Stom f^e £i6targ of (prcfefifior ^ifftam J^^^^J? (Breen QBequeaf^eb 6^ ?)ixn io f^e &i6rarg of (pnncefon C^eofogtcaf ^emtnarg Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/ancientworldchriOOpres THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. THE ANCIENT WORLD CHRISTIANITY. E. De PRESSENSE, D.D., AUTHOR OF 'the early years of ciiRisTiANiry," "a study of origins," etc. TRANSLATED BY ANNIE HARWOOD HOLMDEN. A. C. ARMSTRONG & SON, 714. BROADWAY. PREFACE. THE conflict between science and Christianity has been of late years waxing closer and hotter. The natural sciences, elated by their magnificent triumphs, have claimed as their own the whole domain of know- ledge, ignoring altogether the higher life and the God from whom it springs, and attributing all effects to tlie action of mechanical causes. The advance of materialism has not, however, gone on unchecked. We have seen of late some of the most eminent representatives of natural science, men who could not be suspected of any undue religious bias, limiting its sphere to the observation of the phenomena which come within the range of the senses, and affirming its incompetence to enter the higher region of first causes. This was notably the attitude taken by Professor Virchow at the Jubilee of the University of Edin- burgh. Without pronouncing any opinion on the origin of things, he refused to relegate it to the domain of the unknowable, and distinctly defined the limits beyond which natural science cannot legitimately press its methods of observation. The blatant atheism of our streets and stump orators knows nothing of these limitations of true science, and imagines that the evolutions of matter viii PREFA CE. explain, not only all natural, but all spiritual phenomena. The same ignorance is manifested even by grave critics, who affirm that the progress of science is incompatible with theism, and thus efface the whole moral history of man. But wherever the just limitation of positive science by itself is admitted, there is the implied recog- nition of a higher sphere to be explored by methods appropriate to it. The great organ of knowledge in the moral world is conscience, of which the law of duty, inseparable from free-will, is the fundamental axiom. In preparing the present work, we have traced with profound satisfaction, the indications of this Divine law through all the religions of antiquity as these have come down to us in their sacred books. Everywhere and always we have found the voice of conscience uplifted in support of the law of right, even when this had become gravely obscured in the national worship. Everywhere we have found the soul of man soaring above the earth and aspiring after immortal life, crying out for a God greater than any local and national divinities, and uttering bitter lamentations because it failed to find that which it sought, and, while it perceived the good, was powerless to achieve it. And shall we be told that a soul, thus exercised with strong and holy desires, is nothing more than an aggregate of atoms, held together by material laws ? Our belief in the spiritual nature of man is not a blind and bigoted adherence to a creed ; it is a deliberate conviction only confirmed by the results of free inquiry. Again, when we find that eighteen centuries ago, in the decadence of a world ready to perish, the unutterable groaning of creation was answered by a sovereign mani- PRE FA CE. ix festation of holiness and love, which caused a new river of life to flow through the thiisty land, this great fact, attested by unquestionable documents, gives confirmation to our faith in Christ. And in this troubled evening of the nineteenth century, when it is easy to forecast the gloomy future of a democracy without God, and conse- quently without any adequate m.oral sanctions, our only hope of an effective salvation for society lies in that great spiritual force, which eighteen centuries ago put new life and vigour into a state of society as effete and troubled as that of to-day. There seems to us a peculiar interest at the present time in tracing by the light of history, the manifestations and victorious efforts of this great moral force. We recognise fully that in such an investigation, facts must not be wrested to support theories, and that impartiality is a sacred duty. It has been our earnest endeavour to conform to this canon of all true criticism. E. DE Pressens6, CONTENTS. PREFACE INTRODUCTION Vll — IX . xix — xxxi BOOK I. CHAPTER I. THE STARTING-POINT OF THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION 3— Prehistoric Man — Religion of Savage Peoples — Religion of Mexico and Peru — Conditions of the Religious Evolution, PAGB -23 CHAPTER n. CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION 24—51 § I. Its Sources. Soil— Climate — The Accadians and Sumirs — The Cushites — The Three Periods— Chaldean Account of the Creation— Story of the Deluge. § n. T/ie Phases of the Religions Evolution. First Period — Chaldeo-Babylonian Period. § in. The Assyrian Period. Confession of Sin — Idealisa- tion of the Gods — Prayer — The Psalm of Penitence — Retribution in a Future Life — Art — Paradoxes of this Religion. xii CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. PAGE THE RELIGION OF EGYPT ..... 52 — 93 The Land of the Nile — The Character of the People — Their History — Social Constitution. § I. first Fhase of the Religions Development of Egypt. Early Religious Conceptions. § II. The Root Ideas of the Reh\^ion of Egypt after Prehistoric limes. Militant Character of the Gods — The Great Divine Triad — The Only (9«^— The Evil Element present in him — Conflict between the Gocd and Evil Element — Glorification of the Greater Gods — The Lesser Gods— I^gyptian Anthropology — The Victory of Osiris — The Earthly Life a Preparation for the Heavenly — The Egyptian Priesthood — The Sacred Animals — Worship- — Sepulture — I'eath not Destruction — The Great Journey heyond the Tomb — Judgment — Victory — Funeral Obsequies — The Judgment— The Deceased identified with his God — The Moral Idea in the Religion of Egypt — The Pleading of the Deceased — Self-satisfaction — The Grandeur of Egypt — Sublime Intuitions — The Consciousness of Evil — Decline of the Egyptian Religion — Egyptian Art. CHAPTER IV. THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA 94 — IIO Place of Phoenicia in History — The Race — History — Country ■ — Primitive Fetishism — The Phoenician Gods — The Imitation of the Gods — Imitation of their Cruelty — Sacred Prostitutions — The Phoenician Tomb — The Myth of Adonis — Phoenician Art- Mission of Phoenicia. BOOK II. CHAPTER L THE PRIMITIVE ARYANS. ..... II3 120 The Cradle of the Aryans — Constitution of the Family — Civi- lisation of the Early Aryans — Moral and Religious Ideas. C0NTEN2S. CHAPTER II. PAGE THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. . . , 121 — 140 § I. Historical Swvey. Nature of the Country — Historical Development — Formation of the Sacred Books. § II. Basis of the Religion of Iran— Common Origin luith the Vedas. § III. The Religion of Zoroaster. The Sacred Books — The Good God — The Evil Principle — Struggle of Life against Death — Worship — Importance of Sacred Words — Absence of Sacer- dotalism and Asceticism — Fall of the First Man — Zoroaster the First Messiah of Iran — The Judgment of Souls — Soshyos the Mess'ah of the Future— First Triumph of the Good God— Grand Moral Intuitions — Exaltation c? the Monarchy — Sense of Sin — Aspirations after the Future. BOOK III. CHAPTER I. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS . . . 143 — 187 § I. Gejieral Characteristics. § II. The Three Phases of the Religion of the Vedas. § III. The Solar Gods. Keen Sense of Natural Beauty — The Dawn — The Asvins -Tlie Sun — Spiritualisation of Natural Phe- nomena. § IV. The Gods of the Sacrifices. Agni and Soma confounded with the Great Gods — Both Agni and Soma deified — Identifica- tion of the Offering with the God — Man the Son of Agni — Worship of Agni and Soma — Deification of Prayer^ Various Acts of Worship— Immortalijy of Man — The Soul an Emanation from the Celestial Fire— Deification of Ancestors (Pitris) — Absorption of the Soul in the Celestial Fire — Moral Intuitions. § V. Indra. Indra the God of the Battle of the Storm— Indra fights also upon Earth — His Companions, the Maruts — Indra CONTENTS. Worship offered to Indra— Indra the Froteclor of Man — Pathetic Prayers to Indra— Exaltation of Indra — The Pantheistic Element prevails. § VI. Vanina. Varuna becomes the God nf the Conscience — His Sovereignty — His Omniscience — Flis Holiness — Develop- ment of Conscience — Sense of Sin. § VII. The Close of the Vedic Religion. Confusion of all the Gods — Metaphysical Difficulties — Persistent Aspirations. CHAPTER 11. TRANSFORMATION OF THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS AFTER THE SETTLEMENT OF THE VEDIC ARYANS ON THE BANKS OF THE GANGES .... l83 — 221 § I. Growth of Brahnianism. The Aryans en the Banks of the Ganges — Distinction of Castes — Brahma becomes the Supreme God — Gradual Growth of Brahmanism — Reform of Worship. § II. The Speculative Evolution of Brahmanism. § III. The Rdigijus Life during the Brahman ical Period. The Laws of Manu — Their Theoretical Teaching — Exaltation of Brahmanism — Preparation of the Brahman — Sacred Studies — Purifying Sacrifices — Importance of Sacred Formularies — The Brahman to be a Father — Laws for Family Life — Purity of Domestic Morals — Duties of the King— Social Justice — Witness of Conscience — Tendency to Asceticism. § IV. The Messiah of the Brahmans in the Indian Epics. Aspirations after a Human God — The Incarnations of the Great Poems — The Gods of the Incarnations — Brahma in the Human Gods — Design of the Incarnations — The God Incarnate is the Great Conqueror — The Supreme God in the Warrior — Pantheistic Basis of the Great Poems. CHAPTER IIL BUDDHA. • • 222 — 259 Tendency of all the Religions of India to Buddhism — Buddha the Incarnation of his own Doctrine — Personal Influence of Buddha — His Great Characteristic is Pity — Buddhism more than a Solar Myth. § I. Primitive Buddhism. Brilliant Youth of Buddha — The Four Meetings — Buddha leaves his Palace — His Asceticism sur- CONTENTS. PAGO passes that of the Brahmans— The Temptation under the Bo- tree — He inaugurates his Misi-ion — Charm of Buddhi's Teaching — The "Four Noble Truths" — The "Eight Steps" — The Four QuaUties of Man — Nirvana, its Metaphysical I'asis— Share As- S'gned to Liberty in the Doctrine ol Karnui — Moral Teacliing of Buddha — The Buddhist Order of Mendicants — Parables of Buddha — Closing Period of his Life — A'ovissiina verba. § IL Development and TransfoDnation of rriniilive Buddhism. Me'aiihysical Buddhism — Mytliological Development — Buddhist Monasteries — A9oka, the Buddhist Constantine — Edicts of A9oka— Later History of Buddhism — Buddha a Real Ptrson — Buddhism the Final Utterance of Naturisni in India. BOOK IV. iflUnir Ipapnisn. CHAPTER L ITS FIRST PERIOD 263 — 295 General Characteristics. § I. Conditions Favourable to Development of Humanism in Greece, Formation of the Greek Nationality — Successive Coloni- sations—Greek Humanism — .^isthetic Sense — Delight in the Plastic Arts — Development of the Intellectual Faculties — The Language of Greece- — Nature of the Country — Its Beauty — De- mocratic Constitution — National Unity — Delphi the Centre of Greece — Heroic National Life. § II. First Development of the Greek Conscience in the Direction of Humanity. Important Influence of Art — Danger of the Human- istic Tendency — The Greek Myth — Paradoxes of Early Myths — Lay Character of the Priesthood — Naturalistic Origin of the Gods of Greece — The Humanism of Homer — The Humanism of the Homeric Epos — Nature the Mirror of Man — A More Elevated Conception of Deity — Contradictions in the Homeric Theodicy — The Theogony of Hesiod — Its Invincible Dualism — Moral Solu- tion anticipated — Dualism its Final Utterance. § III. The Greek Cultus. Priesthood not an Exclusive Caste — Saciii^ce CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. THE RELIGION OF GREECE IN ITS FULL DEVELOPMENT 296 — 346 § I. The Worship of Apollo. The Delphic Oracle— Apollo the Saviour-God. § II. The Worship of Minerva — Development of Hellcnisiit tinder Fericlcs. Influence of Pericles — Athenian Civilisation — Ncble Poetry — Artistic Development — Development of Greek Art — Phidias — Polygnotus — Praxiteles. § III. Development of the Conscience of Gretce on the Human Side — The Great Mysteries — The Ttagedies. Theognis — Pindar — The Mysteries of Eleusis — Orphism — The Dionysus of the Mys- teries— His i'urifying Passion. § IV. Development of the Greek Conscience in the Great Tra- gedies— The Greek Tragedies — The Myth of Hercules — Summary of the Religious Evolution of Greece. CHAPTER III. GREEK PHILOSOPHY 347 — 39O § T. First Feriod of Greek Philosophy. Philosophical Genius of Greece — Great Mi^-sion of Greek Philosophy — Sequence in its Philosophical Sysiem — Same Evolution in Philosophy as in Reli- gion— The Various Schools of Pliilosophy — The Ionian School — The P) thtgorean — The Elean — Parmenides — The Aiomist School — Heracleitus — Scepticism of the Sophists. § II. Seco)id Feriod of Lreek Philosophy. § III. Socrates. § IV. Plato. § V. Aristotle. BOOK V. 6itto-g0mait f agatiism antr its Srrlim. CHAPTER I. CHANGE THAT PASSED OVER ANCIENT PAGANISM, FROM THE TIME OF ALEXANDER AND UNDER THE ROMANS ........ 393 — 41I § I. Greece tinder Alexander and his Successors. Greece after Alexander — Alexandria supplants Athens — Suppression of Politi- CONTENTS. PAGE cal Liberty — Religious Scepticism — Epicureanism— Stoicism — Decline of Literature— Decline of Art. § II. Home before and after (he Conquest of Greece — The Reli- gion of Rome to the Time of Augustus. National Spirit of Rome — Character of its Religion— Naturalistic Basis— Abstract Character of the Religion — The Celestial Gods— The Terrestrial Gods— The Gods of the Under World— The Penates— Genii— Important Part assigned to Divination — Formalism of Roman Piety — Worship of the State— Deification of the Fatherland— Rapid Religious Deca- dence— Corrupting Influenct of Greece, CHAPTER IL THE PAGAN WORLD AT THE COMING OF CHRIST . 419— 461 § I. Religion under Augustus. Strong Contrast in the Roman Empire — Rapid Decomposition — Religion an Institution of State Convenience^Augustus restores the Altars — Augustus prepares his own Apotheosis — Political Character of these Reforms. § 11. Social and Moral Condition of the Greco- Roman World at this Period. Excessive Luxury — Real Impoverishment — Uni- versal Slavery — Growing Immorality — Satiety — Disgust of Life — Decadence of Letters — Servility of Art. § III. Reiii^ion and Philosophy after the Augustan Age. Incre- dulity and Superstiiion — Apotheosis of the Caesars — Corruption of Religion— Spread of Impiety and Superstition — Inclination to Alien Religions — Apollonius of Tyana — Roman Philosophy — The New Academy — Cicero — Roman Epicureanism — Roman Stoicism — Seneca — Epictetus — Plutarch — Failure of Philosophers to satisfy Aspirations — Virgil — The Sighing of Humanity — The Fulness of the Time. CONCLUSION ....,.). 462 — 470 INDEX . . . . « » « I • '47^ INTRODUCTION. T is impossible to enter intelligently into the history of the rise and progress of Christianity, without taking at least a preliminary glance at the antecedent moral history of the ancient world. We feel the more strongly the necessity of this introductory study, because there is a school which disputes the originality and distinctive character of Christianity, maintaining that it gives us nothing more than a synthesis of pre-existing elements under the form of a new myth. It is the result, we are told, of the impact of the Greek with the Jewish mind in an age of universal syncretism. This thesis, brilliantly reproduced in the learned work of M. Havet,^ can only be sustained or refuted by the moral history of the ancient world. We are firmly persuaded that if, instead of citing as evidence isolated passages (often truly admirable) from certain Greek writers, the critic were to follow out their train of connection in the various religious or philo- sophic systems, he would have to confess that no parallel can be drawn between the Gospel and Hellenism. Helle- nism is essentially dualistic. Hence it fails, like all the religions of the East, to account for the existence of the material element, except by identif3ang it with the principle of evil, which is thus accepted as a part of the normal and necessary order of things. ' "Le Christiar.isme et ses origines" (Ernest Havet). INTR OD UCTION. But the contrast between such a religion and that of Christ only comes out fully if we look at Christianity in its pristine purity, before its stream had been rendered turbid by the admixture of foreign elements, derived largely from old world traditions. The representatives of Christianity have often (to use the familiar figure of Hippolytus) been like those who patch up old garments, for they have only put a new face on some of the W'Orn- out errors of paganism.^ We shall only learn to dis- tinguish this hybrid religion, known in the Church as heresy, from the pure Gospel, by a just appreciation of the religious and philosophical development of the ancient world. Let us not be misunderstood. While we maintain that the originality and superiority of the Christian doctrine is clearly established by a careful examination of antece- dent religious systems, we do not deny that it presents many analogies and points of contact with them. We utterly repudiate the apologetics which dismiss all the virtues of paganism as splendida vitia, and its often sub- lime intuitions of moral and religious truth as the mirage of the desert. We are deeply convinced, like the Alex- andrine Fathers, that paganism retained and developed important elements of truth, and we are very far from saying that these can have been only the residue of an inspired tradition. The soul of man can never be re- garded as a blank sheet of parchment, passively receiving the impress of a primeval revelation. ' "God Himself," says Theodoret, "has graven ineffaceable characters on man's deepest nature."" Or, as Clement of Alexandria says, " The soul turns to the light, as the plant to the sun."^ Justin Martyr w-as not wrong when he said that ' Hippolytus, (" Phi'.osophoumena," p. 94). ''' 'let dtoxa.pa.KTo. ypa.iJ.ix wra, (Theodoret, p. 4S3). ' Clement cf Alexairiria. IJVTR on UCTION. there is a seed of the Word in the soul. We go further and say that the pagan world was never left to itself. The natural revelation was quickened and made effectual by the direct operation of God, who, to use the figure of a Father of the Church, makes His rain to fall upon the desert as well as on more favoured soil.-^ Thus pagan humanity had a vague yearning after all that was noblest ill Christianity. May we not say that it stretched out its hands towards it for the satis.act'on it failed to find in itself? It was no small thing to have thus learned its own spiritual ineptitude. And here comes out the capital difference between the religion of Christ and all that went before it. Ciiristi- anity is not primarily teaching or doctrine, though it embraces this. It is primarily a great fact ; and as M. Scherer has well said in reference to M. Havet's work, it claims to bring effectual help through a Person who stands alone in history. Undoubtedly all religions assume in some way the task of relieving and raising humanity. But if we compare the way in which they have fulfilled this flanction, with that which Christianity has given to the world, we shall see in all their tentative effjrts to save an unhappy race, only another expression of the human yearnings which Christ alone can satisfy. Hence all the analogies pointed out between the Gospel teaching and the religious and philosophical conceptions of the ancient world, do not detract at all from its originality. However lofty the ideal of the old teachers of religion, it is still nothing more than an ideal, and there still remains the same interval between it and the Gospel, as between an idea and its full realisa- tion. The deeper the yearning of the ancient world, the greater the need for the response which Christianity alone can give. The keener the hunger, the stronger the ' Theodoret, p. 484. IKTR OD UCTION. cry for the bread, which the famishing soul cannot evolve for itself out of the void within. Speaking of the sorrows and aspirations of humanity, M. Renan says, using a bold poetic figure, that with our tears we make for ourselves a God. We change one word and say that with our tears we call for a God, and that these holy tears are the very anointing of the great Healer.^ Before entering on a review of the religious and philo- sophical development of the ancient world, we will attempt to define a little more clearly our general idea of what is commonly called the great preparation for the Gospel. We have said enough to show in what sense we use the word evolution in relation to history. Without entering at all into the scientific question of the transfor- mation of species, by virtue of a power of development inherent in themselves, we do refuse absolutely to identify this internal principle (supposing its existence proved) with mere mechanical force. If it could be thus identified, it would follow that there is no power in the world but motion, and motion governed not by mind or will or moral force, but by a blind mechanical necessity. In such a case there could be no history at all in the true sense. We can never admit that mind can be identified with a mere combination of atoms. We maintain, with Tyndall, that between motion, which is the play of mechani- cal forces, and the consciousness of motion, which is thought, there is a great gulf. Reason would do violence ' We apply the same criticism to the learned work of M. Leblois, " Les Bibles et les institutions religieuses de Ihumanite," vol. iii., as to M. Havet's book. It is of great value as a collection of noble testi- monies from the human conscience in the ancient world. But, on the one hand, the author neglects almost invariably to define the main thought to be illustrated by these admirable fragments ; and, on the other hand, he ignores the unique character of Christianity as the religion of fulfilment. These " Bibles of hum.anity " are full of sublime aspirations, but they are found wanting, because they cannot bridge over the gulf between the ideal and the real. nVlR OD UCIION. to its first law, if it were to subordinate thought, mind, the moral life, to matter in motion. If the cause is greater than the effect, it must at least possess that which the effect possesses. We are con- vinced, with Socrates, Plato, and Descartes, that the cause, the principle which gave us being, possesses in its perfection that which is but imperfectly developed in our- selves, the creatures of yesterday. Hence we attribute the reason and thought which we find in ourselves, to the principle of all things, and recognise that in Him they must exist in a state of perfection. It follows that God must be absolute thought, absolute reason, which is but another way of expressing the infinite, of which we have an inward intuition, though our finite minds cannot fully apprehend it. Again, the very marks of design in creation would suffice to set aside the theory of merely mechanical evolu- tion, which is repugnant to the most elementary psy- chology. But we observe in ourselves another element beside thought. We find in the depths of our conscience, a law of obligation, associated with our sense of personal responsibility -the sacred, irrepressible intuition of moral good which appeals to our will. This appeal would be meaningless if we were not free agents, for there must be first the willing to do good. This power to will and to do that which is right, is the fulfilment of the higl;est intention and possibility of our being — the ver}^ crown of our liberty. Again tracing back the elTect to the cause, and attributing to the cause the perfect realisation of that which we find in the effect, we recognise in God not only absolute reason, but absolute liberty, absolute good, in a word the moral life in fullest power. We have thus liberty both in the cause and the effect, in God and in man. Henceforth we have to watch the progress not of a fatalistic evolution, but of history and religious la;:t^ry. INTR OD UCTION. History, as it appears to us, is a perpetual conflict between two contrary principles, which we recognise under the most diverse forms — the principle of the good and true, and the principle of evil. This dualism of history implies that humanity is not now in its normal condition. Had it remained in its primeval state, history would indeed have been nothing but the record of steady, unimpeded progress and develop- ment. If the free-will of man had continued in perfect harmony with that of God, history would have been one prolonged manifestation of this correspondence and of its blessed results. Humanity would have developed like a great tree which grows erect towards heaven. But we say that the primitive harmony between man and God has not continued. Evil has come into the world, evil which cannot be regarded as mere imperfection, arising out of the necessary predominance of the physical, in the early stages of our existence, and sure to be out- grown, like the garments of our childhood. Evil is in our view an abnormal thing, which does violence to order, " heaven's first law." As we cannot deny its existence, so neither can we attribute it to God, for this would imply that God, He whom v.'e have called the Absolute Good, is either weak or wicked. There remains no alterna- tive but to attribute evil to man. When, where, under what form, did the mysterious ordeal of man's free-will take place ? By what fatal sohdarity have the effects of an initial error come upon all the race ? No graver problem than this can exercise the thought of man. Yet it is undisputable that there never has been a religion which has not preserved, under the form of a myth, the memory of a distant past, in which everything w^as better than now, and which has not groaned under the weary heritage of sorrow and the curse. It is obvious that if the world were wholly given up to the power of evil, history would be as much a blank as if INTR OD UCTION. good had reigned with undisputed sway, history being understood to be the record of one long, unbroken conflict between the rival powers of good and evil. How could this be waged if there were not two champions standing face to face ? History — that is, conflict issuing in moral victory — is only possible, because man has not been aban- doned by the Divine will to the consequences of his alienation, which would else have led inm by an inexorable fatality, to the hopeless death which awaits all life cut ofl from its source. The supernatural, as we understand it, proceeds from this act of pardon and love, t'e supreme act of the Divine freedom. The chain of natural cause and effect is broken in the moral order after the Fall, that a new beginning may be made, or rather that a new restoring and repairing force may be introduced. There is nothing arbitrary in this, nothing contrary to nature rightly understood, for the result is to restore the true order of nature. The supernatural is miserably falsified and misconceived when it is limited to isolated prodigies. The outward miracle is but the secondary thougli necessary manifestation of that free act of love which makes repara- tion possible. If, then, there is such a thing as histor}^ and religious history, it is because the Absolute Good, who is at once supreme love and liberty, has so willed it. It is because He has resolved to raise and to save fallen man. This work of reparation and salvation must be in harmony with the moral laws, without which liberty has no existence either in God or man. It cannot then consist simply in a decree of pardon. It demands reconciliation. Un- doubtedly infinite love must take the initiative, for the fallen creature lies groaning on the earth, bruised by his futile attempt at revolt. He has, moreover, been overcome of evil, and brought into bondage by it, and though he may often chafe at the galling fetters, he is no less a slave. His remorse cannot set him free. Man must come back INTR OD UCTION. to God with a penitent and broken heart, frankly accepting the mournful consequences of his rebellion, and making a complete surrender to the Divine will. This he cannot do in his natural state. Hence it was needful that the Son of man, who was to be his representadve in the great conflict, should come from a higher sphere than this sin- defiled earth, though He came to dwell as man among men. Let no one say that, comsing thus from God, He could not represent humanity. This would be to ignore the dignity and glory of m.an's birth. He is himself of Divine race, a son of God, made in His image. He is never more truly man than when he perfectly reproduces that image ; the Divine is the most human. The higher life is that light of the eternal Word, which " lightens every man as he cometh into the world," as we read in the most profound of our Gospels. ^ Hence man is only complete in God. There is his ideal, the full realisation of his being. Therefore the Son of God could perfectly repre- sent humanity, on the one condition that He became "in all things like unto His brethren," living a truly human life, fighting man's battles, weeping his tears, treading with wayworn feet over the ruts and rough stones that lie along life's common pathway, and at length watering it with His atoning blood. Nor is this all. There must also be in Him, as man's true representative, a response to his deepest spiritual longings and needs. All history before the coming of Christ has but this one end in view: to prepare the way before Him by a series of dispensations, all designed to overcome the opposition of humanity. Only this preparative work is constantly hindered and even partially frustrated by the ever-power- ful agency of the principle of evil. There is no arbitrary interference with man's free-will, even when it impels him to his ruin. God permits the ravages of evil, with all its ' John i. 9, INTRODUCTION. xxvii awful consequences. This is a great mystery, but it is the necessary correlative of free-will in God and man. If man were under a f':ital necessity to choose the right, evils involving whole generations might be averted, but the moral world would have lost its axis. Nor must we forget that the most terrible consequences of evil recoil upon itself, so that it becomes its own chastisement. Again, sorrow itself is fruitful of good, for it deepens in the heart the void which God alone can fill. Nor do we find anywhere in history a page of unrelieved suffering. It is lighted up by pure and tender joys, the smiles of a Father, v/hich save the sufferer from despair. Yet, unless we abandon ourselves to a frivolous optimism, we can but shudder at the tragedies of history. Heart and mind would reel in the contemplation of them, but for the thought that the present life is but as a lightning flash in the eyes of infinite love, which has eternal ages before it for the fulfilment of its work. Such love does not fail, is not discouraged ; and as it is also absolute justice, it will in the end equalise the conditions of the moral conflict for all the combatants, and adjust the inequities of the present sphere. But even this consola- tion will not suffice, unless, through all the dark clouds of history, we discern the invisible Champion who is truly fighting for us even when He seems to be against us, like the Divine Unknown, who is set forth in a sublime symbol, wrestling all night with one feeble mortal. By the first morning ray which dispelled the darkness of the night, the patriarch recognised his God. From the deep wounds received from His hand, streams of immortal life were to flow forth. Read beneath this light from heaven, the motto of history is not chance or fatality, but redemption. Every other solution of the enigma of our destinies, leads to the blank pessimism which identifies both man and his Maker with the principle of evil. After such a conclusion, it INTR on UCTION. only remains to curse God and die; or, more bitter still, to accept life as a cruel jest. It is not our object here to vindicate, but only briefly to state, the leading truths of Christianity, as we hold them. At this elevation, there ceases to be any distinction between sacred and profane history. All history becomes sacred, since no branch of the human race is left out of the great work of Gospel preparation. God may have revealed Himself more directly to one nation, but His Spirit has been at work in the heathen world also, as it brooded over chaos in the organisation of the cosmos. Let us look more closely at the great object of the work of preparation. It was not designed to make humanity bring forth its own Saviour — for this it could not do — but to prepare it to receive Him and to join itself to Him. Now the only way to prepare it to receive this royal gift, was to arouse the desire after it. The scope of the whole work of preparation, then, is to kindle and fan to a flame this desire after a Redeemer. Plato said, with profound meaning, that desire is the child of poverty. " To desire," he added, " is to love that which as 3'et we do not possess, that which is not and of which we feel the lack." The first condition for the development of desire is then a deep sense of our present poverty. The more this poverty is felt, the stronger the desire will grow. But there must also be some anticipation of the object sought, else desire will flag or sink into despair. The object of the work of preparation is to fester this spirit of desire and of expectation. The aspect of this great subject which comes speci- ally before us in the present volume, is the preparation for the Gospel that was going on in the ancient world. We recognise at the outset, that this preparation assumed a unique character in Judea. There, in the midst of much that was purely human, God made Himself known by positive revelations and direct manifestations of His power INTR OD UCTION. xxix and presence, the authentic record of which we have in the pages of the Bible. It was necessary that the land where Messiah was to be born, should be preserved from the pollutions of idolatry. There is a striking corre- spondence, however, between the great phases of the rehgious evolution in this land of revelation, and those of the great historic nations of antiquity. Both are in harmony with the law of progressive reciprocity between the Divine and the human, on which hinges the moral character of religion. We shall recognise also that all the institutions and revelations of Judaism tend to foster the desire for salvation, which is the great end of the Gospel preparation everywhere. If we turn now to this work as carried on in the heathen nations of antiquity, we find it admirably summed up in Paul's preaching at Athens : " The God that made the world and all things therein . . . hath made of one every nation of men for to dwell on the face of the earth, and hath determined their appointed seasons and the bounds of their habitation, that they should seek God, if haply they might feel after Him and find Him, though He is not far from every one of us." This is the true keynote of the philosophy of history. To seek after this unknown God through all the gloom of the pagan night, only illumined by a few immortal truths, shining Hke stars of hope ; to renew the search again and again, urged on by the restless yearning after the Divine, which man can never quell ; to recognise after each fresh attempt, his powerlessness to solve his own difficulties or satisfy his own aspirations ; this is the Divine work of preparation going on in the pagan world. Thus that world learns by bitter experience, the same truths which are taught by revelation in Judea. The whole history of the ancient heathen world, is nothing else than this long wandering of the human soul in search of the still " unknown God," the coming Deliverer, INTR on UCTION. In this groping after God, the incentive to perseverance is conscience. This has the immense advantage of being based upon a direct certainty, a sacred obligation. Thus it is a much safer guide in the intuition of the Divine, than speculative reason which is prone to lose itself in abstractions. Strange to say, nature, in which " the everlasting power and Divinity of God " are so clearly to be seen, has always been (contrary to its original intention) the great hindrance to man's finding the true God, who is close to him all the time, and speaking through the voice of nature. And yet, even in the darkest hours of naturism, conscience has lifted up its protest. Under all skies, we hear its inspired voice above the gross superstitions and subtle speculations of pantheism. It is ever reaching out after its moral ideal, dimly discerned through the incense clouds of ceremonial worship. It is ever lament- ing that it has not realised its ideal, and its penitential wail rises above festive chants and paeans of glory. It never ceases to call for a God greater than any it has yet known. The religious development of the pagan world begins with nature worship. This naturism sets its stamp upon all the religions of the ancient East, though not to the extinction of their purer elements. It is, however, an influence ultim.ately fatal to them all. The attempt to find God in nature (which does not contain, though it does manifest, Him) always ends, as in Buddhism, in mere negation.- In Greece, naturism rises gradually into humanism, which gives predominance to the moral idea in the conception of the Divine, but never wholly frees itself from dualism. Thus Greek humanism, under its most perfect form, after purifying the popular religion, finally deals it a death-blow, substituting for it only an elevated, though still imperfect, mioral ideal. It thus intensifies the INTR OD UCTION. aspiration after a better religion. This is fostered by all the outward conditions of that remarkable period. Through the Roman conquest, the barriers between East and West had been thrown down. The generation contemporary with Christ, found itself in the thick of a general battle of the gods and of the old religions. Perceiving how the travail of twenty centuries had thus ended in an abortion, it put up to God, through its noblest voices, a prayer, half choked in sobs, that He would at length open the heavens and send down the true God so earnestly yet vainly sought. The most expressive symbol of this state of mind is found in that mysterious altar, inscribed " To the Uti known God" which Paul saw in Athens when he carried the Gospel to that city. Such, in broad outline, is the work of Gospel preparation, to the detailed study of which we now address ourselves.^ * It is not our intention to attempt an epitome of the great works which deal with the moral history of the ancient world. We have re- ferred to many of these in the course of the present work, especially in illustration of the various systems dealing with the formation of myths. We may simply mention here the learned works of M. de Rougemont, "Le peuple primitif/' and " Les deux cites." The particular aim of the writer is to show that the elements of truth found in the paganism of both East and West are derived from primitive tradition. The view taken by M. Cesar Malan, in his work "Les grands traits de I'histoire religieuse de I'humanite et du Christianisme," approaches much more nearly to our own. He divides the history of the ancient world into two great periods, corresponding the one to paganism, the other to Judaism — " (l) L'homme cherchant Dieu ; (2) Dieu cherchant rhomme." The various theories relating to the origin and evolution of religion in histor3^, are discussed in mj"^ "Study of Origins" (Book IV. chap, iii.), from the materialistic evolutionism of Herbert Spencer and the pantheism of Hegel, to the idealism of Pfleiderer and Revilie. BOOK I. THE ANCIENT EAST. CHAPTER I. THE STARTING-POINT OF THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. LET us begin with man as far back as science can carry us, that is to say, at the close of the Tertiary, or at latest, at the beginning of the Quaternary period.^ At this stage the only documents we have to decipher are some rude implements or shapeless remains found in caves, in company with the bones of animals now extinct, or which must have migrated to other climes under the influence of the later geological crises which gave to the surface of our planet its present form. We find in man, even at this primitive stage, all the marks of intellectual and moral superiority, although lie wears for royal vesture only the skin of a wild beast, and has as his sole sceptre a roughly-hewn flint, which he uses at once as a weapon and a tool. Yet even these are tokens not to be mistaken of his kingly estate, for he could not have made himself clothing out of the spoils of the chase, or fashioned the roadside flint into an instrument of service, unless he had possessed the faculty of rising above the sensations of the moment, and associating the future with the past by means of reflection on his own experience. The very presence of the tool bespeaks in its maker a power of memory and of prevision, the reason w^hich can generalise, and hence can produce an instru- ment adapted for his use in war or work. To the primi- tive garb of skins we find man soon adding some uncouth ornament. However rude the art, it reveals an instinct ' I have treated this subject at some length in my "Study of Origins," Book IV., ch. ii. I refer the reader to the decisive conclusions drawn by M. Quah-efages in his booli entitled " Hommes fossiles et hommcs Eauvagc5. Ktudcs d'Anthropologic." Also to his articles on the same subject in the Journal des Savaiis, for iS]5 (Paris, Baillicre). 4 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. for the beautiful, the desire to modify the crude form of things. Again : upon the delicate bones of the reindeer killed by him in hunting, he draws his own likeness and retraces the scenes of the chase, sometimes with singular vividness and accuracy. There is an attempt to represent objects so as to recognise them. This is one of the distinctive characteristics of man, who is never satisfied, like the brute creation, with expressing sensations and desires by signs, but names and describes objects. Further there is in this primitive drawing the germ of all art, which begins by recalling to the mind of man some object he has seen, but gives, at the same time, a mental impression of it, which will by-and-by transfigure and idealise the reality. The rod of command gives the first rough suggestion of the organisation of the family and of society, arguing the presence of intellectual faculties, which are traceable in the skull even of the troglodyte.^ It is not surprising then that in spite of his muscular inferiority, this cave-man should have got the better of the mammoths and bears which waged war with him, and should have outlived that great lowering of the temperature of the earth which proved fatal to so many of the larger animals of the Tertiary, and even of the Quaternary period. The struggle for life must have been a hard one for him nevertheless, especially as his weapons were as yet of the rudest, and ill -adapted to resist the horns and claws of the monsters by which he was surrounded. But they were wielded by a being with mind, and herein lay the secret of his victory. Even in this dim period, which was one stern struggle for existence, this rude fighter showed himself capable of higher thoughts, embracing not only his own past and future, but reaching beyond the limits of this earthly sphere. In the first place, he buried his dead, thus showing that the affection which united him to his kindred, outlived the death of the body; nay more, that he had some intui- tion of the prolongation of their existence, for he laid their weapons and tools beside them in the grave. Even the ' The skull of the old man of Cro-Magnon was found by Broca to be superior in capacity by 1 19 centim. to the average given b3' 125 Parisian skulls of the 19th century. See Quatrefagcs, " Hommes fossiles," p. 65. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. bones of little children were sometimes placed within the skull of the father, as though to perpetuate the faniily relation in the strange abode of the dead. Skulls belong- ing to the Neolithic age have been found perforated, thus showing that trepanning was practised in this remote period. It has been generally supposed that this treatment was resorted to as a means of exorcismg the evil spirit, which was the reputed cause of nervous diseases. It seems certain that the trepanned skulls of the dead were used as charms against these same evil spirits, whether for the benefit of the deceased or of the survivors. We thus get a glimpse of a conflict waged by primeval man agamst the powers of the invisible world, more formidable than mammoth or aurochs. " The study of prehistoric trepan- ning," says Broca, '' proves beyond a question that the men of the Neolithic age believed in a life in which the dead retained their individuality, for these amulets were placed within the skull of the dead man, and were intended to secure for him happiness and exemption from evil."^ We conclude, with M. Quatrefages, ,that the belief in another life, and in the continued identity of the individual, existed in the earliest times of the geologic era, just as we find it to-day among the tribes of Tasmania and Australia.''' Edgar Quinet well says : " In this being, in whom I did not know if I was to find an equal or a slave of all other creatures, the instinct of immortality reveals itself in the midst of death. What a future I begin to discern for this strange animal, hardly knowing how to build foi" himself a hut better than a wild beast's lair, and yet con- cerning himself to provide an eternal home for his dead ! I seem to be touching the first stone on which rests the edifice of things Divine and human. After such a begin- ning, all that remains is easy of belief." ^ Upon this still heaving soil began the long history of the human soul seeking the true God, Amidst the shocks of convulsed nature, man made his first gropings after the supernatural. It seemed to come near to him [in the form of maleficent spirits, which he must conjure * Quatrefages, "Hommes fossiles," p. 130. - Ibid, p. i^l, ^ Edgar Quinet, " La Creation," 6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. first in life and supremely in death. Death itself, while it was a great mystery, did not seem to him the end. Prehistoric man tried to protect even in death the objects of his affection. His ignorance was profound ; but the tenderness of his thought for those whom he had lost, is but the more touching because of the childish arts used to express it. This is still the attitude of a large portion of mankind, including the savage peoples of the Old and New World. Of this we have abundant documentary evidence, and we are able to realise v.-ith some precision, the social and religious status of the rude childhood of the world, for savage tribes are its living representatives among us. We must.be cautious however in the conclusions we draw from mere travellers' tales. We must bear in mind that the tellers are often ill-informed, for the savage does not willingly confide to strangers his religious beliefs. It is also important that we should not affirm hastily that extreme degradation is always indicative of the high antiquity of any communit}'^, either social or religious. This would be to ignore the possibility of retrogression and decadence; but this possibility is often a realised fact among savage peoples, as we are told by the masters of ethnographical science.^ We must be careful neither to romance about the savage, as Rousseau does, nor to caricature him as do those v/ho make him the connecting link between the man and the monkey. Without going further into this subject which opens a very wide field of literature,^ and deals with many abstruse questions, we may briefly characterise this early and very important phase of the development of religion. Though it has been left behind for long ages in countries where the historic evolution has been carried on under favourable conditions of civilisation, as in Western Asia, it nevertheless formed the subsoil of that evolution which has struck its roots deep into it. Hence the importance ' Waitz, "Anthropologic der Natur-Volker," vol. ii., p. 68 et seq. ^ Besides the work by Waitz aheady mentioned, we would refer the reader to Tylor's " Primitive Culture," and to Sir John Lubbock's "Origin of Civilisation." Also to M. Quatrefage's invaluable book, "Hommes fossiles et hommes sauvages," a repertory of all the latest scientific discoveries. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. of understanding aright, this prehminary phase of re- ligious development which we find still going on among the savage tribes of our own day. Unless we rightly apprehend the initial stage, the history of the religions ot the ancient world will remain a riddle to us. We shall content ourselves with a general survey, supporting our argument by unquestioned facts in relation to savage nations, which have been ascertained and recorded by the ethnologists of our day. If we could picture to ourselves the cave-man, especially in the Neolithic age, when he seems to have arrived at the full development possible in that geologic era, he would doubtless appear to us precisely like the savage of Oceania, Africa or North America. From a social point of view the identity is complete, except for a few external varia- tions, the results of difference of soil and climate. We find the same flint tools and rude weapons, without any industry properly so called. There is the same primitive attempt at ornament, the same inadequate clothing. Food is mainly provided by the chase. There is seldom any attempt at cultivation of the soil, except under very favourable conditions. There is even less attempt at trading by barter among the inhabitants of islands not immediately adjacent, than there was among the trog- lodytes, in some of whose caves we find traces of pro- visions coming from very various sources. Family life exists only in its crudest form. The woman is either the slave of the man, doing all the work, or the sport of his wild passions. Of social organisation the only trace is the rod of command which the tribe obeys. How can we account for this long arrest of progress, under conditions infinitely more favourable than the era of geologic crises \\\ v/hich the troglodyte lived ? What have been the causes of this stagnation or retro- gression ? This is the secret which the ages past will for ever keep. Nevertheless, eveii socially considered, man never sinks so low as to lose all trace of his manhood and to stand on the same level as the beast. Even among the most degraded savages, we find tools, arrovv^s, hunting knives, quaint attempts at adornment, a constant endea- vour to embellish the real. Still more emphatically does 8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. humanity assert itself in the domain of the feelings. The savage is undoubtedly cruel to his enemies, and indulges in sanguinary and abominable rites, but his affections express themselves sometimes with touching pathos and poetry. Here and there we gather fragrant blooms in these bare and desolate places. What a line cadence of mother- love we catch in this lament over a little dead child, uttered by a mother belonging to one of the most savage tribes of New Zealand : — " Behold me brought low with sorrow ! My heart- strings quiver for my little child. Oh, my friends, I am like a tree laid low upon the ground ! I am bowed down like the long and supple fronds of the black fern, and am not able to lift up myself again because of my child. Where is he now ? Oh, my child ! who sprang so joyously into my arms whenever I said, Come to me, oh, my son ! " ^ If we pass on to religion, we have to acknowledge with Waitz that there is no spot upon earth where its influence is not felt.'-^ Tylor, who can hardly be suspected of spiritualistic leanings, says distinctly : " So far as I can judge from the immense mass of accessible evidence, we have to admit that the belief in spiritual beings appears among all low races with whom we have attained to thoroughly intimate acquaintance." ^ M. de Quati"efages considers religious sentiment to be the distinctive trait of humanity. He even goes so far as to say, that apart from this there is no essential differ- ence between man and the brute creation. This is an exaggeration ; for before man can rise to the religious sentiment, to the intuition of a higher life and of spiritual forces, he must possess faculties capable of grasping the general in the particular, that is to say he must possess the power of reasoning on the li.^e of which he is con- scious within himself. Now the brute creation never attains to this. With this reservation, we admit that the religious sentiment ' Quatrefages, " Hommes fossiles," p. 456. * Waitz, " Anthiopologie der Natur-Vdlker," p. 171. • "Primitive Culture," Tylor, vol, i., p. 384. