnn cif iba 8«ul wltk God, Uj- 
two waj» ..f, 535, 

— Cbridiitii gt(nnivi) Ibr, «]«. 
K«Tolatiafi, aBtml, t. 

Ineed in ita* Vnla, g, 

— 01 the M; qaaation ti iW 



^^^^^^^^^^P i^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^^^^H - ^^^^^^^^^^^M 

f INDEX. 575 1 

lUv*UtIiia, Intenul And utanul. 

Stand Bank* of tba Kwt, wMuui 1 


<rf. MJ. ■ 

lUvBTsnw for God, w«nl nf, (;J^ 

— — nttivu Inurprvun (dwn ^^fl 

IMrillr, M., on Ih* ra1iKi>iiii of 

■mnag. 14J. ^^1 

Mexico Kiirl Peru, Sf>. 

nasrSlioa, tha nri^o of religion, S8. ^^^H 

Il*»*rdj »nd panuhaMDu ifter 

Khv, De. Srlitaitfo, 337. ^^H 

d«th. 195. 

— — Zinillimililr«que<tluinAhot»- 

8ud and Mohnuiticul. immui on, 34& ^^^H 

nttuJaiin, i^f-IQ^. 

rhftlinliun Miiuriit, 50a •>■ 

S&kU, nuuniiiu nf, 34. ^^^| 

hiUiiK. genii iir tlig Hi'iioiii*. In a. 

Silii/iiit, tliv di)', ()>. ^^^1 

Kkiliwd «f St. ViotT, 4S», 

Siiiiiaoirioi or HaddLiiU, 46 n. ^^^| 

ItJU-twiK. tui knowlndgmfhell, 1G6, 

— UMDliontd \iy Cloattul ot AIM* ^^^| 

— n9r of kuDiliiUlion, i6lt. 

•ndria, 46 ^^H 

jriiiiU, 306. 

8viwb», oourae ol Ilia world. J77. ^^H 

1 lluiug «a the tblrd &l|t)il, PiinUo 

Stm^agdunoa or OMuplal* liuti>l>ti ^^^| 

1 b*llrf in, tg^ ii. 


— ^ ' — liny, Ji"wiiihlM<lj'ftn,i94ii. 

&tbknni, uiiiiQMiDtArj of, ij6, lj6, ^^H 

Alls, KJL'Iil. wino M Uie Lu)^ of 


Hrnwtlitui, J'jO. 

iwtikaru. 1 1 J, 1 lA n. ^^H 

Hivrrdi Tiding h»ien ftiid hell. I4A. 

— Ills ImtrxpuDomof the Vc-Unta, ^^^| 

Koad bsitlDiiliiit williU^ihl, 117, ilH. 

■■3. ^^1 
— OQ tliD inal nftcr death, 1 1 4, ^^^H 

lEoQio b«mii«i<d nili|tii>iu UoKuage 

friHn lirvrcf. jM. 

— and Scb>i]HiiiIiauir, )Si. ^^^| 

Riw-U. nprewii* ntn-Ui, Ifj. 
— hpnm Encrniiiin, Ijj, 

— and Katiinl Halifpun, 31 1. ^^H 

— hi> aohnol, 313. ^^H 

It-i1>a And inak«, 198. 

— a Monisl, 314. ^^^B 

I'."(h, »i. 

— and KOmiiDujra. their diflerence*, 1 

Koth, 166. 

, 3"4-3'9- ^J 

— on Bnltmnn, 141. 

— bli teaoliiDgaboutllnuimaii, 3)(, ^^^M 

Rwdu puMDicuTiirinii bl* IQkoii, 



— luilda tlie theory irf Itlualun, 31 7. ^^^H 

Ituyibrook, 504. 

— P<>1dU of reuubUooa witlt Itv ^^^| 

niinii^ 318. ^^^H 

SA.AUA, grekt nwdiciiM man, )H, 

■ — hji foarlow mv^inivnU, 3tcj. ^^^^| 


-~ hi* [jhammitniAl world. 311;. ^^^H 

^balft, I JO. 

5atk>f*'* cnuimentary on Ike Dla- ^^^| 

KncKd book*, (hwr ralde, c6' 

logue oD Self, 161. ^^^| 

dftngvr of Dnnv tahlia*! Lui- 

gtwgs In trnwUtliig the, j;. 

— diboaltisi^ 16), t6i,~t6S. ^^^1 

— oooidden tilt Atm.iu alnayv'tlla ^^H 

■ — a- of uid*Dt rellgloiu, no ajiileiii 

HUne. }7l. ^^H 

In, S;. 

fiaUiarkUrja, 99 n., 10^ I07. til. ^^H 

^ — fauw r^MuHfl, 87. 

— ssuiuanlflry by, 99, iqi . ^^^| 

of Inilia, fnffiiivQtftr; obarM- 

— hold* (he UrKirT nf tie-(i*ncs. 1 08, ^^^| 

Ut of, iS- 

— hit vi(«r i>r Ttrnhman. loS. ^^^M 

_ Book* of th< Em^ vi 

8au*kiit. lott booka in, 33. ^^^^M 

impivhet. »7. 

— wonli in Ch Da. 36S. ^^^^^t 

«u[h..['« edition of, 30. 

SaraiiiB. the doi^ til, li/O. ^^^^^M 

1 mudi'Tn dkl* of, 3a. 

SiLtwja-Etiait}*, 73. ^^^^^| 



8*rtMd(m, S4 ■. 

^'*na, iK* n. 

.NtrvM* >■ Kfrbcna. jy 

iJMHniaiu, 40. 

— rtrire ZoroMtrtMtna, 40. 

8«t. Iwine. 94> 96* J»- 

H*U>*. 179. 

8aUTiiiD, fitllvii, 178. 179. 

Sal/tbtwdBfil:^ snil blinllbhad*- 

viil», );},!:«. 
&un*, 1(16. 
RoWii ud S«(D, 16711. 
Sdhvmiifft KT. 
StdnUr,- DivWplt.-aM'liicbU lat du 

VtVIICMkht.' I. 
ltohUs>l. J65 ••. 
()»haUtUe ibvoluitT, 4S3. 499. 

•' toll* i^lwlClvittiuutj in their 

fthop ti ihamf anQ &fiknnt, 181. 

— oa Eckhut. Jii. 

BiimMV a. on In •iiut'rsl apan (torn 
k* hMloy. 3, 4. 

— ofnou^l, fil. 
StMoa BrigiEwi, *97, 514. 

^ ^ tWMatM Uia w<>it> of Dtnnv- 
rin* Ilia ANopaniu^ 465. 466, 

SM*ai».bral>iiv»Af thoMuoi, Ilia. 

— (cnii oflha, lit a. 
Meoe, noon, 19. 

tktf, the. 96. los. 16a, 139. J$Oi 151. 
»6j. ijt, 447. 

— tlia All ia All. 9}. 

— DMdiffmat Amb BmfaBaa, io4l 

— dialafw «a, i^-ie6. 

— tobawnnUiipMaadMrvfil.tcj. 

— Ib« Uiichm. lb* iKviM Mr, 

Mtl.lOS. 316, lit. 

— MBM lb* IttdMdw^ (66. 

— tk* Hriac na*«r iUa>, »». 

— or AtaMo, sat. 

— aMtru iu indvpandMH*, ^04. 

— b naBy BtataiaB, 304, 30J. 

— Ua ma. jt6, 9)4. 

— -dwica, J«UU oUUt en, 357. 

S«lf, Iha In* bfU|[« batvcenlb M«J 
anil a«l, JJ9. 

— -knowledca cf iIm Brahnwah 93. 
Saiiiiiio and Arja* nll|(iaaii,«iit«ci- 

il«aoM in. 6a. 

— and (ireek tha^glH, 

between, 6^ 
SiuU. 344. 
8(u*s the Kva, 3M. 

— HiDaoA the. 419. 
S«n|)lii[n. 4;$. 
Heno". nli.<, ot virtai, 460^ 
Sennoni in Gsnnan. 400 ■. 
S,th, 376. 
Srti^ bridge (69. 
Setiu or bribes 167. 
SoraaH^;**, fo. 
Snciu OB X«n«fthaiiM. 33). 
Shadow e»*« iLb flrat Idaa «t ib^ 

Shaikh. 34S. 
Sbaka. 341. 
SWhpnliar, 40. 

— II. *0. 

— and AtlUi>td.UMilr(Ua]i^iwllh 

l>et«if , 40. 4J. 
Sbapl^iB. trMaurjr of, 58. 39, 40, 
Sbadunah, 406. 
ShF|iliertl, auUuir of thai. 44I. 
SiiD|i]ioiiui, prayer ot, 13. 

— qunMd. 333 *., J44 m. 
SiaiwjBua. 131. 

Sirana fRon 8bli>«hte, 63 «, 
Slr&wh, tlMt 43. 

Sila, bright, ham aalt*, dark. tUk. 
Skiunlilin, tuuiM al Uta Mi 11 ■■no 

l»"o«. »47- 
<»ii, 411. 
.sloLa (miod. 161, 
San'li, t;». 
Ham Mj l«k»dw' Imavi^d, > iS.»ii. 
Sokraua tnd iha Indian i>hi|uKe4M«. 

— aAdPUta.391. 

— hia balW in imw Ood, uj. 

— and ' tke thooght l& ^.% 

— )d«a of, 3^3. 
Sub* in ^iagh S>> 




8.m», so, 119. 119 »^ IJ9. 140, 

— uivninon, tit n. 
HnTnalminf: Katbvrr. 191, 191. 
8cn of God. xi, iH. zii ".. 434. 

— — Tvtnlliui ■ ilcliiutiaK, 461. 

— — H»d humanity, oncDC** and 

dHKrrenae of, J36. 

— afinftn. xii. 
Songs uf Solomiai, 350, 
Sum of G0.I, jiSj, m». 

tti>|>l>ia or E[iit(«iiiB, 401 n,, 406, 

Soul. 10s, 447. 

— teturn o^ to God »rtoT dcftth, 


— and Om), qi, 91, jjfi, 

— 'aKt rtiritiikn vieir of, 94. 

— N*n- n™ ItvnUi tIcw of, 54. 

— to God, U^hini; of the fpeni 

■h»l* on thu raUili'ii if ilie 
1 S. 

— V«i1»ol» tbtcrim on lh», 1 13. 

— ite murn to the Lowpt brthnuui, 


— in tbo woriili of Brahpian. 1 16. 

— ijUMUoSrdbfdlauionn. 110, 1)1 

— in tba maaa, ■4<(, 14;. 

— B*Mn bj tb> Davu, I4O. 147. 

— raturn of, to a«tl> M rain, i}4 


— et<«t eono«p( of, in Um Up<wi 

■h*d<. Iff. 

— pMtini,' into gnin.Ao., it,t, ie,G. 

— (;oK<l ntinin a goui \i\nh. i;6. 
~ Litcl, bwoms aiJouli. ]f6. 

— danmn of. wh«u it Iim Inllon a* 

raiu, 157, 

— naonuMluui In lU thuotnt. 157. 

— iininorUlUyoflht^ ijif. 

— iii'inil K"<'<'nin>>'nt in lliv fal« of 

th», ijS 

— in tka ATMta. imtuorUlitj' of, 

— paui of. In UisVcdtc IIjnnBi, 190. 

— »M of. at llie gcnvral rwunw 

tion, ipj. 

— and bndy, tlrif* balOMn, in tliv 

Talmud. 101. 

8on),MTl*aI of, befora Bahman nnd 
Ahunmudk, lojt, *;S. 

— after |«uiiig Um ifinrat brid{^ 

— uleoftho. IIOl 

— immurinllty of,*M«rtcd by Plato, 

]10, III. 

— nauia tor llio, J4H. 

— tiM many iiii'iiniii)^, 149. 

— wlin or whnt ha* a, IJJ, 

— Gnt ooncFirtian of, from ahado', 

— fint idea of, aroao fimia drMiii*. 

— tTuoiclatloDof. til lirahman, lb j. 

— Vcdlntlnl Tiew. ip. 

— (raetuiur«alihiiindU!tIiial, )6> 

— individual anil •iiprtinv, tjt, 

— not a owated Ibius. 17$. 

— Henry Hoiv'a ronea on, J76. ' 

— Flotiniu on, iSo. 

— naturt of. and It* ralallon 10 tUo 

I)ivlna BtinK, iRo. 

— and llralimau, IdMititjr of, iSi. 

)S,1. JB4. 

— diHtrent itatw of the, 307, if). 

— personality of, JIO. 

— the indiiMnal, 31a. 

-~ in ita tnia aaaono* b God. 313. 

— and God in Kufilam. 337, j}8. 

J». M. 363. 

— in Vediintiain, 338. 

— J«1UI tAlIn on, 3 J J, 

— indiiHdual anil (tod, i^t. 

— Tetnm from thi viiibla to tha 

invinUe world, 361. 
.— of tbeSloica, 39S. 

— nnJTenal. j^g. 

— PhUa tiidkUiiclon lu nkdm to 

God, 418. 

— i(a wliltr niaaning In Philo, 41S. 

— ita llirMlbId diiinon, 41D. 

— ita iennfold diciiLiii, 419. 

— peridMble and inperlibahla (•aria, 

— Old TMUnwat taa«hin|[ en, 41 8, 


— aa coiolnjt froiii and r«iurnln|[ lo 

Ow'. ■»>3. 4)4. 



^^b fa&)i^^mii 

^^^B m^-— "s^^^^^B 

^M 578 IKDEX. ^H 

^^B Sout, Influrncwd hy mattcT, ^ij'. 

^^H ^ the bcauiirul in th*, 4}]. 

116. V 

^^H trfOod «□■! oUTDkl, 4gl. 

— }onnieyiiiaM4iDpl*tBlb*Avala 1 

^^H — •Tcijr fkllan. 4(1. 

thaB in tlie rpaniahadt, 104. 1 

^^M — ftnd Uw Ono lleing, j^j. 
^^H — Bskhut aii,}i5, f;iO. 
^^H — KiineUiIng ui>ci«»l«l is. f 16. 

KjiaTki u>'l trt, :7i. B 

in Ood, i. ■ 

^^1 — DiviiM flcuwot in UiF. 516, 

Spfoiot. *!*«, j86, 388. ^^B 

^H — UiUi«f tba^nin thc,5i6. 