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. is the peculiar characteristic of man ; it is part of his very being. It cannot therefore be regarded as a mere outward communication to him, simply a revelation from without. It is an intuitive and spontaneous development of his nature. He turns instinctively to the Divine as the magnet to the pole. It is idle to pretend, with the rationalist school of Bonald, that religion, like all other social truths, comes to us from without, through the primary revelation of language. The higher life would in that case be only a lesson learnt ; but in order to learn that lesson, it must be understood, and in order to understand it, there must be a true affinity for it. Truth can only be grasped if there is a pre-established harmony between it and the soul of man. In this sense, w^e only truly learn that which we already know. If man were not a religious being by nature, he would never become reli- gious. But because he is a religious being, we find traces of religion in his life ever3'where and always, even under the least favourable conditions. We reject then abso- lutely, the traditional explanation of the origin of religions which would trace them back simply to some ancient tradition. We do not deny that the primeval religion which man possessed in the mysterious phase of his being before he had separated himself from God, may have left its traces, and that among some privileged peoples these traces have been preserved with more distinctness than among the great mass of mankind, scattered to the four corners of the earth by enforced dispersion. We recognise in the most ignorant worship a vague acknowledgment of the Fall, a dim perception that life was once a better and a higher thing. But whatever value we may attach to these relics of a venerable tradition, we are bound to admit that the hearth upon which the sacred fire of religion ever burns, is the soul of man. The fire may smoulder long beneath a heap of ashes and dust, but in the end it will burst out in tongues of leaping flame. We refuse then to admit that religion springs from the mere contemplation of nature, or from the action of natural forces, whether beneficial or baleful. Unless we give up the fundamental principle of reason which re- 10 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. quires for every effect an adequate cause, and argue that the less can produce the greater, we must admit that the mere contemplation of nature, even in its most surpassing grandeur, must fail to give any true intuition of the Divine, just as the ravages of the reaper Death can convey to us no conception of immortality. These grand truths spring up intuitively from the depths of man's moral being. Undoubtedly man does not at first manifest this religious intuition in its fulness and purity, for the simple reason that he is himself not conscious of it, and that it has been long obscured by parasitic overgrowths. It may be compared to the formative idea which Claude Bernard discerns even in the formless embryonic life, and without which that life would never develop into a definite being of a certain order. The development of the religious life is like that of the natural. It is not produced by the mere evolution of latent forces. Action from without is needed to bring this development to its normal issue. So the processus of religion cannot be complete without the manifestation of God Himself; and as we have already observed, that manifestation in its adequate and supreme form can be nothing less than a positive revelation of Divine love in all its fulness. Even where the way has not been di- rectly prepared for this supreme revelation — I mean by positive partial revelations — it is indirectly prepared by the very course of history under the directing hand of God, and yet more by the operation of that Divine Spirit which never ceases to strive with the spirit of man. To revert to the religion of the savage. This is, as we have said, a part of his moral being, but it forms as yet only the dim envirojiment of the sacred germ which is destined to live and grow. This germ is long exposed to noxious influences Vv'hich impede its right development. But it is still there. Even when half stifled by noisome overgrowths it sends out now and again strong and living shoots. Hence even in the religion of savage nations, while we never find a pure monotheism, we yet find the monotheistic idea constantly recurring, and some- times asserting itself with singular force in the midst of contradictions and obscuring errors. We only contend THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. for primitive monotheism in this restricted sense. We never pretend that at the base and root of all religions, whether of the ancient or the barbarous world, we have any evidence of the worship of one God reigning without a rival over the universe. On the contrary, God is con- stantly confounded with nature itself, or at least the two are so blended that it is hard to separate them, though as we shall see, they are never absolutely identified. The deity shares his power with a multitude, of gods, some of whom are very nearly his equals. Nevertheless he keeps a pre-eminence which sometimes amounts to an unchallenged supremacy. Among the Mexicans, the Tahitians, the Australians, the Dajaks of Borneo, the Zulus and the negroes of the Gold Coast, we find the worship of one supreme God. " From north to south of Africa," says Waitz, " the negroes adore one supreme God, in addition to their numberless fetishes." ^ If then monotheism cannot be said to have existed in a pure form in one universal primitive religion, we yet find unmistakable traces of it in all places and through- out all times. In a word, the monotheistic intuition is inseparable from the conception of religion. The very word religion implies adoration of that which goes beyond the order of nature. The primary characteristic of the order of nature is limitation — the necessary result of its subdivision. The primary idea of the Divine is one of infinity, of supreme excellence, an intuition, so to speak, of the absolute. Hence this primary intuition shows a perpetual tendency to reappear and to free itself from all opposing elements, keeping unshaken, though often be- clouded, its belief in one supreme and sovereign God. This monotheistic intuition is always accompanied by faith in the persistence of the human personality after death. As this fact is universally admitted it need not be dwelt upon here. With these two fundamental notions is combined the moral intuition, the sense of moral obli- gation which is at the root of all human relations. Some idea of justice underlies the most rudimentary social ' Waitz, "Anthropologic," vol. ii., p. l68, et seq. See also Presscnse, ".Study of Origins," p. 510. 12 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. constitution. We may go further and show that the moral idea has never been completely dissociated from, the religious, but on the contrary the two have become more and more intimately united. The belief in some retribution after death is now admitted to be very general, even by ethnologists whom no one will suspect of a spiritual bias.-^ The sense of impurity and of the need of expiation are manifested in the most barbarous modes of worship. We admit that the atonement to which they have recourse is often as cruel as the wrath of the deity whom the worshippers seek to appease. There is a phase in which sacrifice is nothing more than food offered to the gods. But a higher idea soon manifests itself. Remorse comes in ; the consciousness of guilt prompts the sacrifice, and the priest, who at first was regarded in the light of an enchanter, becomes a mediator between man and the deity. For this reason the Tahitians require of their priests, a life of special purity and consecration. Hence we argue that the idea that some purification is necessary, must have been an element in man's religious intuition. Thus the wise and deep saying of Hartmann is verified : " Religion springs naturally from the dismay with which the heart of man regards evil and sin, and the desire it feels to account for their existence, and if possible to put an end to it." ^ In a word, religion forms part of the higher life of man as man. At the lowest stage of savage life, it implies an intuition of the Divine, that is of the absolute ; faith in immortality ; the elements of morality, which are inseparable from the idea of God and of a future life ; and lastly the bitter consciousness of a curse resting upon the world, and of pollution demanding atonement. We have a strong confirmation of the reality and intrinsic grandeur of this primitive religious sentiment, under the mass of superstitions and errors by which it is overgrown, in the significant fact, that the lowest savage is found capable of apprehending the purest religion — the religion of the gospel — when it is brought to him by missionaries. ' Girard de Rialhe, " Mythologie comparee," p. 1 15. ^ Hartmann, " Les religions de I'avenir," Germer Bailliere, 1876. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. 13 There could be no more decisive proof of the degree to which he possesses the reh'gious faculty. This elementary religion does not remain in the state of mere vague and inert instinct. It affects the whole course of history and all human affairs, by virtue of the faculty which man possesses of remembering and anti- cipating, and connecting the future with the past. The movement of religious history is directed by an inward logic, which brings out spontaneously the results of the premisses laid down. This purely ratural dialectic is the law of reason. There is nothing fi.talistic about it, for it may have its breaks ; its sequence may be interrupted by new ideas, and new influences may be introduced. These in their turn become new premisses, the consequences of which are deduced by the mind of man and evolved in the course of history. Here we must draw an important distinction. This historical development soon comes to an end among peoples who remain in the isolation of savage life, while it is continually advancing among civilised nations which come into frequent contact with other civilised peoples. Contact between different nations, even if it be brought about by means of war, is the mosc powerful stimulant to progress. The development of savage nations, though it goes such a little way, is particularly interesting because it helps us to understand the first beginnings of religion in its cradle in the ancient East. Indeed the beliefs of the old Chaldee closely resembled those of the savages of to-day, both in the Old and New World. We are thus enabled to study upon a large scale and in living characters, the first stages of the religious deve- lopment among the nations of history. Ethnographical science, after proving that there was really a stone age, presenting the s|me characteristics all over the globe, has established on no less decisive evidence the essential identity of the various religions of savage nations, not only in their primary rudiments, but in their spon- taneous development.^ ' " Religions des peuples non civilises," par M. Albert Reville (Paris, Fischbacher, 1SS3). " Les religions de Mexique, et de I'Afrique ccntrale," by the same (1SS5). 14 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Throughout North and South America, in Oceania and Africa alike, the religious idea of savage nations goes through three stages — naturism, animism, and anthropo- morphism. We do not mean that these are distinct and successive phases : as a rule they all co-exist. The lower stage, which forms the basis of the religious edifice, abides not as a mere memory of the past, but as a persis- tent influence or belief. This identity in the development of savage nations does not prevent great variety both in the symbolism used to express it, and in the part assigned to certain objects of worship. The diversity of the aspects of nature and the incidents of local history produce these differences, which moreover never go so far as to modify the nature of the religious development. This is always marked by the same three stages, at first successive, afterwards concurrent. When man in his rude and uncultured state finds him- self confronted with the vastness of nature, his first im- pression is of his own insignificance. He is dazzled by the splendour and overwhelmed by the resistless force of nature. He feels himself in the grasp of a mighty Power, which inspires him now with admiration, now with awe. He has no control whatever over it ; he can neither under- stand nor utilise it. He has not even learnt how to cultivate the soil so as to energise its latent fruitfulness. The idea of the Divine, of the Absolute, which slumbers in the depths of his being, awakes in view of this awful majesty of nature. He feels the presence of God, and he lends an ideal grandeur to the natural by projecting upon it, in some sort, the vague notion of the infinite, the absolute, which is in him, though unconscious. Thus naturism is the first form which the religious sentiment assumes. Let us not suppose however, that even in its first manifestation, the %avage completely identifies the Divine with terrestrial and finite things ; for these alone would never have suggested it to him. If he were left unaided, to spell out the book of nature, he would never read in it the name of God. It is because that name is written in characters however bedimmed on the depths of his own being, that he transfers it to the external world, in which he finds only partial and lower THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. 15 manifestations of the Divine, Iiowever impressive tliey may be to him in that early stage, when sight is the great inlet of ideas, and reflection is almost as rapid as sensation. The savage has nowhere stopped at what is called naturism. He has always supplemented it by animism or spiritism, which is a sort of primitive philosophy, the belief that there is a soul or spirit informing all the pheno- mena of nature.^ Beneath every manifestation of the outer world, small or great, he discerns a spirit, a soul answering to the spiritual part of man which inhabits his body. Herbert Spencer connects this primitive dualism with the dream of the hunter, who all through his heavy sleep fancies that he is carrying on his favourite occupation. He thus fjets the idea of a second self, different from the form which lies sleeping in the hut, beneath its . covering of skins. Looking at the shadow which he casts before him as he walks along, he is led to identify his seconci self with this shadow, and under this form he represents to himself his departed ancestor.^ That the fact of the sliadow cast by the body of the savage, has some relation to the ideas he has formed of his own twofold nature, we do not deny. But that the notion of a spirit distinct from the body, invested as we find it with a religious character, should have arisen out of so common an expe- rience, we cannot admit. In reference to this, as to naturism, we say the religious idea was innate in the man, and was only evolved, not originated, by the observation of outward facts. Thus the savage who, though he may wholly fail to grasp its higher functions, has yet become conscious that there is a spirit within him, distinct from his physical beinf;' imagines that there is such a soul in all natural objects from the star in the heavens to the beast that supplies him with food. Stock and stone are to him alike informed with a living- spirit. Every such spirit seems to him indued with a mysterious force capable of doing him service, but still ' See "Outlines of the History of Religion," C. P. Tiele, p. 19. * Herbert Spencer, "Principles of Sociolog}\" i6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. more likely to do him harm, for pessimism always in- stinctively prevails. He feels himself under the spell of some mysterious malediction, which he vainly tries to shake off. Hence he does not remain passive in view of those numberless manifestations of the Divine which surround him with a circle of terror, though as we have seen, he still has the intuition of a higher divinity con- trolling all. The fetishes carved by the savage in wood or stone, are designed to protect him against the evil spirit. Max MilUer has shown by arguments which cannot be refuted, that fetishism has never been the simple adora- tion of the material object.-^ Indeed there can be no adoration without a sense of the Divine, which must imply at least the recognition of some being greater than man. The fetish alone is but a poor fragment of the material world. In order to make it a god, it must be invested with some attribute not really possessed by it, but evolved from the inner con- sciousness of the worshipper. It is beyond question, moreover, that fetishism never exhausts the religion of any people however primitive. It is always associated with ideas and practices which imply the existence of other gods, and do not exclude that relative monotheism of which we have spoken. Nowhere does the true cha- racter of fetishism appear with more clearness than in the religion of the negroes of the Gold Coast. In the first place, we find clearly marked in their religious beliefs, the connecting link between animism or spiritism and the doubling of the human personality, for they make the spirit of man a separate being, to which they give a name. It is called Kla during life, and Sisi after death. The negroes worship these spirit fetishes, ' "The word fetish (Portuguese y^iVifo corresponding to Latin factitius) is the recognised name for amulets and similar half sacred trinkets. The Portuguese sailors gave the name to the talismans of the savages, because they themselves used in the same v^ay their rosaries, dauby iir.ages, ■^^-ooden crosses, etc. ... A negro was worshipping a tree supposed to be his fetish, with an ofiering of food, when some European asked whether he thought the tree could eat. The negro replied : ' Oh, the tree is not the fetish ; the fetish is a spirit and invisible, but he has descended into the tree.' " — " Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion." Max Muller, Lecture 2. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. 17 which are the spirits of the air. They call them Wongs, and believe them to proceed from Nyongmo — their supreme god to whom they pray daily.^ Sometimes the fetish is an animal which becomes the particular god of the tribe, as in the totemism of the North American Indians. After a time, these animals come to be regarded as symbolic personifications of higher, and especially of sidereal divinities. In this character, they become objects of worship, and we shall find them occupy- ing a place in religions of a much higher order. The worship of the stars was at first a mere extension of fetishism — an idealised fetishism in this sense, that the stars were regarded as the highest manifestation or in- corporation of the Divine, which was still essentially a spirit, the immaterial element enshrined in a sensible form. We must always bear this in mind when we study the great systems of sidereal worship. We observe in the first place, that fetishism applied to the sun and moon, must of necessity assume a character of peculiar grandeur. We can hardly conceive the profound impression which would be made by the vast expanse of heaven upon un- civilised man, whose simple life left him free to observe without interruption the phenomena of nature. The sun climbing the horizon in the freshness and purity of the dawn, and flooding the evening sky with the purple glories of its setting, would fill him with a rapture of delight. Not less impressive would be to him the solemn beauty of the moonlight spreading its veil of silver over the weary earth. This same sun he perceives to be the source of fruitfulness, decking the plain with its robe of flowers. Its rays can also be at times consuming flames of fire.. Then the heavens are clothed with blackness, the thunder rolls, and the storm-wings carr}' desolation far and wide. It is easy to understand how the ideas of power and grandeur would connect themselves in the mind of the savage with the sidereal bodies, and especially with the sun upon which all the life of our planet depends. It is in the nature of things that this symbolism should ' ' Die Relig. der Neger," SteinJumser. Magazin fi'tr neueste Geschichte der evaiigelisch. Mission (Basle, 1856). i8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. culminate in anthropomorphism, of which it was indeed ah'cady the unconscious expression, for animism was but the transference of the dual life of man to material objects. The attributes proper to humanity were transferred to the sidereal gods. Especially were these deities supposed to be subject to that great law of the sexes in which the savage recognises the very law of life. Is it not one of the great motors of his being, awakening the deepest passions both of love and hate ? This universal frensy of love, described by Lucretius in immortal verse, the savage feels in all its force without any refining influence. He apostrophises it in his gods whom he classes in couples. They will never teach him chastity, for it is from the sensual side of life that he most nearly ap- proaches them. Some of them, however, he regards as tutelary divinities, intervening between him and the powers of evil. These are around him on every side, the agents of the great spirit which delights to torment him. We must be careful not to exaggerate this primitive anthropomorphism. It is always strongly tinctured with nalurism, which takes away from it all character of in- dividuality. The moral idea enters very slightly into it, and is always enshrouded in the material. There is a long interval to be traversed between it and the Greek humanism, which disengages anthropomorphism alto- gether from mere naturism, and creates for itself gods with a real and definite personality, no longer the mere sport of the wild forces of nature. The worship of ancestors must be clearly distinguished from this naturalistic anthropomorphism. It sprang out of the universal faith of savages in the persistence of the human personality beyond the present life. What a pro- found impression the death of the father of the family must have produced in the cabin of the savage. As they bent over the remains of the loved one who had been taken away with a stroke, his sons could not believe he had for ever vanished. The awful silence of death struck them as a sublime mystery. They could not realise that all was ended with him from whose lips but yesterday they heard the war cry, or in whose eyes they met the look of love. Convinced that tliis bod}^ now cold in THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. 19 death, had contained a spirit that was distinct from itself, they followed it in imagination into the realm of shades. Even to the dead body they attributed a certain persistent vitality, to sustain which they surrounded it with its favourite food and familiar weapons. But the spirit hovered above the earth, and as they held it to be divine in its nature, they ascribed to it a peculiar power which inspired them at once with awe and trust. Hence the worship of ancestors, which played so large a part among the ancients, as M, Fustel de Coulanges has shown,^ We recognise in this one of the most pathetic forms of the primitive religious instinct. Such is in substance the religion of savage nations, which is a mere development of the beliefs of prehistoric man. Upon this common background, symbolism has assumed an endless diversity of forms, according to the incidents of climate and national life. We find the same primary elements in the rites of worship. The priesthood and sacrifice have passed through the same phases of deve- lopment. Beginning with a sort of magical idea, they have risen gradually to a more or less conscious desire after purification and expiation. Idolatry was an advance upon pure fetishism in worship, for the Divine was for the first time separated from its material environment, and concen- trated in a representation, the symbolic character of which became more and more pronounced. We can follow this primitive religion through its whole development, not only among savage hordes, but in great nations, which existed for centuries outside the pale of civilisation and current history. This is remarkably the case with China until the reform of Confucius. In the primitive religion of the Celestial Empire, the whole world was assigned to spirits which were themselves closely identified with natural objects. These were subject to a supreme spirit residing in the heavens and sharing his authority with the spirit of the earth. The latter repre- sented the feminine element in the pair of deities. Ances- tors were invariably deified. Most of the temples were consecrated to them. The Emperor, as representing the ' Fustel de Coulanges, "La Cit6 Antique." 20 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Spirit of heaven, was the high priest of this essentially la^'-religion.^ We learn from the work of M. Albert Reville on the religions of Mexico, of Central America, and of Peru, what an advanced development may be attained under favour- able circumstances by an animistic religion, even when left to itself. The Mexican empire succeeded in constitu- ting a social state with a skilfully ordered hierarchy under the rule of a proud and harsh aristocracy. In Peru, the Incas assigned a real place to justice and humanity in the government. Among these two peoples, the great sidereal fetish gained the ascendant over all other fetishes, though these did not absolutely disappear.^ The worship of the sun, and of the moon his spouse, prevailed from one end to the other of these vast empires. The sun could not but be regarded as a living personality, when even fetishes of a lower order were ijivested with the attributes of man. But there was no true humanism in the conception ; the sun was still a fierce and fearful power of nature to be worshipped with hecatombs of the slain. This cultus was indeed the most cruel of all. The worshippers believed that the victim, at the moment of his immolation, became identified with the cruel god to whom he was sacrificed. Hence they devoured the warm bleeding heart, that they might feed on the Divine. A third great god appears in the background of this terrible religion. This god, who symbolised at first the east wind, assumed the form of a serpent-bird. He seems to repre- sent a better religion belonging to the past. Hence the hope is cherished that he will come back from the regions of the West, to which he has been relegated by the sun god. He is to be the deliverer of the coming ages. Thus this sanguinary religion was felt to be inadequate, and even its devotees were looking for some better way. It was given up moreover to the grossest idolatry. In Peru we find a genuine theocracy. The Incas pretend to be the true descendants of the sun. Their religious ' " Outlines of the History of Religion," C. P. Tiele. Translated from the Dutch. ^Reville, "Religion de Mexique," pp. 44, 45. THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. beliefs are substantially the same as those of the Mexicans, but sacrifices of blood are with them the exception. The notion of the Deity is more human, as is indeed implied by the direct descent of the sovereign of the country from the sun. Confession is one of the rites of the Mexican religion. This indicates a feeling of guilt. The idea of retribution is also present, and in some measure connects the moral with the religious idea.^ In Peru also, confession was practised. The priesthood was there better organised than in Mexico. A certain degree of purity was required of the priests. The virgin priestesses were dedicated to a chastity as absolute as that of Vestals. The idea of the survival of the dead, associated with the worship of an- cestors, is found again in these two countries. The para- mount duty of the Peruvian is submission to the Incas. These appear to have generally exercised a salutary and civilising influence. One of them truly expressed the sublime idea lying at the root of naturism, when he caid to a priest : "There must needs be above our father, the sun, a greater and more powerful ruler, at whose behest he pursues his daily unresting round." - In the religions of China and of South America we find the highest point which naturism can reach. In South America at least, there seems to have been an intuition of its insufficiency, and of the need for some further development. This development took place in countries where there was a fusion of great nations, and a true historic evolution was thus inaugurated. Let us suppose these elements of primitive naturism, merged in the broad and vivifying current of history, among races susceptible of civilisation, favoured in their geographical position, and connected with each other by easy ways of communication, real arteries for the circulation of ideas. Ideas will then no longer merely revolve in a circle, as in the great deserts of savage countries or in insular isolation. Under the new conditions, the religious evolution is free to go on. The elements composing the primitive religious beliefs, will form fresh combinations and arrive at conclusions at * Reville, " Religion de Mexique," p. 333. \ Ibid., pp. 170, 185. 22 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY once bolder and more comprehensible. Thus the animism of the prehistoric races and of savage peoples, introduced into Chaldea, does not remain stationary. It goes on developing till it becomes Greek humanism. We propose to follow the phases of this history in Egypt and Phoenicia, and among the primitive Aryan races in Persia and India. We shall thus mark the successive stages of this great evolution, each one of them the result of a logical sequence. We have already said that there are many pauses and retrogressions in the course of this long religious history of the ancient world. More than once the development seems to stop, and the old conceptions, which had ap- parently been outgrown, resume their sway for a time over the minds of men. This phenomenon is easily ex- plained, if we remember that the aspiration after an unknown God, which is the constant spur to religious development, always reaches immeasurably beyond the temporary solutions found for it. When there has been any real progress in the religious conception, there comes a moment of repose, of satisfaction ; but soon the inadequacy of the solution makes itself irresistibly evident. In its disappointment, the soul imagines that the past was better, and tries to return to its old belief in an idealised form. Thus we find Greek humanism reverting to the celebration of the mysteries of primitive naturism. These are, however, but passing retrogressions. Soon the process of development is resumed, and a fresh advance is made, which in its turn is left behind, till the advent of the day of full deliverance, that is of the full illumination of which humanity is capable. The history of the religious development of the ancient world is like a great musical symphony. At first the dominant thought, or, to speak more accurately, the dominant feeling of the master, which is the fundamental theme of his work, vibrates full of power and sweetness in the midst of apparent confusion, wild sometimes as the roaring of a storm. For one moment it comes out distinctly, rising above the minor cadences and melting harmonies ; but again and again it is lost, till at length it bursts forth in one triumphant paean, like the song of THE RELIGIOUS EVOLUTION. 23 deliverance of a spirit long fettered by the lower forces of its nature, and now at length realising its enfranchise- ment. The sigh after the unknown God, so long in- articulately breathed, becomes, upon purified lips in the evening of the old world, a prevailing prayer which opens heaven and brings deliverance down. CHAPTER II. CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN RELIGION. § I. — Its Sources.^ CHALDEA offers the best field for tracing the develop- ment of religion when once it has come within the cycle of history and of civilisation.^ We are certain that the earliest developments were everywhere identical ; but in Chaldea the religious evolution presents, at its outset, the most striking analogy to the religion of savage nations which we have been describing. We must carefully distinguish between different races and different periods, although the primitive type is pre- served with singular persistence. The religious edifice has risen to larger proportions in course of time, but the • "Histoire ancienne des peuples de I'Orient," by G. Maspero; "Chal- dean Magic," F. Lenormant. "The Chaldean Account of Genesis," G. Smith ; " Comparative History of the Egj'ptian and Mesopotamian Religions," C. P. Tiele ; " Outlines of the History of the Ancient Religions," by the same ; " History of Art in Chaldea and Assyria," G. Perrot and C.Chipiez; "Cuneiform Inscriptions and the Old Testament," E. Schrader; "History of Babylonia," G. Smith; "Notes on the Early History of Baby- lonia and Assj'ria," by the same. ^ New light has been thrown upon the entire history of these countries by the great excavations of recent years. In 1846 Botta discovered the palace of Sargon under the ruins of Nineveh. Layard discovered Calah with its palaces and temples on the right bank of the Tigris. At Nineveh itself, he discovered the palace of Sennacherib, with its library chamber i"ull of treasures, and the palace of Esarhaddon. The "Assyrian Dis- coveries," of G. Smith, brought to light the famous texts containing the accounts of the Creation and of the Deluge, which remind us of Genesis. The works of Rawlinson, of Oppert, and of Lenormant, have reproduced and translated most of the cuneiform inscriptions. (See also " Les ruines de Ninive, ou descriptions des palais detruits sur les bords du Tigre," by Leon Peer. Paris, 1864). In the Louvre and the British Museum the most remarkable results of these excavations are to be seen. CHA LDEO-A SSYRIAN RELIGION. 25 basis has remained the same. Hence the importance of forming a just idea of the primitive religion of Chaldea. The country described by this name only included a part of the great plain of Mesopotamia. The Persian Gulf bounded it on the south ; the Tigris on the east. On the west it bordered on the Arabian desert ; on the north it again met the Tigris, at the point where it separates Upper from Lower Mesopotamia. Lastly, it bordered on Assyria, over which it was to exert so great an influence, though for centuries it was only a subordinate province. The Euphrates and the Tigris are to these countries what the Nile is to Egypt. Rain is rare in this region. The sun shines in summer with an unmitigated splendour which parches up the ground. The winter is cold with little snow, therefore without damp. The fertilisation of the soil depends on the overflowing of the two rivers. Hence the climate is unwholesome, deadly miasma ex- haling from the deposit of mud left when the water has subsided. The dwellers in such a region would instinc- tively have a peculiar dread of the noxious influences at work in nature around them, spreading death beneath their feet. The very breath exhaled from the marsh assumes the guise of a destroying spirit. Close by is the desert, from which comes the deadly blast of the sirocco. Chaldea was originally occupied by two great races. The first was divided into two branches : the Accadians, inhabiting the mountainous districts ; and the Sumirs, the dwellers on the plain. The second of these races, called Cushites, came from the foot of Ararat, or perhaps from the peninsula of Arabia. While its Semitic origin cannot be positively affirmed, it is certain that it had great affinities with the Semitic race.^ There has been much discussion about the origin of the former race — the Acca- dian. It is impossible to determine exactly whence it came. Was it a branch of the Turanian race, with which it has certain affinities of language and of religious thought (accounted for possibly by the fact that it belonged to the same stage of culture), or did it come from Bactriana ? The problem is not to be solved in the present state of * Tide, " Comparative History." 26 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. science.^ We cannot, however, accept the idea that the Accadians may be identified with the Cushites. These, who were always the lords of Assyria, had no doubt become intermingled with their predecessors in Chaldea, long before they brought them into subjection ; but it is a mistake to ignore all difference of race between them. One fact is decisive against such identification, namely, the retention of the Chaldean tongue as a dead language in the official sacred books of the country, with an Assyrian translation appended. The duality of language implies a duality of race.'"^ It is of the highest interest to be able to assure our- selves, from these incontestable records, what was the primitive religion of the Chaldeans in its Accadian form. Most important liturgical texts have been discovered among the shapeless ruins of ancient buried cities. The history of the Chaldeo-Assyrians divides itself into three periods. In the first, we have the pure Accadian ele- ment developing the primitive type of the national religion, and setting its ineffaceable seal upon it, without any mythological accretions. In the second period it is different. The Cushite element asserts itself more and more strongly. There is still the worship of particular local deities, though the differences between them are simply nominal or formal. Little by little we find these secondary differ- ences merged in one unified mythologic system, in which a preponderating part is assigned to astrologic or astro- nomic symbolism. The third period is Assyrian, presided over by the god Assur, and by the king of Assyria as his highest embodiment. In this period all the earlier beliefs are developed and systematised, but none of them are abandoned ; for we find the Chaldean religion forming as it were the basement of all this imposing edifice. ' M. Lenormant confidently maintains the Turanian origin of the Acca- dians. "Chaldean Magic," c. xix. ^ M. Halevy, in the "Journal Asiatique" (June, 1874), maintains the identity of the Accadians with the Cushites. Tide's conclusions, which we have given, seem to us to observe the true limits of scientific certaintj^ (Tiele, "Comparative History.") The cuneiform writing from being ideographic soon became phonetic. The term cuneiform is descriptive of the manner in which the inscription was made on the stone, the cha- racters being nail-headed or wedge shaped. CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN- RELIGION 27 Before proceeding to give an outline of tliis religion in its successive phases, we will take a brief review of the traditions which carry us back as far as the Creation and the great crisis of the Asiatic Deluge. By a comparison of these traditions with the narrative in Genesis, we see that the two spring from a common source, but soon diverge in their religious conceptions; for while in Genesis we are raised to the purest monotheism, the Chaldean legend constantly descends to a naturalistic interpretation. In 1872 the Chaldean account of the Creation and of the Deluge, was discovered by Mr. G. Smith in the Library of Assurbanipal, upon fragments of clay tablets.^ " Of the curious myths connected with the Babylonian religion, there are several examples. . . . The account of the Creation is unfortunately too mutilated for translation. It appears to record, that when the gods in their assembly made the universe there was confusion, and the gods sent out the spirit of life. They then create the beast of the field, the animal of the field, and the reptile or creeping thing of the field, and fix in them the spirit of life. Next comes the creation of domestic animals and the creeping things of the city. There are in all, fourteen mutilated, lines remaining of the inscription." ^ As regards the Fall, the texts discovered by Mr. Smith allude to mere convulsions of nature, presented under the form of Titanic struggles between the primeval God and the great serpent, which is only chaos personified. A cylinder now in the British Museum, represents a man and woman by a tree, on one branch of which are two large fruits towards which they are stretching out their hands. Behind the woman appears a serpent. This is obviously the very symbolism of Genesis. The story of the Deluge has been reconstructed almost entire by means of the fragments of a national poem found in the library of Assurbanipal. The story is told by Xisuthrus the ' A translation is given in Smith's "Assyrian Discoveries." See M. Bonnet's learned treatise, "Les decouvertes Assyriennes et Ic rccit de la Genese," Montauban, 1S84. Berosus gives a third abridged version of the Deluge, taken from the sacred books of Babylon. * "Assyiian Discoveries," G. Smith, p. 397. 28 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Chaldean king. The gods tell him of the judgment which is coming, and the tablet reads as follows : — Column I, 21. " Make a ship after this. . . . 22 I destroy (?) the sinner and life. . . . 23 Cause to go in ? the seed of life lall of it to the midst of the ship. 24. The ship which thou shalt make 25. 600 (?) cubits shall be the measure of its length, and 26. 60 (?) cubits the amount of its breadth and height. 27 into the deep launch it." 28. I perceived and said to Hea my Lord : 29. " The shipmaking thou commandest me, 30. when I shall have made, 31. young and old will deride me." 32. Hea opened his mouth and spake and said to me his servant : 33. " . . . . thou shalt say unto them 34 he has turned from me and 35 fixed over me 36 like caves. . . , 37 above and below 38 closed the ship. . . . 39. . . . the flood which I will send to you, 40. I into it enter and the door of the ship turn. 41. " Into the midst of it thy grain, thy furniture and thy goods, 42. thy wealth, thy womenservants, thy female slaves, and the young men, 43. the beasts of the field, the animals of the field all, I will gather and 44. I will send to thee and they shall be enclosed in thy dooi." Then follows the description of the building of the vessel, which was carefully overlaid with bitumen within and without, like Noah's ark, and the narrative goes on: — Column II. 25. " All I possessed the strength of it, all I possessed the strength of it silver, 26. all I possessed the strength of it gold, 27. all I possessed the strength of it, the seed of life, the whole, 28. I caused to go into the ship ; all my maleservants, and my female servants, 29. the beast of the field, the animal of the field, the sons of "the people all of them, I caused to go up. 30. A flood Shamas made and 31. he spake saying in the night : ' I will cause it to rain heavily, 32. enter to the middle of the ship and shut thy door.' CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 29 33. A flood he raised and 34. he spake saying in the night : ' I will cause It to rain {or it will rain) from heaven heavily.' 35. In the day I celebrated his festival 36. the day of his appointment ? fear I had. 37. I entered to the midst of the ship and shut my door. 38. To close the ship to Buzur-sadirabi the boatman. 39. the palace I gave with its goods. 40. The raging of a storm in the morning 41. arose, from the horizon of heaven extending and wide, 42. Vul in the midst of it thundered and 43. Nebo and Saru went in front, 44. the throne bearers went over mountains and plains, 45. the destroyer Nergal overturned, 46. Ninip went in front and cast down, 47. the spirits carried destruction, 1 48. in their glory they swept the earth ; 49. of Vul the flood reached the heaven, 50. the bright earth to a waste was turned. Column III. 1. The surface of the earth like .... it swept, 2. it destroyed all life from the face of the earth, .... 3. the strong deluge over the people reached to heaven. 4. Brother saw not his brother, it did not spare the people. In heaven 5. the gods feared the tempest and 6. sought refuge ; they ascended to the heaven of Anu. 7. The gods like dogs fixed in droves prostrate. 8. Spake Ishtar like a child, 9. uttered the great goddess her speech : 10. ' All to corruption are turned and 11. then I in the presence of the gods prophesied evil. 12. As I prophesied in the presence of the gods evil, 13. to evil were devoted all my people and I prophesied 14. thus : " I have begotten my people and 15. like the young fishes they fill the sea." ' 16. The gods concerning the spirits were weeping with her, 17. the gods in seats, seated in lamentation, 18. covered were their lips for the coming evil. 19. Six days and nights 20. passed, the wind, deluge, and storm, overwhelmed. 21. On the seventh day in its course was calmed the storm, and all the deluge 22. which had destroyed like an earthquake, 23. quieted. The sea he caused to dry, and the wind and deluge ended. 34. I perceived the sea making a tossing "3tJ THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANIJY. 25. and the whole of mankind turned to corruption, 26. like reeds the corpses floated. 27. I opened the window, and the light broke over my face, 28. it passed. I sat down and wept ; 29. over my face flowed my tears." The incident of the sending out of the birds is not wanting : 38. "I sent forth a dove and it left. The dove went and turned, and 39. a resting place it did not find, and it returned. 40. I sent forth a swallow and it left. The swallow went and turned, 41. a resting place it did not find, and it returned. 42. I sent forth a raven and it left. 43. The raven went, and the corpses on the water it saw, and 44. it did eat, it swam, and wandered away, and did not return. 45. I sent the animals forth to the four winds, I poured out a libation. 46. I built an altar on the peak of the mountain, 47. by seven herbs I cut. 48. at the bottom of them I placed reeds, pines, and simgar. 49. The gods collected at its burning, the gods collected at its good burning ; 50. the gods like flies over the sacrifice gathered." The narrative concludes with a great contest among the gods. But the great god, when he 7. " Saw the ship went with anger filled to the gods and spirits : 8. ' Let not any one come out alive, let not a man be saved from the deep.' 9. Ninip his mouth opened and spake and said to the warrior Bel 10. ' Who then will be saved ? ' Hea the words understood. 11. and Hea knew all things. 12. Hea his mouth opened and spake and said to the warrior Bel: 13. 'Thou prince of the gods warrior, 14. when thou art angry a deluge thou makest. 15. The doer of sin did his sin, the doer of evil did his evil. 16. May the exalted not be broken, may the captive not be delivered. 17. Instead of thee making a deluge, may lions be increased and men be reduced ; 18. instead of thee making a deluge, may leopards increase and men be reduced ; 19. instead of thee making a deluge, may a famine happen and the country be destroyed ; CHA LDEO-A SS YRIA N R EL IGION. 3 1 20. instead of thee making a deluge, may pestilence increase and men be destroyed. 21. I did not peer into the judgment of the gods. 22. Adrahasis a dream they sent, and the judgment of the gods he heard. 23. When his judgment was accomplished, Bel went up to the midst of the ship. 24. He took my hand and raised me up, 25. he caused to raise and to bring my wife to my side ; 26. he purified the country, he established in a covenant and took the people, 27. in the presence of Hasisadra and the people. 28. When Hasisadra and his wife, and the people, to be like the gods were carried away ; 29. then dwelt Hasisadra in a remote place at the mouth of the rivers. 30. They took me and in a remote place at the mouth of the rivers they seated me." ' Notwithstanding the naturalistic colouring giv^en by the Chaldean religion to these narratives, they are of the highest value, handing down to us as they do, a tradition of almost incalculable antiquity. Abraham brought it with him from Ur of the Chaldees. We know the monotheistic form which it assumes in Genesis.'^ § II. — The Phases of the Religious Evolution. Let us pass rapidly under review the three periods of development of the Chaldeo-Assyrian religion, connecting them with the history properly so called. The two earlier periods need not be separated, since the second was only the complement of the first.* As far back as any historical documents carry us, we find in Chaldea a population emerged from the savage state. The social relations are controlled by laws which extend ' "Assyrian Discoveries," G. Smith, pp. 185, 193. '■'The analogy between the two traditions is admirably treated in Schra- der's book, " The Cuneiform Inscriptions and the Old Testament." It gives a detailed commentary on the texts. The version of Berosus is much manipulated. * The principal authority is the wonderful collection in the Library at Nineveh, which is given in the "Collection of Cuneiform Inscriptions," by Sir Henry Rawlinson, 1866. It is a copy of the old Accadian texts, made in the seventh century B.C., by Assurbanipul, king of Assyria, with a translation appended. 32 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. their protection even to thie slave, and there is a regular system of taxation. The rents of the land are determined either according to a fixed valuation, or according to the current produce. Family ties are very strong. To disown father or mother is a veritable crime. A son who had been guilty of it would be first shaved, then led through the streets of the city, and finally expelled from the home. The desertion of a child is punished with imprisonment. The husband and wife have not, however, equal rights. The wife is liable to be drowned for an offence which, in the case of the husband, entails only the penalty of a fine. The same punishment condones the ill-treatment of a slave by his master.^ Imperfect as this system is, it still recognises to a certain extent, that right, not might, should rule. The time of the great monarchies has not yet come. It is a sort of feudal system under a number of chiefs, who are in reality petty kings.''^ Religion itself is still animism and nothing more, but animism carried to its furthest limits, with an attempt at mythology and cosmology, which only needs to be extended and systematised to become a definite religion. This rudi- mentary religion is really the expression of terror and despair. Man feels himself surrounded on all sides by the power of evil, which pursues him with relentless malice. It lurks in the bowels of the earth ; its poisonous breath rises through every fissure. It haunts the river banks, is borne on the wings of the wind, thunders in the storm, and like a subtle miasma creeps into his veins with deadly fever or chill. In accordance with the great idea of animism, this maleficent power works through a multitude of spirits or demons, who assume the most various forms. This superstitious belief in demons comes out in all its terrors, in the great collection from the Library at Nineveh, given to the world by Sir Henry Rawlinson. In the first two books, he enumerates and describes the spirits of evil, while the third book is filled with invoca- tions to the gods. There are numerous forms of exorcism intended to conjure the power of these demons, who people the deserts, the mountain tops, the sea, the ' Francois Lenormant, " Etudes Accadiennes," vol. iii., 3rd ed., p. 8. 2 Ibid., p. 24. CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 33 marshes, and enter into the bodies of men to torment them.^ Then comes the enumeration of all the plagues which this demoniacal power can let loose. Pestilence, madness, nightmare, sickness, and even involuntary celibacy, are all set down to it.^ The black gulf out of which this awful power is always ready to leap forth, underlies all the ways of men. It runs along the bed of the Tigris and Euphrates, beneath the waves of the sea, and through the burning entrails of the mountains.^ The demons go out into all lands. They make women barren ; they chase the mother from her home, and drive her into the desert with her child. They stop the flight of the bird in the air, and drive the terrified swallow from her nest to wander wildly through space. Invisible hunters, they pursue and strike down the ox and the lamb. They go from house to house. No door can keep them out. They dry up the milk in the breast. Theirs is the voice of slander ruthlessly destroying the peace of man at home and abroad. Intruding even into high heaven, they are deaf to prayers and supplications. They are the adver- saries of the Lord upon the earth ; they labour to destroy the gods. They are emphatically the enemies.