— emlation of. jS;. ^^^B 

^^M — tatuded b; EckhMt on (ha IH- 

— the i'Uaa of tHato, .t^l- ^^^| 

^^B Tfne Qronnd, fij. 


^^H — la iu CTaitnl tm m tfurmled 

^IMcaUtiva aebwil, ^jft, '■^1 

^^H fctnn God, 51 J. 

S|KBch, Quirtnal, 59. ^H 

^^m — itii nilntios lu Ood iMeldiBt! 10 

^IHiiwr. ndd* at, 35^, B 

^^B Erklurt, 514. 

^iwnl* Arniaili. .■«6. B 

^^H ^ odFlian wiljl tiod, $34. 

^^H ^ Mid the naUpW or dM ((m'* 

''"|irn(fl iiiiinjli.thii lu nrBriM aphll. 1 

l8j, 1S4. B 

^V rv^}40. 

" — btoiM • naUM of Allan- fl 

^^H — attar deuli, Joortwj of tb?, 1 r 3 

nuuda. iB^. B 
awtfiiiariiiti, jglt. B 

^H •>»}. 

^^H liMktsM Imni til* U|iaiii- 

9^i(«..»7i, JJ7. B 

^^H tbtiii, 1 1 4 K lej. 

^jilivrv. c»DM^>I of tliB [lai hm. lIL^I 

^^^ met tit ono of tho Eutbfal. 

.S[negi!l,4Sn., 4811. ^BH 

^^M iiti*. 

K[an(iiit. loi. ^^^^1 

^^m nndcvinga at, 143. 

S^triLWorl J. nuaca frr, anininl^^^B 

^^M tbres Mi^iM ia tbe Ujaid- 

(H^ATKh ^^^^B 

^H ahtdt, tjo. 

spirit. M Word. liaawm, Mid ftiiB^B 

^H RmMi^, ISO. 

¥''■ 1 

^^H Moand>lif(«, 150. 

.SinnllBln, Ig}. 1 

^^M — — ~~ thm) ■t»j;r. If). 

Sjdritua, Tamdlian^a >u« »(; 461. 1 

^^M Zuruuuiui tmaliing <«, 

SfAtama ZantkaablrK, laj. B 

^H <93- 

Spwngm. S44 "- ■ 

^^H PUtoa view). >o3, 109. 

.■iVaddadha'i. orwUdi, 79, ■ 

^^H — *il«ie« of Biiddlut ou, jjj. 

AViddba. 104. ^^M 

^^1 hll iillita nlisliinn oO, JJJ. 

fTriddbu, 191. ^^^1 

^^^1 8nula, wvt^liin^ nf, 16*. 

!i[iWb, Ml, Ml. ^^^1 

^^1 — leaving tli« monii. Ifi). 

^Inrti.or ioiMiiiatioa, toi. 104,1^ 
141. iM, 17*. 

^^H — in tlie *orld of tlio {^)d*. ij;!^ 

^^B — bcfbrs tho Umme of Bnjiajil!, 

— i* li>« V«d«, 104. 


— difficoltiaa orwifd hy, 137, 

^H — orU>owlck«d.falcar, I9S. 

— BrahnaMa* arr, 141, 

^^^ — nvUling Euili amoDS tbe Bal> 

— unlj muuTca li<«cimce, t^j. 

^H da*, i>4. 

St-AupWiM, 45:. 4(ij, 4-*, fSJ, 

^^B — elliiml idea, t^S. 


^^1 — of 'tlioM who dio on a pillow/ 

— on tJod °»da BUM. jij, 4JI, 

^^B »»tS, in a. 

^B — «In(abUoi»ofGod,)7«. 

— a I?*n-I1ailonltl, 4»i>, 

^^M llwir dotda, 301. 

— OB tb* •paaking <rf ««1. sil. 
•it. Ba^il. 461. 

^^^^^^^^^^^K ^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^H ^^^^^^^P^^^^^ 

IKDEX. K79 ^H 

Sl Bast), hi* diitlnetioa batwem 

81. J«nm»tm nrw wordi, 469. ^^H 

ic^puyiM'a uiA t-'yiuiTa, 451. 

St. Pinti Mid I'uitbelun, 94. ^^H 

St i(«m«rj. 3+f, 4s;. ^6j, ^HO-^SS, 

— > pfallu«u|ihie«l BiioltigoMotCbrii- ^^^1 

♦S'*- 505- 

tU&ity, 4J5. ^H 

— on lli« C'hrlntiftn life, 4B9. 

St. Thenw, 461. ^^H 

— bis Ecatuli, 490. 

Ht. VioUn. the tw<s (IJ. ^^M 

— Ill* tmlrc dcgreea of bumlllty. 

Slhalnnrlia, iho canne bvNiy, 196. ^^^| 


stok. 3S4. ^^H 

— raaimbiM th* VwlJiDtliU and 

Slobiteiu. .190. ^^H 

K*a-PI«U>ii<iitii, 491, 

8talaU diililon ofthaSou], 419. ^^H 

— hli jHwilJaii fu tb* Cliliroti ui(l 

Sio<u>. j;i. 377. 3S0, 3H J^O- ^H 

Suiu, 41)1. 

— KtUDn or LofiO* of, 397, 39S, ^^H 

^ aad AWlnnl, 491. 

3W- ^H 

' — bia lb«olQg7 knd lib, 491, 

~ Hyle, mkltcr, of tba, 397. ^^H 

•- lad tbo <Su»tdet, 49*. 

— God of tile, 397, ^^H 

SL OiryBMtoin, 509. 

— true PanlheiiU, 397. ^^H 

HkOlnaani of AluudrU, xi<. tlli. 

— tbe t^tn of, 397. 31)8, ^^H 

»97. 384. ■iiJ. 4M. 434 *. 463, 

— oxtonud and intcnwl Logm, J98. ^^H 


— Mill llvlnit kfUT dolb, ^. ^^H 

— Miapliiln* ol pWsiuina, 371. 

— unlvnriaJ >i<iil, 39!). ^^^| 

— inptrinr I" St. I'lul, 4.(5. 

— why he becuna ■ Chnitiui, ^35. 

— iiid N«"-l'Ut4n]|U, 4i4-4>r. ^^H 

— ftnil God, 4)4. ^^^1 

— bU Mutfi, 4j6. 

.vfldr* ana, 14}. ^^H 

— hli fjiltb iu ti>e OliI TisiuDBUi, 

fiadnu, 16 . ^^H 
— t«a atodj iIm TadlBte, 3)0. ^^H 


— big nllfjiortejd intergiTrtalion of 

Bnfi. wa of tbo HMon, 160. ^^H 

(1m X«w TMlMiieut, 4]6, 

— Fakir, Danrith, 344. ^^1 

— Trinity «f,4j«,4j;. 44 ». 

— porta, ntraota from, JJ4-36i- ^^H 

— Logo, of, 43;, 439. 44*. 

— reooKniied Joiu* h ibe Logo*. 

— ilerintioti of. 338, 339, 344. ^^M 

— dnctrlnea, abilnct of, 339. ^^H 


— lUlila tbe eulieat, 340. ^^H 

— lIcdT Gbort of, 440, 441. 

— fall Idta of pencoulity, 441. 

— lernii danrtd frum Cliriitianity, ^^H 

Hi- ^H 

— oDoiuM of tlie hnniku luid <llvin« 

— four >U<r** "f ^'^i 34^. ^^^1 

MtorM, 443. 4**- 

Siiliiaiii, iu 'iriifiD, 337. ^^^| 

— h!a idu of CliHat. 444. 

— not t^nealu){)mlly<lMntidt<l frota ^^^| 

— bii teftcliiog fiir biilHa. 445. 

Vedlntimn, 337. ^^| 

— hia bigher uuhin|{. 445. 

— aoal and God to, 337. ^^H 

— knowledge ot Qno»li, 415. 

— Tboluok on, 33S. ^^M 

1 — tMemhlM tb« VedHiitii uncbiDg 

— Maharamoilaii to origin, 33S. ^^^| 

and not ^uHiun, 445. 

— tnaliae* on, 34S. ^^H 

— on god* Ulil ;ili|t«l>, 4;). 

— I'enQan l&flutno* on, J4*. ^^H 

— UDibacvlwiUl iiid (Ktthljr birr- 

— it* cnnncctina with aarly Chri^ ^^H 

1 krclii*!, 4;S n. 

Canity, 341. 34.V ^H 

' — nnoanoniaed, 454, 4jC^ 4SS. 

— the founder of, 343. ^^^1 

— on the belierar, 456. 

— poollcal language uf, 349. ^^^| 

51. Cyril. 463, 

— morality or, 3J4. ^^^M 

tit. Vvtih. and Dlnnyuui Ibe Am». 

— may aliauit bo callod Cbritllan, ^^^| 

paa't* <(•&■ 


[ ■ 


^ulii>ni, Chrl'tiMiltv ini) tb« Vc- 
lUnUi-philiwpUj, ooincidtnoM 
betwMn, j66. 

Sofia, the. .i,iS. jj9. 

— thoir liri'of. J.19. 

— iru** of Plawntwi among Uio, 


— wml«baUiliilVnUs«iulAi«bic, 


— their MOTtioinn, 345. 

— thtir wDt-Uka litv<. J4;„ 

— JellU (ddta on the liue. J4S. 

— Mule thoTBophio pblliaoj>hj 

unong. ,146. 

— myilic^ lliDology of. jjj. 

— ftppatJ M Jeaut, 360. 
Sftk-l>muarlr». tbe lubilfl (mu»1I) 

bodj, 10& 

— TheoanphiiM ind, joj. 
Su lamer Sol olice, 145. 

the ajatiK of tb* VitrU, m, 


»nnjiiit lh» Psni". 14J, 

Sao, JdlAl rtl'lin <>ii, .;.;C. 

— and ii( nyi, niouph«f of lbs, 

S39. S40. 
SupMnM, l6j. 
Snpttuluntt nl[)[(nii, M. 
Siipmno liulnB, ajo. »<'• >7S. 447- 

— — line, in Ol* VdlM. jo. 

Xeni.phMiw on, 50, 

in tbe AtmIa jo. 

of both Jow< iind Oc««tu 

scpAtBled from ni»n, 3;i). 

or MLiiioi!ini-t, 410-411, 

»bo*o Jui'Ilsr. 433, 

Kupreme S'lii, sji. 

Sunu.bow tlivwordw** rnrmiKl, I87. 

— couneoCeJ with aw, lE3. 
B<i-Oi fo6. 

— hie jipnanoci, 531, 
8(1 tm, 97, 

— ttjlo. 97. 117- '30. "33. '33> 

'34. '3^- 

SOtrW, klltUU fttuiMl UlllDt«lli|ltljl4, 


— Uw* Dt Manu existtil flnt Ui 


— M»l tbcir onmnienurie*. jjo. 

STnntKtotu, if9, t;i. 

8*>rE)f<n>i1d. IJO. 

SnjunbbO, 14S. ^ 

Svrtokna and hii fiubor, iBj-*^ 

Sjlian, 130. 

Hya^iat, Biihflp, 37 j. 

StuiJ of Aalloek, 4111 

— uf Trltr. itti. 
ci»nifpi)«it, gi4. 

TAHITIAN hmnni, )]8. 

— (iiith, 131. 
TiJaiod knd Chriatlui itoolrillM, Ik 


— ni' bridge to uic4l>tr life ia thf. 


— ■InrntwIwMaaoalMMlbodjr. lai. 
T«DKiik, iruii-wood tit« fnt aMb, , 

Tnruru*, JtJ. 

Tmt Ivam ui. I05, 379, jgj, 191. 
Tsulrr. 4f 7. 4S7, S06, 536. 

— bU Hctiiinlut, 5eA. 

— biirrowud from Edklutrt, joA, 

— itillncM Mid ulenc* taagh* bi, 

— dwoaurtged cxlr«iB« 


— Icil <B iictivii Mtri, ji^ 

— on eonhiilon, j^o. 

— on Tfijnnt, 531 . 

— 00 (ialMMin. 533. 
Tduc, Hr.. 99 m. 
TemrJK l)r„ on th* 

Gad. >3£. 
TcrlulLian, 434, ^to, 

— Lii Lkltn «i|ulT«lat>t> tm Lifi] 


— on the Sea of Ood, 461. 

— h<> u>* (iftpiritDa, ^6i. 
I) ToJ <in<i Wfl, jt^. 
Thfil«<, 80, Rs- 
Thkt uid (b'>n, Mvntitv of ib*, k& 
Tlioodnrc of MT'iatiaaiifi, aax 
ThwKtog^ 464. '^^ 
TAtoMn CwiMnim,, jio, 510 «. 
^ ^ Henry Mofv aiti, 51 1, 
T1ivn1i«m, nnoi* (or St. Jahft.^e tb 
Th..ol.¥y. 87. 


INDES. B81 ^^M 

TtiMl<w7, Immw cI MniMLcMiT*, 

TVo-tir, Ucd of, 14. ^^H 


TadM, hrjJso to uoUuir IU« itmM)|{ ^^^| 

— myftio Mid nholatlUk 481. 


T))«<>poiiipiM, 4J, 

— imvvu uid bfll, 174, ^^^H 

Th*HH, 447' 

^•ii •ad <1 f nft, 4j6, 459. 

ri it tai tA tr, ^^^| 

rd tr. ;S, 168, 378, 331, 3.^4. 410, ^^H 

Mboii, 4S1, 481,48) It. 


TIiMtiiphic. 91. 

TnniUlloD from VodtDta-tairu. ^^H 

— phll<M»pli)r of Iha Tcilinlitt, not 

at tli« Sultx, n^. 

iq. ^^H 

Thfotopliy, 91, ga, 106, 541. 

TwiuniKnlinn In tli# Law* »( ^^H 

— tn« nwMiini; 'if, tvi. 

M*nu, ^^H 

— in Chri)li*iiily, 446, 

— nineolMM* tii, 163. ^^^H 

— highwt leuan of, 539, 

— na tr*M oU )n ICiutcn Pacific, ^^H 

ThciK^ieutAi. tho, 4^4. 


TtilbtQl. 99, too. ajj a. 