^ The dark world of demons has its own hierarchy. At its head are the seven evil spirits whose dwelling is in the ocean depths. Under these terrible leaders, the demon army spreads far and wide, and assumes all possible forms, from plagues and pestilences to phantoms and awful visions of the night. Their accursed power is very vividly described in the following fragment from "Chaldean Magic." " They are seven ! they are seven ! in the depths of the ocean, they are seven ! in the brilhancy of the heavens, they are seven ! They proceed from the ocean depth, from the hidden retreat. They are neither male nor female, those which stretch themselves out like chains. They have no spouse, they do not produce children ; they are strangers to benevolence ; * Lenormant, "Chaldean Magic. * Ibid., chap. i. ' Ibid. * Ibid. 34 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. they listen neither to prayers nor wishes. Vermin come forth from the mountain, enemies of the god Hea, they are the agents of the vengeance of the gods, raising up difficulties, obtaining power by violence. The enemies ! the enemies ! they are seven ! they are seven ! they are twice seven 1 Spirit of the heavens may they be conjured ! Spirit of the earth may they be conjured ! " ' The demons are sometimes localised. There is one demon for the head, one for the hair, one for each member of the body. These destructive powers must be withstood by every possible means. The first is the invocation of the beneficent gods, who are sometimes addressed together as in the formula " Spirit of the heavens, conjure it ! Spirit of the earth, conjure it ! " ^ This prayer for deliverance is a form of exorcism, a sacred formula, the efficacy of which is in proportion to the great- ness of the name invoked. This importance attached to certain mystic words is a necessary consequence of animism. In this stage of his development, man sees a spirit in everything, and applies this simple belief to words. He supposes the word to enshrine the presence of a mysterious power. This power is from the gods, and is transfused into the sacred formula, peculiar efficacy being attached to the names of the higher deities. Hence every formula carrying with it an element of the Divine, has virtue to protect from evil. The converse is equally certain. "A malicious imprecation acts upon man like a wicked demon, the voice which curses has power over him, the malicious imprecation is the spell (which produces) the disease of his head The malicious imprecation slaughters this man like a lamb ; his god oppresses him in his body: his goddess creates anguish in him by a reciprocal influence; the voice which curses, covers and loads him like a veil." * Hence the necessity of a countercharm to be worked by holy words : " The evil fate, by the command from the lips of Hea, may it be destroyed like a plant, 1 "Chaldean Magic," p. i8. « Ibid., p. 3. ' Ibid., p. 64. CHALDEO-A SS YRIAN RELIGION: 35 may it be divided into pieces like a fruit ! may it be torn and plucked up like a twig ! The evil fate, Spirit of the heavens, conjure it! Spirit of the earth, conjure it I " ' Next to holy words, the best way of loosing the spell of the curse is to drive the cruel demon, the evil spirit, into some plastic representation of itself. Animism im- plies that it actually comes out of the man and goes into this other form. Hence, in order to exorcise the terrible demon of the plague " which has no hand, no foot, yet comes on man like a snare, which burns the country like fire, spreads over the plain like a chain ; like an enemy takes man captive ; burns man like a flame ; binds the invalid like a bundle " ; a symbolic image of it must be fashioned and applied to the living flcsh of the sick man.^ In order to complete the cure, it is well to reproduce also the image of the good gods and to place it in front of the house. This is the explanation of the " great winged bulls " which flanked the entrance gates of the palaces at Nineveh, and were looked upon as genii keeping watch and ward. The talisman, a sort of sacred object which is also endued with divine virtue, plays an important part in the exorcism of demons. It is only necessary to place long bands of white or black stuff upon the head, or hand, or foot, or whatever part is affected, in order to expel the demon, phantom, spectre, vampire, and to break the spell, for in this way the divine power is brought face to face with the power of evil.^ The talisman, the forms of which are very various, is an impassable barrier placed between the god and the demons. It is like a snare in which the evil one is taken. " He who crosses the boundary (of property) the talisman of the gods, boundary of heaven and earth, will never let him go again." ^ These elaborate rites of exorcism needed many to take part in them. According to the book of magic, the exorcists were ranged in three categories — conjurors, physiiians, and the theo- ' "Chaldean Magic," p. 65. * Ibid., pp. 50, 51. * Ibid., pp. 44, 45. ■• Ibid. 36 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. sophists or priests. For a long time the practice of magic was an important function of the Chaldean priests. So far we have only adverted to the animistic elements of the ancient religion of Chaldea. The higher elements were not wanting and these were developed by a true mythological evolution. The country, though not excep- tionally favoured like some other regions, had its beauty and grandeur. The soil rewarded in the end- the pains bestowed upon it ; and it helped to stimulate the activity of its inhabitants by the heavy demands it made upon their patience. The fruitfulness of the earth, and still more the sublimity of the starry heavens rarely veiled by clouds, spoke to them of a propitious deity. Heaven, earth, and even the depths beneath (which belonged only in part to the powers of evil), were ail in turn deified by the Chaldeans. The image under which the universe appeared to them was that of a round skiff turned over. The earth formed its upper convex surface. The concavity beneath is the terrestrial abyss, the abode of spirits and of the dead. Above the earth extends the sky with its constellations of fixed stars ; above again are the planets "revolving round the mountains of the East ; the column which joined the heavens and the earth and served as an axis to the celes- tial vault." ^ Between earth and heaven is the zone of winds and storms. Each of these zones has its god. Anna dwells in the highest heaven ; Hea upon earth ; Mnlge, in the lower deep. Hea represents especially the humid element which surrounds and fertilises the earth ; hence it appears under the form of a fish. This is the Cannes of Berosus. By the elementary anthropomorphism which characterises every stage of religious development, each male god has his wife, a sort of feminine hypostasis of his attributes. The wife of Hea is Damkina; Ningelal is the feminine form of Mulge, the analogue of the Assyrian goddess Belit. The personality of these goddesses is left altogether undefined and vague. They are not so much persons at all, as cosmical powers deified in their benefi- cent attributes. The god of the highest heaven remains wrapped in impenetrable shadow. It is impossible to ' "Chaldean Magic," pp. 151, 152. CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 37 form any distinct idea of him. After these more or less abstract divinities, the sun and moon are the objects of worship. In Uke manner, the winds and waves are in- voked, because, Hke the prow of the vessel, they force their way in the teeth of opposing fate. Fire occupies a place of high honour in this rude religion. It is invoked as the great agent in dissipating spells, the hero who puts the demons to flight. He (or rather it), is frequently called Bilgt, which must be translated as " the fire of the rushes," the fire issuing from an instrument analogous to the arani of the primitive Aryas, which was made out of a ligneous reed. A hymn says : " Fire, supreme chief rising high in the countrj' ! Hero, son of the Ocean rising high in tlic country ! Fire, with thy pure and brilliant flame, Thou bringest light into the dwellings of darkness, Thou decidest the fate of everything which has a name." ' These gods, so dimly personified, fight against the demons which are led by the seven spirits of the deep. This contest no doubt represents the great battle between light and darkness, which we find in all Oriental religions. In character it is rather cosmical than moral. It is less prominent in the Chaldean than in later religions. Anthropomorphism is as yet too shadowy to lend much colour to the contest between the gods and the demons. In truth it is not so much the active succour, the posi- tive intervention of the gods which their worshippers desire, as some magic arts by which to break the spells of the demons. The great secret of deliverance and victory is the power to pronounce the ineffable name of the god, which no man can hear. The god of the earth is alone able to obtain this revelation and impart this benefit. " The highest, the most irresistible of all the powers dwells in the divine and mysterious name, ' the supreme name' with which Hea is acquainted. Before this name everything bows in heaven and in earth and in Hades. The gods themselves are enthralled by this name, and render it obedience." ^ Here we trace that vague monotheistic intuition which is indeed a universal element ' "Chaldean Magic," pp. 184, 185. 2 Tu;,i „ i^ ^ Ibid., p. 4: 38 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of religion, but is at first too slight to leave its impress upon it. The overwhelming sense of the impassable barrier which separates man from the mightiest of the gods, prompts the desire to find a mediator nearer to himself than Hea. We have already seen sun, moon, and fire invoked in this capacity. A god, whose nature it is somewhat difficult to understand — Silik-mulu-khi — that is " he who distri- butes good amongst men," seems to have assumed this benevolent office. On the one hand he receives by revelation from Hea the secret which has power to ensure the defeat of the demons ; on the other hand he carries to Hea the appeal of men tormented by malignant spirits and diseases. He is called the " hero amongst the gods, the eldest son of Hea, the merciful one, the generator who brings back the dead to life." " He commands the sea and it becomes calm." He commands the girdle of the river of Sippara (the Euphrates) and overturns its course.^ This he does as a personification of the wind ; but he was far the most human of all the Accadian gods. He is a sort of anticipation of the Persian Mithra — the deliverer. After Anna and Hea, we have named among the gods Mulge, the god of the lower abyss, where warrior gods under his direction combat demons, monsters and plagues. Mulge himself is at once a terrible and a glorious god. He is the lord of " the country whence none return, the home which one may enter but none can leave, the road from which there is no return, the dwelling where those entering find blindness instead of light ; where the multi- tude has nothing but dust to appease its hunger, nothing but mud for food, where they see no light and dwell in darkness, where shades, as birds, press towards the vault, where dust thickens upon the door and its wings." '^ Nevertheless a hymn addressed to Silik-mulu-khi, the god mediator, attributes to him the power of bringing back the dead to life. Another prayer asks him to strengthem the hands of the dwellers in the realm of shades. Lastly, in one hymn a goddess of the night is represented as pro- *" Chaldean Magic," pp. 192, 193, * Ibid., p. 165. CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 39 nouncing judgment. Here we have a vague intimation of retribution, which becomes more distinct in later times. Prayer occupies the foremost place in this worship. Sacrifice is also mentioned, but there is nothing moral or elevated about it. It presents food to the gods, who pounce upon the offering " like flies upon meat." No doubt these are the inferior gods. There is nothing more meritorious than to pour out the blood of victims like water. The idea that it is doing honour to the gods to resemble them, applied to the divinities which produce life, led in the end to the rites of sacred prostitution practised at Babylon ; but its influence was felt in a much earlier stage, for we find from very ancient texts, that it was regarded as the greatest misfortune for a female slave not to have attracted the attention of her master.^ Such, as we gather, was the Chaldean or Accadian religion in its primitive form. It is impossible to determine exactly when it was that it assumed a wider range under the dominant influence of the Cushite tribes, branches of the great Semitic race, which became blended with the early inhabitants of the country, and rapidly swarmed first over Babylon and then over Assyria. It is certain that no fundamental change was made in the religion through this influx of strangers ; but Chaldea passed through a period of sub- division during which the same gods took different names in each of the towns which served as centres to these petty kingdoms or principalities. When the Chaldeo- Babylonian Empire was founded, it had to find a place in its pantheon for all these gods who were worshipped under so many separate names. Thus the mythological circle was widened. Two other causes beside political unification combined to give it its final character. First of all, the priesthood had acquired great importance, as the caste of the Brahmans subsequently did in India. Just as the Brahmans turned to their own account the religion of the Vedas, so the Chaldean magicians made the primitive worship of the country minister to their authority. In the second place, a very marked feature of this period is ' " Chaldean Magic," p. 385. 40 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the importance attached to the observation of the stars, which was soon raised from mere astrological super- stition to the science of astronomy. The habit of reading man's destiny in the heavens and deciphering its secrets in the movements of the planets, was a great advance on the sorceries of the earlier priesthood. The sidereal aspect began to predominate also in the conception of the gods. This did not tend to make them more human. Indeed it must be admitted that anthropomorphism re- ceived a check. We give now a brief summary of the mythological system of the Chaldeo-Babylonian religion, grafted upon the original element of naturism, as we gather it from the cuneiform inscriptions. The fundamental idea of this system is really that of divine unity in the pan- theistic sense. The hidden god who comprehends all things in himself, manifests himself through the diversity of phenomena. The secondary gods who form a gra- duated scale below him, are but personifications of his attributes. They are primarily, as we have said, plane- tary gods. The god par excellence is Ilu. Babylon is his city, the city of Ilu. Next to this supreme god we have the first triad produced by emanation. It consists of the three following gods : — Anil, the primordial chaos ; Bel, the demiurgus ; Ntiah, the saviour, the intelligent guide. To these three male gods correspond three feminine divinities : — Anata ; Belit; Davkina. The second triad is composed thus : — '• Sin, the moon god ; Sanias, the sun god ; Bin, the god of the atmosphere.^ Then come the planetary gods : — Ninip, Saturn ; Mardiik, Jupiter ; ' The name of this god is disputed ; it has been maintained that hia name was Ramamt, the Thunderer. CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 41 Nergal, Mars : Istar, Venus ; Nebo, Mercury. The twelve great gods preside over the twelve months of the year. Below them are a multitude of inferior gods, angels, genii, and the whole troop of demons, who per- petuate the ancient sorcery and incantations. In reality, we find in this new mythological cycle the same religious idea as among the early Chaldeans, with the addition of the sidereal element. We have the same supreme deity wrapped in mystery, only he is called Ilii instead of Anna. The first triad gives us the three gods corresponding to the three regions of the universe. Mardtik now takes the place of Silik-Mulu-klii, the god- mediator. The feminine element however occupies a larger place in the new pantheon. Anata, Bclit, and above all Istar, represent it in its fertility and voluptuousness. This explains why prostitution was made obligatory upon every woman as a rite in the temple of Babylon. In the legend of Istar we have a rough outline of the myth of Adonis. She also loses her husband and goes in search of him in the realms of the dead. This is the image of nature, coming forth after the sterility and death of winter, to seek again her brilliant progeny.^ § III. — The Assyrian Religion. Assyria, when it absorbed Babylonia and founded its vast empire, changed nothing but a name in the Chaldean pantheon. It raised its god Assur to the dignity of the supreme god, but without making any essential modi- fication in the character of that deity. It gave him ' The recent excavations of M. de Sarzec at Tello, have given us a glimpse of the degree of development at which the small principalities of the country of the Sumirs had arrived before the formation of the great monarchies. M. Ledrain, Professor of Assyrian epigraphy in the school of the Louvre, gives a very interesting review of the social and moral status of this tiny kingdom. According to a cj'linder discovered by an Englishman in Mesopotamia (a cylinder dating from the sixth century before our era), the reigns of Sargon I. and of Naramsin ought to be placed as far back as the year 3750 before our era. Now on com- paring the archaic inscription on a vase of Naramsin with that cf a 42 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. moreover a brilliant impersonation upon earth in its conquering king. Iiere history comes in as an impor- tant factor in the rel ^ious development. We shall not dv ell upon the mythical part of this history, which will concern us only in relation to its influence upon religion. We have seen Chaldea divided into various small kingdoms. Their chief cities were Uz, Nipur, with its gigantic temple, Sippara, Borsippa, Larsa, and lastly Babylon, destined long to maintain an independent dynasty. The country, after having been conquered by the Elamites 2300 e.g., and ruled over by a Median dynasty, finally became part of the dominion of Assyria. The Assyrians extended their conquests far and vide. They built splendid cities like Nineveh, Calah, Ellasar. After their king, Tuklat-abal- asar, had conquered Babylon (iioo B.C.) the Assyrian empire entered upon a prolonged period of wars and conquests. Under such kings as Assur-nazir-pal and Shalmaneser III., its victorious armies spread over a large part of Western Asia, from the Persian Gulf to Elam and the Red Sea. They occupied both Media and Armenia. After m.iny vicissitudes of fortune, Assyria entered again in the seventh and eighth centuries b.c. upon a period of conquest and glory under the dynasty of the Sargons. At this time it took possession of Egypt. The period of decline commences with the elevation of the Medes under Cyaxares, In alliance with the kings of Babylon, who were always ripe for revolt, the Medes dealt a mortal blow at the Assyrian colossus. The ruin of Nineveh in 606 produced an immense effect. Finally, after many reverses, old Chaldea under Nebuchadnezzar once more regained the sceptre of the Asiatic world, and vase in the Sarzec collection in the Louvre, especially as to the desig- nation of the word king, wo find that the vase brought from Tello is of earlier date than that of Naramsin. We are thus carried back to more than four thousand years before Christ, as the date of the little kingdom of Tello. Judging from the inscription in the Sarzec collection, it must have reached a fairly advanced degree of civilisation. Architecture is shown to have been in a high state of development, by the style of the temples, especially those built in the reign of king Gudea. The religion is obviously just what it was throughout this whole region, before the foundation of the great monarchies. (See " Revue politique et litteraire," January I2th, 1883.) CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN RELIGIONS 43 held it until the time when, under the leadership of Cyrus, Persia appeared upon the scene and a new period of history began. These great wars of the Assyrian conquerors have left few traces except upon the monuments in their capital cities. From these monuments we get some idea of this proud and cruel race of kings, who delighted to immor- talise through the sculptor's chisel, not only the pomp of their victories but the agonies of their victims on the battle and on the hunting field. These terrible kings pass before us in the obscurity of the dim past, like comets scattering death and dismay in their train. The work of destruction only ceases in one place to begin in another. There are always fresh realms to conquer, new revolts to quell. It is a deluge of blood which sweeps all before it, and leaves behind only a barren tract of desolation. That which stands out in strong relief upon this lurid background, is the image of the king, the representative of the gods and worshipped as their equal. It is extraordinary how these kings exalt themselves in the inscriptions which record their exploits. Never did human pride use more daring language or more audaciously claim equality with God. In a genuine inscription Tuklat-abal-asar thus expresses himself: " I filled the mountain defiles with the corpses of my enemies. I cut off their heads. I overthrew the walls of their cities. I took slaves, booty, treasures without number. Six thousand of them embraced my knees and I made them prisoners. I swept like a tempest over the bodies of the fighting men in the mountain passes, for I am the mighty king, the destroyer of the wicked, he who slays the hosts of the opposers." ^ Another inscription runs thus : — " The god Assur my lord, commanded me to march. I disposed my chariot and my armies. I cut to pieces my enemies and pursued them as wild beasts. I carried off their gods ; I gave their cities to the flames ; I made them heaps of ruins. I laid upon them the heavy yoke of my dominion, and in their presence I gave thanks to god Assur, my lord.^" ^ Maspero, " Histoire ancienne des peuples de rOrient," p. 296. » Ibid., p. 437. 44 I'HE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. In another inscription relating to the conquest of Elam, the Assyrian king boasts of having entered by the will of Assur and Istar into the city of Susa, and proudly reposed in its palaces. " I took away all their gods," he says, " and all their goddesses, their gorgeous apparel, their treasures, their priests. I carried all away to the land of Assur. I broke the winged lions and the bulls which kept guard over the temple. The high places of their kings who had not feared Assur and Istar, I burned under the sun." The king in using this language was the true repre- sentative of his people, who were intoxicated with his triumphs and gorged with booty taken from the enemy. The splendid palaces raised in the king's honour were the temples of this proud race of monarchs, of whom the god Assur was the august type. This worship of the conquering kings became a religion, symbolising the victorious strife of the national gods with the powers of evil. We thus get an important addition to the placid sidereal pantheon of the Chaldeans, though the new element is only a superstructure upon the old basis of naturalism. The moral development of a nation has not been fully described when its official religion has been characterised in its various phases. The soul of man always cherishes aspirations higher that its national worship, so long at least as this is in an early stage. Hence we find these ancient nations constantly getting beyond their own worship, expanding and purifying it, and projecting upon their gods some of the inner light which has its source deep in their own being. Thus by flashes they discerned a king higher than him whom they worshipped, and their various gods would be for a moment transfigured, but only to fall back again into the darkness. The cry of conscience went up nevertheless to the true God whom it was feeling and seeking after, through all those lower impersonations of the Divine which might seem to satisfy the soul in the ordinary course of life. The great inward prophecy has never been without an oracle. Of this we have abundant proof in the Chaldeo-Assyrian religion. In the first place, we find moral qualities attributed to CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 45 the gods which do not belong to their official character. The highest intuitions of the Divine in the heart of man are embodied in their changing forms. Thus after fire has been represented as the " pure and brilUant flame which brings Hght into the dwelling of darkness," as the force which " mixes copper and steel and purifies gold and silver," it is abruptly spoken of as " striking terror into the heart of the wicked." " May the works of the man, son of his god, shine with purity ! May he be high as heaven ! May he be pure and holy as the earth ! May he shine as the midst of heaven ! " So we read in a mutilated fragment.^ In another hymn the moon-god assumes the same moral aspect. It is no longer regarded as a mere force of nature, but acts as a god living and abiding. When the seven evil spirits of the abyss have raised tempests and gales of wind, when they have darkened the face of the lord of heaven, who looks forth in anguish through the shrouded sky, when they themselves have burst upon the earth like a torrent, the moon-god fights against them victoriously till " the king, son of his god, like the light of Aku (the god of the moon) causes the country to live again ; like the brilliancy of the flame he raises his head." ^ The humanity of the sun-god is more emphasised than that of the moon-god. He shines in the highest region of the heavens, dissipating the darkness, and is one of the most active protecting gods, a great enemy of demons and sorcerers. The hymn addressed to him runs thus : " O thou who causest lies to disappear, thou who dissipatest the bad influence of wonders, of auguries, of evil prognostications, of dreams, of wicked apparitions, thou who defeatest wicked plots. ... do not allow those who cast spells and are hardened to rise. . . . May the great gods who have created me, take my hand ! Thou, who curest my face, direct my hand, direct it, lord, light of the universe, sun." ^ What a sublime vision the unknown poet of old Chaldea must have had of his god, when he saw him radiant ' "Chaldean Magic," p. 185. ■ Ibid., pp. 204, 209. » Ibid., pp. 178-9. 46 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. through the portals of heaven, the archangels bowing low before him, while the earth beheld him with rapture. From the height of heaven he rules the children of men, shedding down upon them a ray of peace, and healing their sufferings.^ The divine sun brings deliverance from sufferings more intense than those which assail the body. One of the hymns in which he is addressed closes with these words, in which we notice the confusion of moral with material ideas so characteristic of the Chaldean religion. The priest is invoking help for a sufferer : "The man, son of his god, is burdened with the load of his omissions and transgressions. His feet and his hands suffer cruelly ; he is painfully exhausted by the disease. Sun, at the raising of my hands, come at the call, eat his food, absorb his victim, turn his weakness into strength. By thy order may his omissions be forgiven ! may his transgressions be blotted out ! Break his chains ! may he recover from his illness ! " ^ In spite of confusion and error there is however much beauty in these hymns of adoration. Sometimes prayer assumes the form of a dialogue between the man and his god, as in this invocation addressed to Silik-mulu-khi, the god-mediator. The worshipper. " Who can escape thy hail ? Thy will is the sublime scimitar with which thou rulest heaven and earth." The god. " I commanded the sea, and the sea became calm. I commanded the flower, and the flower ripened its grain. I commanded the girdle of the river of Sippara, and I overturned its course." The worshipper. " Lord, thou art sublime, what transitorj' being is equal to thee? Silik-mulu-khi amongst all the gods who are named thou art the remunerator."* There is a clear acknowledgment of sin in the hymn we have already quoted. It ultimately finds sublime expression in veritable psalms of penitence. The fragments referring to the creation and the deluge, tainted as they are with ' "Chaldean Magic," p. i8o. '^ Ibid., p. i8i, =• Ibid., p. 192. CHA LDEO-A SS YRIA N RELIGION. 47 naturism, still bear traces of a dim yet distinct memory of a decadence of the human race, or at least they look upon wrong done by man as the cause of the worst scourges that desolate the world. The story of creation contains these words : " AH which had been planned by the great gods was excellent." The deluge is distinctly ascribed to the sins of men for whom the great god Hea claims the pity of Bel the god of justice. " Let the sinner expiate his sins," says Hea to Bel, "the malefactor his crimes, but be thou propitious to him, have pity on him that he be not destroyed." ^ The Chaldean penitent is especially concerned about his own sin, as the following quotations show : " Lord, let the fierce anger of thy heart be appeased ! Let the god whom I know not, be pacified towards me ! Let the god who knows the unknown be pacified ! Let the mother-goddess who knows the unknown be appeased I I eat the bread of thine anger, I drink the waters of anguish. I feed, without knowing it, on transgression against my god. I walk without knowing it, in shortcoming towards my mother- goddess, Lord, my faults are very great ! Very great are my sins ! Oh God, who knowest the enemy, very great are my faults ! I err, not knowing it. The strength of the anger of the Lord is kindled against me ! I am cast down and there is none to stretch out a hand to me. I go weeping and none takes me by the hand. I cry and there is none to hear. I am worn out and languishing and there is none to deliver. I draw near to God who shows mercy, and I pour forth bitter lamentations. Lord, be favourable to me ! How long, O my god ? How long, O mother-goddess ? How long, O God who knowest the unknown ? How long will thy heart be full of anger ? No man knows whether he has blasphemed or done piously ; Lord, thou wilt not thrust away thy servant into the midst of the tempestuous waters, come to his help. Take his hand ! I commit sin. Turn it into piety. I make mistakes ; let the wind carry them away. My blasphemies are many, Tear thou them in pieces like a veil ! ' Bonnet, " Les decouvertes Assyriennes," p. 96. 48 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHklSTIANITY. O my god, my sins are seven times seven — take away my sins. Mother goddess, forgive my sins. Let thy heart be appeased like the heart of a mother who has born a child. Thy child is full of lamentations ; his heart is torn with sorrow He mourns in silence like the turtle-dove. He has implored like a child, the mercy of his own god." These lamentations conclude with the hope of deliver- ance. " Be appeased, I have implored thee. If thou dost receive me favourably. If thou dost grant thy protecting favour to man, he lives-again. Ruler of all things and of all men, thou merciful deity who dost restore. Thou dost receive our lamentations." ' We catch the same accents of penitential sorrow in the following fragments : — "O God my creator, Hold up my arms. Guide the breath of my mouth, Guide my hands. O Lord of light, Lord, leave not thy servant to fall. In the waters of the roaring torrent, Hold thou my hands. Lord, my transgressions are many, Great are my sins. The Lord in his wrath has laid his wrath upon me. The Lord in the severity of his heart has laid his hand upon me. Jstar has fallen upon me, she hath put me to grief. . I fall to the earth, and there is none to lift me up. He who fears not his god, shall be bowed down like the reed. He who does not revere Istar, his strength shall fail, Like the star in the heaven, he shall fade away. He will be driven away like the waves and the clouds," Thus did the great voice of conscience make itself heard in a land still devoted to naturalistic worship and in bondage to superstitious terrors. It was impossible that this development of conscience should not be accom- panied by at least some vague intuition of retribution in a future life. The Chaldean religion granted a place of privilege in ' Lenormant, "Etudes Accadiennes," vol. iii., 3rd edit., pp. 150, 159 1S3. CHA LDEO-A S SYRIA N RELIGION. 49 the abode of the dead to brave soldiers. It was in Assyria that the conception of the future life took a new development. The most important document on this subject is the mythological narrative of the descent of Istar into Hades.' The brave repose in the abode of the dead, sur- rounded by their relations and refreshed with the pure water of life. It is said to the just : " Drink pure water • in pure vessels." The goddess Anata has transported them to a place of holiness where flow honey and fatness. A bronze tablet recently discovered by M. Clermont- Ganneau, seems to mark a new stage in the idea of retribution connected with the future life. The lower region is occupied by two fearful monsters which repre- sent avenging tormentors, while above, upon the earth, a dead man is placed between two protecting gods. There is therefore a recourse to the gods to escape the sorrows of Hades. Strange to say there is not a trace of burial in Assyria. Chaldea seems to have been the necropolis of the whole empire. The Chaldean tomb is a little vault built of bricks. Sometimes it is replaced by jars of baked earth covered with great mounds. These accumulated graves formed in the end enormous mounds. Chaldeo-Assyrian art is the faithful expression of a religion of terror and of that passion for conquest so brilliantly personified in the kings. The buildings com- posing the royal palaces were of brick, and were grouped upon a platform shaped like a T. Each of the two parts • of this platform was a rectangle.^ They were the temples of the deified kings. They were reared upon artificial mounds, which served as pedestals. In order to relieve the monotony of so flat a country as Chaldea, staged towers were introduced. " The whole structure terminated in a chapel placed on the central axis of the tower, and surmounted by a cupola. The inscriptions mention the dome covered with leaves of chiselled gold which crowned at Babylon that temple ' to the foundations of the earth,' which was restored * Pcrrot et Chipiez, " Chaldean and Assyrian Art," p. 13. 50 THE ANCIENJ WORLD AND CHRIS2IANITY. by Nebuchadnezzar/ The use of brick made the con- struction of the dome easy. The decorations could not be a part of the building itself as in Egypt, where stone was chiefiy used. In Chaldeo-Assyrian art, the ornamen- tation was chiefly in fresco with metal plaques and glazed polychromatic bricks."^ All the temples are built on the same plan. " They consist of rectangular prisms placed one upon the other, and gradually diminishing in size. At a distance this gives a pyramidal appearance to the mass of which they form a part, but their walls are vertical." ^ In Assyrian sculpture demons are represented by figures of repulsive ugliness. Animal and human forms are constantly blended. In many colossal sculptures, the body and legs are those of a bull, the symbol of strength ; the mane of a lion floats around the figure of a man with eagle's wings. We never find one simple religious type. Chaldean art is always characterised by a bizarre re- ligious symbolism. It is otherwise with the sculptures de- signed for the palaces. These are uniformly of a narrative character. "The sculptor was, in a way, the editor of the military bulletins," says M. Perrot ; " his work was the newspaper of the day, explaining the political events of his time to those who could understand no other writing." * The scenes of the chase and of the battlefield, and the cruelties inflicted by the victors upon the captives, are depicted in startling relief. The animals are better rendered than the human form. Assyrian art is as a whole essentially monotonous, its one idea being to repre- sent terror and force. Such is this religion which never rises above its starting point, and is in its essence just the animism of savage nations. It is a religion of terror leading to the display of fierce warlike violence, and yet we find running through it purer and higher ideas — the prophetic intuition of a protecting deity of justice, who has pardon for sins con- fessed. It is not however by these brief flashes of the light of conscience that we can judge of the moral develop- • Perrot et Chipiez, "Chaldean and Assyrian Art," vol. i., p. 379. * Ibid., p. 372. ' Ibid., p. 397. ■* Ibid., vol. ii., p. 103 CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN RELIGION. 51 ment of a race, but by the prevailing tone of its ideas. Hence it is certain that among the Chaldeo-Assyrians, religion never rose to anything beyond sidereal naturism, slightly coloured by anthropomorphism, and that they always attached the highest importance to the magic arts designed to exorcise the demoniacal power abroad in the world. The better elements of this religion were its acknowledg- ment of its own insufficiency, its touching lament ovei the incapacity of its gods to give light or to satisfy its yearning, and lastly its plaintive cry to "a god whom it knew not," as says one of its sacred songs. CHAPTER III. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. ^ IN tracing the religious evolution in Egypt, we are carried back into an antiquity almost as remote as that of Chaldea. We find here also the same basis of animism which still exists among savage nations. Only it is not perpetuated and systematised as in the Chaldeo- Assyrian religion, where it had the honour to survive primitive barbarism and to hold its own in the midst of an advanced state of civilisation. In Egypt it became quickly transformed by a. new interpretation which con- nected it with the national religion under its ultimate form. It still lived on however, almost unchanged, in popular superstition. Egypt had a very important influence on the general development of religion in the Asiatic East, being constantly brought into contact with it by the rude shock of war, in which the peoples were brayed together as by a pestle in a mortar, Egypt comprises the valley of the Nile from the first cataract to the sea. It is, as Herodotus justly describes it, " the gift of the Nile." ^ " It forms a band of vegetation athwart the desert, an elongated oasis on the banks of the river from which it derives the moisture needed for vege- ' G. Maspero, " Histoire ancienne des peoples de I'Orient." C. P. Tiele, " Comparative History of the Egyptian and Mesopotamian Religions." By the same. " Outlines of the History of Religion to the Spread of the Universal Religions." F. Lenormant, " Manual of the Ancient History of the East." " Le Livre des Morts." Traduction par Paul Pierret. Paul Pierret, " Le pantheon Egyptien. ' Dunker, "Geschichte der Alterthums." ^ Herodotus, lib. ii., c. v. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 53 tation. Its fertility depends entirely on the regular over- flowing of the Nile, which deposits a fertilising slime over the parched lands of the waste howhng wilderness." ^ Before the rising of the Nile, at the time when its waters are lowest, shortly before the summer solstice, the country presents the most sterile appearance possible. It looks like a region burnt with fire. The contrast is marvellous when the river has spread its healing waters over the land. " All nature shouts for joy," says a witness of this brilliant and universal revival. " The men, the children, the buffaloes gambol in its refreshing waters ; the broad waves sparkle, shoals of fish and fowl of every wing flutter over them in clouds. The air is literally alive with insects innumerable."'-* In a word, above, beneath, around, it is the sudden and complete triumph of life over death. It must not be forgotten that this phenomenon of the overflow of the Nile recurs with almost absolute regularity. The same regularity characterises the aspect of the heavens. The blue of the sky is never clouded, the sun shines in right royal splendour. Nothing is more rare in Egypt than the coming up of a sudden storm. The light is never shrouded till evening, when the sun goes down in the purple west, in a glory which is the promise of recurring brightness on the morrow. No sharp snow-peak rises to break the uniformity of the plain, which is bounded by the desert and finally loses itself in the sand. Egypt presents an aspect of calm immensity, where everything has a character of serene fixedness, where the universal struggle between the powers of life and death in nature, is carried on as in a well regulated drama, without sudden cata- strophe. Its river and its sun constitute its glory and its fruitfulness. Hence it is never weary of extolling them. We shall find all the mythology of Egypt connected with solar myths. " Hail, O Nile," we read in one of the most ancient hymns, " O thou who dost manifest thyself upon this earth, and who comest in peace to give life to Egypt, Thou hidden god, irrigator of the fruitful land, creator of the sun. Thou dost water the whole earth, thou ' Maspero, " Histoire ancienne des peuples de I'Orient," p. I. * Osburn, "The Monumental History of Egypt," vol. i., p. 13. 54 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. creator of the corn. When thou arisest, the earth is filled with mirth. Thou dost drink the tears from all eyes, and scatterest the abundance of thy goodness."^ The flora of Egypt is not very varied, but v/ith its lotus and papyrus it covers the earth with a brilliant robe. The palm-tree rises majestically. The cow and the ox fill an important place, as in all agricultural countries. The sparrowhawk, the eagle, and the ibis fly in the light air, and the banks of the river are rendered dangerous by the crocodile and the hippopotomus. The fauna of Egypt entered largely into the animal symbolism of the national religion. The nature of the soil did not allow of idleness, while at the same time it did not overtax the energy of the husbandman. The necessity for taking advantage of the short season favourable for cultivation, and of never neglecting the construction of canals for the water, demanded great public works. It was imperative to have at command a vast pacific army, and this favoured the formation of a great centralised and monarchical state. This system was well adapted, by the concentration of national forces under one powerful hand, to facilitate a policy of conquest. Such was the land of Egypt. It derived its name from ' one of its principal gods."'^ The race which inhabited it ; at the remote period when it first appeared in history was i not indigenous. It had been preceded by a black race ; which it had driven off the field. It has been wrongly supposed to be of Ethiopian origin. Both the character of the language and the physical type of the Egyptian indicate an Asiatic parentage. He belongs to the proto-Semitic race, possibly he may even be connected with the more ancient race whence sprang , the Aryans and Semites.^ Asia was always to the Egyptians the holy land, the country of the gods. They came probably by the isthmus of Suez, and established themselves first between the Delta and the cataracts. If we compare the figures upon the ancient monu- ' Maspero, " Hymne au Nil," Paris, 1868. * "House of the Worship of Ptah." ^ Maspero, " Histoire ancienne," p. 17; Tiele. "Comparative History,' PP 17-19- THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 55 ments with the fellahs of to-day, we shall observe that the physical type has not changed. It partakes of the fixity which is the general characteristic of the country. Tall and thin, the Egyptian is of a grave phy- siognomy in which gentleness is blended with sadness. Over his lips there passes a sad smile which has a touch of resignation in it. The whole aspect of the Egyptian expresses calm reflection, an acceptance of the immut- able order of things, without any attempt to change it. The pre-historic period must have lasted for many cen- turies. Doubtless a patriarchal system of government prevailed, with an animistic religion, in which the stars and the fertilising river were the principal manifestations of the divine. From the time when Egypt begins to have a history, we find it divided into small principalities, composed of one or more towns with small territories attached. These were called nomcs, and were ultimately absorbed in one great monarchy. The social organisation has already its hierarchy. The king shares his authority with the high priest. He receives the taxes, directs public works, and provides for the defence of the land. The nomes still existed in the state of subordinate sovereignties when the great kingdom of Egypt was constituted. The capital of the country was first Memphis, then Thebes, then Tanis. Each of these centres had its particular gods, which were in reality only different manifestations of one and the same religious conception. Just as royalty pre- served its own character, though one dynasty succeeded another, so religion underwent no real change, though the names of the gods were altered. All these sovereign gods were brought together at last in a sort of national Pantheon. We shall see how at first each represented one particular aspect of the same elementary deity ; but subsequently they all became confounded with one another. We shall only touch on the history of Egypt properly so-called, in so far as it contributes to the evolution of the religious idea. All that we know of its highest anti- quity is through mythic story. The Egyptians regarded their early kings, those who had raised them out of a life 56 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of barbarism, as gods, come down to earth to teach them. There is a vague tradition that at this remote period the priestly caste had a certain predominance. The first really historic period is the Memphite, in which king Menes built Memphis and made it the true capital, and even this epoch is much obscured by legend. It compre- hends ten dynasties. Great temples were built in honour of Ptah, the worship of the gods was duly appointed, and the march of conquest began. Art, which was at first very rude nnd ne^ er rose above the roughest outlines, received a real impetus at the close of this period under the reign of Cheops (Suphis), Chephrenes and Mencheres, as is shown by the erection of the pyramids of Ghizeh, and of the great Sphynx. The Memphite period lasted for nineteen centuries. After repeated revolts under the eleventh dynasty, Thebes took the place of Memphis as the political and religious capital of the country. To this dynasty Egypt owed the sinking of the Lake Moeris, and the erection of the vast royal necropolis known as the Labyrinth. Abys- sinia and Nubia weie conquered. It was during the Theban period, that the terrible invasion of shepherds belonging to the Canaanitish race took place. They formed the fourteenth dynasty. When they had been vanquished and expelled, the new Theban empire began with the sixteenth dynasty. Then the great Egyptian conquests in Asia commenced. Syria fell almost entirely under the dominion of Egypt. The great sanctuaries of Thebes and Karnak belong to this period. The reign of the great Sesostris (Rameses II.) was one succession of victorious wars, the most famous of which was provoked by the coalition of the Syrian peoples. When Seso':triv. had assured by his arms the preponderance of Egypt, he devoted himself to the arts of peace and multiplied his vast buildings. There is not a ruin in Egypt or Nubia which does not bear his name. It was he who completed the temple of Luxor at Thebes. He did not neglect works of public utility, and built several cities. Poetry was much cultivated during his reign. The " Book of the Dead " belongs for the most part to the Theban period. This was the golden age of THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 57 Egypt. Immediately on the death of Sesostris, the unity of the empire was threatened by a succession oi faineant kings. It needed the genius of Rameses III., head of the twentieth dynasty, to estabhsh it in its glory by his triumphant wars. This restoration however did not last long. Thebes lost its pre-eminence, and the twenty-first dynasty, which had been preceded by a sacerdotal re- volution, fixed its seat at Tanis in the Delta (700 B.C.). The ruling power was divided among the cities of the Delta : Tanis, Bubastis and Sais. Syria shook off the yoke of Egypt, and Egypt itself came under the influence of the Greek spirit, through the numerous mercenaries enrolled in its armies. Invaded by Cambyses, the son of Cyrus, Egypt was in its turn compelled to submit to the domination of the foreigner. The Ptolemies, after the conquest of Persia by Alex- ander, assured the predominance of the genius of Greece, without however subverting the national religion, which was too closely identified with the race. Civilisation had reached a very advanced state in Egypt, The various grades of society were distinctly marked, but there was no rigid system of caste. At the head was the king, the representative of the deity. His power was administered in the nomes by governors. There was a great administrative system embracing the whole country and controlling the revenues. Admission to these government offices was by examination. The priesthood was not exclusively a religious body ; magistrates were taken from among the priests. The civil law was for the most part equitable, and punishment was in proportion to the crime. Its execution was presided over by the god- dess of justice, the daughter of Ra. The people were absolutely at the disposal of the king, who enrolled them in his armies, which were augmented by large numbers of mercenaries, and compelled them at will either to fight his battles or to assist in the great public works by which the country was covered with temples and palaces. The military organisation was altogether feudal, every landed proprietor furnishing his contingent. The life of the great Egyptian lords, as we find it reproduced on the mural paintings of the tombs, was sumptuous and splen- 58 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY did. Literature, properly so-called, was less cultivated in Egypt than the plastic arts. Hieroglyphic writing has not at all the mysterious character that has often been assigned to it. The Egyptian hieroglyph is not a sym- bolic sign of ideas, as was long believed ; it represents sounds either alphabetic or syllabic. Only the ideographic signs are known to be symbols. The cursive writing was a mere modification or abbreviation of the hieroglyphs. § I. — First Phase of the Religious Development OF Egypt. Egypt had its religious as well as its civil capitals. They were successively Memphis, Thebes, Sais, and each corresponded to a particular period of religious develop- ment, though the essence remained the same. The religion of Egypt preserved to the last, as we have said, a latent element of primitive naturism brought from Asia by the first invaders of the country, but it never, like the Chaldeo-Assyrian religion, made this an indestructible part of its mythology. It greatly modified it at a very early stage, but the popular preference still clung to it. It must be admitted also that at no stage of its religious development did Egypt free itself from the fundamental error of naturism, which consists in confounding nature with the deity under various names. Egypt never learned to lift the heavy folds of the many-coloured veil of nature, and to pass through it into the sanctuary of the God who is a spirit. But unlike the sombre and melancholy Chaldee, the Egyptian did not live under a reign of terror, or people the world, as the Chaldeans did, with a host of evil genii. His imagination was not haunted to the same degree with unseen demons. This was because the Egyptian lived in a fertile land under sunny skies. The river of Egypt did not (like the Euphrates) gender death ; nor was it the haunt of the seven evil spirits of the deep, accursed leaders of the hosts of evil. The Nile was, so to speak, the nursing father of the whole country. Yet it had its season of sterility, when its aspect became stern and terrible. Hence terror was not altogether banished from this religion, generally THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 59 so serene. We shall see the powers of evil playing an important part in the later mythc^logy. At first the Egyptians tried to exorcise them by the means in use among primitive nations. Diseases were looked upon as possessions by evil spirits, and magic arts were tried to break the spell. We find a survival of these early super- stitions, though much modified by higher conceptions of religion, in the use of amulets. Th .se were supposed to strengthen the beneficent influence of the terrestrial mani- festations of the sidereal god, who was the favourite deity of the populace. The Egyptians imagined the legendary incidents of the contest of Osiris with the powers of evil to be of ill omen. Hence the anniversary of his momentary defeat was an accursed day.^ It was necessary on that day to avoid going near the banks of the river, or the unwary man would be sure to fall in and become a prey to the crocodiles. The Nile thus became on these ill- fated days another Euphrates, the haunt of the spirits of the deep, personified by the cruel-jawed monsters.'-^ It was especially the animist phase of primitive naturism which was perpetuated in Egypt, not only in the popular superstitions, but also in the prevailing idea of religion. To the Egyptians every natural phenomenon, every living thing, had its spirit-double, as is shown in all their legends. Was not this the meaning of the conflict, now victorious, now the reverse, of which the sun was the hero ? The myth of Osiris was grafted upon the sidereal animism of earlier times, and coloured with the partial anthropomorphism which we find amongst the very lowest savages. The idea of animism had been suggested to man by the experimental discovery he had made of the complexity of his own being. He was conscious in him- self of a double being. We shall find this idea of the double playing an important part in the later anthropology and theology of Egypt. The application of animism to the animal creation, so common in the first stage of religious development, was carried to an extraordinary length in Egypt. The animal was to the Egyptian a living fetish, a powerful manifestatio - of the deity before ' Maspero, " Papyrus Harris," p. 2 _-. Pani. 1879. « Ibid., p. 4:. 