Trfpr, Sjrnod of, joj. ^^^H 

— on lUinlnufn, 313. 

Ti-iinftiU. (41, 143. ^^^H 

■Thinkira uil willing; 383. 

Trioltv of bt. Clrinont, 431(1. ^^^| 

Th!r<l or «TiI rokd, 1 30. 

— of PUto, 440. ^^^1 

— Psr*on ofllie Trinity, 441. 

— of N umrniua, 44a, ^^^| 

pnilnUIjr a Jcwiali iitw, 441. 

— of Orlyvn, 431. ^^^1 

Orison '1 nirw, 451. 

Tropia <rf Poiplii'Tiu*, 144. ^^^| 

'rilrtluck. 463, 46;. 

~ M ^la for tho Mu1, 14J, ^^^| 

— uri Siitlnui, Jj8. 

Tiuc, tl>o .Salvun), 113. ^^^| 
— oaulng baolL lo tho, 1S8. ^^^H 

— on injiliciiim. 484. 

Tlinnuu Ai^uintu, r, 197, 463, 46*^, 

Tralh, nol wTTtd I17 MiorUinw, 7. ^^^| 

474. 4'>4- 499> f«9. i'>- 5>-t. 

— unlvarullly of, ji. ^^^| 


— uodnlirti^ Diyth, »t, ^^^| 

fnlln«r» kiirl depend* on 

— touohilono of, 373. ^^^| 

Dionyvai, 484,495, 
on fiiilh ud kn.iwledge, 494. 

TiindnlH, poem of, 170. ^^^H 

Two gnies, or tvo muuUu, 144. ^^^| 

not K trn« myvllo, 494. 

~~ — tirlmovftl |)rinci[>lH. 184. ^^^H 

Ukcnrii lu, not (meiion nltb 

[iicionl ovBD in Aharuiiimla, ^^^| 

Gwl. 495. 

fr»o Irom thtoliigic*! pre- 


jadic«, 49^. 

Typiv, wh«uo* lh«y aifwt 387. ^^^| 

knnwinilgp of God, 4y6. 


imallvotiiBl ritiun, 497. 

— Huilvy'f idM of, 387, 3SS. ^^H 

on crution, J14. 


Tbomt, i;4 n. 


• Th..u art ih»l.* »68, J84. 

slool tciu. III. ^^^1 
Uniuiu, not onlsonliuai, 41 1. ^^^^ 

1 TliLUf^lnofCoa. 4tl. 


CuloD, not nbMrptl-in, igo. ^^^H 
Union with God, UJMiyuui on, 47S ^^^| 

uf, $11. 

Tliret qualitiw, Uia. iG), 

479. 4S0. ^H 

— Fnliu, Et before Uic, llq. 

— inyilio, 479. ^^H 

"l"iit<'nw, 475- 

TiUk, B. 6., Ibo kntiqoitT of tl>a 

live KUki:M of, 430. ^^^H 

Unntnul AdU iSo, ^^M 

VodM, I4S. 

— Soul, 310, ^^^^1 

^^^^H '^^^^H 

^^^^B ^^^^^H 

5K2 IXDKT. 1 

VkkMonbk, Om, of AcaoMka, 

' id«B«riboO*aM«, )|ft. 

Oakwm^ AtaolBM haug. >j6. 

— Uh 8arm> Briac ia, aa». 


— Bcaa paMCB* oolr ^ *V1. 

UimfadfalMO. iTTCr of, tto, *lt. 

— rrolatiw m. tfj. 

Ummo nt nun, dklogos oa tlie, 

— oqvlirocat faaaf** in, jta. 


UpkdUi, 171, »93. 196, J03. 304. 

— rtnafato^u».3)3, 

— Earma of BoddUm l>, jtL 

— whu thcjr <n. 305. 

— (Mr daetflM oUad P ' iij 1, 

tMra*. 549. 

t'f iri'htd daMriMi Ml Mri; Bad 
Ula griHith of, 1 13, 

— Rla^ o(, rartiirtaa. u» 

CpwUiMl*. 77. 79, 80. M, 9J. lol, 
IO4. lOf, 10;. 108. i»+ »34. 

— Mndyoh • hi^ W naiWi^Trt 

»4*. 3:0. ?»■ , 

hart. 51 1. 

' — an fiagnwnu, 96. 

(Tf& in AttMb Vfla. 6>4 >. 

— MStnat BeouiiM* of tU b*. 

Uri. ..a c<. i6». 


tl ifciiui, aaodM of ifao oooL 9M^_ 

— i«v«kd,97. 

Uuart lilmAM*. 9S. 99. ^H 

— ifiSmlt to trwAti, 109. 


— ten* Ttry «t«Mf*, 110. 


— aathv^ ttaMluka <A ito. 

TlpOHDCjIlit, I}J. ^^H 

— «D Mm wblita «f li« nal U 

VUnliii, 101. ^^H 

God, 113. 


— — dUTciiMoMoaMMB on tU* in 

Vaiioiiuka dvitica, 16}, ^^H 

11k. II}. 

Vufn-«Mto, J47. ^^H 

— on tkc «aul olter doiUi, 114 *l 

Vab^ i$6. ^H 


ValUraal, tbo Am, ■}«, ^^H 

— Imwmh pfOfnM to Oia, 

vu. ^H 


Valtntiaiaaa, tlio, J9& ^^H 
Talkbai. or Va)ac«L 1. j^. ^H 

— notiobMMMi^witkthaUMttni^ 



— M rtllM|» to bwoMMtM tkMI 

will) Ibo tMcbi^ «( Um Tcdo*, 

Vona^ 1^ 17, t»i. 130, IJ3. tit. 
— tMtOaraaooi jy 


— ator* tba Ughuiuic. '»». *ih 

- thno olagao «f tboogkt u lo tbo 


■ool, 150. 



Va«iti«i. i/Mr« witk Ow ttw^kK 

— o« tM man «r tooU to «wu, 

498- '^ 


V4ru, au. obd. til, ije, tat, lU. 

— boUtf bi IwWU* thine* 1> >!>•■ 

1 35. »*:• 


Vada.|>.4b '^■■odZoraaaUr WlM 

— kBuwlKlKO nr IkiOl botU* tktii 

food Mika in, 190, 


— a Ular dorclofunnit timi tbr 


y«£a Hjmii^ 193. 

-rilfc;,. "^ _ 



Tvdk, Inijwriknl fnr Ph^ilckl uil 
PtfDliDliiginl lUligiuD, 95. 

— Ruperhuiiuui, loj. 

— kDO«t«l(^, or langtucc. 103. 
~ ii ftVuti. 104. 

— ft book with vanvt tal*. 1 1 1. 

— hutorioal growtb of, 141. 

— •trumlo for hl);hcr Idea of tbo 

G«lli««il in, >J7. 

— thii t^uta«ID• "•liw In, a]), 140. 
^ ■liidjr of, TMtrictod, 3301. 

— and ATMta, elota oonuwrtian of 

Uagnuai of, 180. 

— -DknHM (huwd in conunon. 181. 

— vomtnon bawkgrouiiii uf, 103. 
V.'dinU.9;.i<io, fjcj. 

— lileisluri-, ibrto ^lurfiMli of, lOI. 

— IchiwU, tw". I07>II3, 114. 

~ thavlM on tha Mul, llj, 116, 

— fonndcd on liiniti, 141. 

— doccrlno on InunoitolUy, 134. 

— Ma pk>lo*ophiatl >y*leia, iNl. 

— nlU > Tolifion, 314. 

— numi ohuMlor 'ir, 31$. 

— Mfnicoftrda (i;aiiL>t liovDor, ])& 

— (nal HDd Goj in, ^Tfi. 

' — iirmaru hi^licat koovle^^o, 31^3. 

— pliilf*j|,ii_T, 66, 77. lo), 104, 

10$, 10;, loS. 

m Iba Sdf, io6l 

hndttiiiMltAl principle of, iSf. 

aiffiut (niin mjitio philuMipli;, 


— — omtlioD in tho. ipt, 
riob in liidilea, 3*4. 

DO TMtriellan on tbe (tadj o(, 



dcbao* bttwwn, 366, 429. 

— iti growlli, 369, 37* 
Vadinu-<atrH, 97. 98, 101, 19}, 

108, »34, jgo. 31]. 

number of. 98, 

DMIKS of, 9H. 

— — tnuiilklluU' ijf, 1 14 a-. 1 16. 

Cliaii. uf (buitb Bouk,i)7(lKg. 

V<tUnU->airM, loM of God nan^ 
InU in. 191. 

ib"rl iiiiiiinkrir uf. JI7. 

Valantimii, it It tbo angM of Sult- 

ii>uil33r- „ 

— likencM Ki mTitio Chntlimulir, 

J 16. 
VciUuiiit. a, on idcutil; aft«rdnti>i. 

— on tbe DialoguB with PnijfA|ial1, 


— on tlio iamvidcinl »ul, ati. 

— aduiita no (Uttera»a* Iwlwwm 

oaoM and otfcol. .^o.t- 
Vod^tiita, Elisticiiliil(an|)hor*Bad 
G«nDaa MptiM, jSo. 

— paMMul God of 0>o, 310L 

— two kind* ot reality to tho, 310. 

— Onatur of Ibo, 3J0. 

— alUib 111* tam-t mhI u Kant, J) I. 

— on union witii Riabman in tlii* 

life. 533- 
Vidio |>raTurii, 16, 17. 

— llyiiiiii, [lalb of tlio noul In. 190. 

— — invocation of tlio Knllicn id. 


— poaW and pbiliMnphoi* advinool 

bej-ond iLeb old fcith comnion 
wiib (ha ZoioMtnaiu, 1S9. 

— Sanikril dlMcult, 179. 

— dtltJM. kiuia uoour a« denwoi in 

tbf AvHla, 1^9, 
Vnidliltd ana Mfcnl, 41, 

— vr Vinillil, 41, 43. 

— Sldah, 43, 

— aRo of. 46' 

— bridge of JCinrnf b tlie. 171. 

— God ai"t Ibc- IIctII In tbo, 1S5. 
Verbal oiijiulii, 77. 

Vnbnm, tridh, wrnl, 141. 

Terirottung and Ver^ttoru n|{i 48 a a. 

Vwta, 36. 

Vibho, hjiU of Brkhtuao. til, lia, 

Vid, lo know, 33. 

Vijrarl riivr, 111, til, 114. 

— iiiuiii ai;(Jn«, 14], IJO, 1)1. 
ViLaWalianu. Ihnine. In, llj, II4. 

— Ihp (ert an<l (iilt* uf, ill. 
VuniUiui, Ijo, Jji, 453. l6o> 

^IwroJw, the fl,,n,| 

i*. «M, 103. 
— »p«nUWioU,« 

;'™:«'ww. 385. 

J,rtdh. J4J. 

VyUMOtrM. 98. 

\«,„Ua», J03. 
" "'llj", i> n. 
W»t«r the IwaJuning 

Wuiog Md muiiBff 

»«irtini-or.oulii, 16 

— of th« d«d in ii,,' 


— by Rubnl), )oi, 
WelM, IT. 
Wollhauian, jj. 

— W» Uanilwion of t 

— on ihc tjifm ^ 


^ 1 

INDEX. 585 


Wrltlnji ItDawD In tuine booki of th» 

Zftralbiiibtn'i aocounl of Abcm 

Mkiela, ;i. 

— talk wlih AhuM Muil*, si> Si- 

— followim ■lijiirinic tbeir faith in 

XENUPHANES on ona Ood. £9. 

— on iha SupniDc Dvi>'|{, Jij, 

tha I>^VM, xSa. 


> tnl biit-iiio avmt, ISH, !!';>■ 

— PImo and Ctoaro on, 331. 

ZurKinayn, oU of, inS, ill. 

Z«lUjr. Dl* PXilo-ophtt I'rf 

— Ukenm of hli Uaclitug to tho 

U|iuil*h>d«, 3 JO, J3I, 33J, JJ3. 

Oritrhen, St, 8>,S3.3i, 107 n,. 

— Seilaa op, Jji. 

»Ho ■>•■ JJS- 

— |)hyticlJ pliilocaph)r of, 331. 

Z«nil Av«<u,errotienn*nain«, 3,i;,30. 
— Uitn>l»lc'1 liit» CirMk, .10- 

VAMA, too, 191, 134. 
— nalui of, 137. (40. 

— prvmrred by Volo^sMi I, J9. 

- language 43. 


— fir»t ofiiiorul*. ij8. 

Zeno, J30. 


— tbo moon, ncii ilie lun, 138 ■. 

— on iho Ltig"', 4fio. 


— nfu tlie lettliiij lun. 139. 

Zea*. lOJ. *i», 447- 

— (taut, uri|j[lii. ig. 


— liiniicuuir uf t)iu wickcU, if>6. 


— p>lli ut', |(h). 

— or .lu[ilu-r, loiiua of, 19. 


— and Vnrurw, ic^. 

-^ UlJ ll^aUH, 73. 


— on the &t« at Uis wlok«(t, IIT, 

— wi-ina i1#r;»»li"n ttena Ci'- TI- 



— of Xenophuici. .ua> J31. 


— in tlio world of ibo Fklben^ 117, 

k |kenanal Mij, 331. 



Cionoon, J31. 


VmnBli'ka, 1 46. 

— of Arl>tiiilc, JUS- 


V'mIii*. tb>', 43. 

Ziminur, 159 n. 


— iigv aU 46. 

Z<>ig»Urr, annlnia of hli Lonkt l>y 


Yanu, thv, 43. 

JUeniiip|)ui. Sj. 


— the nlJ uid laltr, 46^ 

— tenchci nriibfT Fiie-wonhip n'lr 


Ycur, Truui, to tlie wiiiil, 130. 

Duabun. 180. 


Ycehrilm. mnnifnu, iii, ill. 

— and tho Vollo BiihU, mlluloni 


Y»^[»-«Qinw, 317. 

of. iSi. 


y.'^iui 317. 

— nam* hnnun to Plata and Arl< 1 


Vugi», ttic, 353. 

•lullu, 83. 1 

ZnTOutrinn ynyur, 19. 

— rali^on, lun uf many bouk*, fC. ' 


ZAOTAlt, boUr, «». 