6o THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. it became his most expressive symbol. Even in the best days of the national religion, when to the more thoughtful, the animal had ceased to be anything more than the symbol of deity, the common people simply worshipped the sacred beasts and birds. We find a significant illus- tration of early animism in the importance attached in worship to sacred formulas, the holy words which, accord- ing to the religion of Egypt, never ceased to exercise a real power both over the great gods and the spirits of evil. The "Book of the Dead" is the special monument of this fundamental belief. Each of its prayers is pre- ceded or terminated by the assertion that he who shall duly recite it shall be saved, and shall come off conqueror in the great conflict beyond the grave. Evidently the Egyptian, like the whole ancient world from its dim be- ginnings, holds that sacred words are powerful because they contain a divine force, a spirit. According to a similar and no less ancient belief, the little figures placed in the tombs were regarded as helpers of the dead man, and the food laid within his reach was thought to retain its nutritive virtue. In all this there is the same idea — that there is an invisible spiritual energy pervading the natural or corporeal form. Sub- sequently the Egyptian carried this idea to its extreme issues, ascribing a sort of real existence to the mural paintings on the tombs in which the events of the pre- vious life were depicted. To what extent the monotheistic intuition which under- lies the most elementary religious ideas, was consciously present in this prehistoric period, it is impossible to say. It is nevertheless probable that it developed here more rapidly than elsewhere, since monotheism was affirmed much more emphatically in Egypt than among Asiatic nations. It was still very imperfect, however, for it was rather the totality of being which was ascribed to the supreme god, than sovereignty over all life. We are persuaded that there has been much exaggeration about the purity of Egyptian monothism, both in its obscure beginnings and in the time of its fuller development. This does not imply that we do not recognise a very real distinction between the great Egyptian god and the sun. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 61 A mere sidereal deity would not have said to the sun, " Come to me." The great Egyptian god controls and guides the stars as well as the earth. It is equally certain that the idea of unity predominates over that of multiplicity, and that we have not to deal with a vulgar polytheism. Only this divine unity com- prehends the whole world in itself as the whole com- prehends the parts. Egyptian monotheism is strongly tinctured with pantheism, as is always the case where the intuition of the moral consciousness, which alone witnesses to a god distinct from and ruler over the world, does not occupy the first place in the system. But this moral con- sciousness did victoriously assert itself in ancient Egypt, and made more than one breach in that Chinese wall of universal naturism, which would fain imprison man within the terrestial and the finite. It seems sometimes to form a religion of its own within the national religion, elevating the moral intuition above the pantheistic idea. We shall see how far Egypt carried this happy inconsis- tency which we trace throughout the pagan world. ^ § II. — The Root Ideas of the Religion of Egypt AFTER Prehistoric Times. While primitive animism is maintained almost in its integrity in the Assyrio-Chaldean religion, it undergoes very important changes in Egypt, from the commencement of the historic evolution. The great gods of Chaldea are in fact only magnified impersonations of good and • M. Pierret, in his learned work entitled " Le pantheon Egj^ptien " (Paris, 1SS2), lays great stress on this development of monotheism. The many passages which he quotes, fail however to establish anything more than a monotheism strongly tinctured with pantheism. This they con- stantly affirm, as is clear from the following passage cited by M. Pierret : " The sacred unity engenders the gods and assumes various forms, but itself remains unknown " (" Book of the Dead,"' p. 102). "The substance of the gods is the very body of God " (Ibid.). M. Pierret repeatedl}' admits that the supreme god is identified wnth the lower gods, especially the sidereal gods, and that he sometimes passes from the first to the second rank, as when he is identified with the divine scribe of the gods (p. 26). The explanation is that monotheistic pantheism perpetual!}' drifts into the multiplication of gods. The divine exists in each separate part as in the whole. 62 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. evil spirits ; they very rarely intervene by positive acts in human history. They are essentially cosmic forces which are to be made propitious to man by means of in- cantations. They are practically identified with the stars, which would appear, from the development given to astro- logy, to have been very important factors in human affairs. These heavenly bodies give a permanent local habitation to the divine power, which exerts its influence rather by a mechanical carrying out of certain fixed laws, than by destined acts prompted by any motive. In Egypt it is otherwise. The drama of natural life, so impressive in its recurrence, is translated to the sphere of the divine, which is not separated by any sharp line of demarcation from the earthly life. The Egyptian god is himself the great champion of the conflict with the power of evil, which enwraps the world in its death-shroud. Religion thus becomes a much more practical thing, and cannot be reduced to a mere series of rites and formulas. It also has its battle to fight. We must not disguise from ourselves, however, that there is little perception as yet of the true moral life, of which we only get brief flashes. The history of the gods is not indeed a real history, for it is all governed by immutable natural laws. The conflict is only apparent ; its various phases succeed each other by the same law of necessity, which governs the change of the seasons and the flow and ebb of the Nile. The power of evil is from its very nature adverse to man, as winter is cold, and night dark. Its temporary triumph is as inevitable as the succession of the seasons. The victory of the god of light is equally certain to come in its turn. We are in a world governed by pantheistic fatalism. Yet there is real progress in this dramatic symbolism. It prepares the way for, or at any rate it foreshadows, the true moral conflict in which the sove- reignty of the will is fully recognised. So truly is this the case that the Egyptian religion concludes by making the drama of the natural life the symbol of the drama of the moral life, which after being begun on this side the grave, is carried on and completed beyond the reach of fatalism, in the mysterious regions of the after life. Thus was wrought, or more truly, thus was begun 2 HE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 63 a mighty moral evolution, in spite of the pantheistic naturism which still characterised the religion of Egypt. Between these two opposing currents the religious conscience of Egypt drifted backwards and forwards, and it would be idle to look for logical consistency amidst such conflicting influences. In our account of the Egyptian theodicy we shall only dwell on fundamental points, on what may be regarded as the root ideas of the religion of Egypt, which retained its distinctive features in spite of all local diversities and political changes. There were dynasties of gods as there were dynasties of kings, subject to change of time and place ; but the notion of the divinity, like the institution of royalty, underwent no change. The ideas are substantially the same under the new empire as under the old, whether the capital is Memphis or Thebes. Only the names, or rather the secondary attributes, are changed, according as one manifestation or another of the solar divinity predominates in the religious conception. The sun-god is called Ra at Heliopolis, Osiris at Abydos, Ptah at Memphis, until Memphis becomes the capital of the ancient empire, when he becomes confounded with Osiris. Amun, the great god of Thebes, is not to be clearly distinguished from Khem throughout the period of the middle empire. His supremacy is more clearly affirmed under the new empire. He is then confounded with Ra the supreme sun-god, and thus becomes Amun-Ra. He is thus at once the hidden invisible god, and the god mani- fested in the dazzling light of day. But whether the supreme god is called Osiris, Ra, Ptah or Anubis, he is always one and the same, and his cosmical development goes on by the same evolution with its three invariable degrees. We find the same divine triad, the same conflict between the good and bad elements the same final triumph, and the same relation between humanity and divinity. Egypt has always maintained this persistent identity of her theodicy, which changes only in its suc- cessive appellations, frequently uniting all its gods under one single denomination. Its policy was the same as that of Rome. It had its pantheon, constructed not of 6+ THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Stone, but of sacred syllables, which gave it a far higher value than the most costly sanctuaries, in a country where sacred words were supposed to have supreme efficacy.^ Let us now try to present in a few words the leading features of this theodicy. Beneath the waters of the primeval ocean called Nuh, which signifies " the primordial water," " the abyss," the hidden god, who is also called the supreme god, came into being. He is at once father and mother, unceasingly producing universal life, and he lives also in his son, who is no other than himself. This forms the great divine triad. The father is called Ptah at Memphis, Amun at Thebes, Osiris at Abydos. The mother is Sekhet at Memphis, Isis at Abydos, where she is always united to her sister Nephthys, who resembles her in every respect. Lastly, she is called Maut at Thebes. The son is called Imhotep or Horus at Memphis, and Khensu at Thebes. These names are definitely retained. They get frequently mixed up in course of time, a^is clear from this passage of lamblichus, ''The demiurgic intellect, who is the curator of truth and wisdom, descending into generation, and leading the power of occult reasons into light, is called in the Egyptian tongue, Amun ; but in consequence of perfecting all things with veracity and artificially he is called Phtha. So far also as he is effective of good, he is called Osiris, and he has other appellations through other powers and energies." ^ This hidden god, the world-Father, is in reality the Absolute Being from whom all existence proceeds. He is the only One who has essential life, the only One who really creates, the only generator in heaven and earth, the father of fathers, the mother of mothers, the creator of all beings, the ruler of all things, who gives birth to the gods and gives form to himself. He has created his members which become gods.^ Deep darkness is round ' See chaps, v., vi., vii., viii., in Tide's "Comparative History of Religions," for a very learned discussion of tliese variations in the theodicy of Egypt, and their correspondence with the various phases of Egyptian historJ^ * lamblichus, " De Mysteriis," sect, viii., chap, iii, * "Livre des Morts,"' chap. 17, 1. 3, 4. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 65 about him. His nest is not seen. He is the creative soul of the celestial abyss ; the maker of his own abode ; ^ he is the only one in the " primordial water." ^ The " Book of the Dead " discerns the hidden sun-god in all the great gods of the Egyptian Pantheon. " I am Turn (the hidden sun-god), a being who is one alone ; I am Ra in his first supremacy, I am the great god, the sell-existing ; The creator of his name, the lord of all gods, Whom none among the gods upholds. I was yesterday ; I know the to-morrow." ' The identity of the gods of the triad comes out clearly in the saying : " The becoming of Osiris is the birth of Horus. Osiris lives again in him."* It is not only Horus the Deliverer whom this First Cause of all things holds within the depths of his being, it is also the evil element — Set, who represents evil, under the form of a sinuous serpent, in this drama of universal life, into which we perforce return as soon as we leave the frozen regions of metaphysical abstraction. " I am Osiris, the lord of the west," we read in the " Book of the Dead." " The perfection of being is in me. No-Being is in me. Among the gods I am Set, the not-Being." ^ Here we have that fatalistic pantheism which lies at the basis of the religion of Egypt, and which should logically have excluded every moral idea. If it did not do so, it was because it was impossible for a young and powerful race full of the love of life, to confine itself to this region of abstract metaphysics. These purely in- tellectual entities got warmed and vivified, so to speak, in the fervent shining of its sun, which had already been worshipped in the childhood of the race, when sensation predominated over reflection, Egypt returned in part to its primitive intuitions, but it brought to them a degree of intelligence which prevented its falling back into mere sidereal naturalism. In fact, however large the part ' "Livre des Morts," c. 85, 1. 9. "^ Ibid., c. 17, 1. 3. * Tide's " Comparative Religion," p. 28. * "Book of the Dead," c. 78, 1. 13, 14. » Ibid., c. 8, 1. I, 2, 3. 66 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANI2Y. assigned to the srn in its mythology, it was never confounded with tl e supreme divinity. The sun was only one of his meaifestations, one of his members, for as we have seen in a passage from the " Book of the Dead" already quoted, Amun and Osiris create their own members which are gods. These gods, indefinite in number, detract nothing from the greatness and mys- terious sublimity of the supreme and hidden god ; but they introduce conflict into the religious life. While only intended to represent the supreme god, they yet fill up the whole foreground, and are so identified with his beneficent operations that they are sometimes called by his names. Is not the powerful Benefactor who spreads the healing waters over the thirsty land, and brings back the sun out of the chambers of the dark, called Ra or Osiris ? In his essence undoubtedly he is still the mysterious incomprehensible Being ; but that which he effects through his divine members, which are part of himself, concerns man much more than the mystery of his essence. Two causes especially contributed to attach a growing importance to these sensible manifestations of the deity. On the one hand, there was, as we have said, the aspect of the struggle for existence in a land like Egypt, where if only a drought prevailed through the failure of the periodical overflow of the river, desolation and death spread far and wide. On the other hand there was the strong intuition of immortality, the absorbing preoccupa- tion with the future, characteristic of the race. Hence a mythology, at first purel}' naturalistic, went on developing and becoming more and more spiritual, till it embraced the highest moral ideas. After creating the gods, his own members, the hidden and divine Principle of all things formed the world. He said to the sun, " Come to me," and the sun began to shine. He formed tlie earth and divided the waters into two great masses — the depths of ocean beneath and the firmament of waters above. Then appeared the evil spirit personified in the serpent Apap or Apophis, called also Set, with whom the beneficent gods were bound to wage perpetual warfare, though he also was an emanation THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 67' from the Divine Absolute. He really represented the devouring, scorching flame of the sun. This conflict was carried on both on earth and in heaven. To the Egyptian, Egypt was the world. To him, therefore, the victory of good over evil was symbolised by the recur- ring overflow of the Nile, on which the prosperity of the country depended. According to Herodotus and Plutarch, the myth of Osiris meant nothing more than this. It simply repre- sented the alternating seasons of drought and flood. The drought was Osiris made a victim by Typhon — the symbolic personification of the sun. His resurrec- tion after the victory of his son Horus over Typhon,' symbolised the return of the life-giving waters.^ This interpretation of the myth, in which there is evidently a confusion with that of the Phrygian Adonis, is much too narrow. The cessation of drought, as the result of the overflow of the Nile, was undoubtedly attributed to the beneficent deity ; but his victorious conflict with darkness has a far wider significance, in Egyptian mytho- logy, than the mere fertilising action of the river, even without any reference to the deliverance wrought by him in the realm of the dead. Herodotus himself does not ignore this, for he makes Orisis reign in the abode of shades. The mind of the Egyptians was much im- pressed by the setting of the sun and the vanishing of the light, even before they discerned in it the most glorious of symbols. As they had not yet risen to the idea of the fixity of natural law, every return of the sun after its setting, seemed to them a new triumph of the beneficent deity. The glory of his manifestation and victory over dark- ness, inspired the noblest poetry of Egypt, though it was always somewhat crippled by its sacerdotal and liturgical character. In the favourite figures employed in this poetry, we recognise the two characteristic traits of the Egyptians, love for their river and delight in sunshine. The luminous track in which Osiris moves under the form of the sun, is like another Nile-flood in the heavens. He ' Herodotus, "Hist.," ii. 49. 68 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. navigates it in a celestial bark of which he manages the sails. Horus is in the prow of the boat, sweeping the horizon with his glance. A number of inferior gods circle round him. The purest among men, described as those who never rest, hold the oars. He himself carries in his hand the lance which is to transfix the serpent Apap, who is also Set the malevolent. One of the hymns of the worship of Ra in the " Book of the Dead," runs : — " Hail, thou who art come as Turn, and who hast been the creator of the gods ! Hail, thou who art come as soul, of the holy souls in Amenti ! Hail, supreme among the gods, who by thy beauties dost illumine the kingdom of the dead ! Hail, thou who comest in radiance and travellest in thy disk ! Hail, greatest of all the gods, bearing rule in the highest, reigning in the nethermost heaven ! Hail, thou who dost penetrate within the nethermost heaven, and hast command of all the gates ! Hail, among the gods, weigher of words in the kingdom of the dead ! Hail, thou art in thine aboda (nest) creator of the nethermost heaven by thy virtue. Hail, renowned and glorified god 1 Thy enemies fall upon their scaffold ! Hail, thou hast slain the guilty, thou hast destroyed Apap (the serpent of darkness ").' These sublime hymns to the sun do not go so far as to identify that luminary with the supreme god, one of whose appellations is "The mysterious soul of the Lord of the disk," or simply, " soul of the sun." ^ These poems contain also more than one allusion to his highest function as conqueror of the power of darkness and judge of the dead. " Thy soul," it is said, " tries those who are in the nethermost heaven. Thou givest breath to him who is in the kingdom of the dead." In fact the triumphal progress of this light-god is the sublime symbol of the destinies of man, or rather he carries man along with him into the light of life beyond the darkness of death, after associating him with his conflict as with his victory over the power of evil, if he has merited this redemptive union. ' Tiele, "Comparative History," pp. 83, 84. * Tiele, p. 44. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 69 Not only does the sun set in the west to rise again, so also does the soul of the just. Thus these regions which seemed given over to the curse, are lighted up with a glorious hope, and beyond the dark veil which nightly falls upon the earth, lies the satisfaction of that deep, intense craving for immortality, which was the noblest aspiration of the whole Egyptian world. We have only spoken of the greater gods of the Egyptian pantheon, those which under various names we find to be essentially one both at Thebes and Memphis, and which ultimately become merged into one another. A multitude of other gods were worshipped in Egypt, but they were only manifestations of the same divine principle presented under a variety of aspects, solar and sidereal, so many modes of the one Divine being, peopling the heights of the sacerdotal theodicy. To the common people however they were all separate deities. There were nu- merous personifications of the moon. The most familiar is Thot, at the head of Ibis, the divine scribe, the god of sacred science, the registrar of judgment.^ The gods are always grouped in triads, and form one long chain of emanations from the supreme deity. We have referred to the great triads of Memphis and Thebes. We find the same elsevv^here under other names, without any change in the fundamental idea of the Egyptian religion. We are always brought back in the end to the higher triad, that is, to the conception of a supreme god reproducing himself and living again in his son, through whom he overcomes the power of evil, which itself also proceeds from him and is only contin- gently and apparently evil. We know that the Egyptians believed that these gods had once actually reigned upon the earth, and that they formed the first dynasties of the Egyptian monarchy in a remote past. In order to understand fully the highest moral develop- ment of the religion of Egypt, we must remember what was the Egyptian idea of man, of his origin and destiny, and of his life beyond the grave. Men are supposed to have sprung from the two eyes of the supreme god. ' Lenormant, "Manual of Ancient History," pp. 307, 322. 70 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. They are called the flock of Ra, and are subdivided into four races — the Egyptians, Negroes, Asiatics, and the white-skinned nations of the north. Ra is addressed as " Maker of the heavens, creator of the beings produced out of the world, who makes all kinds (sorts) of forms of existence, calls the gods into life, creates himself lord of life, who fills the gods with fulness of life," ^ The Egyptian anthropology is most complicated, and only to be explained by the animist or spiritist con- ception of the double. During his earthly life, man is a being composed of mind and body ; by the mind he is connected with God, by the body with matter. Mind, before becoming incorporated in matter, is free to visit all worlds. When it enters the body it lays down its robe of fire which would consume the gross elements of matter, and enshrouds itself in an inferior substance called Ba, which is the soul. It only communicates with the body by the medium of the spirit or the breath. The breath penetrates and animates the whole organism. We have thus two beings in the man, each with its double — the mind enshrouded in the soul, the spirit enveloped in matter, and these two doubles interpenetrate each other. Man alone has mind, and is thus distinguished from the brute.^ Mind endeavours to rise to the higher life, that is to its own divine life. When man allows the lower nature to predominate, he sinks gradually into nothingness, but not without undergoing cruel torments. If the higher nature prevails, he passes victoriously through the supreme ordeals which await him beyond the tomb, and the issue of which is determined by the judgment of the gods. It is in this after life that he becomes associated with the sun-god whose history becomes his own history, for he so unites himself to him that he is truly in him and bears his name. He calls himself an Osiris, and enters the bark of the sun, to arrive at length on the mysterious shore of the West where all life is renewed. There is however this diiTerence between the human Osiris and the Osiris of the heavens, that there is nothing * Tide, " Comparative Religion," p. Z},. * Maspero, p. 36, THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 71 fatalistic about his deliverance, which depends on the sentence passed on his earthly life. In order that he may be admitted to the honour of the supreme ordeals which are always severe, he must have triumphed here below over the baser passions which wind around his soul like the coils of the serpent, seeking to strangle the sun- god. This god also has his conflict which is described in sublime poetry in the myth of Osiris. When darkness covers the shining heavens and the scattered rays of the sun are quenched in the gloomy waters of the river, it is the effect of the treason of Set, who has attacked Osiris, killed him and scattered his members. But the divine hero is not destroyed. With the dawn he returns to life in his son Horus, who repeats morning by morning at sunrise the victory over the deadly serpent. The war of light against darkness recommences a few hours later, and the same vicissitudes are repeated. Among men, the conflict assumes an altogether different character. Only elect souls are enlisted in this triumphal warfare : and even those to whom this privilege is granted as the result of the divine judgment upon their lives, are not obliged to exercise it. They enter upon the blessed life. This distinction between the heavenly and the human Osiris seems to us, as we have said, a recogni- tion of the voice of conscience. Let us follow the soul in that great journey beyond the tomb which is the dominant thought of the Egyptians, by asking how preparation is made for it in this life. The religion of Egypt does not require that the earthly life should be crippled by extreme asceticism. Man — the son of Osiris, the god of life, the enemy of the power of sterility, darkness and evil — is to do battle with evil along the whole line, commencing with the land of Egypt itself, the soil of which must be saved from barrenness. Hence the religious character of agricultural labour. To make channels for irrigation, to sow the land, to secure fine harvests, to propagate domestic animals, is to do a religious act. The gods are honoured by every accession to the power of the sacred soil and every triumph over its enemies. Every war, whether for conquest or defence, is a holy >^2 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. war. Thus the Egyptian king is the highest personifica- tion of the supreme god. He is the earthly Osiris par excellence ; his power knows no bounds, he is the object of real worship. He is greater than a high priest ; he is the representative of the deity. " Thy majesty," said an Egyp- tian to his king, " is as Horus ; the power of thy arm extends over all lands." " The god," he adds, in speaking of his interview with the king, " spoke amicably to me. I was like one brought out of the darkness into the light : my tongue was dumb, my lips refused their office, my heart was no longer in my body, so that I knew not whether I was alive or dead." ^ The priesthood gathered around the king has nothing exclusive about it, and in no way resembles a hereditary caste. The priests are taken from among the nobility without any fixed rule. There is no secret doctrine concealed in the mystery of the sanc- tuaries, from all but the initiated. Any one who desires to search into the depths of the doctrine may do so without hindrance. If the masses of the people fail to appre- hend the mystery, it is through their own ignorance or stupidity. No man is profane except he who wills to be so, or rather he who does not make the necessary effort to apprehend the true meaning of the symbol. The scribe, who plays so large a part in Egyptian society, owes his influence solely to his knowledge, and to this knowledge he has no prescriptive right. No one holds in his hands the key of sacred tradition, and has the right to conceal the treasure in the secresy of the temple ; but there is nothing to indicate that the Egyptian priests tried to enlighten their fellow-countrymen. They did not interdict the knowledge of the holy, but they did nothing to impart it to the common people, who thus remained in gross ignorance of the meaning of the symbols. The result was very harmful, for the symbols were often as gross as the idea of the deity was high and abstract. It would have been deemed a want of respect to give him a human form, which would have brought him too near his worshippers. Egypt would have • Tide, p. 105. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 73 shuddered with horror at the Greek Olympus with its divinities, which were at first only idealised heroes and charming women. It preferred to borrow from nature a confused and even gross symbolism to express the attri- butes of its gods. Hence the predominance of animal types. In hymns to the sun-god he is apostrophised as the sparrowhawk, the lion and the bull. The blending of animal and human forms in the statues of Egypt forbade any presumptuous assimilation. The goat and the ram represented the force of reproduction, and sym- bolised the creator-god. The number of sacred animals to which worship was paid was very large. The ibis and the dog-headed ape (cynocephalus) were sacred to Thot ; the jackal was dedicated to Anubis, the sparrowhawk to Horus, the cat to Pasht.^ The living animals which were worshipped formed a separate and privileged class in the temples. When we see the care with which the bull Apis, the living image of the sun-god, was chosen, according to special signs, the chief of which was a disc of gold visible between the horns ; when we remember the veneration with which these sacred animals were tended and fed by the priests, we cannot fail to recognise in them a sort of special incarnation of the higher divinities. This is a relic of the animal fetishism of ancient times, to which the igno- rant multitude still clung, or at least which still con- tinued to blend with their dim perceptions of something higher. We know that the bull Apis was sacrificed at a certain age, and that a tomb was reserved for him in the great necropolis which Mariette exhumed from the sands of the Sahara, that magnificent serapeum, covered with symbolic paintings, which is the true catacomb of Egypt. The religious celebrations were chiefly festivals com- memorative of the history of the god, and the splendour of the temples was reserved for the princes and the priests. The people remained in the outer court. Upon the walls they read the pictured story of their own life and the history of their gods. Each Egyptian would ' Tielc, p. 58. 74 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. seem to have had his own particular chapel where he performed his religious duties.^ The worship consisted of the recitation of sacred formularies, and the sacrifices do not seem to have been offered with any idea of atone- ment, but to minister to the wants of the spirits in Hades. The true sanctuaries of Egypt were its cities of the dead. Each tomb consisted of three parts — a portico or peristyle, a well, and a chapel where the remains of the deceased were laid. It must not be supposed how- ever that the importance attached to these monuments of the dead, lent a character of sombre sadness to the country. The idea which the Egyptian formed of the future life of those who obtained it as a reward, was in no way vague or abstract. The country of the dead was not shrouded in mysterious shadow. Not only was it enlightened with all the glory of the sun, but it was also the continuation on a grander and higher scale of the familiar earthly life. The terrible ordeals, the stern con- flicts, which had to be passed through, were but a repeti- tion of the holy wars in which Egypt gloried. It was •understood, moreover, that men were not left to fight alone the battles of the future life, and that if the com- batant came out victorious, he would be introduced into the " choir invisible" of spirits divinely illuminated. Nothing can show more clearly how death was re- garded by the Egyptians as merely a phase of life, than these words addressed to a dead man on the day of his obsequies. " The joy of Amun is in thy heart ; thy members are intact. Mounted on thy two-horsed chariot, thou goest up on to thy bark of cedar, and thou comest to the excellent abode which thou hast made for thyself (the tomb). Thy mouth is filled with wine and bread and meat. Beasts are sacrificed, amphorae are opened. Sweet songs are sung before thee. Thy chief perfumer anoints thee with essences. Thy controller of the waters is wreathed with garlands. Thine intendant brings thee geese. Thy fisherman offers thee fish. Thou art ' Tide, p. 115. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 75 established and thine enemy is overthrown. All that was said against thee is blotted out ; thou standest before the cycle of the gods, and comest forth acquitted." ^ Let us follow the soul through the vicissitudes of this its great journey. The body, under the form of a mummy, is placed in the chapel of the dead, after undergoing the preparation which is to preserve it from dissolution, so that the soul may resume it intact in the consummation of all things. The sacred formularies contained in the " Book of the Dead " are placed beside the corpse as a talisman against evil. '' He who knows this book," says a sarcophagus of the eleventh dynasty, ^ is one who in the day of resurrection in the under-world, arises and enters in ; but if he does not know this chapter he does not enter in so soon as he arises." The close of the first chapter is as follows : '* If a man knows this book thoroughly and has it inscribed upon his sarcophagus, he will be manifested in the day, in all (the forms) that he may desire, and entering into his abode will not be turned back." 2 The " Book of the Dead " is as explicit as possible on the importance of preserving the body intact. The soul was supposed to sleep or become extinct during the forty days that were occupied in the process of embalming. It then revived and was again joined to the body. This blessing is prayed for in the following passage : " O ye liberators of the souls of them that are built into a house of Osiris {i.e. mummified), liberate the soul of whom ye have made a house of Osiris. He sees as ye see, he hears as ye hear, he stands as ye stand, he sits as ye sit."^ While the body lies in its house of repose the liberated soul wanders through space. It has escaped through the opening left in the tomb toward the sacred East. It enters the bark of Osiris to gain the shore where its great ordeals are to commence. The great god Osiris is in the bark and slays the enemies of the deceased. ' Maspero, " Etudes sur quelques pcintures et quelques textes rclalives aux funerailles " (Paris 1882. Imprimerie nationale). ^ Tide, p. 25. * Osburn, " Monumental History of Egypt," vol. i. , p. 427, 76 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Carried onward by a favouring wind, the bark reaches the port. Horus shakes his lance, and all the gods rejoice. Before entering on the final ordeal, the soul undergoes a preliminary trial. If this is unfavourable, the mind remains in the soul, but only to torment it with avenging fury. It enters a new body, which is to be its torture chamber, and from which is to be plunged again into nothingness. The Egyptians recognised a sort of hell in which the guilty soul was to be long tormented before its final destruction. If the judgment was favourable, the soul resumed its members one by one, and was united to its mummy. It then descends into the fields of Aahlou, where it finds a sort of subterranean Egypt. Here it resum.es its past life, but idealised and glorified. It labours and tills the heavenly fields with the assistance of helpers, which are represented by the little figures placed in the tomb. " If this Osiris (so the dead man is described), is judged worthy to fulfil in this lower region of the divine, all the labours there required, then every evil principle is taken away from him."^ The soul is already united to its god, and it is with his aid that it enters on the final conflicts with the terrible monsters at the fifteen gates of the Elysian fields through which it has to pass. When it comes out victorious from this last ordeal, the mind is reunited with it, and it resumes the body which has been awaiting it in the form of a mummy. The human being is thus reconstituted in all its elements. Flooded with celestial glory, man is a god among the gods, and becomes in the end a pure intellect which sees God and is absorbed in him.^ By the aid of valuable texts recently translated, this funeral drama is made so vivid to us that we feel almost as if we had been eye witnesses of it, and as if our own hearts had been thrilled by its imposing ceremonies. " The rites of burial," says M. Maspero, "were conducted in such a manner as graphically to portray the vicissitudes of the passage of the deceased into the other life. For eighty days the surgeons, carpenters, weavers, sculptors, ' "Livre des Morts," c. 6, 1. i. * Maspero, " Etudes sur quelques peintures," p. 84. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 77 were incessantly at work. The mummy was conducted, with great pomp, to its last earthly abode. Slaves bearing ofTerings went in front of the procession. They carried what might be described as the funeral apparatus, includ- ing the amulets. Next came the hired mourners, men and women. Their plaint is thus rendered upon the sides of the hypogeum of a king of Thebes. " To the west the most excellent one, hater of lies ! Tn peace, in peace to the west ! O excellent traveller from earth into the eternal country, thou hast been suddenly snatched away. O thou who wast surrounded by so many, behold thee now in the land which loves solitude. Thou who delightedst in walking, behold thee fettered, bound in grave clothes ! Thou who lovedst to adorn thyself, thou art laid down in thy garments of yesterday. He who weeps for thee follows thee with lamentation and mourning." ^ The officiating priest went before the bier on which the mummy was laid, surrounded by the family and friends. "To the west, O oxen, to the west," cried the bearers. A flotilla escorted the bark which carried the deceased over to the western bank of the Nile. " O, sailors," exclaimed the widow, " do not hasten ; leave him to me. You, you will come back to your homes ; but he, he goes into the eternal country. O bark of Osiris, thou hast crossed over, and thou art come to take awa}'- from me him who now forsakes me."^ The dead man was set upright in the hypogeum. A funeral feast was spread. The priest presented the offering to Osiris with libations, while the women of the family covered the bier with flowers, and embraced it, exclaiming, " Leave us not ! " " He Hves no more," said his friends; "the worthy man, the friend of truth who never uttered a lie. To the west ; to the west ! " ^ " I am thy sister," says another inscription, " leave me not." Dost thou mean that I should leave thee ? How can it be ? If I go away thou art hence- forth alone. O thou who lovest to talk with me, thou art silent ; thou dost speak no more." An aged female slave cries out, " He has been taken away from me ; the master forsakes his servants." ' Maspero, p. 141. * Ibid., p. 134, ' Ibid., p. 134. 78 THE ANCIENT IVORLD AND CHRISTTANITY. The last rites were performed by the son in the depths of the vault. All these successive rites were depicted upon the walls of the h3'pogeum. On it were also represented the little figures designed to assist the deceased in the fields of Aahlou. The following incrription is written under the repre- sentation of a bark conveying the mummy to Abydos : " Cross in peace to Abydos, to follow Osiris. The great chief is with you. To the west, to the west, the land of the just, O thou who goest away safe and sound, the favourite of thy master, thou against whom nothing has been found. O Osiris, grant him a gentle breeze. May he be among those who are to be praised in the land of the living ! " The many inscriptions which were placed upon the funeral bark show clearly that it was meant to represent the very bark of Osiris, in which the deceased made the great voyage. He is represented standing in his cabin, commanding the ship. In an inscription, entitled : " The Chapter of the Book of the Dead," Nu says to Maut, to Set, to Osiris, to Hathor, the gods who are in the lower world, that they should lend sails to Osiris N (that is to the dead man who is identified with Osiris) and should protect him evermore.^ The great voyage begins at Abydos, but this does not imply that the body must necessarily be buried there. After the celebration of the obsequies at Thebes upon the western bank of the river, it suffices to place a stela at Abydos.^ The deceased is represented as frozen with fear in the prospect of the conflict which awaits him. It wrings from him cries of sorrow which are reproduced upon his tomb : " Back, O crocodile, back, O thou that keepest me from reaching the shore.^ The deceased trembles at the thought of the seven evil genii which on the day of judgment cut ofT the head of the condemned and tear out his entrails. * Maspero, p. 131. * Ibid., p. 126. * " Livre des Morts," c. 31, 1. i. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. -9 In order to escape these perils, the funeral rites must be multiplied. " I hve," says the deceased, " by the offer- ings made to Osiris." When these have been presented according to the prescribed rites, he exclaims triumph- antly : 1 am Horus, son of Isis ; I come to see my father Osiris. '* I am Ra ! " "I begin life again after death, as the sun does each morning." ^ Talismans and magic arts are not disdained, as is shown by many plates in the " Book of the Dead." One of these represents on a large scale the judgment of souls. We are in the great hall of the supreme tribunal. It is supported by columns with capitals of lotus leaf. Between the sixth and seventh column, the sun-god Shu (the principle of light and heat) stretches out his arms above two sacred eyes symbolising North and South. This is an allusion to the daily course of tlie sun, which is a promise of the resurrection. At the two extremities of this row of capitals, a monkey holds the scales, a symbol of the judgment by which actions are weighed. Below the frieze appear the forty-two accusing spirits, " the assessors " of Osiris, " with their knives ready to inflict torments on those who fail in the balance." The deceased on his knees pleads the purity of his life. Osiris, seated in a central chapel before an altar laden with offerings, presides over the assembly. At the entrance of the hall is seen another dead man, introduced by the goddess of truth. " I present myself," he says, " before the lord of eternity. There is no evil in me. Hail to thee, O god, who art the good. Lord of Abydos, grant that I may pass safely through the dark way, and join thy servants in the fields of Aahlou." Horus and Anubis weigh in scales the heart of the man, which ought to balance the image of truth. If this con- dition is fulfilled, Thot, the sacred scribe, registers the sentence, and adds : " Let the heart be restored to its place in the person of Osiris." This is the signal for the resurrection of the mummy. This now becomes the purified vesture of the soul, which enters on the final conflict before its supreme beatitude. ' "Livre des Morts," c. 37, 1. 2; c. 38, I. 4; c. 39, 1. 2, So THE ANCIENT WORLD AAW CTIRISTIANITY. The identification with the gods is expressed with singular audacity. " I am Osiris ; I am Horus ; I am Anubis," says the deceased. " I take my flight among the gods. I change myself into a swallow, a serpent, a crocodile, a phoenix." ^ These animals represent the various aspects of the sun-god. In his song of triumph he likens himself to all the gods whose members are made those of his own bod3^ " My hair is like that of Nu (the firmament) ; my face is like that of Ra (the sun) ; my eyes are like those of Hathor (the Egyptian Venus)," and so on.^ " I am the seed of the gods." " My dwelling is eternity, the very estate of the lord of the years, the ruler of eternity." Assuredly such a religion was not wanting in grandeur ; the life of a great people could be nurtured by it. The moral law had its sanction beyond this life, alike for the king and the meanest of his subjects. The State rested upon a solid basis. The family had its moral bond, and there is something grand in the spectacle of this grave and mystical land of Egypt, on the banks of the Nile — the symbol to it of the mysterious river which bore away the bark containing its beloved ones. In every sun which set to rise again, it saw the certain prophecy of the resurrection of its dead, and gazed upon the purple west with a look full of hope, profoundly believing that the crown of immortality would encircle the brow of the just. It well justified the saying of Diodorus Siculus : " The Egyptians call the dwellings of the living inns, because in them they live but a short time ; the tombs of the dead however they call eternal abodes, since in Hades they continue to live on in a limitless eternity." ^ The Egyptian religion breathes throughout a lofty morality. Before we seek for the highest expression of this in the " Book of the Dead," we may draw attention to the treatises on practical morality which M. Maspero has analysed. The first was written at the close of the fifth dynasty. After enjoining faithfulness to the ancient ' "Livre des Morts," c. 8i, 83, ''■ Lenormant, "Ancient History of the East," p. 310. ' Tiele p. 68. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 8i traditions of the country, it insists upon goodness in the family relations. " Love thy wife and do not quarrel with her," says the wise man. " Cherish her, adorn her ; she is the luxury of thy life. Perfume her, make her glad, as long as thou livest ; render thyself worthy of her posses- sion. Be not as a brute to her."^ The maxims of the scribe Ani, addressed to his son, are of a much later date, and rise yet higher. Man, according to Ani, ought to have ever present with him the thought of death. " Set before thyself a life of unswerving recti- tude, so shalt thou prepare for thyself a fitting grave in the valley of death. The messenger of death is already at hand to take thee away. Say not : I am still a child. Death comes alike to the newborn babe and to the old man. Thy first duty is to the gods. Give thyself to the deity. From his hand comes the mortal blow." Next comes the obligation to respect old age, and to love the mother who bore the child and nursed it at her breast. The study of science ought not to supersede that of chastity. " Beware," says the scribe to his son, " of the strange woman ; she is as deep flowing water ; her wind- ings are unknown. Take a young woman, and love her with patient gentleness." Generosity to the poor, with- out prodigality, is the first duty of the rich. " Eat not bread in the presence of a servant who stands before thee, without offering him a morsel. There is peace to him who acts brotherly. Speak gently to the stubborn. A man falls through his tongue. Beware, not to bring ruin upon thyself. Watch not from thy house what others are doing, and receive not ill-gotten gain. A man must learn to be content with his lot. Thou hast made for thyself a well-watered garden ; thou hast enclosed thy land with hedges ; thou hast planted rows of sycamores ; thou fillest thy hands with thine own flowers ; yet a man grows weary of all this." ^ The same benevolent morality is inculcated in a demotic papyrus in the Louvre. This is characterised by a beautiful feeling of respect and consideration for the weak. " llltreat not thy wife whose strength is less than thine own ; do not make a child suffer because it is weak. Do ' Maspero, "Papyrus Priss.," x., 9-10. - Ibid., p. 70. 6 82 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANHY. not amuse thyself by making thy dependants afraid. Never save thy life at the expense of the life of others." The well-known chapter 125, in the " Book of the Dead," which contains the pleading of the soul in the hour of judgment, is the crowning expression of Egyptian morality. " I know you," says the soul in this solemn hour, " ye lords of truth and justice." " 1. I have neither done any sin, nor omitted an} duty to any man. have committed no uncleanness. 3. I have not prevaricated at the seat of justice. 4. I have not spoken lightly. 5. I have done no shameful thing. 6. I have not omitted certain ceremonies. 7. I have not blasphemed with my mouth, have not perverted justice. 9. 1 have not acted perversely. 10. I have not shortened the cubit. 11. I have not done that which is abominable to the gods. 12. I have not sulhed my own purity. 13. I have not made men to hunger. 14. I have not made men to weep. 15. I have done no act of rapine. 16. I have not accused of rapine falsely. 17. I have not revived an ancient falsehood before the face of men. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31- 32. have not falsified the weights of the balance, have not withheld milk from the mouth of the infants. have not driven away the flocks from their pasturage, have not netted the ducks (of the Nile) illegally. have not caught the fishes (of the Nile) illegally. have not (unlawfully) pierced the bank of the river when it was increasing. have not separated for myself (clandestinely) a channel (arm) from the river when it was subsiding. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 83 33. I have not extinguished the perpetual (hourly lamp). 34. I have not added anything to any of the sacred books. 35. I have not driven off any of the sacred cattle. 36. I have not stabbed the god (sacred animal) when he comes forth (from his shrine.)" ^ It would be easy to show how this chapter of the " Book of the Dead" includes all the moral precepts of the decalogue. The difference lies in the spirit. The reader must have remarked that in this moral code, the most minute observances are put upon the same level with the fulfilment of the divine law in its universal principles. Morality was indeed closely bound up with the religion of Egypt. In his second pleading with the forty-two avengers the deceased goes on to urge : " I have not lied. . . . I have not been a listener. I have not been a babbler. I have not made a fool of any one. * * * * • I have done no violence. I have reviled no one. I have not put forth my arm to do wrong. I have not oppressed the weak. I have not devised the overthrow (of others) in my heart. ***** I have not reviled the face of the king ; neither have I reviled the face of my father. I have not uttered boasting words. I have not reviled god." ^ On these grounds he pleads for deliverance, with the gods who dwell in the abode of truth and righteousness. In the funeral inscriptions belonging to the Middle Kingdom, there are touching descriptions of true kindness. " No little child," says one monarch, '' was vexed by me, no widow was ill-treated, no fisherman disturbed, no ' Osburn, " Monumental History of Egypt," vc). i., pp. 430, 431. ^ Ibid., p. 432. 84 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. herdsman obstructed. There is no pentarch whose men I have forced to do labours. I made the inhabitants hve, for I gave to them of the fruits of the land, so that there were no famines in the province." Another says : " I gave water to the thirsty ; I put the traveller on his way. I removed the oppressor, and put an end to violence." ^ It is true that the same inscription celebrates the terrible vengeance executed by a governor upon his enemies, whose houses he sacked and slew the women. Nor must we forget how opposed the magical value attached to religious rites was to the true development of the moral life. The fact remains however, that morality was a real and powerful factor in the land of the Pharaohs. And yet Egypt lacked in every department, ahke in art, morals and rehgion, that lofty idealism which manifests itself not so much in results obtained as in the yearning aspiration after the unknown, the highest, the purest, the best, the oasis of blue in a cloudy sky. Egypt was self-satisfied ; it might be called the Pharisaic nation of antiquity. No tearful chant or wail of penitence broke from its lips. *' I am clean from all transgression " is the whole burden of its plea, and this it puts into the lips of its best representatives, for it abandons before- hand, as victims to the annihilation of the tomb, the wicked, for whom there is no pardon or restoration. Like a swarm of gnats that darken for a few hours the limpid clearness of the atmosphere, and then vanish away, so the wicked are consigned to hopeless destruction after the judgment. This judgment is only the final award in which the righteous receives his recompense. There is no place then for cries of distress, suppliant prayers and promises of amendment. The celestial recorder deter- mines what is due to each, and all is done. Immortality does not necessarily imply a transformation of the whole being. It is but the normal development of the present life recommenced after certain ordeals. The issue is happiness rather than holiness. Delight in life, we are told, is a special characteristic of the gods. " Osiris re- ' Tiele, p. 129. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 85 joices in living."^ The traveller who has laid up a good store of strength, sustenance and virtues, is sure to arrive at a good end, provided that upon earth his body is pre- served and nourished in the tomb. Everything is thus methodically and harmoniously arranged. Hence Egypt knows nothing of the dark despair of Buddhist India, to which all finite being seems accursed. Eg3'pt takes duration for infinity ; the life beyond the grave does not essentially differ from the earthly life, except in its last serene absorption in the absolute, of which scarcely any- thing is said. Nor did the Egyptian look, as the Semite did, for the future deliverer, the Saviour-hero who was to put an end to an imperfect and miserable existence. He hoped for no Messiah. He knew neither seer nor prophet, because he was satisfied with his earthly present, on the one condition that it should be perpetuated to all eternity. Nor had Egypt properly speaking any philosophers, searching for broader truth, lifting with trembling hand the veil of the visible world to let the fuller light stream in. It had its scribes who recited sacred formularies, and this sufficed. Osiris never speaks, like Prometheus, of a mysterious god of the future, greater than those of the present. The Egyptian priest has but an ill-defined mission, for there is no aton- ing virtue in the sacrifices which he offers. They are mere acts of homage or means of reinforcing the strength of the celestial combatants. We shall show presently how deficient Egypt was also in high art. Such is the State religion of Egypt. Imperfect as it is, we would not depreciate its real greatness. The very conception of immortality is a grand factor, even though it rise but little above the ideal of the actual life. A still grander thing is the conception of law and responsibility, triumphing over the fatalistic principle theoretically im- plied in the Egyptian theodicy. The great error, the great defect of Egypt, was that it was so content with what it had received that it did not crave for more. Hence its age-long inimobility, which has made it in some respects the China of the West. It had nevertheless its better intuitions, which raised it above itself Sometimes ' " Livre dcs Morts," c. 3, 1. 3, 4. 86 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. its conception of the divinity seems to grow purer and more tender, as in the fragment of the poem of the scribe Pentaiira, celebrating a victory of Rameses 11. He ex- claims : " Shouldest thou be my father, O Amun? behold, and should a father forget his son ? Have I then put my trust in my own thoughts ? Have I not walked according to the word of thy mouth ? Has thy mouth not directed my marches ? and have thy counsels not guided me ? Amun will bring low those that know not god." In the hour of peril, the prince boasts that Amun was better to him than millions of his men of war. " The snares of men are nought. Amun will overcome them." ^ Amun is described in a hymn of the new Empire, as the " greatest in heaven, the oldest upon earth, the Lord who gives to everything existence and duration." " His hands give to those whom he loves, but his enemy he casts down into the fire, for his look annihilates the workers of iniquity, and the ocean engulfs the wicked whom he consumes." " Thou alone existent, the creator of being." ** In thy rest, thou watchest over men, and considerest what is best for the beasts. ... As high as heaven, as wide stretching as the earth, as deep as the sea, the gods fall down before thy majesty, extolling the spirit of him who has created all things. . . . Praise to thy spirit because thou hast made us ; we are thy creatures, thou hast placed us in the world." ^ The identification of man with his god in his passage through the ordeals that lie beyond the grave, is an idea full of grandeur, though it is but a logical sequence of the pantheistic conception of the deity, as present in his completeness in each of his manifestations. From a purely ideal point of view, the deceased is Osiris, just as the ray of sunlight is the sun even before it returns to its central fire. But the abstract idea is lost sight of. The hope of a real union of the soul with the beneficent deity, and of its consummation in him, grows up, and religious feeling bridges over the metaphysical void. This god who himself enters into the community of our sufferings, speaks to the heart rather than to the mind. When Osiris says to the suffering creature, that since he himself * Tide, "Conip. Religion," p. 152. * Ibid., p. 184. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 87 received the great wound/ he is wounded in every other wound, the soul which receives this saying rises higher and goes further than his intellectual pantheism would logically lead him. So also with that other passage in the " Book of the Dead," in which the god takes our defilement on himself that he may purge it away. "When the lord of truth cleanses away defilement, evil is joined to the deity, that the truth may expel the evil element. The god who wounds becomes a god who more abundantly comforts."^ These closing words are sublime, one of those lightning flashes which suddenly illuminate the mysterious _ depths of human life, and yet leave no lasting trace. Life goes on in its accustomed course under a paler light. From a moral standpoint, conscience seems to lift itself up in its majesty, throwing off the heavy burden of hieratical formularies and incantations which tend to lull it to sleep, when it is appealed to as the chief witness whose deposition is to be made before the tribunal of final judgment : " O heart, heart, which comes to me from my mother," cries the deceased, "heart of mine, necessary to my existence v/hen I was upon the earth, rise not up as a witness against me, because of what I have done before the gods ! "^ Conscience does witness against him how- ever, disturbing the Pharisaic self-complacency expressed in the proud refrain : " I am clean ; I am clean." We need no clearer proof of this than the following passages from the " Book of the Dead." " All these blemishes that are upon me are the things that I have done against the lord of eternity from the day of my birth." * The deceased addresses himself in these words to the four monkeys seated at the four corners of the lake of fire : " Take from me all defilement, cleanse me from all iniquity, that no evil may cleave to me." " We take away thy faults," reply the gods thus invoked, " we cleanse thee from the defilement contracted upon earth to thy hurt. We purge away all thy remaining impurities." ^ ' The reference is to the wound inflicted on the god by Set. * "Livre dcs Morts," c. 14, 1. 3, 4. * Ibid., c. 30, 1. 2. * Ibid., c. 17, 1. 37, * Ibid., c. 216, 1. 3-5. 88 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. " There is no more evil in me," exclaims the dead man, " nor any more of the impurity of my mother. I am delivered." ^ These words seem to imply the idea of an original stain inherent in humanity. We may perhaps find a trace of this feeling of the general corruption of man in the fact that the priest is called the pure man, Ab. This brings out the idea which lies at the basis of the Jewish priesthood, that in order to appear before God there must be exceptional purity. This sense of sin however never becomes the dominant idea in the Egyptian religion, for it never leads on to the need of reparation. Man purifies himself. " O pure ones, O great ones," exclaims the one who is being judged, " I have renounced my sin ; I have made good my faults ; 1 have cleansed m3^self from the im- purities that clung to me upon earth." It is evident that the intuitions of a loftier, more searching morality, were but transitory, and the Egyptian fell back in the end upon his old religion, pantheistic in theory, austere and serious in practice. He held firmly the belief in a retributive immortality, but ignored those strong and mysterious yearnings in which the soul goes forth to meet the future, and which wring from it cries of pain and even of despair under the overwhelming pressure of evil. There was no land where the unknown God had fewer worshippers than in Egypt. The religion of Egypt dwindles down pitiably in course of time. After its great era, we find the pantheistic elements predominating almost exclusively, and attaching themselves to the great feminine deities such as Isis, which are increasingly regarded as mere personifications of nature. We know what a fascination the worship of Isis exercised in the decay of the ancient world. Faith in immortality itself grew dim under the Ptolemies, as appears from these lines, otherwise beautiful. " O my brother, O my friend," says a dead woman, " cease not to drink, to eat, to drain the cup of joy, to love, to keep the feasts ; follow ever thy desire, never let sorrow fill thine heart so long as thou art upon earth ; for Aahlou is the land of heavy sleep and of darkness, a dwelling of death for those ' " Livre dcs Mcrts," c. 64, 1. 7. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. 89 who remain in it. They sleep in their bodiless form ; they know no more father nor mother, nor children. Since I have been in this country I weep for the water which springs up yonder. I weep for the rising of the Nile that it might refresh my heart in its sorrow, for here dwells the god whose name is All-death. He calls all the world to him, and all the world comes, to submit itself, fearing his wrath. Little recks he of gods or men. The small and the great are both alike to him. Every one fears to pray to him, for he will not hear. No one comes to praise him, for he is not good to his worshippers, nor does he regard any offering that they bring him." ^ This marks a great retrogression from the religious type of Egypt in its best days. Purely secular Egyptian literature was never of much importance, especially as com- pared with Egyptian art, the function of which was really priestly. Apart from the moral treatises which we have mentioned, it consists of a few tales and romances. It is a sort of morality in action, rudely adorned with an element of the marvellous, but without any true develop- ment of the imagination either in the form or substance. The theme is always libertinism and its punishment. The heroes of these escapades belong to the royal race. Thus there arose a school of scandal sometimes verging on buffoonery, for buffoonery was not alien to this serious race, which was even capable of caricature.^ It was in art properly so called that the Egj-ptian realism was most apparent. Egyptian art combines to an extraordinary degree, largeness of dimension with narrowness of inspiration. It represents that which is ; never that which ought to be. It is essentially realistic, for the Egyptian knows nothing higher than his own civilisation either in worship or belief. If there is any- thing noble in this realistic art, it is because the reality itself is noble. The artist magnifies without transfiguring or embellishing his subject. Ignoring the pursuit of the ideal, he preserves the serenity which is a trait of beauty ; but under all its diverse forms — architecture, sculpture painting, literature — Egyptian art is destitute of the • Maspero, p. 6t. ' Maspero " Ccr.tcs fcpulaircs de I'iincienne Egypt.'' Paris, 1881. 90 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. poetic insight which reveals depth of distance outlying the near horizon, and is ever suggesting that beyond the things that are seen and handled and felt, there is an unseen and impalpable something which informs the material Hke a living soul. Egyptian art is moreover eminently utilitarian. Its mission is not to elevate the soul and glorify the gods, but to aid in the performance of worship, and above all to promote the welfare of the dead. We must not forget that the dead derive real advantage from the things re- produced by the chisel of the sculptor, because there is in this reproduction an element of vitality. The omnipotence of the king, which enabled him to dis- pose at will of an entire nation, rendered possible those huge constructions which are found all over the land of Egypt, and chiefly in the great religious centres. They could not have been accomplished without the levying of whole armies of workmen. The peculiar characteristic of the Egyptian monuments is their horizontal extension. No soaring spire or tower rises from the midst of these gigantic edifices, which are all connected with one another. They are marvellous in their massiveness, but they are dwarfed and low, and of the earth earthy. The idea they give is of stability and endless duration. They look all the heavier because they are relieved by so few openings to let in the light. The Egyp- tian temple is a succession of gigantic buildings all in connection.^ We have first the avenues of sphinxes, mytho- logical lions representing the sun. These avenues lead to gates opening upon a vast enclosure, in which one or more small lakes or basins have been hollowed out for the passage of the mystic bark. Then come the " pylons, con- sisting of a tall rectangular doorway flanked on either hand by a pyramJdal mass rising high above its crown. Both portal and towers terminate above in that hollow gorge which forms the cornice of nearly all Egyptian buildings. From the base of the pylon spring those vertical masts from whose summits many-coloured streamers flutter in » " History of Ancient Egyptian Art," vol. i., p. 333, ei seq., Perrot and Chipiez. THE RELIGION OF EGYPT. gt the sun."^ The hall of assembly, reserved for the inferior clergy, is supported by eight columns ; it is entered through a court. Then comes the sanctuary, which is only open to the King and the superior priests. This is approached through a great square court with two side chapels. In this most holy place are kept the sacred bark and the statue of the god, but the latter is often replaced by a mere symbol. There is room for any number of chapels in the circumference. A great wall encloses all these sacred edifices. This arrangement of the temple is ex- plained by the purpose for which it is intended. Being closed to the people, it is really a sort of huge sacristy into which the officiating priests go to fetch the sacred objects designed to figure in the processions at the great feasts. The temple is primarily the monument of kingly devotion. Thus its innumerable bas reliefs always represent the offerings of the king, and the deliverances wrought for him by the gods in his victorious wars. They contain the monumental archives of the kingdom. Hence their lack of religious elevation ; there is nothing to lift the gaze on high, no altar, nothing to suggest a sense of sin. There is neither prayer nor sacrifice. In order to show that it is the abode of a god, his statue must be brought out of the arcana of the sanctuary and carried in proces- sion. Between the temple and the palace there is scarcely any difference ; in both there is the same horizontal ex- tension, the same monotonous grandeur. The Greek temple is not open any more than the Egyptian, to the nation of worshippers, but it presents to the eye a harmonious whole. Its outlines are so described that they blend in a shape of beauty. It impresses on the stone or the marble the seal of a prevailing thought, because the genius by which it is inspired has risen above the pantheistic naturism, which is capable only of reproducing itself in a multitude of objects, never of rising above them. In Greek art quality is more than quantity ; hence the Greek temple is beautiful, while the Egyptian temple is only vast. It has no definite propor- tions, and may be prolonged and extended just according to the munificence of the royal benefactions. It makes ' Perrot and Chipitz, "Ancient Egyptian Art," vol. i., p. 341. 92 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. no attempt at unity or harmony of form. The true sanctuaries of Egypt are its tombs. Into these it has thrown all its religion. Concern for the preservation of the body outweighs all aesthetic considerations. The mummy is placed below the level of the inundation, and is surrounded by the garments and provisions necessary to its future existence. Beside it are the little figures repre- senting its future helpers in the fields of Aahlou. The numerous paintings upon the walls reproduce all that was brilliant in the earthly life of the dead man, with a view to perpetuating it. Just as the Egyptian has his town house and his country house, so he has his dwelling for the dead made to resemble as closely as possible the earthly home. There is nothing to suggest the great change wrought by death, least of all its awful solemnity. The statue of the dead man not only perpetuates his image, but to some extent his actual personality, for it may take the place of the mummy should that be destroyed. There are stelae representing the sacrifices offered for the dead man. Each tomb has its vestibule designed for the meals of the dead, and its well and cellar attached to the mor- tuary chapel. The temple was originally the mere ex- tension of the royal tomb. The pyramid is only the largest of tombs. It is, so to speak, the colossal shrine of the dead. The obelisk distinguishes great places of burial. We have already spoken of the significance attached to sculptures in the Egyptian funeral rites. It was of the first importance that the sculptured figure should be a faithful representation of the deceased, hence there was no scope for idealisation. The aim was to produce an exact likeness, and the human physiognomy was rendered with admirable precision. The statues of the gods being hidden from the sight of the people in the arcana of the temple, the sculptor had no motive for making them works of art. The blending of human and animal types was moreover wholly incompatible with harmonious beauty of form. The majestic sphinx of Ghizeh is perhaps an exception. There is in its mournful look a mysterious pathos which seems to suggest the great unknown lying beyond the desert. The sphinx is a Hon with the head THE RELIGION OF EGYPI. 93 of a sparrowhawk, a goat or a man. It represents the rising sun, for the lion stands for the sun according to this passage in the " Book of the Dead" : " Hail to thee, O hon doubly strong, who liftest on high thy double plume, lord of the diadem, who rulest by the lash, thou art the vigorous male who puttest forth thy beams of light."^ When the lion has the head of a man he repre- sents Pharaoh. The importance attached to animals in the religion of Egypt did much to perfect their representation, which is often admirable. The archaeological value of the paintings, which make the whole life of the Egyptian soldier or field labourer pass before our eyes, is much greater than their artistic merit. The abstract character of Egyptian art, with its tendency to generalise rather than to go into detail, is little adapted to the picturesque or to the repro- duction of actual life. What it did express most forcibly was the idea of stability, of boundless duration. It was in this respect the faithful interpreter of the master thought of Egypt, which abhorred nothing so much as destruction, and was far more anxious to have life inde- finitely prolonged than raised to an ideal perfection. ' "Livre des Morts," c. 162, 1. i. CHAPTER IV. THE RELIGION OF PH(ENICIA} THE Phoenician religion is greatly inferior to the religion of Egypt. It has neither the same originality, the same rich symbolism, nor the same high moral tone. We find in it the same naturism, the same elementary pantheism, but we miss the eager gaze fixed on the regions beyond the grave, that mysterious land of the West, whence, hke the setting sun, everything comes forth to live again. As has been well said, it borrowed its gods from Chaldea, and only dressed them up after the Egyptian ' See M. Ph. Berger's excellent article in the " Encjxlopedie Lichten- berger"; Renan, "Mission de Phenicie," 1S64; Movers " Die Phcenicier," a book still of importance though somewhat superseded ; Perrot and Chipiez, "History of Ancient Phoenician Art," vol. iii. ; Tiele, "Compara- tive History of the Egyptian and Mesopotamian Religions ; " Maspero, " Histoire ancienne de rc3rient." The only complete piece of Phoenician literature is found in the fragments of Sanchoniathon's Cosmogony. It is a mistake to deny that such an author ever existed, but his work has been much manipulated by Philo of Byblos, who pretends to translate him. Eusebius, in his " De Praep. Evan.," gives many extracts from "Sanchoniathon." His work is evidently a distortion of Genesis, in which, after the manner of the Gnostics, abstractions are transformed into divine hypostases, linked together by a sort of genealogy of emana- tions. We feel sure that the description of the creation and of the forma- tion of Adam by the supreme God, must have come out of Genesis, as also the vague reminiscence of the mythical trees of the Garden of Eden and the rivalry between Esau and Jacob. It is easy to see what is borrowed from the traditions of Egypt and Chaldea. Perhaps the author has reproduced with considerable modification what he had seen upon the Phoenician tablets. In this way we are carried back to the same historic basis which we found in Chaldea, and which constituted the most ancient tradition of the Asiatic East. Sanchoniathon strangely degrades the myth of Adonis under the influence of Greek euhemerism. His book, which is of the date of the Seleucidae, has no order in it, for it reproduces pellmell the cosmologies of the various Phoenician towns. On this subject see M. Renan's very interesting arlrcle in the "Journal des Savans " vol. xxiii., 18S3, p. 24. THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. 95 pattern, allowing them but a very restricted and almost entirely earthboimd horizon. Phoenicia had however a considerable influence over the development of the ancient world, because it was the first to set sail on the broad ocean, and by its daring navigators it carried Eastern ideas throughout all the coasts of the Mediterranean. It gave to Greece the first elements of her mythology, on which she quickly set her own impress, and which she transformed according to her own ideal, as soon as she became a nation. It is to Phoenicia, moreover, that we owe the invention of the alphabet, which by substituting for the ideographic signs of the demotic writing of Egypt, letters representing sounds, created the most subtle instrument by which lan- guage could be fixed and transmitted. This discovery was more important to the ancients than that of printing to the modern world. The origin of the Phoenicians raises an ethnographical problem difficult to solve. Must we accept Herodotus' statement, that they came from the Persian Gulf and belonged to the Cushite race ? or must they be regarded as a powerful branch of the Semitic tree ? ^ This seems to us still a doubtful point. However it may be, it is certain that even if they were of Cushite origin, they were not far removed from the Semitic type, and must have be- longed to that proto-Semitic race which has left a common impression on all its various branches. It is impossible to doubt that there was a .close connection between the Phoenician language and that of the Hebrews, which made communication between them perfectly easy. Syria was originally occupied by peoples belonging to the same race as the Phoenicians, but not rising to the rank of nations. They were merely agglomerations of tribes. ' Tide's ground for connecting the Phoenicians directly with the Semitic race is the great similarity of the languages. He saj^s that this cannot be explained by subsequent relations between them, since the Phoenicians and the Israelites were always at war from the time of the settlement of Israel in Canaan. M. Berger sets against this opinion, the genealogical table of the sons of Noah (Gen. x. 6), in which Canaan is spoken of as the son of Ham, an assertion confirmed by the testimony of Herodotus. Beside, the Phoenician tributaries represented on the tomb of Rekmara, under the Egyptian king Thothmosis III., are not at all Semitic in type. 96 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. The Israelites came into contact with their survivors at the time of the conquest of Canaan. They were terrified at the sight of them as though they were a race of giants. " Who can stand before the children of Anak ? " we read in the sacred story.^ These ancient lords of the country seemed to them giants who muttered with voices of thunder, and before whom all other nations were as grass- hoppers. The whole of Syria, as the result of successive invasions, was divided among three great races, all sprung from a common stock, and all speaking one language with slight differences of dialect : 1. The Khitas (Hittites), to the north and east of Lebanon. 2. The Canaanites along the coasts, and in the centre and south of the country, in the valley of the Orontes above Nazana (Cesaraea), and the Jordan. 3. The Tarechites, differing slightly from the Canaanites, to the south and east of the Dead Sea, upon the confines of the desert of Arabia. The Canaanites quickly divided themselves into two groups — the maritime group, upon which we shall fix our attention, as the more important, and the group inhabiting the valleys of the interior. To this group belonged the small nations from whom the children of Israel conquered the land of Canaan. In order to make good their conquest, they had to go on fighting for centuries against the former possessors of the soil, who were divided into a number of tribes.^ The chief of these before the Jewish conquest were the Hittites and the Amorites, the Girgashites and the Tarechites, who were divided into Ammonites, Moabites, and Edomites.^ These tribes inhabited the southern portion of the country bordering on the Red Sea. The Amalekites were desert nomads. The religion of the Canaanites of the interior did not sensibly differ from that of the Canaanites on the sea coast. It had the same basis of belief; but as they stood on a much lower platform of civilisation, they did not elaborate their religion in the same way as the Phoenicians. ' Deut. ix. 2. 2 Ibid., ii. 10, 12. ^ Maspero, " Histoire," 2nd edit., p. 173. THE RELIGION OF PIICENICIA. 97 It will be well for us to take this religion at its highest point of development. There is no real difference to be observed between the religion of the Canaanites of the interior and that of the Philistines who occupied the sea- coast of Palestine, where they built five large cities : Gaza, Ashdod, Ascalon, Ekron and Gath. This territory, the intersecting point of Syria with the desert, between the torrent of Egypt and the environs of Joppa, had been allotted to them by Rameses III., after he had repelled their attempt to invade his kingdom. Instead of sending them back to Crete whence they originally came, he gave them a tract of land in Syria. Their population was fed by Amorite fugitives after the victories of the Jews. As we have said, the Canaanites who dwelt on the coast became important through their commercial activity. They preferred the indefinite empire of the sea, as a source of power and wealth, to territorial extension. They did not found an empire, but contented themselves with forming active centres of aggressive civilisation by building cities along the seaboard. The chief of these were Acre, Tyre, Beyrout, Arva, Sidon, Gebal, Smyrna, Byblos. Each of these cities formed a little kingdom, a principality with its gods, its laws, its magistrates called sufifetes, governing itself by an aristocracy and municipality, like Venice and the Hanseatic towns. Their commercial establishments were upon islands at a little distance from the coast, which served at once as fortress and sanctuary. They were in fact like a second city. The first Egyptian monument which mentions the Phoenicians, dates from 1 600 B.C. under Thothmosis III. It was at this time they occupied the coast of Syria, and built most of their cities. We are therefore carried back several centuries for the commence- ment of their dominion in this region. We cannot go into the details of the history. Tyre and Sidon alternated in importance. Their internal history was stormy and con- fused. The form of government was often modified, being sometimes a monarchy, sometimes an elective magis- tracy ; but the social constitution was never radically changed. Nothing could be more admirable than the Phoenician system of commerce and colonisation, which 7 98 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. extended first to Boeotia, then to the Peloponnesus, then to the island of Cyprus, which was another Phoenicia, and lastly to the coast of Africa, where in 800 b.c. the Phoenicians founded in Carthage a maritime empire which became the rival of Rome. Phoenicia shared in the vicissitudes of Western Asia under the successive domina- tion of Egypt and Assyria, but it repeatedly made heroic struggles to free itself from its oppressors. The most memorable of these was the victorious defence of Tyre against Nebuchadnezzar. Phoenicia could not but bow under the yoke of the great Persian, Greek and Roman conquerors, but it always kept the distinguished place it had won for itself by its colonial enterprise. We have already noticed the influence exerted by the various aspects of nature upon the development of the religion of nations, which regarded them as the principal manifestations of the divine. The one basis common to all nature-religions is modified according to these various aspects, and reflects them faithfully, till they assume the form of myths, as they become identified with the dim past of the nation's history. Syria is only another illustration of the same law. This is not like Egypt, a vast plain traversed by a river, the ebb and flow of which is as regular as the rising and setting of the sun. The sea, now smooth and shining, now tossed with tempest, breaks on its rugged shores. High mountain chains run through it. Carmel, Libanus, Anti- Libanus with their snowy peaks, lift their heads under a sky almost always serene and blue. The valleys and plains are rich in vegetation. Carmel puts on in the springtime the beautiful garments of which the prophet of Israel writes, and seems to break forth into joy and singing. Nowhere else perhaps in Western Asia does the spring open with such brilliance and rapidity. The warm breeze seems to carry the fruitful germs on its wings. Nature teems with life. Hence it will not be the idea of death and of the mysterious realm of souls which will be paramount in such a region, intoxicated as it were with the joy of living. Nature will appear here as pre-eminently the mother, the inexhaustible fountain of being, and it will naturally be represented under voluptuous images. It is THE RELIGION OF FIICE.YICIA. 99 easy to understand how Syria became the cradle of the worship of the great goddess Astarte, who lays her spell upon the senses and suffuses universal existence with a flood of. delights. This goddess bears no resemblance to the austere Isis, but rather to the Istar of Babylon, who was also the god- dess of fruitfulness, but Astarte is yet more voluptuous in character. Subsequently, under the influence of anthro- pomorphism, she will become the Venus of immortal beauty, purified by the idealisation of high art. But in Syria the goddess never represents anything higher than the re- productive power of nature, set forth in a t3^pe destitute of artistic grace, but none the less effectual in fanning the passions of this fiery race. It was of this voluptuous Astarte that Plautus said in his " Mercator," that she was the very life of men and of gods ; that sea, earth and sky did homage to her as the object of universal worship. It should be observed that he put this apotheosis of the goddess into the mouth of a Phoenician. " Diva Astarte, hominum deorumque vis, vita, salus Earn spectant ; illi obtemperant." ' Astarte was not less ready to kill than to make alive ; she carried on her operations by sudden acts of violence. In such a religion death could not appear, as it did to the Egyptian, like the evening of a glorious day, full of the promise of the coming dawn, but rather like a con- suming fire devouring its prey in the twinkling of an eye. Hence the indestructible hope of the future life pales before the strong excitement of sensual passion, or in the alarm of sudden doom. We shall observe this two-fold character in the Phoeni- cian worship, except in a few privileged cities where, in correspondence with a gentler aspect of nature, we find a milder religion. It is easy to discern even in the advanced religious development of the Phoenicians, traces of the primitive fetishism which worshipped the divinity in the mountains. Their majesty produced a strong impression on man in his barbarous state. They be- came objects of actual worship to him, as is shown by ' Plautus, "Mercator," v, 875. 100 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. such inscriptions as " Baal-Hermon," the ** God-Lebanon." Sacrifices were offered to rocks and caves. The same veneration was shown to the betylse, or Bethels, sacred conical pieces of stone, which were called houses of God.^ This primitive worship was perpetuated even under the Roman Empire. Tacitus said of Carmel, that it was called at once a mountain and a god." When the mountain ceased to be deified it was still the chosen place of worship. Syria always worshipped upon the high places. As soon as Phoenicia emerged from her state of bar- barism, she rose to the conception of the great sidereal gods, which, at this stage of religious development, have been universally recognised as the most striking manifes- tation of deity. There was always, however, something vague and indeterminate about the solar mythology of the Phoenicians. They never attained to any unity in their terminology of the gods, though their fundamental con- ceptions were identical. This diversity of nomenclature was a result of their political organisation, which made a settled monarchy impossible. Sidon, Tyre, Byblos, all had their separate divinities, though all exactly resembled each other. The great god was called Baal (the master) at Sidon ; Melkarth, Moloch or Melek (the king) at Tyre ; Adonis (the lord) at Byblos. Though the name of Baal is given indiscriminately to each of these gods, as the general designation of the deity, it is sometimes fised to signify the one supreme god. The inscriptions which describe him as " the Baal of the heavens " indicate this latent monotheism in the mind of man, without which the religious idea would have no existence, and which always manifests itself in the end, if only by a flash of light. It is said of the feminine divinity, that she is " the name of Baal," that is to say, one of his manifestations, which implies that, like the great Egyptian god, she lives again in other gods.^ That the sun stood for the supreme god is evident from the myth of Adonis, to which we shall allude again, for his death and resurrection can represent ' Perrot and Chipiez, "History of Art in Phoenicia," vol. i., pp. 58-61. ^ Tacitus, " Hist.," ii., 78. ^ It is said of Astarte, that she is the strength of Baal. THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. nothing else than the rising and setting of the sun. The name of El was also given to him. Side by side with the great solar god, we find in all the religious centres of Phcenicia, the goddess who, under the influence of an anthropomorphism which is really universal, is regarded as his consort. In truth she is only his double, as appears from the inscription already quoted : " Astarte, the name of Baal." At Gebal, the feminine deity was called Baalit ; at Tyre, Ashtoreth or Astarte, a divinity to whose impor- tance we have already referred. She was sometimes the goddess of the moon, sometimes that of the planet Venus. She was also called Rabbath, the great lady. Lastly, a son was born of the divine couple, who was only the reproduction of the great god, who lived again in him. The Adonis of Byblos is constantly confounded with Adon. Thus the son often becomes the lover of his mother.^ The Phoenician triad is evidently derived from Chaldea. It has borrowed the names of the principal gods of Chal- dea, Baal and Astarte corresponding exactly to Bel and Istar. The Phoenician pantheon is enriched with a great many other gods, and includes in the first place, the greater part of the Egyptian gods, as Isis, Osiris, Ptah ; then purely Semitic gods, such as Shamash, the sun. The most important group of gods next to the triad is that worshipped under the generic name of the Cabirim or the " powerful ones," who represent the seven planets, the elementary spirits from whom proceeds the universe, which is placed under the control of the eighth god called Esmun, the Phoenician Hermes. He had his chief temple at Beyrout. He was in reality the invisible god of the highest heavenly sphere, the god of cosmical fire concealed in the waters of the celestial ocean. His altar was set up on a platform of seven-storied towers or on the summit of high mountains. His name Esmun, " the eighth," is a synonym for the supreme god, as he was supposed to " approach nearest to the primordial Baal." The lions or serpents which surrounded him are the well- known symbols of fire ; he was also regarded as the god of navigation.^ It has been sometimes said that Esmun ' Berger, "Encyclopedic Lichtcnbergcr." ^ Tide, pp. 307, 309. i02 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANnY. supplanted Baal and Melkarth. This may have been so, but it must not be forgotten that there was no systematic unity about the Phcenician religion. It was all disinte- grated, like the country itself. The Cabirim were the dwarf gods. At Carthage, Esmun appears as the third god of the triad, with Baal-Hamon, who is essentially the god of fire, at once the creator, destroyer and purifier, and with Tanith. We have here a fresh proof of the identity of the third term of the triad with the first, and of the essential unity of the divine principle, which is perpetually manifesting itself under various forms. Such a theodicy is in complete harmony with the Chaldean and Egyptian conception of the divinity. The Syro-Phoenician worship is less rich in symbolism than the Egyptian, nor is it overladen with rites and magic formularies Hke the religion of Chaldea. These rough sailors did not feel themselves beset with evil spirits. They escaped the nightmare of perpetual fear. Phoenicia does not seem, as Chaldea did, hke a land possessed, and for ever occupied with casting out the demons. The power of evil presents itself to her as one of the manifestations of the power of life and fruitfulness, and the best way to appease it seems to be to imitate it in both phases. Nowhere else, unless it be in Mexico, has the dangerous belief so strongly prevailed, that the best way to please the gods is to follow their example. In this imitation there is not only an attempt to glorify them, but also the strange idea that by reproducing their acts, the worshippers become sharers in their life. It is a sort of barbarous communism laying hold of the deity under his twofold aspect. To this imitation a magic virtue is ascribed, just as the magicians of the African tribes imagine that they can bring the rain by imitating the sound of thunder. Worship becomes a sort of acted mythology, a dramatic representation of beliefs, with this peculiarity, that the drama is taken seriously and is not a mere fiction.^ Hence the two rites, both equally abominable, of enforced prostitution at the great festivals, and of the sacrifice of the firstborn. This sacrifice is really substitutionary, for ' Bergcr, " Encj'clopcdie Lichtcnberg'tr." THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. 103 the firstborn represents the family. The idea of substitution opened the way for some modification of these cruel rites. " Sometimes a domestic animal, a ram, an ox, a bird, or a stag, was immolated in place of the being to be spared ; sometimes the substitute was a stone, which was erected in honour of the god, and became a kind of metaphorical sacrifice."^ The sacrifice of the firstborn was, however, never completely abandoned. " To act under the auspices of the feminine divinity," says M. Perrot, in reference to the rites of prostitution, " to feed the flame of the eternal divine principle, was to pay it homage." These prostitutions, which defiled all the sanctuaries of the Syro- Phoenician religion wherever it was planted, alike in the West and in the Asiatic East, were prompted by the belief in a sort of marriage between earth and heaven whence all life proceeds. The idea was that by reproducing this union, its fruitfulness was in- creased. In Phoenicia these infamous rites were carried to their utmost length, for among the attendants in the temples, priests, scribes, porters, etc., prostitutes were admitted under the name of singing women, and carried on their abominable trade in caves, the purpose of which is made plain by hideous symbols.^ The presence of these recog- nised courtesans did not prevent the sacrifice of virgin purity, and even married women paid periodical visits to these sanctuaries of vice. The absolute dependence of man upon his gods was manifested in many ways. For example, the hair was cut at certain festivals, rings were worn in the ears and nose, the person was laden with sacred amulets to show that the man belonged to his god, whom he looked upon as a merciless creditor. The temple was the bank where these great merchants of the old world paid their debts.^ The future life, as we have said, did not much concern them, engaged as they were in the daring and desperate struggle for existence. They thought of it sometimes however. Apart from the invincible instinct impelling ' Perrot and Chipiez, " History of Art in Phcenicia," vol. i., p. 74- ^ Renan, "Mission phenicienne," p. 148. * Berger, " Encyclopedic Lichtenberger." 104 ^-^-^ ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the soul of man to gaze into futurity, they felt in this respect the influence of Egypt, though they relegated to the background that which was always the salient feature in the life of Egypt. In the first place they paid great attention to their burial-places. The tombs were cut in the rock. They were great caves of the dead, often forming a vast necropolis. The bodies were laid in rock- cut niches or corpse-ovens, and beneath each niche a little slab was placed giving the name of the occupant.^ The process of embalming seems to have been very simple. The surroundings of the dead, intended to pro- long in some measure his earthly existence, were exactly the same as those used in Chaldea and Egypt. Beside the sarcophagi, which often reproduce the human form, were placed statuettes of tutelary divinities.'"* In Deutero- nomy, where there are constant allusions to the Canaani- tish practices, we find this reference to the sacrifices of the dead. The pious Israelite says, " I have not taken away ought thereof for any unclean use, nor given ought thereof for the dead." ^ When Job says that in his grave he should sleep " with kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves," he expresses the idea of life in that pale land of shades, in view of which the great ones of the land of Canaan built their sepulchres.* The idea of death does not appear to have been less terrible to the Syro-Phoenicians than to the ancient Hebrews. The square caves for the dead in the subterranean necropolis at Sidon answer exactly to the gloomy descriptions which we find in the sacred books of the Jews. " The well into which the corpse was let down, and which seemed always opening its mouth for fresh prey, is the jaw of Sheol which devours all flesh." "> In one of the most important religious centres of Phoenicia, however, we find a much higher idea — that of a renewal in death, which is evidently borrowed from Egypt. ' " History of Art in Phcenicia," Perrot and Chipiez, vol. i., pp. 236, 237. ^ Perrot, " Art in Phoenicia," vol. i., p. 144. ■ Deut. xxvi. 14 ; Perrot and Chipiez, vol. i., p. 145, Mob iii. 13, 14. * Rcnan, '' Mission phenicienne," p. 410. THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. 105 We proceed briefly to describe this strange worship at Byblos, which, while based upon the same principles as the religion of Phoenicia, gave it a special development, and exerted a deep influence outside Syria. In this worship we recognise local elemxents, and others derived from Egypt, which was in close intercourse with Syria. We find in the ruins of Byblos many fragments of statues which are undoubtedly Egyptian. The whole of this district produces an impression at once sad and soothing. M. Renan says : " The infinite charm of nature in these regions invests even the thought- of death with a fatal attraction, so that the soul drifts along towards it, lulled by siren songs. The religious emotions are sen- suous, slumberous, tearful. Even the Syriac hymns of to-day in honour of the Virgin have a sort of sigh or choking sob in their refrain." ^ The same remarkable writer says again : " The sort of funnel out of which the river flows, is like the central point of a vast amphitheatre, formed by towers and rocks of great height. The river plunges down in one great leap to a fearful depth. There is something delicious in the purity of the water, the freshness of the air, the beauty of the vegetation. The intoxicating charm of nature at these altitudes, makes it easy to understand how man, inhabiting this wonderland, should have been a wild dreamer of dreams." It was in this enchanted country that the worship of Adonis grew up. It has often been described in vivid colours by ancient writers. In the spring time a myster- ious sarcophagus was placed on a catafalque" in the midst of the temple. A painted wooden figure with a gaping wound in the side was laid upon the sarcophagus. Beside the corpse, stood the boar which had mortally wounded it in the chase. The dead god was the object of passionate and noisy lamentations which filled the whole city. Women, some with streaming hair, others shaven and smiting their breast, eunuchs dressed as women, ran about the streets as though seeking the dead god. He was carried to his grave with great funereal pomp. Vases full of flowers brought from the garden of Adonis, were exposed to the sun which withered them up, and thus ' Renan, " Mission," p. 130. io6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. made them symbols of the death of the young god. The favourite of the goddess of abundance and of love, he had been sacrificed by the cruel god represented by the boar. To the Greeks all this was only a poetical myth of the beautiful Adonis, the lover of Aphrodite, sacrificed by the jealousy of Ares, but at Byblos it was taken to represent at once the drama of nature and that of human destiny. This higher and deeper meaning of the myth comes out from the second great feast celebrated in autumn at the close of the year. The funeral feast, like that of the springtime, lasted only seven days. Mourning was then set aside for the most extravagant manifestations of joy in honour of the god risen and ascended into the sky. This delirious joy was accompanied by lawless license, in which prostitution was freely indulged as a religious rite. If we analyse the various elements combined in this strange worship, we find in it first of all the dramatisation of the old beliefs peculiar to the whole of Phoenicia, the manifestation of the divinity under the double aspect of life and death. This god, who dies twice over, first under the fervent heat of summer and again at the approach of winter, only to revive in all the fulness of voluptuous life, is the nature-god, always the same under a diversity of forms, for the very power of evil that kills him, is but himself under another aspect. In Asia Minor this idea seems to have been caught from the myth of Byblos, but instead of the slaughter of the god by the boar, he is mortally W'Ounded by his own hand. He is ^10 longer called Adonis, but Atys. In the second place, we have in the whole of this strange myth, a reflection of one of the most curious characteristics of the country, which has certainly contributed to the special form assumed by the myth at Byblos. M, Renan says : " The mouth of the river Orontes is a charming place. I have there seen reproduced the phenomenon of the blood of Adonis. After heavy and sudden rains, all the streams pour into the sea floods of reddish water, which form a red line all along the coast." ^ The nfyth of Adonis was essentially agricultural, and represented the alternation of fertility and sterility in nature. A higher idea was ' Renan, " Mission," p. 182. THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. 107 infused into it, as it became identifiel with the worship of Osiris. We must not forget that A( onis, Hke the Egyp- tian god, was a supreme deity. The Adonai of Phoenicia is in fact the Absolute Being, remaining one and the same through all his successive transformations. He may change his name, and be called Lamentation, as the wind- god whose plaint is heard in the murmurs of the air, or Tammuz, the separate one, — when he passes through death, after having been Esmvin, in his hidden life ; but he never ceases to be the Absolute, the Only One. Con- taining all beings in himself, he includes and carries them along with him in his external evolution. With him they pass through death, with him they come to life again. Thus the resurrection of the young god is the promise of the universal resurrection ; and to man in particular, it is a certain pledge of his immortal destiny, the secret of which remains impenetrable. The history of his god represents for him death with its terrors, and the divine renewal be- yond the grave. Nothing can better illustrate the new meaning acquired by the myth, than the repetition of the feasts of Adonis on the occasion of the death of young people who liad been remarkable for various gifts. We have seen how important a part is played in the myth of Adonis, by the goddess who at Byblos is called Baalat. She is first the object of his affection, and then the cause of his mortal wound from the blows of the jealous god. She is indeed the personification of volup- tuousness, the sister of death, the mysterious power which only swells the stream of life to dry it up, save as it flows on again in the perpetual renewal of existence. This lower aspect of the myth of Adonis was that which attracted the most worshippers, especially in other lands, as at Paphos, where the feminine goddess was invested with warlike attributes. The impure saturnalia of Phoenicia seem to have been carried to great lengths in these remote regions, before younp; Greece introduced what was at least an aesthetic reaction against such excesses. At Ascalon, the capital cf Philistia, the femi- nine deity was called Derceto. The male god becamie Dagon, represented under the form of a fish. The religion is always the same, with a more marked Babylonian in- io8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. fluence. The Syrian goddess, in the decadence of the ancient world, again became Astarte, the primitive Baalat, and all that was noble in the myth of Adonis was drowned in floods of debauchery. Phoenician art was like its religion — heavy and formless. In reality, the religion of the country recognised nothing but force, rude brute force, — the force of unrestrained passions. There was nothing in its conception of the divine to lead to the creation of types of beauty. Thus Phoenicia chose to represent her gods by an image which was often only a conical stone, and did not give them a human form unless by reproducing the Egyp- tian types. The few original attempts to represent figures are miserable failures, resulting in either monsters or dwarfs. Never was anthropomorphism more abused. There was nothing in the Phoenician religion to encourage the sculptor to aim at truth in his delineation of humanity. Phoenicia was split up into so many sections, that it had not, like Assyria or Egypt, any ro3^al race to magnify. It had no king to stand as the representative of its god. Its only statues were images for the dead. The tomb was a cave hollowed out in the rock upon which were placed other buildings all of the same order. The Phoenician temple strongly resembles the Egyptian. It is only an enclosure more or less extensive, covered with stones laid one upon another, in the centre of which a tabernacle contains the effigy of the god. Phoenician buildings always begin with a monolith. When this does not suffice, other monoliths are added without any artistic arrangement or attempt at harmony of outline. The idea of shaping and transforming the stone never seems to present itself This massive character of Phoenician art is admirably rendered by M. Renan in the following passage from his " Mission de Phenicie." He says: "The prin- ciple of monohthism is the direct opposite of the Hellenic style. Greek architecture starts with the principle of dividing the stones. Where enormous blocks are used the effect is mere massiveness. In the Greek style, the first object was to make the wall beautiful. Now a wall derives its beauty from the symmetry of the joints, corresponding to the lines of the building. Every stone THE RELIGION OF PHCENICIA. 