Knrathiiililni. j6, )06. 

— idea n( a iiiiritoal and inuUtial 


— ■ at bur cf the Gitiiu, 44. 

— MionsioD of, fr jiu tho Voilio Doru, 


creuiioD, j6. S7- 


— panJtol toiboLoM^57. ' 

— UudajiinlMt, iS«. 1 


— hit mooolbciini. 1S3. 

ZuroNitrtullim raritod by thn 5m> 1 


— trteii ui lulTe tho (icdblom of tha 

uiiluui, 40, 


oiliUnca (if till, 184. 

ZoniHtnaoa in aoma polaU niut* 


— >|D«iilluii«d \ij on* of th« (!»■ 

aiRi[ila thiiii th* Vadic pbtliMa- 


part«il, I^S. 

(ibera, ig^, 


TnR END. ^ 



mouMnm vx 


Httopadeni. Eine alte iadkchc FabelrammluDg, aus 
<lcm SftDKkrit zuiu ereteu Mftl iuh Deutechv ubvr- 
sotzt. 1^44- (Out of print.) 

Mi.'j;;hadfita, dcr Wulkcnbotv, dom KilidUsa nachga* 
dichtut. 1 847. (Out of print.) 

On the Rcrlation of tlio Ilongali to the Aryan and 
Aboriginal Laiiguageii of India. 1847. (Tran»- 
actions of the British Aesocialion for 1 847.) 

Itig-Vcda-Sanihita.. The Sacrod Hymns of the BrAh- 
uuuu, toj^cthcr with tho Commontary of S&yan&- 
Hrya, edited by K. M.M. 6 vols. 4to. 1S49-1873. 

On the Turanian Languages. Letter to Chevalier 
BuDsen. 1853. (Out of print.) (In Bunscn'a 
Christianity and Mankind, vol. Ill, pp. 263 svq.) 

On lodian Logic (iu Thomson's 'Laws of Thought'). 

Fiopoaals for a Uniform Missionnry Alphabet. 18,54. 
^ggMUoDS for the Aheistauco of OUicers in Learning 

the Languages of the Seat of War ut Uie Fast. 


Tb« Luiguftgos of the Scat of Wat in (he EabI ; witE 
a Survey of the three Familien of Language. 
Semitic, Aryan, and Turanian. Second Editiwn. 
Willi an Appendix on tho Missionary A1phnl>«t 
and au Ethnological Map by A. Pbtkumanm. 
' H5- (*^u' of print.) 

Comparative Mytliology. 1K56. (Reprinted in 'Chips 
from a Gennan Workshop.') 

Deutsche Liebe. Aus den Papiuren einee Fremdiings. 
1K57. Ninth Edition, iXSy. 

Buddhism and Fudilhint Filgrima. 1857. (l{«print«d 
in 'CliipH from a Gonnan Worksliop.') 

The Ocnoan CIa«sica from the Fourth to the Nine- 
teenth Century. 1X58. New Edition, by F. 
Lichtenstoin. a vols. Oxford, 18R6. 

Correspondence relating to the Eatabliiihmvnt of an] 
Oriental College in Loudon, (Reprinted 

A History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature. 1H59. 

Second Edition, 1K60. (Out of print.) 
Ancient Hindu Aotmnomy and Chronology. 1861. 

(From fourth volume of the Rig-Veda.) 
Lectures on the Science of Language, deltvered at the 

Boyal Institution of Great Britain- Vol. I, 1861. 

Vol II, 1867. Foui-toenth Edition. iH8(5. 
Uitopodom. Sanskrit Text with Interlinear Trans- 
literation, Grammatical Analysifl, and Knglisli 

Translation. 1S66. 
A Sanskrit Grammar for Beginners. 1866. Second 

Edition, 1870. New and abridged Bditiou, by 

A. A. Macdonell. 1886. 

Chips from a Oi>ri»aii Worktilmp. 4 vols. 1867- 
187.5. Second Edition. Vols. I, II. iHfiH. 
(Out of print. A selection published under th« 
title of 'Selocto<) EMiayB-'J 

Vuicai L 
I^tDiW on tho VmIju, or Ibu Siurail Books of lb* Brtb- 

loan*, duliv»r*rf >■ Lwds, 1863. 
Chrltt and other Hiuten, iBjS. 
Th« VmU and Z«nd-ATO«u, 1833. 
Th« Aitemyn-BrthniniM. 1864. 
On the Stud; of Uia Keud-AvnU In ludla, iSfia. 
ProgrDuorZ<!lld8chuIn^lh!|^ 1865. 
G«4io*lii and tliv Zunil-AvivM, |86«. 
Tho Uodnm Pu*U, iS6a. 
BuddltUm, 186a. 
BuddkUt ntgrl<n*> i^SI- 
Tho HMniiiK «l NirvlHU. 1637. 
Chliiaw TniKlftllbiiH of S«ii»kiil Texta, iB6t. 
Tliu Works of Conruoiiu, 1B61. 
Popol Vuh, 1B63. 
Bomitic UonoiIiHlim, 1660. 

Vounn n. 
Oompanitivi' HytholoiQr. 1B5& 
OrMh M}-lholog7. iSje. 
OrMk LegBDd*, 1867. 
BeUoropboD, i8yj, 
Th« Mon«m«n in l«ttUnd, 183& 
Folk-Lonv 1863. 
Zuin KwMiy Tkl»a. 1867. 
Popular TalM from tlw Xorvo, 1 6*,% 
TiJo of (h.> \\\*t HiKlili>nd<i, 1S61. 
Oil MRiiiivrn aiwl Oiutuin^ 186^ 
Our KiKurat, 1863. 
CuKU, iSs^- 

▼oLma m. 
0«nnan LitoMun, iSsft 
OM 0«rraan LorvSongR, i&jfi. 

1 lie Joiirniil 
l-hflsot. i85( 

I'acnn in Oe 
A German 1 
CorniBh Ant 
Are there Je 
The Inaulati 
Buiueii, i86( 
I«ttsn from 

loanguis] Le 
»8 a brani 

Note A. On 

Mole B. Did 
tive SinguL 

Kote C. Grat 
Bo-oalled In 

Rc<ie Lecture, 
delivemd bi 

BeJe Lecture, 

Lecture on thi 


Appendix. O 


Hot* B. Thti Vi>R>tiir«i of Dj^i'iK mxl Zivt, 

K«it C, Ary*ii Wurdu qovurriiiv in Zend but not in SUti- 

liMtaio en MUaion*, i]allT*r«d in W«iltainite( Abbojr, 

DMBtnbcr 3. i8;j- 
Keto A. l*»it>iAt|<>* »lii.-wlns til* Uioiiiaitry B[ilril of 

Note B. Thf Rr^hiim in thi- Brntimn-^ninAj. 
Not« C Extract* froni Ki^liuh Chuudur Son's Lwlun*. 
I>r. SUulaj^a Introductory Sormoii on Chriktlnn Mluli.ns. 
On tlii> VlUlity of Brthniuiiiain, piMt«eri|>t to the L*Mlir« 

'111 MiMiona liVtaipUfy Hmru, July, 1874), 
Addrns on the Iinportan«« of Oriontal Sludii-t, doUrvnid 

nt ibo InturnktioDol Cohdmh «< Orlantalliitii In Loiid.<ii, 

Life of Culolirooka, with dtrncl* from hii HAuuAi>ri|>t 

Holm on Cui»[im«Uv» Pbilology ^£UtntuivA timtm, 

Oololwr, 1679]. 
Reply t» Mr. Darnin (OutEmiwrarv Bnime, JanxMijr, ttj$). 
Ill Sulf-Defonco. 
Indoxm Volo-IIt. nndlV. 