109 is a separate unit representing one member of the whole. Absolute master of his material, the Greek architect observes delicacies of structure which elsewhere have been overlooked in the art of building. The Syro-Phoeni- cian architect is the slave of his materials. To him the stone is always a shapeless mass of rock. Huge walls composed of blocks, taken ready made as it were from the quarry, are the essential features of Phoenician monu- ments." ^ " The only temples of ancient Syria are shapeless high places or caves in the rock." ^ The temples are filled with precious things, which make us admire the abundance and variety of the materials employed, but show also to what a degree Phoenician art, when it departs from its ordinary massive types, lacks originality. It simply imitates first Egypt and then Greece. It is more successful in industrial than in religious art, but its productions have neither grace nor elegance ; they are only the bright and effective goods which command a ready market. And yet it was by its singularly adventurous commerce, not only in material but intellectual wealth, that Phoenicia showed its true superiority. Commerce is a more rapid and effective medium than war for the exchange of thought. It was needful that the West, which was destined to attain to higher and fuller culture, should receive from the East the first materials for its work. These Phoenicia gave her in great blocks, like those which she left intact at the base of her temples. The Greek spirit moulded them by the chisel of its artists, and transforming the rude stone, drew from it divine types of plastic beauty, instinct with moral life. Did conscience, the great prophetess, who breaks the shackles of the historic past and foreshadows the truths of the future, remain absolutely without witness in this land of Phoenicia, defiled with so many abominations and watered with so much blood ? Was not that blood itself regarded as a means of expiating a life of licentiousness, against which there must have been sometimes an inward protest, though it was so carefully made a part of worship ? We do not doubt that it was so, and that noble souls > Renan " Mission," p. 2S2. - Ibid., p. 31. no THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. found expression for their aspirations after a better life in the myth of the dead and risen god. They found some moral satisfaction in the sort of pantheis- tic monotheism which formed the background of their national religion. There seems to us a touching ex- pression of gratitude to the supreme God in the following inscription : " To our Lord, the master of Tyre. Receive the offering of thy servants. He has heard their cries. May he bless them ! " ^ Upon one Phoenician bas relief, we see the worshipper prostrate before his god, evidently representing prayer. But all this is very vague and inadequate, and falls far short of the Chaldean psalms of penitence and the aspirations of Egypt after an immortal life. Let us recognise in conclusion that the Phoenicians added very little to the religious treasure of the ancient world, but that they fulfilled their mission by helping to circulate that treasure more widely. As we see them on the poops of their vessels, braving unknown seas on missions of peaceful conquest, we feel constrained to admire this valiant race. ' Renan, " Mission," p. 227. BOOK II. THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF THE ORIENTAL ARYANS CHAPTER I. THE PRIMITIVE ARYANS. IN the country watered by the Indus and the Jaxartes, including therefore Bactriana and Sogdiana, a race gifted to a remarkable degree with the genius of civiHsa- tion, rose to a high stage of moral and social culture. Its very name indicated a sense of its own superiority. By designating themselves Aryans, ^ its sons assumed to be the excellent of the earth, the masters and lords of other peoples, whom they contemptuously called barbarians or stutterers, so highly did these Aryans esteem beauty and clearness of language.^ This race, destined to play so distinguished a part in the history of humanity, came to be divided into two great branches, the one Western the other Eastern. The Western branch was again subdivided in later times into Greeks, Romans, Celts, Scandinavians and Slavs. The Oriental Aryans com- prised Persians, Medes, Bactrians and the higher castes of India. That these nations belonged to the same race is proved irrefragably by the common basis of their language, which has never been obliterated, widely as their destinies and modes of civilised life have diverged. Sanscrit, beyond question the most ancient of these languages, has, in the course of its modern investigation, borne conclusive witness to their community of origin. Comparative philology has led to a still more interesting result, by revealing to us the moral and social state of the ' Pictet, " Origines indo-europeennes," vol. i. p. 38, et seq. See the traces of this appellation pointed out by the learned author in the idioms of Europe. - The word barbarian occurs in the language of both Western and Eastern Aryans, and must have been in use therefore before their separation. 8 114 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. great Aryan race before its dispersion. For it is evident that when we find words identical in the languages of nations now differing so widely from one another, we must conclude that these words belonged to the idiom originally common to them all, and that they have all sprung from one stock. Now as these root-words express ideas and describe facts and usages, we shall be able by grouping them to form some idea of our common ancestors, of their degree of civilisation, their social con- stitution and their religion. This is only true of words common to the two great sections of the Aryan race, the Eastern and Western. Those which occur in one section only, belong evidently to a date later than that of their separation. It would be dangerous to push too far this restoration, by the aid of comparative philology, of so distant a past. Hence we must be content with that which is indisputable, namely, analogies which do not stop short of identity. These suffice to give us at least a general idea of the develop- ment attained by this noble race, which, like all other races, began in a state of barbarism.^ Speaking generally, the Aryans seem to have shaken off more rapidly than the Chaldeans, the nightmare cf naturism, with its legion of demons peopling earth, air and water. The country which was the cradle of the race was the most temperate in Asia, and presented far less abrupt contrasts than Chaldea or Phoenicia. It had soft mountain slopes and a sunny climate. The dawn broke over it in poetic mildness ; the year had its springtime, and summer did not burst upon the land in sudden, consuming heat. To all this, the language bears testimony. While in all the Aryan idioms winter is designated by a common root, as the season of snows, spring is called the season of reclothing.^ The earth was then adorned with greenness and flowers, before the parching summer heat began. The ' The best book on this point is that already referred to, by M. Pictei : " Les origines indo-europeennes et les Aryas primitifs — Essai de paleon- tologie Hnguistique," vol. iii. 2nd ed. Paris: Fischbacher, 1878. We know that the inductions of this eminent philologist have been often disputed, and that they are very bold. We accept only that which is verified by ample evidence. "^ Pictet, vol. i. c. v. § 10, II. THE PRIMITIVE ARYANS. xi$\ climate appears to have been peculiarly temperate. It did not benumb the inhabitant, like the eternal frosts of the north, nor prostrate him with pitiless heat. The Aryan had thus his energies at command and was equal to the exertions which the nature of the soil demanded. Judging by the words which we find common to all the Aryans in their dispersion, and which serve as so many commemorative medals of an obscure past, their ancestors appear to have been really civilised. In the first place, the family bond was recognised. The names of the various members of the family are, so to speak, illumined by a ray of love. The marriage tie was a real one. The husband is spoken of as " he who provides for and rules his household" the " kind master" and the wife as the "mistress,"^ which implies a union without tyranny on the one hand or degradation on the other. The word father, which is identical in its root in all the Indo-European languages, may be translated : " he who protects." The mother, " she who bears children." ^ The brother is desig- nated as a protector, like the father, for the two expres- sions are synonymous.^ The sister is the inhabitant of the house, the one who in her weakness has most need of the shelter of the hearth, the one doubly guarded by father and mother.* The duty of protection was also laid on the uncle and aunt. This old language, thus reconstructed, perpetuated the memory of the slavery resulting from war, but it recognised also the servant who is the help of the family — the famulus.^ Family life thus constituted implies a different kind ' Pictet, vol. ii. p. 19. " Patar, maiar, words found in all the Indo-European languages. Greek, TTarf'/p, /i//r*;p ; ha.tin, pa/er, mater; Ang]o-S3.Kon, faecier, tiiodor ; Old German, fa tar, moter. Patar is from the root pa, tueri, servare ; nidtar from the root ma, efficere, creare. Pictet, vol. ii. p. 33. ' Sanscrit, A/iw/a;-; Zend, braiar ; Greek, 0p7;rr/() ; \^?i.\\n, f rater ; Old Irish, brdthir. The root is bhr, bhar, ferre, sitstentare. * Sanscrit, svasar ; Latin, soror ; Gothic, svistar ; Pictet connects the word with the root vas, habitare (ii. p. 55). Sister signifies she who dwells with the brother. ^ The name barbarian or enemy was often given to the servant, who was regarded as a slave, one of the conquered. Pictet, ii. p. 6-9. But there are traces of a milder slavery. Arati, in Sanscrit, signifies helpei, Greek, vTn]piTt}g; Gothic aims, messenger; from the Sanscrit r, ar, in the sense of adire, colere, servire. ii6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of shelter from the cave of the Troglodyte, or the huts of the ancient Lake-dwellers. The idiom of the primitive Aryans represents a real house, with walls, roof, and even the hearth, from which goes up the smoke, so dear afterwards to the Homeric heroes.^ It has expressions also for the weapons of the chase, and of warfare, which are described by analogous terms in all the sister languages.^ Human blood was recklessly shed, both in battle, and by the assassin's sword. The industrial and deco- rative arts were of a very primitive character. The clothing was woven instead of being merely the skin of a beast.^ Iron appears to have been unknown, for it is the only one of the metals not mentioned. But agriculture had already made considerable progress. Wheat and barley were cultivated. All existence seems associated with agricultural life.* The boy is the one who cleans the house or the stable; he is also called the young calf. The girl is the one who milks the cows.^ The pasture is the great field of hospitality. There the host receives the stranger. It is from the pastures that he derives his title of master. He is master first of the sheepfold, then of the tribe,^ lastly of the nation. The king is afterwards called the shepherd of his people. Property is already recognised, the furrow forming its boundary. The true wealth is work, which is sy- nonymous with gain,^ Agriculture is the foundation of wealth. When the great medium of exchange is created subsequently, it takes its name from the possession of cattle. The word money originally signified a flock. ^ ' Sanscrit, datiia ; Greek, Sviiog; Latin, dounis ; Irish, dmnh ; ancient Slav, domu. The root would be dam, to bind (binding materials together), Pictet, ii. p. 306. ^ Pictet, ii. p. 266, et seq. ^ Ibid., ii. p. 380. * Ibid., ii. p. loi, et seq. * Sanscrit, duliitar ; Greek Ovydrrip ; German, Tochter ; from duh, to milk. * Gopa — from pa tueri, cowherd, then guardian, head of the village, lastly king. The rcot pa gives the words pastor, father. ' Pictet, iii. p. 95-I15. * Pecus. THE PRIMITIVE ARYANS. 117 Weights were already in use, which imphes some elementary traffic.^ The social organisation seems to have risen above that of the mere tribe, for we hear of a king ; but the form of government was still very vague. Royalty was doubtless only an extension or generalisation of the paternal power. This nascent society knew how to protect itself against disorder ; it had its system of penal justice, with judges, witnesses, and punishments.^ The idea of the majesty of justice was expressed by an admirable word, for laio signifies sometimes that which is imperishable, sometimes that which is established or ordered, proclaimed, known of all, sometimes that which is right} Hence that sublime expression which makes the moral law the indestructi- ble foundation of the State, the very basis of the written law and of established custom, of which it is the sole sanction. An offence is called a transgression, that which breaks through law.* If from the social life, in which the moral idea thus asserted its supremacy, we rise to the religious life, we shall be struck with the value attached to man as an individual in the admirable psychology which may be summed up in a few words. We find the distinction already marked between the soul, the breath of life,^ and the intellect, the thinking power, which makes man a reasonable being. Man is called distinctively the thinker.^ This soul, endowed with intelligence, goes on existing after ' Pictet, iii. p. 1 1 5. ^ Ibid., iii. p. 145, et seq. * See these various designations of law : 1st dhanna, from the root dhr, dliar, poiiere, finniter stare ; Old Irish, dlr, justits ; 2nd From the root dha, ponere ; Zend, ddo ; in Greek, O'itD, whence B'tixig and dea/xoi, law, right, custom, Old German, tdiii, tiiom, Scand., doin ; 3rd Sanscrit, D/f, onder, precept from dif, indicare ; Greek, Z'ik^, justice, law; V-Aixn, judex, judge; 4th Veda, vidyd, knowledge; from vld, scire, noscere ; Goth, vitotht; 5th rgu, right; Latin, rego, rectus, etc.; Goth., railits ; German, recht, Ibid., vol. iii. p. 138, ct seq. * Ibid., iii. p. I46. * Sanscrit, ati, breath; in Greek, avffioq, breath; 0p)>, — ecos soul Latin, aniiiia ; Irish, a nail ; Ibid., iii. p. 275. •* Sanscrit, maims, intelligence ; Zend, man, to think ; Latin, mens ; Goth., munan, to think, to will ; Old German, manon. Man is described as the thinking being. Sanscrit, manu. To this etymology may be traced the Greek Minos. In Gothic we find man as in German. Ibid., iii. p. 281, et seq. ii8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. death. Incineration was the prevaiHng custom ; but judging from the universal practices of Indo-European nations, the funeral ceremonies were accompanied with sacrifices, the original form of which seems to have been the immolation of a cow, so that the herdsman might be able to carry on in another world his wonted occupation.^ We find also among all nations of the Aryan race, the idea of a river to be crossed, and a conflict to be maintained with the , powers of evil. The Greek Cerberus came from the plains of the Caucasus. With regard to what may be properly called religious ideas, we must be careful not to accept unproved hy- potheses. It appears certain that the primitive Aryans had altogether left behind the animistic period, in which religion consisted wholly in the exorcising of demons by sorcery. They retained, indeed, certain magic arts, but these were not regarded as of primary importance.^ They had come to adore the stars as the highest manifestation of the deity. Had they arrived also at the intuition of a vague monotheism, leading them to recognise a supreme power in the higfiest heaven, as seems suggested by their mode of expression?^ It has been thought that this might be inferred from one of their designations of the divinity as the Supreme Being. Their metaphysical bias renders this possible, but we have no means of arriving at certainty. If the negroes of the Geld Coast have been found to have the monotheistic intuition, we can feel no difficulty in admitting that a race so richly gifted as the Aryans may have possessed it, though no relics of a primitive tradition on the subject have come down to us. In any case this monotheistic intuition is but a lightning flash athwart the darkness of the night. The prevailing idea of the divinity always identifies him closely with the grandest and most striking cosmic phenomena, and prim- arily, therefore, with the great luminaries of the heavens ' Pictet, p. 233, et seq. "" Ibid., iii. p. 388. ' Deva, which according to Pictet applies to the abstract divinity, would be distinguished as a substantive from the more general word Div, and would stand for the Celestial One. It would correspond to the Greek Btos, and the Latin Deus. Ibid., iii. p. 414. THE PRIMITIVE ARYANS. 119 and with the heaven itself. The word used for heaven represents to all Indo-European nations, the great mys- terious power, the object of their worship. Dyaus is heaven personified.^ The Vedic Varuna, the prototype of the Greek Uranos, belongs to the same period. The sun, respresented as the centre of light under the name Surya, and as the produc- tive power under the name Savitar, is worshipped among the principal Aryan nations. All alike offer their adora- tion to the dawn,^ to the earth, to the elements, fire and water, air and wind.^ The primitive Aryans had an ele- mentary mythology, in which it is easy to trace the pastoral and agricultural character of their lives. The clouds ap- peared to them as celestial cows, and the sun, the great producer of life, as the bull.* AH the Indo-European languages agree in describing worship as a prostration of the soul in fear, veneration and love.' Sacrifice is its necessary expression. The idea of holiness seems de- rived from that of light and purity.*' There is only one word for faith in all these languages, and it always stands for trust and respect.^ Its first meaning, like that of religion, is really that which unites to the divinity. Prayer is described by the same word, whether it is addressed to gods or men. It is supplica- tion, desire, praise or complaint.^ Sacrifice is, according to the etymology, essentially a libation.^ Such are the principal elements of the social and reli- gious life of the primitive Aryans. These pastoral people were pre-eminently poets and thinkers, and they preserve these two characteristics however widely they may be scat- tered. We have now to follow them into the various fields of history, where each will make his own furrow, and work ' The Greek T^tvq, and the Latin Dens, correspond to Dyans. 2 Pictet, iii. p. 438. ■^ Ibid., iii. p. 443, et seq. ^ Ibid., ii. p. 87. ^ Sanscrit, nam, inclinare ; hence, namas, veneration ; Zend, nemanlt, adoration ; Greek, vs/iw ; Goth., niman. Ibid., iii. p. 461. *Zend, asha, purity, holiness; Greek oaioQ. Ibid., iii. p. 467. ' Ibid., iii. p. 470 * Sanscrit, prach, laudare ; Zend, pereg ; Latin, precor. Ibid., p. 472. * Sanscrit, Am, sacrificare, libare; Greek x^^^j x^^"- Ibid., p. 476. 120 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. out on different lines, under the combined influence of new environments and new associations, the elemental religion brought from the common cradle of the race. We shall see under what new aspects they will come to regard that divinity of the heavens, before whom they had all bowed together in the early daj^s of their common faith. We shall see how the Aryans of the East, by placing the deity altogether outside the visible, reduce him to a mere metaphysical idea, to an absolute so vague, that it is but a step removed from utter negation. The Aryans of the West, on the other hand, at least in the great centres of ancient civilisation, bring their god down out of the heavens, and fashion him after their own human image. But in both directions the religious evolution will be gradual and long. Let us trace it first in Eastern lands, where the two Aryan nations most nearly allied to each other soon take divergent lines. CHAPTER II. THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER.^ § I. — Historical Survey. IRAN is that vast plain which lies between the Tigris and the Indus on the one side, and the Indian Ocean and the Caspian Sea on the other. No district presents more striking contrasts than this. Vast steppes abut on fields of singular fruitfulness. A burning sun parches the ground in one spot, and at the same moment the neigh- bouring districts are benumbed with wintry frosts. The Vendidad, the sacred book of Iran, says : " Upon the material world the fatal winters are going to fall that shall bring the fierce frost. Upon the material world the fatal winters are going to fall that shall make snowflakes thick, even an aredvi deep on the highest tops of the mountains. And all the three sorts of beasts shall perish ; those that live in the wilderness, and those that live on ' France has had a large share in the discovery of the texts of the sacred books of Persia. Anquetil Duperron brought back from his heroic expe- dition to Surat, the Parsee translation of the Avesta, which he had ob- tained with great difficulty from the Parsees. It was very defective, for it had been made at a period when the true meaning of the Parsee language was in great part lost. Hence it was vehemently disputed, especially by William Jones. Burnouf found a Sanscrit translation of the Yasna made by the Parsees of Guzerat. By using the methods of comparative philology, he interpreted the famous cuneiform inscriptions of Persepolis. There he read the names of the great Persian kings, the Achaemenides. This gave the key to their ancient sacred language. His Commentary on the Yasna is still very valuable. (See " Essais orien- taux," by J. Darmestetter ; " I'Orientalisme en France.") The volume on the religion of Persia, in the collection of Oriental books published under the direction of Max Muller is hy Darmestetter. He introduces his tianslation by an admirable preface. See " Ormazd and Ahriman," by the same author. We refer the reader also to Spiegel's translation, "Die heilie. Schriften der Parsen ; " Leipzig, 1852; and to the books already quctsj on the history of Eastern nations. 122 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the tops of the mountains, and those that live in the bosom of the dale, under the shelter of stables." ^ It is especially in Bactria and Sogdiana that these strong contrasts of climate occur. Between the moun- tains there are fertile valleys, clothed with luxuriant vegetation ; beyond these stretch limitless barren solitudes. While the stars were shining pure and serene in the clear air of Iran, the violent wind sweeping across the steppes brought mists and raised clouds of dust. The population of the two countries dilTered as widely as the soil and climate. On the one hand, a peaceful and industrious people gave themselves to field labour; on the other, nomad tribes led a savage and warlike life, perpetually making fierce irruptions into Iran. The inhabitants of Bactria were thus led to look upon the cold country as an accursed land given over to evil spirits. The Medes and Persians shared this vast domain between them. The former occupied the north, the latter the south-east. They had a common origin, and both had the same primitive reli- gious conception — that namely, which predominated among the Aryans before their dispersion, and which found its most complete expression in the Rig-Veda. Persia ad- hered faithfully to this so long as she remained alone, and even after her subjection by the Medes, she clung to her old belief as to the last rampart of her nationality, while her powerful neighbours had already entered on a new phase of religious evolution. There is reason to suppose that direct contact with Chaldean civilisation, gave a powerful stimulus to the Medes in the path of progress. This contact led to a great struggle which assured to the Medes for a time the hegemony of Western Asia ; but it was not till they had themselves been subdued by Cyrus, that they exerted any considerable influence upon Persia through the superior cultiv^ation of their magi, the vigilant guardians of their traditions. The religion of Iran was not, however, for a long time thoroughly accepted by the conquerors, if we may judge from the inscriptions placed by Darius and his successors upon the walls of their palaces. It would be unreasonable, of course, to expect ' Vendidad, ii. 23, 24. Translated by James Darmestetter. THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. 123 to find in such inscriptions anything like a complete resume of a very elaborate religious system ; but it is clear that while these inscriptions give the first place to the great god of Media, as creator of heaven and earth and benefactor of men, and while they make the king his protege and representative, they do not attribute to him the absolute supremacy accorded to him in the Vendidad. They associate in his worship, Mithra, the sun-god, and but few traces of dualism are to be found in them. The State religion, therefore, long gave a larger place to polytheism than was assigned to it in the sacred books of the magi. The magi, so far from modifying their doctrine under the new influences brought to bear on them, carried it to its extreme consequences, assigning a higher and higher place to Zoroaster in their worship. The history of the ancient empire of Persia is divided into three periods. The first, the Achsemenian era, in- augurated by Cyrus about 560 b.c. This ended with the defeat of Darius at Arbela, 331 B.C. To him we owe the inscriptions already mentioned. The Persian power was then at its zenith. Cyrus had subdued Media, Babylonia, and Lydia, and under Cambyses Egypt was conquered, but only for a short time. Under Darius the Persian power spread eastward as far as the Indus, and to the west it crossed the seas which divided it from Europe, to dash itself vainly against the Athenian galleys. From that time it confined itself within the borders of Asia, and through the genius of Darius, the son of Hystaspes (523-585), it organised for two centuries the greatest empire Asia had ever yet seen. During this period, the king became, as in Assyria and Egypt, a very god upon earth, adored rather than obeyed, for he was the object of a devotion scarcely less than religious. We shall see that this prostration of the entire nation before the king was quite in accordance with its religious feeling. The influence of the magi, meanwhile, became more and more powerful, especially under Cambyses, The victorious sword of Alexander inaugurated the second era, by cutting in pieces the armies of the Great King. Under the reign of the lieutenants, his immediate 124 THE ANCIEN2 WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. successors, Persia lost more and more of her distinctive characteristics, without any compensating gain from her association with the genius of Greece, already much de- generated. The Parthians, in 260, took possession of Persia. Their kings, who founded the dynasty of the Arsacides, reconquered the whole of Iran, but being incessantly at war with Rome, they endeavoured to diffuse throughout the country the influence of Greece, to which they them- selves had completely yielded, though still remaining in many respects, sons of the Caspian deserts. Their sway, however, was but brief, and they never struck root in Iran. Thus when they were forced to yield the dominion to princes coming from the cradle of the Persian nationality, from the very country of Cyrus, they left no abiding traces behind them. Before their departure, however, the later Arsacides had tried to win popularity by favouring the religion of the magi. Vologeses (King Valkash) even tried to search for and collect all the fragments of the Avesta. This attempt to restore the religion of the magi really succeeded under the first of the Sassanians, who began by being one of the local kings of Persia. The doctrine of Zoroaster was now actually raised to the throne. Shapur II., the contemporary of Constantine, issued the authorised edition of the Zend- Avesta. The Sassanian Empire lasted for four centuries. It had been undermined by despotism and intolerance, so that it was easijy overthrown, and with the Mussulman conquest the religion of Mahomet was forcibly introduced. The Sassanides are only memorable for having handed down to us the sacred books of the religion of Zoroaster. ^ § II. — Basis of the Religion of Iran.^ At the basis of the religion of Iran, we find not only the same elementary belief as among all the primitive ' "The Sacred Books of the East," edited by Max Muller, vol. iv. Intro- duction. * See Darmestetter, "Ormazd et Ahriman." M. de Harlez, ("Journal Asiatique," 1882, p. 507), has called in question the value attached by Darmestetter to the myth of the storm, and consequently, the original THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. 125 Aryans before their dispersion, but also complete identity with what may be called the very foundation of the religion of the Vedas. Undoubtedly as early as the epoch of the Vedas, there is a very marked difference between the two religions, but the fundamental agreement is none the less complete. The Aryans who emigrated into Iran brought with them into their new country the same religious beliefs as were held by their brethren who remained be- hind, although it cannot be questioned that they quickly modified them. This seems very clear from numerous passages in their sacred books, in which we can trace as it were the vestiges of an earlier age, for they are not in harmony with the prevailing religious conception of the time to which they belong. In both, the great divinity is the sun-god who has produced the world of light and purity. Ahura Mazda or Ormazd " is white, bright, seen afar, and his body is the greatest and fairest of all bodies. He has the sun for his eye, the rivers above for his spouses, the fire of lightning for his son ; he wears the heaven as a star-spangled garment ; he puts on the hard stone of heaven, he is the hardest of all gods. He dwells in the infinite luminous space, and the infinite luminous space is his place, his body."^ The resem.blance of Ormazd to the Vedic Varuna in his original form before he was spiritualised, is very striking. The Amesha Spentas, which are emanations from Ormazd, remind us of the Vedic Adityas. Mithra represents the heavenly light in both religions in their earliest form. The spiritualisation of light, by which it is invested with a moral character, is common to the primitive identity of the religion of Iran with that of the Vedas. He considers the reUgion of Iran to have had much more originahty in its elementary religious ideas, which he thmks were derived in the first place from the fundamental religious intuitions in the human soul, though afterwards largely modified. We are convinced, however, that the community of origin cannot be disproved. Darmestettcr admits, moreover, that the religion of Iran quickly set its seal upon these elementary truths. (See his Introduction to the translation of the Vcndidad). As to the legend of Yima, as we find it in Fargard ii. of the Vendidad, we admit with M. Harlez that it approaches much more nearly to the Semitic tradition of the deluge, than to the Yima of the Vedas. But the later date of this legend explains this resemblance. ' Vendidad, Introduction, pp. 58, 60. 126 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. beliefs of both peoples before their separation. The clear shining of the light is identified with purity. The day- star represents in Iran moral good in all its forms, — good thoughts, good words, good deeds. In the Vedas, the divine eyes, which are at first merely the rays of the sun, afterwards become searchers of the heart of man. Light discerns truth and is itself truth. Dualism, which is the most characteristic trait of the religion of Iran, has its root in the beliefs common to both religions. In both we find the serpent which represents the cloud, enwrapping the sun in its folds and so darkening its shining, but in the end to be overcome by the sun-god though he has been for a moment vanquished, that is to say, obscured by it. The myth of the bull (the seed of which, after the animal has been made a sacrifice, is to become the source of all fraitfulness) is common to them both. So also is the myth of the god-man, the son of the waters of heaven, who in his turn is to die before he can conquer. The bull, which in the Vedas represents cloud, is called in the Avesta, the "son of the waters." Without attempting to reduce the symbolism of the religion of the Avesta to the myth of the storm, representing the drama of nature in three acts — the coming of the light, its momentary withdrawal, and its dazzling return — it must be admitted that this plays an important part in it. We are thus carried back to the Vedic myths, in which Indra fills the first place. It is true that in Iran this myth receives a new and far higher meaning. The two religions indeed rapidly diverge, and we must now inquire what is the distinctive character of the religion of Zoroaster.^ § III. — The Religion of Zoroaster. The great Iranian god rises steadily higher and higher above his visible manifestation in the clear light of ' The Zend-Avesta or Book of the Law consists of the following books : 1st, the Vendidad in 22 chapters, a dialogue between Ahura Mazda and Zoroaster. 2nd, The Visperad (27 sections). 3rd, The Yasna (170 sections). These two collections are combined under the name of the Vendidad Sadah. 4th, The Khorda Avesta or small Avesta, a supplementary collection of hymns. 5th, the Bundehesh, which is of later date (Fehr, "Encyclopedic Lichtenberger "). The collection of the sacred books of the religion of Iran was made in the time of the early THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. i2-j heaven. He is primarily intellect and purity. He is adored as " Heavenly Wisdom," " the Wise One, the Wisest of the Wise." In the beginning of time he establishes the order which keeps the sun and the stars in their courses ; he fixes the earth without support ; he sets in motion the winds and the clouds ; he gives back the beloved son to his father that he may rear him.^ The Ized form the militia of Ahura Mazda. The highest order of these are the Amesha Spentas, six " im- mortal saints." These are rather deified attributes of the supreme god than his subordinates, and divide among them the empire of the world. ^ Their very names indicate their metaphysical character; they are, in fact, good thought, excellent holiness, perfect sovereignty, divine piety, health and immortality. Ahura Mazda is not only supreme among the gods, he is the father of them all. He says, " Mithra, the lord of wide pastures, I have created as worthy of sacrifice, as worthy of glorification as I, Ahura Mazda, am myself." The friends of the dead and the guardian genii of the living are worshipped under the name of the Fervers.^ In contrast Vv'ith the supreme Arsacides. According to the Elder Pliny (" Plist. Nat.," xxx. 6), Tiridates brother to Vologeses was one of the magi. Tacitus says he was like Vologeses himself, greatly attached to his religion ("Annal.," xx. 24), Pliny's assertion is thus confirmed; Tiridates only completed the work of tlie Arsacides. That the books themselves are of a much earlier date than the Arsacides is proved by the language used, which corresponds exactly to that of the insciiptions of the Achaemenian era. Pausanias alludes to the hymns sung by the magi (v. 27. 3). According to Pliny (" Hist. Nat.," xxxiii. i, 2), Hermippus, three centuries before Christ, gave an analysis of the books of Zoroaster. What we know, moreover, of the ideas of the Persians in the time of the Achaemenides, corresponds perfectly with the contents of their sacred books (Plutaich. " Isis and Osiris," 46, 47). The Iranian religion was in existence then, substantially, in the time of Alexander, at least as professed by the magi who alone possessed it in its higher form. It was as yet far from having trans- formed the religion of the Persians, though it exercised a very important influence upon it. In short, the original text of the Avesta is not the work of the Persians. It was written by the magi in their language and expresses their religious convictions in the time of the Achajmenides. (Darmestetter, Introduction to his translation). We take our quotations mainly from Darmestetter's translation of the Vcndidad. For the other sacred books, see Spiegel's translation. ' Yasna, xliii. 2. ^ Vendidad, Introd. Ixi. ' Yasna, Ixv. 5. 128 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANFTY. god, the god of purity and life, we have the great adversary Ahriman, who is the principle of evil, and the author of death. He has called into existence a sort of counter-creation, in which malevolent spirits seek to thwart the good genii of Ormazd. " Thus speaks Ahura Mazda, the Holy One, unto thee : I, Ahura Mazda, the maker of all good things, when I made this mansion, the beautiful, the shining seen afar, (there may I go up, there may I pass ! ) then the ruffian looked at me ; the ruffian Angra Mainzu, the deadly, wrought by his witchcraft nine diseases, and ninety and nine hundred, and nine thousand and nine times nine thousand diseases." ^ The army of evil is ranged in battle array against the army of good, and a tremendous conflict commences in all the spheres in the heavens, where it takes the form of storms and tempests, and upon earth where it spreads from kingdom to kingdom.^ The decisive conflict takes place upon the sacred soil of Iran, the part of creation best beloved by Ormazd. "The first of the good lands and countries which I, Ahura Mazda, created, was the Airyana Vaego by the good river Daitza. Thereupon came Angra Mainzu, who is all death, and he counter-created by his witchcraft the serpent in the river, and winter, a work of the Daevas." ^ Every part of the country has . its particular plague, wrought by Ahriman in opposition to Ormazd. This principle runs throughout the universe. The contest was chiefly between the principle of life and the principle of death. The best way of honouring the former was to do everything possible for the production and expansion of life, for the creation itself is a divine work. It is as the body of Ormazd. He is the maker of all good things — the beautiful, the shining.^ Hence natural fruitfulness and growth is to be exalted as the good law of Mazda. Trees, cattle, all are under " the fair, holy blessing-spell. ' Vendidad, Fargard xxii. 2. ^ That the conflict goes on first in the regions of the air is shown by the part assigned to fire as the son and the weapon of Ormazd. Yasna, xxxi. 19. Darmestetter, "Ormazd and Ahriman." ^ Vendidad, Fargard i. 3. '' Ibid. xxii. i THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. i2(j the friendly, holy blessing-spell, that makes the empty swell to fulness and the full to overflowing." ^ The principal object of prayer is to ask of Ormazd that this his benedic- tion may come upon all his creatures both man and beast, since all are dependent on him for life and sustenance. Hence the worshipper prays that waters from the spring may" flow and overflow and run to the beautiful places and fields and to the pastures, even to the roots of the plants, that they may grow with a powerful growth." ^ The father who has a large family around him, and gets rich harvests from the land, is a priest of Ormazd. The best place upon earth, next to the place where worship is offered, is the home which the worshipper has made for himself, and where he provides for his comfort, his wife, his children, and his cattle. " O Maker of the material world, thou Holy One," says the worshipper, '' which is the second place where the earth feels most happy ? " Ahura Mazda answers : " It is the place whereon one of the faithful erects a house with a priest within, with cattle, with a wife, with children, and good herds within, and wherein afterwards the cattle go on thriving, holiness is thriving, fodder is thriving, the dog is thriving, the wife is thriving, the fire is thriving, and every blessing of life is thriving.^ Again : " O Maker of the material world, thou Holy One, what is the food that fills the law of Mazda ? " Ahura Mazda answered : " It is sowing corn again and again. He who sows corn, sows holiness ; he makes the law of Mazda grow higher and higher.'^ Asceticism is altogether foreign to such a conception of religion. The priest is to teach the people this holy saying : " That a man must eat that he may have strength to do works of holiness, strength to do works of husbandry, strength to beget children."^ The law of Zoroaster enjoins sincerity and faithfulness to the plighted word. The light of truth ought to en- lighten and fill the soul as it enlightens the material ' Vendidad, xxii. i. * Zend Avesta, Part ii. Tir Yast, xi. 42. ' Vendidad, i. 2, 3. * Ibid., 30, 31. * Ibid., iTi. 33. /30 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. creation of Ormazd. Purity is a sacred duty, though there are no fixed laws of marriage, and polygamy is allowed. The preservation of purity is one of the chief con- ditions of happiness in the future life. Unnatural crimes are severely punished as tending to sterility.^ Chastit}' is closely connected with the purification of the body according to the prescribed rites. It is declared that " purity is for man, next to life, the greatest good ; that purity that is procured by the law of Mazda to him vi^ho cleanses his own self with good thoughts, words and deeds. This is the best of all things, this is the fairest of all things." And the law which provides for it is "great, good and fair above all other utterances." . . . "As much as a great stream flows swifter than a slender rivulet, so much above all other utterances in greatness, goodness, and fairness, is this law, this fiend-destroying law of Zarathrustra. As high as the great tree stands above the small plants it overshadows, so high above all other utterances in greatness, goodness and fairness, is this law, this fiend-destroying law of Zarathrustra." ^ An important place in worship is assigned to sacrifice. The offering is intended to strengthen the divine cham- pions engaged in the universal conflict. But the essential element in this also is the sacred and omnipotent form of words, in which the power of the deity is present to help. In its lower form, it is simply a magic formulary used to break the spells of the demons. The worshipper is directed by Ahura Mazda to say : " I drive away Angra Mainzu from this house, from this borough, from this town, from this land .... from the whole of the holy world." ^ Then follows an enumeration of all the evil spirits, who are to be exorcised by the repetition aloud of these fiend-smiting and most healing words : " Perish away to the regions of the north, never more to give unto death the living world of the holy spirit."^ These sacred formularies act directly upon the gods. Prayer has a purifying effect upon both worlds, if only it be offered in accordance with the proper rites. To * Vendidad, xviii. 4. * Ibid., v. 21 — 24. ^ Ibid., X. 13. ' ■* Ibid., ix. 27. THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. 131 glorify the lords of all beings, to exalt the holy waters, to sing sacred hymns is to counteract the power of the demons. " These are the words that smite down Angra Mainzu . . . these are the words thai smite down all the Daev'as." ^ " Thou shalt chant the cleansing words and the house shall be clean ; clean shall be the fire, clean the water, clean the earth, clean the cow, clean the trees, clean the faithful man and the faithful woman, clean the stars, clean the moon, clean the sun, clean the boundless light, clean all things made by Mazda, the offspring of the holy principle." ^ This virtue attached to a liturgy has always had an injurious effect upon the religious life, tending to foster mere formalism. All merely ritual observances, however, are subordinate to a pure and high morality. " There is many a one, O holy Zarathrustra," said Ahura Mazda, "who wears a Patidana,^ but who has not girded his loins with the law. When such a man says, I am an Atharvan (priest), he lies ; do not call him an Atharvan, holy Zarathrustra, thus said Ahura Mazda." ^ The fire upon the altar is never to be allowed to go out, for it represents all that is pure and divine. Fire, the son of Ahura Mazda, is to be worshipped and served. In the first part of the night he calls to the master of the house for help, saying : " Up, arise thou master of the house ! put on thy girdle, put on thy clothes, wash thy hands, take wood, bring it unto me, and let me burn bright with the clean wood carried by thy well washed hands." In the second part of the night he calls the husbandman ; in the third, the priest. Then bedfellows address one another : Rise up, here is the cock calling me up ; whichever of the two first gets up shall first enter paradise ; whichever of the two shall first with well washed hands bring clean wood unto the Fire, son of Ahura Mazda, the Fire, well pleased with him and not angry, and fed as it required, will bless him.' At dawn the cock, the sacred bird, lifts up his voice and says : " Arise, O men, and recite the words that smite ' Vendidad, x. 16. '•^ Ibid., xi. 2. * A mouth veil worn by priests or others when praying. '' Vendidad xviii. i. * Ibid, xviii. 26. 132 7 HE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. down the Daevas. For the three 'excellent things be never slack, namely, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. " ^ Sacrifice occupied a place in the worship a little lower than the sacred formularies. The offering of libations (the Haoma) gives victory to the strong when it is accompanied with " the wisdom of the tongue, with the holy spells, with the Words, with the deeds, and with the rightly spoken words." 2 The Iranian priest par excellence is one of the magi, but all the holy race are called to take part in the offering of sacrifice. It is said : "I call to the sacrifice, the priest, the warrior, the hardworking husbandman, the master of the house, of the tribe, of the district, the young man of good thoughts, good words, good deeds, those who are married, the mistress of the house, the woman who does well, who pleases her husband." ^ The division of the world into two categories of beings, the pure and the impure, makes the causes of defilement very numerous. All contact with impurity requires cleansing. The most common cause of defilement was touching any dead body. Everything in any way connected with death brought defilement, and shut out from any share in the worship. Even the hair and nails cut off from the living body were regarded as dead matter, and supposed to fall into the possession of the demon and to become the abode of death and uncleaness.* One of the most essential features of the religion of Iran is the important part assigned to man in the conflict between Ormazd and Ahriman. The first act of the great drama is enacted in the heavens, when Ahriman creates the deadly serpent. This serpent only quenches the heavenly luminary for a time, for the light always in the end breaks through the enveloping cloud. Upon earth Yima, the first man, the typal man, reigned over a happy race in a paradisaical region ; but the evil being, the dark serpent led him astray. Through his lie, the primaeval ' Vendidad, xviii. 26. * Aban Yast, Part ii. 25. Zend Avesta p. 55- * Vispcrsal, iii. 17 — 20. * Vendidad, IiitroJ. xvii. THE RELIGION OF ZOROASIER. 133 race fell into sin and darkness, and under the empire of the power of evil. There was we are told no heat, no cold, no death, no evil till Yima, the first man, had listened to the lying words of the serpent. Then he fell terrified to the earth. The heavenly majesty departed from him (under the form of a bird) and passed to Mithra.^ Yima failed a second time upon the earth in a mysterious struggle.^ Left to itself the unhappy race of man could not tri- umph over its powerful adversary. It was reserved to the most glorious of the sons of Iran to slay the three- headed serpent.^ In fact the salvation of the privileged race inhabiting the sacred land, is the work of the really divine man who brings to it the word of truth and of deliverance. Zoroaster, who from a simple religious reformer was to rise to the rank of a divine being, passed through a great moral conflict.'* Assailed by the Daevas, the demons who are the soldiers of Ahriman, he en- countered them with the invincible weapon of prayer. The tempter says to him, " Renounce the good law of the worshippers of Mazda, and thou shalt have such a boon as the murderer gained, the ruler of the nations." ^ Zoroaster refuses, and prays aloud : " This I ask thee, teach me the truth, O Lord." The tempter has asked him by what weapons he will resist his creation ? To which he replied : By " the sacred mortar, the sacred cup, the Haoma, the words taught by Mazda, these are my weapons, my best weapons ! " ^ In fact, as soon as he ' Khorda Avesta, xxxv. 7, 40. Yasma, ix. 14, 21. ^ Khorda Avesta, xxxv. 36. ' Vendidad, xix. Khorda Avesta, xxvii. 7 — 40. * Zoroaster or Zarathrustra, the Shining One, was born in Bactria, Having fled to the desert to escape the spectacle of evil, he brought back with him his doctrine, which owing to the patronage of the King of Bactria, quickly spread. Zoroaster is said to have been married three times. It was from the third marriage, contracted in a higher sphere, that the great deliverer was looked lor to complete his work. The figure of Zoroaster was so early enveloped in the myth of his deiiication that it is impossible to distinguish the basis of truth in his history. It appears certain, however, that a religious reformer of the name did live (Fehr, " Encyclopedie Lichtenberger"). * Vendidad, xix. i, 6. * Vendidad, xix., describing the temptation of Zoroaster. 134 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. uttered the holy word, the demons fled. Thus he is ex- tolled above measure as the conqueror of the Daevas, the mightiest and most victorious of heavenly beings.-^ The soul of the just who keeps the law of Zoroaster, is delivered, like his master, from the evil spirits. His odyssey is beautifully described in the nineteenth Far- gard of the Vendidad, which does not belong to the earliest period of the religion of Zoroaster, After man is dead, in the third night, as the dawn is breaking, the victorious Mithra takes his seat in dazzling light upon the summit of the mountain. Then the fiend, named Vivaresha, carries off in bonds the souls of the wicked Daeva-worshippers who live in sin. The soul enters the way made by Time, and open both to the wicked and to the righteous. At the head of the Kinvad bridge, the holy bridge made by Mazda, they ask for their spirits and souls, the reward for the worldly goods which they gave away here below. Then comes the well-shapen, strong, and tall-formed maid, with the dogs at her sides, one who can distinguish who is graceful, who does what she wants, who is of high understanding. She makes the soul of the righteous one go up above the Hara-berezaiti,^ above the Kinvad bridge she places it in the presence of the heavenly gods themselves. Uprises Vohu-mano^ from his golden seat ; Vohu- mano exclaims : " How hast thou come to us, thou holy one ; from that decaying world into this undecaying one ? " " Gladly pass the souls of the righteous to the golden seat of Ahura Mazda, to the golden seat of the Amesha Spentas .... the abode of all the other holy beings."* While the soul is raised to the abode of the shining ones, the body of the deceased is laid on some high place. It is expressly forbidden to burn it, for this would be a profanation of the most sacred element : nor may it be ' Yasna, ix. 43-47. ^ The heavenly mountain whence the sun rises, and upon which the abode of the gods rests. ^ The door keeper of paradise, a Zoroastrian St. Peter. * Vendidad, xix. 29 — 32. THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. 135 laid in the earth, for this also is holy, like all the creation of Ormazd. " O maker of the material world, thou Holy One ! Whither shall we bring, where shall we lay the bones of the dear one, Ahura Mazda ? " Ahura Mazda answered : " The worshippers of Mazda shall erect a building out of the reach of the dog, the fox, and of the wolf, and wherein rain-water cannot stay. Such a building shall they erect, if they can afford it, with stones, mortar and earth. If they cannot afford it, they shall lay down the dead man, on the ground, on his carpet and his pillow, clothed with the light of heaven and beholding the sun. . . ."^ This deliverance of individual souls is not enough to ensure the victory of the great and good god. His final triumph is to be won through the son of Zoroaster, Soshyos, the divine combatant, who is to be born in the end of time. " Then Ahriman is to be destroyed, and humanity, the daughter of Ormazd will rise again to find paradise at length regained. The victory will be won by? the word of Ormazd and obedience will become perfect.^ The hero god, by his victorious arms, will succour all the corporeal world. " Before him all the Daevas bow for fear and fright reluctantly and rush away to darkness."^ He is thus addressed by his worshippers : " Unto the holy strong Sraosha (Soshyos), who is the incarnate Word, a mighty and well-speared lord, be propitiation, with sacri- fice, prayer, propitiation and glorification. We sacrifice unto the holy, tall, well-formed fiend-smiting Sraosha who makes the world increase, the holy and master ol holiness. . . . The holy Sraosha, the best protector of the poor is fiend-smiting. ... I bless the sacrifice and prayer, the strength and vigour of the holy, strong Sraosha, who is the incarnate Word, a might3^-speared and lordly god."