()n i\\c StrntiHciitiuii of LuiijjuKgc Sir Roliort Rede's 
Lecluru, ildivereil ut Cjiinbritlgo. i«6S. 

Rig-VGda-Su)»hiUl. Tho Sacred Hymiis of the BrAh- 
maus. TntiusIiitiMl aitil cxpliLiiiud by F. M. M. 
Vol. I: Hyuinn to ihe Marut-i. 1H69. 

Rig-Ve<la>Pi'&tL»akhya : Dns iiltctite Lehrbuch der 
VudiBclicn I'hoiietik. S&imkrit Tuxt mit UcWr- 
8cuung und Aiimerkiingi!ii. Loipxig, iH6g, 

Buddhaglioslia's Parables Iruislatod from Burmeee by 
Captniu T. Rogrks, wttli a» Intrmluotton con* 
taiiiing Buddlm'H Dhaiutnapada, translated from 
Pali by F. M. M. 1S70. 

Letters on the War between Germ&ny and Frnne«, by 

T. Momrosi-n, D. F. Strauss, F. i\&x MUllor, anil 

T. Carljle. 1871. 
Speech Rt thi; GemuiD Pence Fctftiv&l in London, 

ll«y, 1871. Leipzig, 1871. 
Uobtr dio Rosuhate dcr Spraeh vlsBCOBChafl. Vorli>- 

ftung. Stnusburg. itl;!. 
On HiasioOT: a Lecture dulivered in Wcsttninsli-r 

Abbey, with an Introductory Sermon by A. I', 

Stanley. London, iHj^. (Out of print.) 
The HymnB of the Rig- Veda in the Sanibit& and Pada 

Texte. (Reprinted £rom Uiu Edilio Prinoepa.) 

a voIb. 187,1. 
Lectures on Mr. Dartcin's Fhitanophy of Laoguage, 

dvlivorcx] at Uiu Royal InsUtulion in March and 

April, 1873. (Out of print.) 
Introduction to the Scioncv uf Religion: Four Lectures 

delivered at the Royal Imtitution. 1873. New 

Edition, 1880. 

Basadow.J.B. (M.M.'s great (;:randfatber}, a Biography, 
in AHf}etnnr\e Dcutuche Biografihit. 1875, 

Schiller's Brlofwechsol mit Ecrzog Christian von 
Schli-6n'ig-HulKU>la. 1875. 

Uekor Ablative auf d nut LooAtivbcdeutung (Jnhr- 
biidior fur Philologie. 1876, Heft 10, 'Se]cot«d 
lis^ays '). 

On S[)elliug. London and Bsth, 1876. 18S6. 

Leciurea on the Origin and Growth of Religion, u 
illustrated by the Riligioiis of India. Ujbbeii 
Lectures, i87t>. Last Edition, 1891, 

Thv Upani»ha>lH, trorutlfitftd. (Sacr«d Rooks of Uio 
Kast. Vol. I, 1879; VoL XV, iK«4.) 

Selected Kasaya on Language, Mytliology, aod Ito- 

li^on. 3 voIh. 1881. 
Imtnanuel Kant's CriU<iue of Pure Rfiason, in Com- 
memoration of titct Centenary of its Firflt Pub- 

licatiitn. Tran»lated by M. M., with Introductioii 

by L. Noit^ 1K81. 
The Dlinminapaiia, tran8!iit«d from PAU. 1881. (Vol, 

X, Part I of Sabred Bookft of tiio KoAt.) 
Buddhittt Texts from Japan, edited ia the Aryan Series 

of the Anecdota Oxonieosia, I, i. 1881. 
Saori'd Bnoka of the Eaet Ijetter to Uie Very Rev. 

the Dean of Christ Church. Oxford, 1883. 
SukhftvatlvyCiha, Description of Sukhavati, The Land 

of Bliea. edited by F. M. M. and Bunyiu Nanjio. 

(Anectluta Oxoniouuia, Vol. I, Part li. 1883.) 
Indiii, WliAt can it Tvach usl A Courau of Lectures 

delivered before the University of CambridgLV 

1883. New Edition. 1892. 

Biographical Essays: London. 1884. 

RitJBh lUinmobun Rojr, 1774 -1863 (wriltim tfiSj). 
Kmhuli Cbunil«r Son, 183S 1684 [writk'n iSfti). 
Dn^rOnanila Simuvatl, i637']SS3 ;wrill<in 1S84). 
Bunyiu Nnnjio, 1049, ukd Kenjia Kuumts. 1&51-1883 
(wrictiMi i3fi4 . 

from a. OorniBn Workshop,' Ir, 371). 
Mulil, i8oo-i8]fi i.Om'impvrtrji Rtti*^ Atif, iSjG), 
Bunuiti. 1791-1660 ^'Chip* from ■ QwniBii Workabop,' 

IH, 358;. 
KiiiGiitojr, i8aO'-ift7sC'^'*'>*'*t*'^'roinDoDtwb«R<iii(Uclua, 

Chips from a German Worksbop, new and rwueJ 
edition, vol. I, Recent Kssays and Addteuc^, 
1 894 ; vol. II, Biographical E&stys, 1 895 ; voL lU, 
£s3a;i-s on Language and Liteiatare, 1893; vol 
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HitTORv OP Enoi.and ih ths Rick- 


Utrtrj eauitt. 8 voli. 8to, £j 41. 

CaHiW SdififH. Enci.ahcx 710)1. 

C(. Ivu., it. MCb. iRGLIIIilD. S 
voli. Crown Svo., On. locb. 

volL tJrowD Svo.. i6r. 


or THE SriHiT or Ratiohaliui ih 
EuRonL s voLk. Cidwb 8*0., 161. 


■vo,, 3b. 
THK EMrin: id Value «ndiu Growth. 
An laausiirsl AddnndcDocTadal tlw 
Impenalliuiitiiie. November 00,1893. 
(.TOvm Bto.. II. <rf. 

Ii0w«U.— UovuiKMsM-n AXi) Paktik* 
iM CoimxRirrAL Evbofk. Of a. 
Lawbbncs I^wsli. a tolh Svol. 

TiiK Life AMn WniiKior LokhMac- 
AULAT. 'SUttirtf EdUita. loveU 
SvOk. 61. each. 
VoU. I.-IV. HiaroETor Exoland. 



Vol Vlli. SpNBCNEt: Ljlti or 
AKCtKMT Rome: Mticiu.A!<Koiti 


VolE IX. and .X. The Utx AMD 
Lettkm o» Loan MacauLay. 
Br Itie Rtshi lion. SitO. a TReve- 
LVAX, Bait., M.P. 

7"*(i JSditim ii a iXuftr rrfritl of I** 
tiirary B-iiUtM o< U«u MACAl'LAVt 
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