* By his virtue he is to renovate the world, to free it from corruption and rottenness, and to make it ever living and ' Vendidad, vi. 49 — 51. " Yasna Ivi. is a magnificent hymn to Sraosha or Soshyos, the divine son of Zoroaster. * Zend Avesta, Part ii. Srosh Yast Hadhdkht, ii. 13. * Ibid. 136 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. ever thriving, when the dead shall rise and immortality commence." The opposition of the principles of light and darkness is not then eternal. The good god will bring it to an end. If this is so, are we to suppose that originally the god of evil was on the same divine level as Ormazd, and that he was thus self created ? One passage in the sacred books speaks of them as twins ; but have they an equal right to be ? Whence come they ? The later sacred books of the Persians, which have evidently been modified and added to as the result of contact with oriental civilisa- tion, and still more through the influence of Semitic traditions, speak of one first principle, the source of all things, "which was according to divers accounts either Space, or Infinite Light, or Boundless Time, or Fate." ^ Some have attempted to trace this idea of one First Principle in the older sacred books. It was in reality a logical sequence of the high conception of the deity em- ' bodied in the whole religion of Iran. It is very difficult to reconcile that religion with the theory of the original equality of the good and evil principle, especially as in the end the latter was to be defeated. The conclusion seems obvious that the evil was essentially inferior to the good. We are much inclined therefore to admit the existence of a monotheism more or less latent in the religion of Iran. But if Ahriman proceeds from Ormazd himself, then evil again becomes eternal and forms part of the absolute, whence it follows that evil has no real existence, since it is only one of the conditions of being. This point remains in deep obscurity. The fact how- ever, that Zoroaster, who is also a divine being, passes through the ordeal of temptation, allows us to infer that moral freedom may be the principal cause of the dis- tinction between various beings. Only we must not force the texts to support a theory. The fact remains that the religion of Iran, like the whole ancient world, failed to solve the great question of the origin of evil, and thus fell into that naturalistic dualism with which only • See Darmestetter, "Introduction to the Vcndidad," p. 82. Also the third part of his " Ormazd and Ahriman." THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER. 137 Semitic monotheism has ever been able successfully to cope. It appears to us clear however that the religion of Iran made a noble and vigorous effort to cast off this fatalistic dualism. If it could not get rid of it in the material world, it did lift up an ever-strengthening protest against it in the moral sphere, in the history of man. We find the record of temptation, conflict, victory ; hence there must have been freedom of volition. It must not be forgotten, however, that one portion of the human race remained doomed to evil and to death, as the posterity of Ahriman. Does the other portion attain, of necessity, to life and deliverance ? The idea of the judgment of souls would seem to imply a recog- nition of the risks and the perils of free will. But on this point the religion of Zoroaster contradicts itself and has no certain utterance. The importance attached to the knowledge and repetition of certain sacred formu- laries, considerably restricted the sphere of moral free- dom ; for if salvation consisted mainly in knowing the law of the universe, it u^as because that law was regarded as all-powerful and inflexible. Prayer, however, was supposed to modify its application. Thus we find our- selves in a sphere outside of pure logic, and confronted with conflicting elements. This is inevitably the case with an incomplete religion. Yet with all its incompleteness, this religion had in it sublime anticipations of truth which made it an elevating and salutary influence over the great nation professing it. It had a thirst for purity and light. It had a high idea of life, the activities and fruitful development of which it regarded as service to a god who hated death. The harvest-laden earth was his temple, and the home where the family was growing up was a sanctuary with open door to feed the poor. Existence, looked upon as a sacred conflict with the principle of evil, was invested with true greatness and serious beauty. "The monarchy of Persia," as Ranke well remarks in his " Universal History," "fulfils a high mission. It has other aims in view than mere conquest and plunder. It rises far above the cruel Assyrian monarchy. For the divinities of Iran, pure and shining ones like the hosts of heaven, demand neither 138 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. hecatombs nor rites of prostitution. They are not imitated by the destruction, but by the increase and development of Hfe. If they make war it is not from motives of ambition, but to triumph over the powers of evil, to assure the final- victory of the god of life. Assur and the goddess who for the most part is named with him (in the inscriptions of Darius), are warrior deities. Ahura Mazda is a god of justice and truth. Subjection means with the Assyrians subjugation by violence, with the Persians the fulfilment of a supreme will. That which most contributes to the elevation of Darius is that his opponent's claim was based on falsehood. The protection which Ahura Mazda lends him he traces to the fact that he is the true king before v/hom the kings of falsehood must needs be overthrown. This premises that the supremacy had with justice fallen to the Achae- menidae and had been reached by the transition from the one line to the other, of which Darius, son of Hystaspes, was the representative. Thus far he is the true king, and is recognised as such by Ahura Mazda. This is the purport of the admonition addressed by Darius to his successors upon the throne, to avoid all falsehood, never to show favour to any liar or traitor ; for this would be to run counter to tne conception of a true monarchy. Royal authority thus obtains a moral significance to which the whole structure of the kingdom and the State must be made to conform. " ' This conception of the monarchy is the natural con- sequence of the fundamental religious idea of Iran, according to which the history of nations, like that of individuals, is one long struggle of good against evil. We have already pointed out that it was one of the grand aspects of this noble religion, that it assigned to man the foremost part in the salvation of the world ; for Zoroaster, although he came down from heaven, is but the glorious son of hcly humanity, which is itself the very seed of Ormazd. Life is represented as essentially a victorious conflict. Thus the idea of atonement is but faintly recognised. The purification of defilements con- tracted by contact with impure beings, and especially with * Ranke, " Universal History," p. io6. THE RELIGIO]^ OF ZOROASTER. 139 anything connected with death, is the prominent idea, not any expiation to be made for the wrong done. Eternal happiness is primarily the recompense for vigour and success in the conflict with evil, and the great weapon in the fight is alwa3^s the due recitation of holy words. Sacrifice has far more the character of homage and of an offering than of an atonement. In this aspect the religion of Iran resembles that of Egypt. It also has its intui- tions, which rise above its ordinary level. The moral idea becomes expanded and quickened as it were with a feeling akin to love, raising it above the mere conflict of the principle of life against the principle of death, which is its logical summary. " Carry succour to the poor," say the sacred books. " See that he who is in want, wants no more." ^ This recognition of charity in the moral life, brings in an element beyond the narrow scope of a formal and liturgical piety. The worshipper of Ormazd understands that it is not enough to recite correctly a sacred formulary ; that beside the letter of the law, there is the spirit, a spirit of compassionate love. How else can we explain this beautiful saying : " The true worshipper of Ormazd is he who gives food to the hungry " ? This conception of a higher morality and of a religion which is something more than mere formalism, must of necessity lessen the satisfaction which the worshipper of Ormazd feels in his good works, his rites and litanies. We must not attach great importance to the instruments for inflicting penance which seem to have belonged to the Mazdean worship, such as the goad and the craoshocarana, a sort of whip used for self-castigation, nor to the prolonged recitation of the sacred books, also by way of penance.^ That which appears to us far more significant, is the practice of the confession of sins, — a confession including not only outward defilement, but sins of thought, word, and deed.^ Most of all do we attach importance to the deep con- sciousness the worshippers had of the inadequacy of ' Visparad, xviii. 4. * Fehr, "Encyclopedic Lichtenberger." • Khorda Avesta, xlv. 4. 140 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the religion of Iran. Even Zoroaster himself, exalted as he was, does not seem to have been looked upon by his followers as capable of winning the final victory. They were awaiting in the future, a mysterious son of the great champion of Ormazd, a hero divine, though born of a woman, who alone would be able to complete the work begun, driving Ahriman back into the eternal darkness, and inaugurating the era of endless and un- alloyed bliss. Subsequently, in the evening of the ancient world, when Mithra had become the impersonation of this delivering power, we find the recurrence with a new and deeper meaning of the idea already contained in the symbol of the storm and in that of the bull sacrificed by the god — the idea namely, that as light comes forth again victorious from the dark bosom of the tempest, so life is born again of death. The iron plunged into the heart of the bull, is the destruction of the natural life, under its most powerful image. This representation, perpetually reproduced in marble, comes to exert a simple fascination over the moribund ancient world, which by a prophetic intuition learns to regard death as the fruitful parent of new life. We know what importance the mysteries of Mithra acquired at this time, but the religion of Iran did not wait for this sombre hour of the evening of history, to call upon the god of the future. Such a call surely goes up in the sublime prayer : "O Asha, God of purity, when shall I see thee ? When shall I know thee ? When shall 1 see the abode of Ahura Mazda, the Benefactor whom Sraosha is to reveal ? " ^ The un- known poet asks, •' What is there better for man to know before the great deliverance comes?"^ " May the vic- torious Sraosha defend us," ^ he cries. " May there come in brightness and glory, the fulfilment for which all souls are waiting." * ' Yasna, xxviii. i. * Ibid., Ivi. lo. ^ Ibid., XXX. 2. '' Ibid., xxxiv. BOOK III. THE RELIGIONS OF INDIA. CHAPTER I. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS} § I. — General Characteristics. THE Aryans who civilised India and developed there one of the most powerful religions in the world, were the last to quit the cradle of their race. They car- ried with them the larger part of their patrimony, not only in their language, which presents many points of contact with the idiom of Western languages, but also in their mythology. While their brethren who emigrated to the west plunged at once into wars of conquest, those who crossed the Himalayas carried on for a long time a quiet agricultural life, favourable to contempla- tion and meditation. They remained for centuries in the region watered by the seven rivers of Northern India — the plain of the Indus. In these fertile valleys they ' I cannot pretend to give even the most rapid survey of the vast bibliography wliich deals with the religions of India. I may however just refer the reader to the admirable resume given by M. A. Barth in " The Religions of India." It contains very valuable suggestions on the reli- gious evolution itself, I have borrowed chiefly from the sacred books of India, as will be seen by the notes. Unhappily, I have only had access to them through translations. Of these a great number have appeared of late years in England, France, and Germany. I have availed myself largely of Max Muller's works : " Essays on Mythology, Traditions and Customs," on "The Science of Religion," on "The Origin and Growth of Religion, as Illustrated by the Religions of India," and " India, what can it teach us ? "' I am also greatly indebted to M. Bergaigoe, for his book, " La religion Vedique, d'apres Ics hymncs du Rig- Veda," vol. iii. I may mention also M. Bourquin's recent work, " Le pantheisme dans les Vedas." I agree with him as to the fundamentally pantheistic character of the religion of the Vcdas, but I am disposed to assign a larger place than he does to the reaction of the moral conscious- ness against the prevailing logical conception. 144 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. enjoyed perfect security. On the north they had the mountains for ramparts, while the Indian Ocean washed the southern frontiers of the peninsula. Thus they escaped for centuries the wars and fightings which raged among other Asiatic and Western nations. There was no parallel in their history to the sanguinary drama enacted on the shores of the Mediterranean. They easily got the better of the aborigines of Northern India. The allusions in their sacred books to these unimportant con- flicts are very sober, a sure evidence that they presented no analogy with the giant combats which some branches of the Aryan race had to wage, to win for themselves a rich and glorious possession. The aborigines who were to be dispossessed and brought into subjection in India, were of an inferior race, probably mere savages. The sacred books speak of them as " The men of the black skin." " Indra," says a Vedic hymn, " protected in battle the Aryan worshipper. He subdued the lawless for Manu ; he conquered the black skin."^ The natives were also called by their conquerors " goat- nosed and noseless," and were even taunted with feeding on human flesh. The sacred books speak of them as demons, and madmen, and devote them to the pit, even to unfathomable darkness and everlasting hatred. They are constantly contrasted with the noble Aryan race, their masters. These unhappy aborigines seemed to their conquerors an incarnation of the power of evil. They never presented any serious obstacle, however, to the invaders, who easily swept them off the ground. Hence the religion of the Aryans in this region never assumed the essentially militant form so marked else- where.^ «. The conflict of the good and evil principles in nature rather than in history, is the prominent feature in the religion of the Aryans in India. Living under a favour- able climate, and in a fertile district not subject to volcanic eruptions, their existence was one of comparative tran- quillity, exempt from the convulsions of nature or of war. Their social constitution retained for a long time its > Rig Veda, i. 130, 8. * Max Miillcr, " Essays on Mythology," p. 328. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 145 patriarchal character, which was not favourable to the establishment of a monarchy.. There was a sort of tacit federation among tribes of the same race, which were indeed only families on a larger scale. The priesthood, which was subsequently to exercise considerable power, was not yet a constituted hierarchy. The priest was primarily an inspired singer ; the principal sanctuary was the home, and there the father of the family officiated. There was nothing in the institutions of the country, nor in outward circumstances, to check the play of thought and feeling in a race singularly sensitive to the majestic beauties of nature surrounding it, and marvellously gifted in interpreting its symbols by a deep and subtle m3'sticism. Its greatest danger lay indeed in the superabundance of its gifts, which it never knew how to use rightly. It abandoned itself unrestrainedly to its poetical and metaphysical instincts. It is true that these were not always consistent, and its pantheistic conception of things gave to its poetry a cloudy vagueness which prevented the creation of individual and .truly human t3'pes. Never- theless, it has never been surpassed in its keen insight into the mysterious depths of things, nor in its mastery of subtle dialectics ; nor have we in any literature more brilliant descriptions of nature in all her aspects of power and sweetness. Yet even when the race was 3'oung and its early singers were pouring forth the rapture of delight wrought in their souls by the beauty of earth and sky, we catch tones of sadness in their singing, a feeling after the great un- known lying beyond and behind the veil of material things ; and we know that under the influence of a latent but irre- sistible logic, even this brilliant nature-worship vv^ill end in the negation of all the natural and the finite. The deep line of demarcation is very early traceable between the religious development of the Aryans of Iran and those of India. The former enter into life through conflict ; the latter sink into annihilation through speculation, not however without strong and impressive protests on the part of the con- science, which we shall carefully observe. It is important to bring into strong relief this capital point of divergence betv^'een these two branches of the same 10 146 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. stock, for in it lies the explanation of the direction taken by each in its religious development. We have alread}'' shown that their beliefs were originally identical. Both India and Iran began with solar gods, which were, in both religions, the highest manifestation of the deity. But the great god of India, Varuna, after being raised to the highest altitudes of the moral life, and retaining this pre-eminence for an indefinite time, is finally lost in a confused theodicy in which all the gods are merged in one another. This theodicy is in its turn plunged into the abyss of the ineffable unity, the vague and dreary absolute, which is but another name for nothingness.^ In contrast to this pantheistic evolution, the great god of Iran becomes ever increasingly the god of life, of victorious good, of fruitful effort. How can we explain so wide a divergence of religious conception, with a community of origin so complete ? The explanation is simply this : that Iran, in its con- ception of the divine, gave precedence to the moral idea (largely tinctured indeed with naturism, but retaining that which was essential) over the mere metaphysical notion of the absolute. When the absolute, the divine, is re- garded primarily as moral good, its highest impersonation cannot be a god bent on destroying and annihilating the finite being, Man may never pass the limits of the finite, but he is not on that account excluded from true life and cut off from the divine. So long as he does good and fights the good fight, he has as much his raison d'etre as all the rest of the created world. Under such conditions religion tends to life, not to death. It is quite otherwise when the dominant idea of the divine, or of absolute being, is the infinite. Evil then of necessity resides in the finite, in the particular, individual being. It follows that the chief duty of the individual is to try to attenuate this limited life, to weaken it by asceticism, and finally to suppress it altogether : this is the radical principle of the metaphysics of India from its very earliest phases. It is at first hidden by the luxurious overgrowth of natural symbols unequalled in their wealth and brilliancy. Some- times the conscience awakes and attempts to recast the See Book I., § 2, ch. v. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 147 image of its gods, and to raise them to its own elevation. But the prevaihng idea is that of a boundless pantheism, in which the gods are confounded with the operations of nature and lose all true and permanent individuality. They are nothing more than the changing forms of one substance, one force, one principle, asserting itself through different media and in various ways. All these manifesta- tions— fire, water, lightning — assume in turn the character of the supreme deity who sometimes absorbs them alto- gether. This supreme deity becomes a Proteus, for ever changing his name and nature, at once everywhere and nowhere. "That which is One the wise call it in divers manners," says the Rig Veda.^ And again : " Wise poets make the beautiful-winged, though he is one, manifold by words." ^ There was undoubtedly a long period in which poetry was more powerful than metaphysics, and the religious feeling with its deep cravings and aspirations, projected itself upon all the gods, asking them to satisfy its yearning after the infinite, which at times assumed the form of a longing for pardon and restoration, an earnest endeavour after moral good. It cannot be questioned that the religion of the Vedas was thus raised above itself by the higher and purer development of the worship of Varuna, Nevertheless it carries within it the germ of its own dissolution in the element of pure metaphysics, which after being for a while held in check by the stronger poetic instinct, finally rends this enchanting veil of poesy in its attempt to grasp the ineffable, mysteriously underlying all things — that lifeless absolute in which all life is ultimately to be engulfed ; for it is not the good but simply the infinite, with which the finite is to be united by absorp- tion. The later Vedic hymns are full of this mournful pantheism. It casts a dark cloud over the brightest creations of the poetic imagination, deepens the night of doubt, and prepares the way for the triumph of a god, till now obscure, Braluuajiaspati, who becomes the great divinity of an encroaching and tyrannical priesthood. Rig Veda i, 164, 46. ^ Ibid., x. 114, 5. 148 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. He is confounded in the end with the mysterious first principle of finite beings, who only produced them for a day to absorb them again into his silent depths, like the foam-crest of the waves, raised for a moment by the breath of ocean, only to sink back and disappear in its mighty depths. Tlie religion of the Brahmans is therefore the logical sequence of that of the Vedic poets ; for these did not set before their followers a living personal god, like Ormazd, who should lead them on into the abode of life and goodness. In the religion of India there is no scope for anything like real conflict, since such conflict would imply the development of individuality, of a personal life, in opposition to the supreme One, who is to be the end as he is the beginning of all things. Thus Brahmanism, with its asceticism and its doctrine of the absorption of the finite in the infinite, is only a stage in the evolution of thought in India. Buddhism, in preaching the gospel of annihilation, is the logical conclusion of the religious conception of India, as implied even in the religion of the Vedas and definitely formulated in that of the Brahmans, not to mention its expansion in the elaborate philosophical treatises of the same period. We do not forget that the moral history of a nation is not worked out like a problem in geometry ; that it is complex as life itself, and that during long ages the hidden principle which was in the end to permeate all the religion of India, was more or less neutralised either by the rich creations of the national imagination, or by the persistence of the deeper needs of the soul and the conscience, ever seeking satisfaction above and beyond pantheistic theories. These happy anomalies, which are the safeguards of the moral life of humanity in its darkest days, were never more pronounced than in the first period of the religion of India, to which we now turn our atten- tion. After the period of the Vedas, we shall pass en to that of the Brahmans. The third period is simply a history of Buddhism, which, not content with its millions of worshippers of the old type, tries to renew its youth, and under another form to gain a footing in the West. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 149 § II. — The Three Phases of the Religion of the Vedas. In reviewing the history of ideas in India, we can make no attempt at chronological arrangement. We must content ourselves with the three great periods — Vedism, Brahmanism, and Buddhism. It would be simply chimeri- cal to try to determine dates or well marked gradations in the religious evolution of these three periods, each of which comprises centuries. How can we know with any certainty the precise moment when a new religious conception arose, since no new god arose with it on the horizon ? It exerted a reflex influence upon all the gods of the past and upon all these at once, through the invariable tendency of the Indian mind to attach all that is divine to each one of its deities. This is what Max MilUer calls Cathcnotheism^ that is "a worship of one god after another." We do not deny that a certain pre- ponderance may be attached at a given moment to one or other of these gods, or rather to the particular religious idea which he represents, but none the less he will be speedily involved again in a syncretism all the other gods, who will immediately assume the very character which had seemed to belong peculiarly to him, just because for the time he was prominent. We must always bear this in mind in studying the pantheon of India, if we would not introduce elements foreign to it. In the Vedic period, we observe first a phase in which the worship of the sun seems to occupy the principal place, as in all the ancient religions.'^ In many hymns ' "India," Max Miiller, p. 147. ^ My principal authority is the collection of Vcdic hymns. I refer the reader to the complete translation by Konig. " Dcr Rig Veda Oder die heiligen Hymnen dcr Brahmanen." Alfred Ludvvig, 2 vols. Prague, 1876. The Vedas (Veda means knowledge) in their present form are divided into four parts: 1st, The Rig Veda, or collection of hj-mns; 2nd, The Yajnr Veda, which contains the sacrificial formulas ; 3rd, The Santa Veda, the music of the hymnary ; 4th, The Atharva Veda, a collec- tion of hymns of different periods. Each Veda is followed as a rule by a number of Brahmanas, treatises of ritual and theology, with legendary accompaniments. The various texts of the Vedas are called Snkhas, or branches. The whole scries of these sacred books is called SruiiSf 150 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Varuna is prominent among the sidereal deities The stars which form his train are the objects of a worship similar to that offered to them throughout the ancient East. Though his primacy is thus repeatedly affirmed, other gods claim the same rank in other hymns. Agni, the god of fire, and Soma the god of the drink of immor- tality, or of the sacred libations, eclipse all the other divinities, when they appear. And yet, as soon as Indra makes his thunder heard, it seems as if he alone is the supreme god, till Varuna reappearing with new attributes, rises suddenly above the sidereal symbolism, and exalts to the heavens the purest moral ideal. There is no real succession, however, in the divine sovereignty, for there is not one of these supreme gods whose attributes do not pass by turns to each of the others, and even to those who originally represented religious conceptions of a lower order, as for example, the sun and stars. This blending of all the gods is distinctive of the religion of India during the whole period of the Vedas. Each particular god is in turn the salient figure in the theogony. There may have been no doubt a degree of development in the general re- ligious conceptions connected specially with certain gods, before these were extended to all the rest. It is not possible to fix the date when a new phase began in the development of the religion of the Vedas, but there are clear traces of such an evolution. We have indicated its principal characteristics. After the solar gods come the gods of the sacrifices. Then the god of the storm and the battle of the elements becomes pre-eminent, and again his glory pales before that of the moral god, as he triumphs for a time over the inveterate pantheism of India. We cannot look upon each of these phases as absolutely distinct. revelation, the holy tradition. The oldest part of the Vedas is the Rig Veda. The ten books which compose it had not all a common origin ; they came from priestly families often at variance with one another; thus great differences may be observed between them. All these diflerences are effaced in the Brahmanas, the more recent part of which belong to the fifth century before Christ. It follows that a complete religious revolution had been accomplished between the Rig Veda and the Brah- manas. It must have extended over many centuries. There can be little doubt that the formation of the Rig Veda may be roughly assigned to the tenth century B.C., but it is impossible to affix dates to its succes- sive stages, THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 151 There can be no sharp lines of demarcation between them. We shall rather contemplate the Vedic pantheon as one vast edifice reared by successive stages, all its parts being connected and interdependent. • § III. — The Solar Gods. We have observed that the genius of the Ar3'ans of India is characterised by brilliancy of imagination and a subtle philosophic spirit. We may naturally suppose that the poetic element predominated in the youth of the race, at the period when the worship of the sidereal gods was still in its primitive simplicity and not overladen with abstruse and compli- cated philosophies. Never were the aspects of nature expressed in more marvellous poetic diction or painted in more glowing colours. Nature was admired for its own sake. The images by which the Vedic poets try to set forth its beauty are indeed borrowed from the life of the warrior and the husbandman, but they content them- selves with a very simple and wholly metaphoric anthropo- morphism. If they introduce the law of the sexes into their theodicy, it is only to express the relation of cause and effect in the life of the world. Nor is there any fixity in these celestial marriages. Incest is admitted without scruple, because from the standpoint of Indian syncretism there is no marked difference between the gods, who are by turns father and son, male and female, cause and effect, in the perpetual changes in their mode of existence. These sexual relations moreover have no element of sen- suality ; they are mere abstractions and generalisations. The nature-gods of the Indian theodicy do not resemble in the slightest degree the Astarte of Babylonia and Phoenicia, who enkindled in the heart of man the impure flame of consuming desire, made him drink deep of the cup of her voluptuousness, and was worshipped by de- grading rites. The nature-goddess whom the Indian celebrates in song is not the great prostitute of Western Asia, who so excites her worshipper by her sensuous charms, that he cannot rise to the calm contemplation of the beautiful, for whom he devises only monstrous 152 THE ANCIENT IVORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. symbols, and who never inspires him with the true poetry of worship. To the Aryans of India nature is a chaste goddess, with star-crowned brow, of grave majesty and radiant smile, full of grace and grandeur in her changing manifestations. He feels the spell she weaves around him in the high and shining heavens, in the rapid rivers, in the vast plains and forest-sanctuaries. But the sentiment she thus inspires, has in it nothing of the ardent passion which stifles imagination and deadens thought by the very violence of sensation. His aesthetic sense is only stirred to quick expression, and he describes the goddess nature with a delicate appreciation unapproached before or since. Later on, as the soul of man becomes more agitated with the moral conflict, he seeks in nature the reflex or echo of his own changing impressions. This interpretation has a value of its own, but for the rendering of nature in all her varied aspects, nothing can equal the clear mirror of a simple heart, in the infancy of a race singularly endowed with the power of reproducing what it sees and admires in the world around it. The magic of this poetry is peculiarly felt in the hymns addressed to the solar gods, who after occupying the fore- most rank, are suddenly changed into mere satellites of Indra and Varuna, except v/hen they are confounded with these great gods. They had, however, first their time of supremacy. The most significant trace of this period in the Vedic hymns is the name Dyans, by which the heaven-god was at first designated. He forms, with the earth, the primeval divine pair from which spring all the other gods.^ If this priority of the solar gods was not steadily maintained, they yet lost nothing of their prestige. The various phases of the rising of the sun are described in colours of surpassing delicacy and brilliance. The dawn as it rises on the dim horizon is called Ushas, the daughter of heaven. She rides forth on her resplendent car of light, the birds forming her retinue. The breath of life for all beings is in her when she opens the gates of day. Her rays flow forth like rivers of milk " Rig Veda, i. 185, 6 THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 153 from the " superb abundance " of her breast ; she is as one fresh come forth from the bath.^ The dawn is heralded by two Asvins who represent the two first beams of day They are the heavenly physicians bringing succour, the two eyes by which we see the hght, the two feet by which we walk, the two lips whence flow words sweet as honey. Their golden chariot, swifter than thought, is wrought of rays of light. Their fleet-footed horses never weary. They are two heroes, who, mounted on their sun-car, traverse deserts, floods and fields.^ The great king of the realms of light, thus heralded by Ushas and the Asvins, at length appears. This is Surya, " the shining one," who is the joy of heaven. In Rig Veda, vii, 6'^, we read : — " The sun rises, the bliss-bestowing, the all-seeing, The same for all men ; The eye of Mitra and Varuna, The god who has rolled up darkness like a skin." And again, vii. 6^, 4:— " The brilliant (sun) rises from the sky, wide shining, Going forth to his distant work, full of light. Now let men also, enlivened by the sun, Go to their places and to their work." ^ The stars of night flee before the all-seeing sun like thieves. As the bridegroom to his bride, so comes Surya to Ushas the shining goddess.* It is strange to find night invoked as the sister of the davv'n ; but we must remember that this is the splendid night of the East, radiant with the light of stars. It is said of night : " The immortal goddess fills the valleys and the heights around, and with her brightness puts the dark to flight. She is sister to the dawn. Be with us, thou at whose approach we have come home as birds to their nests. Man has come home, and every creature that has feet or wings. The flocks are in the fold. O guardian daughter of heaven, keep thou away the thief, the prowling wolf."^ 1 Rig Veda, i. 48 ; v. So. •■« Ibid., ii. 39. * "Origin and Growth of Religion," Max Mullcr, p. 266. * Rig Veda, vii. 63; vii. 66; i. I2i. * Ibid., X. 127. 154 ^^-^ ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. These solar gods come in the end to share in the moral quahties of the higher divinities, with whom they are indeed closely associated in the morning prayer. In the first instance, the regularity of the appearance of the heavenly bodies suggests the idea of rule, of order and law, which afterwards assumes so beautiful a development. Of the goddess Ushas it is said ; " She has ever shone without beginning ; she has shone to-day ; she will shine in all the days to come — unchanging, never-dying. The last to pass away, the first to rise, she shines, goddess of dawn." ^ The same fixed and invariable order is ascribed to all the other gods of light, who constitute in fact the whole pantheon of India. " They uphold the heavenly spheres ; they are golden, bright, clear as the streams of water ; they slumber not nor sleep, keeping inviolate guard over pious mortals." This homage of all created orders is paid not only to Mitra and Varuna, but to the great god over all, whose eyes are in every place. ^ Nor is the steady maintenance of law the only higher quality attributed to these shining gods. By the very fact that they are gods of light, they see all things and take special cognisance of the ways of man. In this we note the transition from the merely phenomenal in nature, to intellectual and moral action. Light does not simply illumine, it sees and sees intelligently. " With what an e3^e of flame, O Varuna, O sun god, the all-seeing, dost thou behold the busy ways of men!"^ These gods of light who see all and who uphold the stedfast order of the universe, have their place in the love and trust of men who put up to them prayers of the same order as those addressed to Indra or Varuna. They naturally ask in the first place for material good. They implore Ushas to drive away and destroy the enemy and to give them milch kine. * They ask Surya to chase away all illness and bad dreams. But prayer soon rises to higher levels. The Asvins are entreated to give to their worshippers the courage of heroes.^ Even better blessings are asked as though the suppliants recognised in the gods succouring > Rig Veda, ii. 27. ^ Ibid., i. 50, 6. « Ibid., i. 129 ; i. 150. ^ Ibid , vi. 64, 5. ^ Ibid., viii. 5- THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 155 friends. " Men call you, O faithful ones, the good physicians, who lend your aid to all the blind, the feeble and depressed. I pray you now, hear my cry and be gentle to nie as parents to a child. I am an orphan — I have neither friend nor kindred ; help ye me, who am so poor and needy." ^ Rising still higher, the prayer addressed to these light-gods asks pardon for sins committed : " Be favourable to us, O Ushas, according to thy wont."^ " Lengthen out our life and wipe out all wrong. Destroy the enemy and be near us with thy grace and favour." ^ The note of penitence is even more distinct in one of the hymns of Savitar, " the vivifying one," another im- personation of the sun. The worshippers of this sun-god, who morning by morning with the touch of his finger, wakens the circle of the earth to life and light, thus pray to him: "Whatever we have committed against the heavenly host through thoughtlessness, through weakness, through pride, through our human nature, let us be guiltless here, O Savitar, before gods and men." ^ Vishnu, the god of the solar disc, who is so prominent a figure in the later theogony, and Pushan, "he who makes all things grow," the tutelary god of the husbandman and the shepherd, are both also sun-gods. They have the same moral attributes as SCirya and Savitar. It is even said of Pushan, that he leads the dead into the abodes of the blessed.^ Thus little by little, the sun-gods are in- vested with moral attributes. Light becomes in them intelligence, the knowledge of men and things. The regularity of their appearance is translated into the wisdom, by which the order of the universe is maintained. Lastly, the qualities of purity and mercy are ascribed to them. They are invoked in the same manner as the great gods, in whom these high attributes will always shine with a fuller lustre, in proportion as they are more removed from the merely phenomenal in nature. It is true that it is to the religious development manifested by the worship of these greater gods, that the inferior and earlier divinities owe their transfiguration. But on the ' Rig Veda, x. 39, 3—6. ^ II id., i. 157, 4. ^ Ibid., iv. 52, 6. « iLid., iv. 54, 3. * Ibid., X. 17. 156 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. other hand, the great gods are never wholly emancipated from the materialism of the lower deities. This is an inevitable consequence of the pantheistic syncretism, which has always characterised the religion of India. § IV, — The Gods of the Sacrifices.^ We come now to a cycle of gods which are the most original creations of the Vedic religion — the two great gods of the sacrifices — Agni and Soma — the god of the sacred fire, and the god of the drink of immortality or of sacred libations. We shall see them rising gradually to a position of supremacy over the whole cosmogony, but at this elevation they lose their individuality, and become confounded with all the other gods. It is like one of those inaccessible peaks of the Alps, where all the lines previously divergent, meet in a single point. In spite of this logical confusion, however, they retain their moral characteristics and continue to act as benefactors to the world. The brilliant imagination of the race finds full scope in the description of the natural phenomenon, which rapidly acquires a mystical meaning. Agni is in the first instance the fire on the hearth and on the altar. Though it leaps heavenward toward the assembly of the gods, it is nevertheless produced originally from the tinder. With his quick glancing tongue, Agni tastes the sweetness of the sacrifice. He clothes himself in a garb of flame, his golden hair floats on the breeze. He is like] a winged dragon, swift as the wind. After quivering like a golden bird upon the hearth, he darts forth into space like a rapid courser, who champs the bit and cannot be held in.^ For mortals who bring him wood for the altar and pour out libations for him, he acts as priest, bearing their messages, pre- senting their sacrifices. He is the mediator between gods and men. Prayers, hymns, of highest praise are due to Agni, who not only promises great things for his worshippers, but does them.^ ' See Bergaignc, "La religion Vedique d'apres les hymnes du Rig Veda." - Rig Veda, viii. 60 ; vi. 3 ; v. 9. ^ Ibid., X. 91, II, 12. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 157 Agni is always associated in the Vedas with Soma, who is the second god of the sacrifice. He personifies the sacred libations. His earthly origin is as humble as that of Agni. He is nothing else but the juice distilled from plants which are the locks of the mountain. After the juice is expressed, it is passed through a sieve and then poured into wooden cups and mixed with water, clotted milk and ground corn.^ Thus prepared it becomes the drink of immortality. Soma performs upon earth the same office as Agni. Under the same unpretending material form, both conceal their supreme glory. Before they came into being on the hearth and in the press under the hands of men, they had each a divine history. There was something in them far higher than the spark produced by the fretting of the stones, or the juice dropping from the press. They represented two great elements of nature — the essential fire which runs in some sort through the veins of all that live, and the humid element. These two great elements, fire and water, not only permeate the world, they come down from heaven, where they existed from all eternity. The terrestrial Soma came down from heaven no less than Agni. Born on high, he has come to live on earth.^ He enters with the rain into the life of plants,^ he is present in the three regions of the universe.'* Thus the holy libation is poured out three times a day. Agni belongs in the same manner to the three spheres. He was born the first time in heaven, the second time on earth, and the third time in the clouds, whence he darts forth as the lightning.^ In fact he is not only confounded with the lightning, but wdth the splendour of the sun. In a hymn to Agni we find : "He whose power even the heavens admire, clothes himself in light, like the sun. Like the sun, O Agni, thou hast girdled the worlds with thy bright beams. At thy shining, darkness fled away.'"* Thus this fire which, under the eyes of man, consumes the wood on his hearth and licks up his sacrifices is a great ' Rig Veda, v. 4; ix. 78; ix. 7, 2. ■* Ibid., i. 91, 4. 2 Ibid., ix. 66, 28. * Ibid., x. 45, I. * Ibid., ix. 61, 10. * Ibid., vi. 4, 3, 6, 158 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. god, an immortal among mortals. On this, his celestial side, Agni is confounded with the great gods. " O Agni," it is said to him, " thou art Varuna, thou art Mitra, all the gods are in thy flame. Thou art Indra to him who pours libations." Nor does Soma preserve a more distinct individuality than Agni. He also is put on the same level as the sun,^ and is thus admitted into the great divine unity in which all seeming differences vanish. Both Agni and Soma are in truth only one and the same cosmical element under two forms, and are consequently one and the same god. The lightning, which is Agni, comes forth from the atmospheric vapour, which is Soma. Thus it is said of Soma that he burns and shines like fire.^ When the big thunder-clouds are rent by the lightnings, he comes down in the life-quickening form of rain.^ The humid element which he communicates to all plant-life, has in it a heart of fire. Wood is made to burn by the hand of man. Thus Agni and Soma are in essence one. Hence it is said of Agni as of Soma, that he is diffused in all plants, of which he is the divine foetus. " He dwells victorious in the woods, the friend of man ; he grows up with power in plants, in nations, in the breasts of mothers ; the waters know him ; he dwells in the house of the wise." * Thus both elements of the sacrifice are deified, identified with each other, and con- founded with the supreme god, who after having made the world, sustains universal life. This apotheosis of the two chief elements of sacrifice, suggests the special significance that comes to be attached to them in the religion of the Vedas. The first con- sequence of this absolute deification of Agni and Soma is that they are at once the objects and the substance of the sacrifice. Sacrifice is presented to the gods by offering them to themselves. Again, the victim being confounded with the great god, is not passive in the sacrifice. It presents itself a victim. The sacrifice and the priest cannot be distinguished from one another. The truth is that the life of the world, which is a divine life, is only one great, never ending sacrifice, which the gods are offering ' Rig Veda, viii. 3, 20. ^ Ibid., ix. 55, I. ^ Ibid., ix. loi. " Ibid., i. 67. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 159 to themselves/ Agni is the divinely appointed priest of the gods ; ^ but all the gods share in the same office. Agni was begotten in heaven by the heavenly music of the gods, that he should fill the earth with power. They gave him a triple form, and one of his manifestations was terrestrial fire.^ Hence it follows that the life of the universe is nothing else than a sacrifice. The light which fills the heavens is the eternal offering of the immortal Agni. The water which flows through the three worlds, is the unending sacrifice of the celestial Soma. And as all the gods, regarded under this aspect, blend in these two cosmical deities, the divine life, like the life of the world, is the ceaseless celebration of a universal worship, having for its sacred hymns the sublime crash of the thunder, and for its altar-flames the burning rays of the sun and the lightning flashes rending the clouds, " Both worlds trembled," it is said, " when the sacrifice of the storm was offered." Worship upon earth is only the repetition of the heavenly worship. " The gods have made the heavenly sacrifice and have taught it to men." The sacred fire which consumes the victim, and the sacred water which moistens it, feed the life of the heavenly gods by restoring to them that which they have poured out upon the earth, and which returns in a manner to its source, to be incessantly renewed. Thus the fife of the world is one perpetual cycle; it is poured forth from the bosom of the gods only to return to them again. They sacrifice themselves in the rich gift of life, and creation in its turn, sacrifices to them in the life laid upon the altar. Thus the sacrifice from below is the response to the sacrifice from above, and as god is in everything and everything is god, both sacrifice and sacrificer are essentially one with the supreme being. It is said that he sacrifices himself to produce all that exists. Man thus enters into the great divine unity. He is a son of the gods by virtue of the principle of universal life which flows in his veins — that hidden fire which the rain infuses into the plant, and which is in truth the glorious Agni, who after emerging from the waters, kindles I Rig Veda, x. 109. ^ Ibid., x. 109, 3. * Ibid., x. 88. i6o THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the flame upon hearth and altar. "Think, O ye gods," sings the Vedic poet, " how near akin we are to you. We share our common brotherhood, O bounteous ones, even in our mother's womb," ^ that is, in the bosom of the cloud. In other words, we proceed, like you, from the humid element whence life comes forth with the light- ning's flash. Men are begotten of Agni ; he is their first father.^ They are priests like him.^ He is the Brahman par excellence. Thus the ancestors of the race, the glorious Risliis, heads of the priestly families, of whom it is said that they are born of the gods, bear names which may be applied to Agni. The names of Angiras, of Brighu (the lightning), of Vasishtha, of Manu (the thinker), by which the human priests are designated, are also applied to Agni in several stanzas of the Vedas.* This identification of the priest with Agni comes out clearly in many passages already quoted.'^ As the earthly sacrifice is the reproduction of the heavenly, and possesses real virtue to nourish the gods Vi^ith their own proper substance, we can understand what importance is attached to its regular and due performance. In the first prayer, the officiating priest asks the gods not to suffer him to stray from the true path of sacrifice. The beneficial effect of the sacrifice upon the gods comes out in the following hymn : " The gods appointed first the lovely song, then Agni, then the libation. He became the sacrifice that guards the body ; him earth, heaven and the waters know." ^ By virtue of their sacrifice, the fore- fathers of the race drew out from the rock-caves where they were imprisoned, the cows of dawn, the good milch kine, who flood the earth with light." ^ "To thee, O god Agni, we burn the clear undying flame, that its brightness may reach thee in the heaven and streams of light may come down upon the singers." ^ The celestial heroes join to kindle the fire of the sacrifice when men lovingly offer it. " The man prospers who devoutly worships Agni." ^ A like virtue is ascribed to the sacrifice of the Soma (libation). ^° * Rig Veda, viii. 72, 8. * Bergaigne, vol. i. p. 47. ' Ibid., iv. i, 13. * Ibid., i. 96; ii. lOl. ^ Rig Veda, viii. 43, 14. * Ibid., v. 6, 4. * Ibid., iii. i. ^ Ibid., x. 88, 8. » Ibid., vi. 2, 3, 10 Bergaigne, i. p. 202, THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. i6i The offering itself is deified. We have already seen how prayer, the repetition of holy words, is repeatedly mentioned as one of the most important parts of the sacrifice. Prayer is a divinity like Agni and Soma. It has, like them, its dwelling in heaven. The cloud prays while it thunders, for it utters a powerful word of blessing. The reverberation of the sea, which is the very voice of Soma, is a holy hymn.^ In rising from earth to heaven, prayer, like Agni and Soma, is returning to its own place. Sacred hymns are the echo of the songs of the immortals.^ The power of prayer is unbounded. It is like a winged dart to strike down the evil spirits. It acts upon the rising of the sun, and upon the storm. Prayers unlock the mountain where the dawn lies hidden, and bring down the rain from heaven.^ All this shows that prayer is itself a god identical with the greatest. Brahmanaspati is the " lord of spells or of prayer." * A priest himself, he is the god of the priests, and his importance grows witli theirs. Identified with the dawn, he reigns over three worlds.^ The Vedas anticipate his coming glory, for one hymn calls him already, " The divinest of the host of gods." " We have but scanty information as to the mode of worship in the period of the Vedas. The priest at that time practised none of the rigid asceticism, Vvhich he afterwards came to regard as the highest degree of per- fection. Worship then consisted essentially of sacrifice accompanied by the invocations which form the basis of the Vedic hymns. The offerings consisting of melted butter, clotted milk, rice cakes, and sacred libations, were thrown into the fire; it was thought that the gods con- sumed them. There was a deep hidden meaning in these rites, the milk and butter pointing to the celestial streams from which Agni emerged. The libations were repeated three times a day to represent the three kingdoms over which Soma and Agni reigned. Bulls, cows, buffaloes and rams were sacrificed to the cods. The sacrifice • Rig Veda, x. 14, I. * Ibid., v. 45, i. • Ibid., X. 144, I. * Ibid., iv. 50, I. • Ibid., ii. 23 I. « Ibid., ii. 24, 3, II. II i6j the ancient JVORLD and CHRISTIANITY. of the horse AsvaniedJia^ was of special significance ; it was Hkened to Agni and Soma. In the worship of the Vedas, there were no idols nor sanctuaries properly so called. The real altar was the family hearth.^ The cosmical aspect of the sacrifice was doubtless forgotten by most of those who oftered it. They had an idea that sacrifice had some magical efficacy to secure good gifts from the gods, and often regarded it too much as a mere bargain. We are quite prepared, however, to admit that the idea of sacrifice may have sometimes risen higher, and that in some of those flashes of moral truth which now and again illumined this pantheistic religion, conscience may have associated with it some thought of reparation for wrong done. Faith in immortality is categorically expressed in the Vedas, as we gather from such words as these : " May we, like the ripe fruit from the bough, be loosed from death but not from immortality." ^ " In dying we go to the gods." ^ This belief in a future life was closely connected with the cosmical theodicy of which Agni and Soma formed the centre. We have seen that the essential vital element in man is the fire which itself comes down from heaven. It is natural that it should return to its source. The terrestrial Agni must be re- united to the celestial Agni whence he emanated, as the flame of the altar bears the offering which it has consumed, upward to the abode of the gods.* The Vedas regard the heavens as the sphere of the other and higher life, as is shown by such expressions as these : " May we arrive at the abode of the bull, of abundant fruitfulness ! " ^ " May I attain to the blessed abode where pious men rejoice ! " It was because of this assimilation of the dead to the sacrificial fire rising heavenward, that cremation was soon substituted for burial. The belief in immortality was however definitely expressed before the change in the funeral rites. " Go," it was said to the buried dead, " go ' Barth, "Religion of India." * Ibid., i. 125, 8. ' Rig Veda, vii. 59, 12. •" Ibid., x. i, 6, 7. * Ibid., X. 40, 1 1. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 163 to the bosom of our mother earth. She opens her arms to receive thee in her kind embrace. Softly she wraps her covering round thee. Beneath her sheltering roof is food and safet}'." ^ Cremation became a vivid symbol of the life beyond the grave, the conception of which was to a great extent materialistic, for the flame from the funeral pyre was supposed really to carry the soul to heaven. "The daring god who rejoices in the glowing fire, shall not catch thee in his grip to burn thee," ^ it is said to the dead man. The dead go to inhabit the luminous abodes of Agni in the sun, and thenceforward the three worlds are open to them as to him. Yama is the king of the blessed.^ " Unite thyself to Yama, and the fathers," it is said to the dead man, "and thou shalt find every wish fulfilled in highest heaven." * Yama is the son of Vivasvat, the shining one, who is often likened to Agni as priest. Manu is another Yama, and like him head of the human race and son of Vivasvat. We see how indefinite are these relations of father and son in the Vedas. Manu and Yama are both some- times confounded with Vivasvat, which is another name for Agni,^ and therefore a solar god. Yama is the first man, and the first to die. He represents the divine fire which only descends from heaven to return thither again. Around him are the fathers of the Aryans, the celestial priests, leading a life of blessedness under the shade of spreading branches They possess the divine essence and are ever fulfilling the divine law. This they do, not only in the celestial regions, but on the earth also. They are honoured under the name of Pitris. Foremost in their shining ranks are the Atharvans and the Angiras, the divine singers of old. They receive the sacrifices of their descendants,*^ but no clear idea is conveyed of their mode of life in their divine abode. Like Agni, they come down to earth in the person of their descendants, to be again caught up to heaven with the immortal fire. The doctrine of metempsychosis is however quite undeveloped in this phase of the religion of India. ' Rig Veda, x. 18. lO— 13. < Ibid., x. 14, 8. * Ibid., X. 16, 7. * Bergaigne, vol i. pp. 87— { • Ibid., X. 16, 9. « Rfg Veda, x. 154, 1. 1 64 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Very little is said about the judgment of the wicked. It seems that the two fierce dogs which accompany Yama, are designed to guard the entrance of heaven against them, but there remains a thick veil over this aspect of the final judgment. This is scarcely to be wondered at, for in spite of occasional flashes of higher truth, the moral idea is really alien to the worship of Agni and Soma. There is no true recognition of it till the worship of Varuna has become fully developed, and we have no data to determine precisely when this was. It is certain that as long as the religious conception attached to the gods of the sacrifices prevailed, the moral idea was stifled by the cosmical. The natural life was completely identified with the divine which embraced the universe in one vast cycle. In Soma it appears as floods of water streaming from an inexhaustible source to return thither again. In Agni there is the same complete cycle of fire. The sacri- fice of the gods is the continuous production of this life of the world, which returns to its source in the sacrifice offered upon earth. That which is true of universal life is true also of the individual. Man is a microcosm ; his history reproduces the history of the world. His immor- tality is only the return to the celestial fire of the divine spark, which animated him for an instant here below. It follows that the worship of the Vedas at the time of the adoration of Agni and Soma, was only the faithful symbolic expression of a grand pantheism, the ultimate development of which would be the worship of the divine unity under- lying the contingent and the transitory. In spite of the morbid influence of the prevailing naturisra, some of the Vedic hymns addressed to the gods of the sacrifices, rise abruptly to the purest heights of moral consciousness. The poet seems to forget that he has before him only natural elements deified, and appeals to Agni and Soma as to merciful gods. Can it be to a deified libation that the following prayer is addressed: "O Soma, high in wisdom, thou guidest in the right way. Through thy leading have our fathers, the wise ones, found joy and safety among the gods. Thou art full of wisdom, O Soma, and mighty in power. Thou art a bull in thy strength and greatness. Thine THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 165 are the laws of King Varuna. High and deep is thy state, O Soma. Thou shinest clear as Mitra, the beloved, thou art to be honoured as Aryaman." ^ " Be good to us," says the worshipper of Agni, to his god, " as a father to his son." Sometimes the gods of the sacrifice are invoked as if they knew what holiness and pity meant. " Soma heals all who are sick ; he makes the blind to see, and the lame to walk. Thou dost shield us, O Soma, from the sorrows we make for ourselves, and from those that spring from others. That which is lost he brings back, and uplifts the pious." ^ Agni acts the part of mediator between earth and heaven. All the gods make him their messenger.^ In one hymn addressed to the same gods we read : " Ye gods who are our kindred, be gracious to me, who pray to you. I confess much wrong that I have done 3^ou, and j-e have punished me as a father his son. Remove from me the strokes, remove the sins."* We must make allowance in pra3'ers like these, for the retrospective influence exerted b}'^ a higher worship upon that which preceded it, through the tendency we have already noticed in this religion to confound all the separate gods with one another. § V. — Indra. It is not possible that the explanation of all things should be found in the perpetual renewal and expansion of life. In opposition to the principle of life, there is every- where the power of death. In the sky we see the thick heavy cloud which seems the grave of the light. The demon of darkness holds the dawn imprisoned, as a robber shuts up cows in a cave. Upon earth the power of destruction blasts the fields with barrenness, smites the flocks and strikes down man in his prime. Lastly, the enemy with the black hair and dark skin attacks the noble Aryan race. This evil element bears many names in the Vedas, and appears under various forms. He is 1 Rig Veda, i. 91. s Ibid., ii., viii. 23. 18. \ Ibid., viii. 68. « Ibid., ii. 29, 4, 5. i66 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. sometimes called Vritra, the enveloper, a name which indicates that he is primarily a demoniacal power in the atm.osphere, which enshrouds the light or imprisons the fertilising waters ;^ at other times he is called Ahi, the cloud-serpent. These are the leaders, the Dakshas, and are demons of darkness in the heavens, and enemies of the Aryans upon earth. For the conflict in heaven has always its counterpart upon earth. If the power of these evil spirits was not resisted, the world would become theirs. A powerful god carries on the war with them, sustained by brave auxiliaries. This powerful God is Indra, "the Vedic Jupiter, who reaches the enemy and overcomes him, standing on the summit, /n^c of speech, most powerful in thought."^ His first battle field is the heavenly regions. There he must conquer, before pursuing and crushing his enemies upon earth, who are also the enemies of the Aryan race. Indra is peculiarly the storm-god ; the thunder is his weapon.^ He is at first the simple personification of a force of nature, the lightning flash of deadly effect. But by the very fact that as God of the universal conflict, he becomes a historical figure, and draws near to man to succour and deliver him, he is invested with a far more marked individuality than that of the gods of the sacrifices, and yet he also becomes in the end confounded with all the rest, and is lost in the obscure abyss of the impersonal gods. This is the final term to which the Vedic conception must logically lead, but above logic we have to deal with real life, the life of a feeble creature like man, exposed to peril, suffering and death. He needs a divine deliverer, who shall fight for him against the powers of evil by which he is surrounded on every side. Thus he clings with passion- ate ardour to the divine champion of light and life. He makes him for a time a living god, whose help can be invoked in all need and in whose goodness he may safely trust. This god, the son of power, the celestial bull,* who wears the heaven as a helmet,^ fights not for himself but ' Rig Veda, x. 38, 3. ^ Ibid., iii. 13, 31. ^ "fndia,'' Max Muller, p. 65. ^ Ibid., ii. 17, I. * Rig Veda, i. 130, 4; loi, i. Indra comes from llin, to burn. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 167 for men. He shares the spoil with his faithful ones,* and gives them strength themselves to overcome.'-^ The constant ally of pious warriors, he provides his suppliants with horses and cows, as he gathers the clouds by the voice of his thunder.^ Lastly it is he who gives victory to his followers in the conflict of nation with nation ; it is to him therefore that all eyes are turned for help. The prayers which he inspires in his worshippers are full of trust and gratitude, and often breathe a truly lofty sentiment. As we have already said, it is in the celestial regions that he has his first conflicts with the demons of dark- ness. He delivers the cows of light, the divine dawns, and gives back to the sun his splendour.* The great battle of the storm is described by the Vedic poets with incomparable power. Lifting his majestic head like the lofty summit of the Himalyas, and roaring with his thunder which seems hke the bellowing of the heavenly bull, the mighty god scatters terror all around. The trees of the valley bow in affright, the granite moun- tains shake as if they were but dust.^ He breaks the power of Vritra in the heavens, and rends the veils in which he had bound even the waters. He wields his lightning; he has sharpened it like a practised cutler, and as one fells a tree with an axe, so he cuts down the dragon.® He is not alone in this terrible conflict ; under him fight the Maruts, the storm gods. Their chief is Riidra, the howler, the fairhaired god, who only wields the thunder in the behalf of man and to protect his herds. ' We shall find him playing presently an important part in the Brah- man mythology. The company of the Maruts are mounted on a shining car ; the lance of a thousand colours is in their hand with the glittering spear. The cracking of their whips is heard from afar. Their troop moves for- ward with dazzling swiftness. Beneath their tread the earth trembles like an aged woman. Man bows before them in awe. ^ They low like a cow after her calf They " Rig Veda, i. 55, 5 ; viii. 45, 40, ^ Ibid., i. 54 ; i. 55 ; >• 63. * Ibid., i. 8, 3. « Ibid., i. 130; iv. 17. * Ibid., vi. 44, 12. ' Ibid., i. 37. * Ibid., viii. 6, 28; vi. 17, 5. * Ibid., i. 57. i68 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. glow with the ruddy hght of fire ; they roar hke lions. Vayu, the wind, is the faithful companion of Indra ; it is he who awakens the sky and makes it visible, the earth also, clothing it with the purple of the morning. Glorious is his chariot. He goes on his way spreading rosy light over the sky, and lifting the dust from the earth. Under his breath the waters rush along like women hurrying to an assembly. This first-born of the waters never sleeps. Whence comes he ? Who made him ? He, the spirit of the gods, the germ of the world, goes where he will. His voice is heard ; his form is not seen.^ Indra, after triumphing in the celestial regions, begins to fight upon earth ; he is the national god of the Aryans. By his help the black-skinned races are subdued and the Aryans take their flocks. Thus his protection is invoked on the day of battle, when the sharp arrows fly through the air, when the combatants use their muscles, when the chariots rush down the slopes like falcons upon their prey, and sweep along like overflowing torrents. ^ The favour of Indra is secured by sacrifice and prayer. Sacrifice is more than mere homage ; it augments the strength of the god. The Soma renews in him the divine substance ; for it is from its nutritive juice, as from the vital fire of Agni, that he derives his strength. Sometimes he appears to be confounded with Agni and Soma, who are always present in the sacrifices offered to him. He shares in the dignity of these gods. Like them he is called the creator of heaven and earth. Though he occupies a position of such supreme dignity, he still needs, like the other gods, to be sustained b}' the sacrificial aliments. Thus fortified he contends victoriously with the serpent Ahi. The sacrifice ofiercd on the earthly altar corresponds to the heavenly, of which it is a reproduction. In the upper sphere the gods serve as priests. ^ Upon earth the offer- ings brought to Indra are oxen, sheep, grain, cakes, but above all the Soma which refreshes him in both worlds and fills him with new energy.* Prayers form an im- portant part of the worship of Indra. Their influence ' Rig Veda, x. i6S. » Ibid., iv. 24, 5. * Ibid., viii. 36,4. ■• Ibid., x. 122. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 169 for good is expressed in this beautiful figure : " When the singers among men have lifted up their voices^ then that which they desire grows like a branch." Prayers ought always to accompany the Soma, which they embrace like loving spouses. They thus reinforce the vigour of the god by the magical virtue of the sacred formula. As the sea is fed by the rivers, so Indra is strengthened by our prayers. -^ Prayer is now the cow by which Indra is nourished, now the arrow which his suppliants put into his hands, now the driver of his chariot, and sometimes even the chariot itself.^ Brahmanaspati, the lord of spells and of prayer, is so closely associated with Indra, that he seems sometimes to take his place in the conflict with the Vritras.^ Indra himself sings hymns in the storm.* His priests are the descendants of the glorious sons of Manu, those celestial sacrificers, who by their songs enabled him to break open the stable in which the cows of dawn were shut up.^ There is a peculiarly close bond between man and such a god as this, who is his constant helper and mighty deliverer. "Thou only among the gods takest pity on mortals,'"^ say his w^orshippers. The trust placed in him is expressed in a touching manner. He is called " The ear that hears prayer," and is thus addressed : " Till the earlier serves the later, and the higher is rewarded by the lower, and not till then, will the god hold aloof from us.' " O glorious one, give us of thy riches. The man, O Indra, who lovingly worships thee, is near to thee, O Thunderer, he is thy companion."^ " I would not part with thee, O Indra, at any price .... More art thou to me than father or tender brother. Like a mother, thou fillest me with good. Whither art thou gone ? where tarriest thou ? Hasten hither, O warrior-hero, for our songs are sung to thee."^ To the worshipper of Indra, life is an overflowing stream ; he walks in the sunshine of the divine favour. This favour is not secured ' Rig Veda, viii. 87. Ibid., x. 61, 7. "^ Ibid., i. 62; vi. 47, 10; X. 41, i; viii. 79, i; i. 61, 4. ^ Ibid., vii. 23, 5. * Ibid., ii. 4; 25, 2. " Ibid., vii. 132, * Ibid., X. 44. 8 j[jjj ^ yiji_ j_ 170 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. by sacrifice alone ; the holy intention is accepted also. " Though I have no cows to offer," says the poorer wor- shipper to Indra, "I bring thee what I have."^ The sacrifice is accepted when the Soma is offered willingly, Indra sometimes appears as a god of mercy. The wretched turn to him. " To the darkness of the blind he can bring light. May Indra help us."^ Such appeals to compassion are rare in the hymns addressed to Indra. He is generally the awful god who makes the mountains, the sea, and the burning deserts tremble ; the invincible warrior, who overthrows his enemies, while he lavishes his gifts on those who bring their sacrifices freely to him. In the drama of nature as of history, he is above all the mighty god, ever wrestling with the powers of evil. We may quote in conclusion the hymn from the Vedas which gives the most complete picture of the great god of battle. " Keep silence well ! we offer praise to the great Indra in the house of the sacrificer. Does he find treasure for those who are like sleepers ? Mean praise is not valued among the munificent. "Thou art the giver of horses, Indra; thou art the giver of cows, the giver of corn, the strong lord of wealth ; the old guide of man, disappointing no desires, a friend to friends ; to him we address this song. " O powerful Indra, achiever of many works, most brilliant god — all this wealth around here is known to be thine alone. Take from it, conqueror ! Do not stint the desire of the worshipper who longs for thee ! " On these days thou art gracious, and on these nights, keeping off the enemy from our cows and from our stud. Tearing the fiend night after night with the help of Indra, let us rejoice in food, freed from haters. "Let us rejoice, Indra, in treasure and food, in wealth of manifold delight and splendour. Let us rejoice in the blessing of the gods which gives us the strength of offspring, gives us cows first and horses. " These draughts inspired thee, O lord of the brave ! these were vigoux, these libations, in battles ; when for the ' Rig Veda, viii. 91, 19. * Ibid., i. lOO. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 171 sake of the poet, the sacrificer, thou struckest down irresistibly ten thousands of enemies. " We who in future protected by the gods, wish to be thy most blessed friends, we shall praise thee, blessed by thee with offspring and enjoying henceforth a longer ]ife."i One would think that the worship of this warrior-god should have arrested India on the verge of that abyss of the unfathomable unity, into which it was about to precipitate it- self Thequestion forces itself upon us with special reference to Indra, who at first seems so much to resemble Ormazd, how it was that this valiant god should not, like the god of Iran, have led his followers on to victory in the conflict with death and evil? The answer is not hard to find. In the first place, Indra never really occupied the sole place of supremacy. He was constantly confounded with the gods of the sacrifices, and thus came within the circle of pantheistic syncretism. Then he also is, in the end, con- founded with his worshipper. Like Agni and Soma, he lives by the sacrifice. Men bring to him of his proper sub- stance, and he is nourished by it. We are thus met again by the metaphysical difficulty : the created being has no proper life apart from the infinite being. So long as the created and the uncreated are confounded, we cannot get beyond fatalism in the natural life, and evil is only a fiction, since it is inevitable. Indra may thunder and rage in battle, but he is only carrying out, after all, the in- variable law of nature, according to which lightning and storm always in the end rend the black cloud, and light comes forth in morning radiance from her prison house of night. Lastly, while the Iranian god shows a constant tendency to rise above his naturalistic origin, and to be- come a moral power, the Indian god remains so to speak in his heavy swaddling clothes. There is nothing there- fore to prevent naturism from running its fatal course in India, and arriving at the inevitable goal of pantheism — ' Rig Veda, i. 53, Max Muller's Translation : " Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i. pp. 31, 32. 172 THE ANCIENT JVORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the absorption of the parts in the whole, because those parts, having no independent existence, must ultimately be lost in the cosmic unity and merged in the absolute. The Soma with which Indra is intoxicated is not the generous wine which stimulates to fruitful effort. It is the great narcotic of the ancient East, the morbid fascina- tion of the pantheistic idea. Such must of necessity be the final term of the religious evolution in India. In vain did the god of battles hold for a time all the fibres of the intellectual life in full tension. The reaction was not strong enough to change the whole character and course of the religion. It was reserved, moreover, for another god than Indra, to lift the religious consciousness of India to its highest point. § VI.— VaruxXa.i It is necessary to distinguish between the Varuna of the Vedas and the original Varuna, v.^ho was the primitive god of all the Arj^an race before its dispersion. We have recog- nised him as the great sun-god, the god of heaven who, without identifying himself with the celestial light, finds in it his highest manifestation. He never ceases to in- habit the heaven which is identified with his name, but he casts off almost entirely the bonds of naturism. Intellec- tual and moral qualities predominate in him over the m.ere notion of a deified force of nature, and in this respect, he infinitely surpasses Indra. It is impossible to define the time or the mode of this transition, for the simple reason that the religious conscience of India does not take a step in advance without linking on all the past, with all its gods, whom it identifies with the new divinity. Thus Agni and Soma were, so to speak, merged in Indra, and all together were afterwards identified with Varuna. No part of the earlier faith seems to be abandoned, and yet this pantheistic syncretism of the gods received at least for a time a new element. There are even traces in the best da^^s of the worship of Varuna, of an evolution going beyond syncretism. More than one ' See M. Bergaigne, "La religion Vedique. Varuna," to which we are largely indebted. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 173 Vedic hymn indeed alludes to a conflict between Indra and Varuna. Indra seems sometimes to represent the good element in contact with Varuna the evil. This anomaly, where so great and holy a god is concerned, is to be explained by the contrast on one essential point between Varuna and Indra. Indra is always regarded as the great champion of the principle of light against the evil power, the dark serpent, the demon who seeks to quench the light in his coils. This trenchant opposition ceases when Varuna is looked upon as the supreme god. Dualism is replaced by a conception which if not monotheistic, is at least henotheistic. Varuna is the first among the Asuras. The word Asiira is used for the supreme power, universal sovereignty. In order to express the omni- potence of Indra it is said that he exercised the Asnra among the gods.^ The root of Asura is Asa, breath, the life. Asura is the lord of life who disposes of it sovereignly. Nothing escapes this sovereignty. There is no power which can oppose itself to his. Consequently it is he who bestows or holds back life and its precious gifts ; it is he who imprisons the light and sets it free ; he dispenses as he will suffering and healing ; he is the god who binds and looses. The same idea is attached to another name of Varuna and of the group of gods over which he presides. The Asiiras are also Adityas, which signifies all-powerful sovereigns, from the word aditi, free, not bound. It follows that they know no law but their own will, and are the universal sovereigns "- by whom the three worlds are upheld.^ They make the sun to shine in unclouded splendour, but they also draw the veil of night.* If Varuna sends forth the sun on its wide orbit, he also hides it from our eyes either when night falls,^ or when he covers the heaven with clouds and pours down the rain. If in accordance with Indian syncretism, he is often con- founded with Agni and Soma,** in other passages of the Vedas he is opposed to them as an evil god. Thus the greatest of the gods is made for a moment to seem the ^_ — _ , — , — ^ . — , ^ , - ? Rig Veda, vi. 36, i. * Ibid., vii. 66, 11. ? Ibid., viii. 27, 22. * Ibid., viii. 41, 10, ? Ibid i 27, 4, 6 Ibid., viii. S7, 6 ; vii SS, 2, 174 "^HE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. very prince of the demons.^ This strange confusion was the natural consequence of a persistent dualism. The worshipper of Indra the warrior-god, who maintains the perpetual conflict with evil, could not reconcile himself to a god who not only does not fight, but who sends the plagues which afflict the earth. This seemed to him an insoluble contradiction, so long as he had not grasped the idea of the perfect freedom of the supreme god, and learned to regard him as absolute goodness. The religious consciousness of the Aryans of India rose very nearly to this height in the palmy days of the worship of Varuna, but it was only for a time, and never without an admixture of lower elements. The two great ideas of sovereignty and of holiness really permeated more or less the religious conception of which Varuna was the embodiment. He was regarded indeed as the sovereign god, inasmuch as nothing was beyond his sway, and he had no need to fight in order to give light to the world. The exercise of his magic, that is of his occult power, sufficed. He was then the most high, the all-powerful. Again, if he was the dispenser of evils, it was as the avenger of the law. The dark side of his being corresponded to the righteous indigna- tion of offended justice. Pain became chastisement. The whole of religion, with its rites and sacrifices, acquired a new, a deeper and holier meaning. This explains the lofty, even sublime language, in which some of the Vedic hymns expressed the adoration of Varuna. His sovereignty is manifested in the first place, in the fact that all the other gods are subordinate to him, commenc- ing with Indra, who receives his thunder from him. This great god who established the heavens and the earth, and is exalted over all worlds as universal king, is at the same time a father to his creatures. Thus the hymns to his praise almost always conclude with an appeal to his goodness. " Wise and mighty are the works of him who stemmed asunder the wide firmaments (heaven and earth). He ' M, Bergaigne (vol. iii. p. 113) connects Varuna, ovpav&g, with the root vri, envelopment, which would in one aspect assimilate the supreme god );o the demoniacal power. Only if darkness is among the all things which proceed from him, it is the wicked whom he catches in its nets. THE RELIGION OF 2 HE VEDAS. 175 lifted on high the bright and glorious heaven ; he stretched out apart the starry sky and the earth. "Do I say this to my own self? How can I get unto Varuna ? Will he accept my offering without displeasure? When shall I, with a quiet mind, see him propitiated ? " ^ Varuna prepared the paths for the sun, and sent the rivers running down to the sea. He opened the great gates of day. The wind, the breath of his mouth, rushes through space, like wild herds feeding in the prairie. And in both worlds all things are dear to him- Varuna and Mitra, who is inseparable from him, are proclaimed the sovereign rulers of the world. Their dominion over the universe which they have made to be the world of man, has no end.^ They have made the plant to grow, have called the cows into being, have given strength to the horses, have stored the fire in the waters, set the sun in the sky and the Soma in the rocks. Begirt with clouds, many-hued like the rainbow, they cause the rain to fall, when the thunder rolls through the darkened heavens, and the milk of the sky flows in floods. The best gift of Varuna to man is intelligence and wisdom. Varuna has not only omnipotence but omniscience. " He who knows the place of the birds that fly through the sky, who, on the water, knows the ships ; He, the upholder of order, who knows the track of the wind, of the wide, the bright, the mighty, and knows those who reside on high. He, the upholder of order, Varuna, sits down among his people ; he, the wise, sits there to govern. From thence perceiving all wondrous things, he sees what has been and what will be done. May he, the wise Aditya, make our paths straight all our days ; may he prolong our lives." ^ The prayer of man goes up to him. "O hear this my calling, Varuna, be gracious to me. Longing for help, I have called upon thee. Thou, O wise god, art lord of all, of heaven and earth ; listen on thy way." "* The following fragment of the Atharva Veda does not go beyond the lofty idea which the Vedas have given of Varuna. > Rig Veda, vii. 86. ^ Ibid., i. 25, « Ibid., V. 63. " Ibid 176 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CIIEISTIANITT. "The great lord of these worlds sees as if he were near. If a man thinks he is walking by stealth, the gods know it all. " If a man stands or walks or hides, if he goes to lie down or to get up ; what two people sitting together whisper, King Varuna knows it ; he is there as the third. "This earth too belongs to Varuna, the king, and this wide sky with its ends far apart. The two seas (the sky and the ocean) are Varuna's loins ; he is also contained in the small drop of water. He who would flee far beyond the sky, even he would not be rid of Varuna the king. His spies proceed from heaven towards this world ; with thousand eyes they overlook this earth. " King Varuna sees all this, what is between heaven and earth, and what is beyond. He has counted the twinklings of the eyes of men. As a player throws the dice, he settles all things. " May all thy fatal nooses which stand spread out seven by seven and threefold, catch the man who tells a lie ; may they pass by him who tells the truth." ^ The conclusion of this hymn brings us to the grandest characteristic of Varuna — holiness. It is not indeed absolute holiness, for there is a considerable admixture of naturalistic elements, but it sets the idea of good in strong relief against the background of superstition and legend. Good is regarded especially as the opposite to falsehood, as is apparent from the closing strophe of the hymn just quoted, and as we might naturally expect in a religion in which the opposition between light and dark- ness is more than a symbol. The idea of law is very prominent in the prayers offered to Varuna. "Thy laws," it is said, " rest upon thee as on a mountain." Here the reference is not simply to the fixity of natural law by which the courses of the stars are governed, nor to the strict observance of sacred rites. ^ It is used unquestionably ' " Chips from a German Workshop," Max Miiller, vol. i. pp. 41, 42. - There are several words expressing the idea of law. Vritra, from rt, that which is joined, fitted, fixed, is the essential word. Max Miiller is wrong when he assigns as the origin of this notion of law, the spectacle of the regularity of natural law. ("Origin and Growth of Religion," Lecture v., p. 239.) The idea of responsibility so closely connected with THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. if in a moral sense in several significant passages, as fo: instance, that in which it is said that Varuna and Mitr; are faithful to the law in keeping an eye on the deception: practised by men, and in justly punishing every violatoi of truth and honour.^ But strict justice does not exhaust our duty to oui neighbour ; there are also services of love incumbent op us. " He who does not give food- to the hungry ant drink to him whose tongue is parched for thirst, he who hardens his heart against him who intreats of him, shall himself find none to take pity on him. He only has true enjoyment who shares with the poor and gives to him that needeth. It shall be so done to him when he sues for help, and he makes himself a friend for the future. In vain does the fool provide himself with food ; I speak the truth, it shall only be his death. No friend has he and nc companion ; want comes to him who only seeks his own."'- The evil which men do to themselves, as in gambling, i< as severely reprobated.^ The man who is faithful to the law is contrasted with the deceiver, " By keeping to yout path of life," says the worshippei- to Varuna and Mitra "we pass safely through danger as through the sea or ships." * This is a great advance beyond the simple law of nature, the law of fatalism sustained by force. The clearest indication how far this law of fatalism is left behind, is to be found in the deep sense of sin ex- pressed in many penitential hymns. These would be utterly unmeaning if man did not feel his own responsibihty. The moral idea conveyed in these ardent prayers is both lofty and pure. The Asuras, Varuna and Mitra, are looked upon as the guardians and avengers of the violated law. They take cognisance of all and do not pass by any misdeeds. The sun is their spy ; he is as it were their great all-seeing eye. Agni often performs the same the moral law is not derived from the spectacle of nature, which gives onlj' the notion of regularitj^ fixity. The idea of responsibility must spring from the depths of the conscience, else we derive the greater from the less. ' Rig Veda, ii. 27, 4. ' Ibid., vii. 86, 6. ^ Ibid., X. 117. * Ibid. vii. 65, 3. 12 178 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. part. He is called " the eye of the great law."^ "Why dost thou accuse us to Varuna, O Agni ? What is our sin? "2 Sin committed is punished by these great gods. Their hand binds the guilty with heavy fetters which they alone can loose, and which represent the various punishments inflicted. The offender is likened to a thief loaded with chains, or to a calf bound with a cord. Sometimes the sin itself is regarded as an accursed chain, from which the suppliant prays to be loosed. " Take from me my sin like a fetter, O Varuna." ^ Sin is not only failure in the performance of the law of sacrifice and ritual, it has its seat in the heart. It is the intention which lends gravity to the fault. " It was not our own doing, O Varuna, it was necessity, or temptation, an intoxicating draught, passion, dice, thoughtlessness."* The Adityas see the good and evil in the heart of man, which is full of desires. Sin, of whatever sort, is a debt to the gods, who demand its payment.® The Adityas, the heavenly guardians of the great world-all, are just to punish guilt and to obtain the payment of all debts.*' There is a close solidarity among mankind. They suffer the consequences of sin committed by their forefathers. " Move far away from me all self- committed guilt, and may I not, O king, suffer for what O'thers have committed. Many dawns have not yet dawned ; grant us to live in them, O Varuna ! " "Whether it be my companion or a friend, who, while I was asleep and trembling, uttered fearful spells against me, whether it be a thief or a wolf who wishes to hurt me, protect us against them, O Varuna." ^ The solidarity of the race in sin is thus expressed with as much clearness as vigour. The mere fact that the guilty one invokes the pardon of his god, shows that he believes in his mercy, which indeed is plainly affirmed. " O that we were guiltless before Varuna, before him who has mercy on the sinner!"^ * Rig Veda, iv. 13; x. 35, S3. » Ibid., i. 87, 4. * Ibid., V. 3, 5. * Ibid., ii. 27, 4. * Ibid., ii. 28. » Ibid., ii. 28. Ibid., V. 6. » Ibid,, vii. 87, 7. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 179 "Ye gods, lift up the fallen one, and him who has com- mitted sin, ye, O gods, niaice new ag lin." ^ Varuna is indeed not simply a ju.it god ; he is also a father full of pity. Thus the penitei t Ufts to him plead- ing hands and a sore heart. " As a bird shields her young with her wings, so he extends his protection to his worshippers." " Come near to me to-day, O ye gods, for I would cast myself trembling on your heart. Save us, that the wolf may not devour us, and that we fall not into his lair." 2 The guilty one seeks to appease Varuna. This he tries to do first by hymns. "To propitiate thee, O Varuna, we unbend thy mind with songs, as tiie charioteer a weary steed." ^ But his chief reliance is en tears and prayers. These he says, fly up to the god " as birds to their nests."* Sacrifice is no longer merely the food of the gods. The idea of atonement is added. The need of a mediator is expressed in the following hymn : " O Agni, invoke Mitra, Varuna, Indra for the faults that we have com- mitted ; give pardon ! " ^ " Bring near, O Agni, the gods who work in love, that they may be gracious unto us."° " O Agni, procure us favour with Varuna (with the Maruts, the all-shining ones)." " For kith and kin, O bright and gracious Agni, procure thou deliverance. Thou who knowest how, O Agni, turn away from us the anger of the god, of Varuna. Be thou the nearest to us, O Agni, with thy lielp; be our dearest riend by th e light of this dawn. Appease Varuna to- wards us ; grant us to find favour in his sight ; be thou ready to hear our cry ! " ^ Neither sacrifice nor the mediation of Agni avails to quiet the troubled soul. In its distress, it casts itself as it were into the arms of the all-powerful god whom it calls father, however thick the veil by which his glorious face is still hidden. Then there rises into the mysterious region, one of the most pathetic cries chat ever proceeded from the conscience of man. It is fii it of all a confession RiS Veda, x. 137, 1. ■* Ibid., i. 25, 4. 11; id., ii. 29. ^ Ibid., vii. 03, 7. Ibid., i. 25, 3. '■ Ibid., x. 150, 3. ' Ibid., iv. I. Sec the entire hymn. i8o THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of sins, of those of which the man is himself conscious, and those which are known alone to the All-Searcher, " How can I get unto Varuna? Will he accept my offer- ing without displeasure ? When shall I, with a quiet mind, see him propitiated ? I ask, O Varuna, wishing to know this my sin. I go to ask the wise. The sages all tell me the same. Varuna it is who is angry with thee. " Was it an old sin, O Varuna, that thou wishest to destroy thy friend who always praises thee ? Tell me, thou unconquerable lord, and I will quickly turn to thee with praise, freed from sin. Absolve us from the sins of our fathers, and from those which are committed with cur own bodies Let me without sin give satis- faction to the angry god, like a slave to the bounteous lord. The lord god enlightened the foolish ; he, the wisest, leads his worshippers to wealth. " O lord Varuna, may this song go well to thy heart ! May we prosper in keeping and acquiring ! Protect us, O gods, always with your blessings ! " ^ These passionate utterances of confused desire seem to beat against the bars, and at length burst forth into a sublime hymn far loftier in conception than the purest ideals of the national religion. It rises like the upsoaring of a caged eagle suddenly set free. " Let me not yet, O Varuna, enter into the house of clay ; have mercy, almighty, have mercy ! " If I go along trembling, like a cloud driven by the wind ; hjive mercy, almighty, have mercy ! "Through want of strength, thou strong and bright god, have I gone wrong ; have mercy, almighty, have mercy ! "Thirst came upon the worshipper, though he stood in the midst of the waters ; have mercy, almighty, have mercy ! " Whenever, we men, O Varuna, commit an offence before tlie heavenly host ; whenever we break the law through thoughtlessness ; have mercy, almighty, have mercy ! " ^ How was it, we ask, that the rehgious consciousness of the Ar3'ans of India, did not remain at this high level, but quickly fell again under the influence of the pantheistic idea, which it ultimately pushed to its extreme con- ' Rig Veda, vii. 86. " Ibid., vii. 89. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. i8i sequences ? The answer is, that it had never completely shaken off that idea even in the glorious period when Varuna reigned supreme in the pantheon. We have already repeatedly observed that in the Vedic religion no god, however great, attained to an unchallenged supremacy in the theodicy, and as he was never able completely to displace the inferior gods, he came in the end to share their lower nature. Thus the great enigma of evil remained unexplained, and its dark shadow fell even upon the shining face of the sovereign gods. Varuna presided, as we have seen, not only over the luminous, but over the sombre side of things. If he was the source of good, he was also the dispenser of evil, and that not merely as chastisement. Was it possible that a mind so philosophical as that of the Indian, should not ask of the gods an explanation of evil ? In the end it charges it upon them, and at a later period the Asuras themselves are regarded as demoniacal powers. We thus arrive at a system in which good and evil are identified as only different manifestations of one principle, both equally necessary to universal being. Offended conscience does indeed lift up its voice against this delusion, but it is stifled by the predominance of metaphysical speculation, which silences its protests and hurries the national religion down the fatal incline, at the base of which is the negation of the gods, of man, in a word, of all being. This vindication of conscience is expressed nevertheless with extraordinary power, and can never be obliterated. It remains a standing argument against those subtle metaph3'^sics of the East and West, which sacrifice the moral life to the idol of pantheistic speculation. § VII. — The Close of the Vedic Religion.* As we approach the close of the Vedic era, w^e already discern the first signs of the . coming transformation of its brilliant and vivid naturism into a religion at once sacerdotal and metaphysical. ' Max Mailer's " Lectures on the Origin and Growth of R.eL'gion," Lectures VI., VU. i82 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. In the first place, the confusion of all the gods in a syncretism which utterly deprives them of individuality, becomes more and more marked in the hymns addressed to the most personal and powerful of those gods — Varuna. We read in one of these hymns, "O lord of my prayer (Brihaspati), whether thou be Mitra or Varuna or Pushan, come to my sacrifice ! " Agni, really the god of fire, is said to be Indra and Vishnu, Savitri, Pushan, Rudra, and Aditi ; nay, he is said to be all the gods.^ This complex and confused divinity which, from a metaphysical point of view, takes the place of the living and personal gods, is sometimes identified with Time. It is said of Indra that he was born of Time, A yet more abstract notion attributes the birth of the gods to the great mother Aditya, the holy one who produced all the glorious, the mighty, the sovereign ones, the gods, the Asuras.^ Thus instead of gods sovereign and all powerful, we have abstract sovereignty, the unfathomable infinite ! Not only do the gods lose their individuality in this dreary absolute, but the very personality of man is absorbed also. In a somewhat obscure hymn relating to the dead, the spirit of the deceased is represented as wandering through earth and heaven, in the sun, on high mountains, in all created life. Nay more, it has been in some obscure way present in all that has been, and shall be in all that is to be.^ We are thus brought back again to the hidden principle of being, the mysterious One. Thus we see the form of the god who lends himself most readily to pan- theistic conceptions, Brahmanaspati, the lord of spells and of prayer, rising ever higher in the Indian pantheon, till all the other gods are lost in him. This metaphysical evolution does not go on without a painful conflict of doubt, which assumes at first the form of an ever-recurring question, as in the following hymn. " In the beginning there arose the golden child. He was the one born lord of all that is. He established the earth and this sky. Who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? ' Rig Veda v. 3. -' Ibid., viii. 23. * Ibid., ix. 58. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 183 " He who gives life, he who gives strength ; whose command all the bright gods revere; whose shadow is immortality, whose shadow is death. Who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? He who through his power is the one king of the breathing and awaken- ing world. He who governs all, man and beasf ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " He whose greatness these snowy mountains, whose greatness the sun proclaims, with the distant river — he whose regions are, as it were, his two arms ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " He through whom the sky is bright and the earth firm, he through whom the heaven was stablished — nay the highest heaven — he who measured out the light in the air ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " He to whom heaven and earth standing firm by his word, look up, trembling inwardly — he over whom the rising sun shines forth ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " Wherever the mighty water-clouds went ; where they placed the seed and lit the fire, thence arose he who is the sole life of the bright gods ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " He who by his might looked even over the water clouds, the clouds which gave strength and lit the sacrifice, he who alone is god above all gods ; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " May he not destroy us, he the creator of the earth ; or he, the righteous, who created the heaven ; he also created the bright and mighty waters; who is the god to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ? " O Prajapati, no other than thou hast embraced al! these created things." ^ Prajapati, which in the popular language, is only another name for the sun, is evidently in this hymn something higher than the idea of deity current in the Vedas. The very repetition of the question implies a doubt. This doubt sometimes extends to the greatest gods of the Vedic pantheon, as in this exclamation : ' Rig Veda x. I2I. i84 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. " If you wish for strength, offer to Indra a hymn of praise ; a true hymn if Indra truly exist : for some one says Indra does not exist. Who has seen him ? Whom shall we praise ? " -^ " Darkness is around us, we speak not knowing what we say," ^ we read again. Or once more the poet laments thus: "My ears vanish, my eyes vanish, and the light also which dwells in my heart ; my mind with its far-off longing leaves me ; what shall I say ? what shall I think ? " ^ This doubt mingled v/ith terror springs up because the shining pinnacles of the gods of light have vanished be- fore the mysterious One, who is the essence of all things. "They speak," say the poets, "of Indra, Mitra, Varuna, Agni ; that which is, and is One, the poets call in various ways." " Having once and more than once been invoked as the life-bringer, the sun is also called the breath or Hfe of all that moves and rests ; and lastly he becomes Visvakarman, by whom all the worlds have been brought together, and Prajapati which means lord of man and all living creatures." * Sometimes he seems still to retain some semblance of a distinct personality. It is said in a hymn of this period, that the one god, whose eyes are everywhere, his mouth everywhere, his arms everywhere, his feet everywhere, produced the earth and heaven. " Let us call upon him to-day in the battle, upon the Visvakarman, the maker of all things, who puts courage in our hearts. May he accept our offering of praise." ° This personality however soon fades away. Already in the hymn of praise just quoted, the worshipper asks : " O sages, search and know what was the standpoint, the firm ground, from which he the Creator of All, the All seeing, brought forth the earth, and with his might opened the heaven?"'' Then abandoning this empty show of * Rig Veda, viii. ico, 3. 2 Ibid., X. 82, 7. * Ibid., vi. 19, 6. * "Origin and Growth of Religion," Max Muller, p. 267. ' Rig Veda, x. 81 9. * Ibid., X. 81, 2. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 1S5 adoration cloaking doubt, the Vedic poet at length ex- claims, speaking of the great One : " Who saw him wlicn he was first born, when he who has no bones, bore him who has bones ? Where was the breath, the blood, the self of the world ? Vv^ho went to ask this from any that knew it ? " ^ In another hymn we read : " Beyond the sky, beyond the earth, beyond the Devas and Asuras, what was the first germ which the waters bore, wherein all gods were seen ? The waters bore that first germ in which all the gods came together. That one thing in which all crea- tures rested, was placed in the lap of the unborn." "You will never know him who created these things; something else stands between you and him. Enveloped in mist and with faltering voice, the poets walk along- rejoicing in life."^ In the famous hymn 129 of Book x. of the Rig Veda, we reach the last term of abstraction. We give Max M tiller's metrical translation : "Nor Aught nor Nought existed ; yon bright sky Was not, nor heaven's broad roof outstretched above. What covered all ? what sheltered ? what concealed ? Was it the waters fathomless abyss ? There was not death — yet was there nought immortal, There was no confine betwixt day and night ; The Only One breathed breathless by itself, Other than It there nothing since has been. Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled In gloom profound — an ocean w'ithout light — The germ that still lay covered in the husk Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent heat. Then first came love upon it, the new spring Of mind — yet poets in their heart discerned, Pondering, this bond between created things And uncreated. Comes this spark from earth Piercing and all-pervading, or from heaven? Then seeds were sown and mighty powers arose. Nature below, and power and will above ; Who knows the secret? who proclaimed it here? Whence, whence this manifold creation sprang ? The gods themselves came later into being — Who knows from whence this great creation sprang ? » Rig Veda, i. 164, 4. « Ibid., x. 82. i86 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. He from vvhon all this great creation came, Whether his v 11 created or was mute, The most High Seer that is in highest heaven, He knows it — or perchance even he knows not." ' We must not su: pose that the reh'gious sentiment in its popular form ws i steeped in these transcendental ab- stractions. The Veiic gods were living realities to the greater part of their worshippers, and they believed that they received from :hem» protection, pardon, and all the good gifts of this lif ^ It is none the less true that the daring thinkers who were already standing on the dizzy verge of the fathor iless abyss of the mysterious One, brought out forcibl; the contradiction inherent in the religion of the Vec as, and prepared the way for the transition through Irahmanism to Buddhism. Many sincerely p^ous souls indeed, who did not rise to the chilling heights of these subtle metaphysics, were instinctively conscious of the inadequacy of their beliefs, and recognised the contradiction to which we have just alluded. Hence the touching aspirations expressed in some of their hymns, after the perfect light and happi- ness beyond the tomb. We find this prayer addressed to Soma : "Where there is eternal light in the world, where the sun is placed, in that immortal, imperishable world, place me, O Soma. Where king Vaivasata reigns, where the secret place of heaven is, where these mighty waters are, there make me immortal ! "Where life is free, in the third heaven of heavens, where the worlds are radiant, there make me immortal ! " Where wishes and desires are, where the bowl of the bright Soma is, where there is food and rejoicing, there make me immortal ! " Where there is happiness and delight, where joy and pleasure reside, where the desires of our desire are attained, there make me immortal." ^ " Who knows the truth ? " we read in another hym.n. " Who can show us the path that leads to the gods ? We ' Rig Veda, x. 129. Translation from Lecture by Max Miiller on the Veda and Zend-Avesta. * Rig Veda, ix. 113, 7. THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS. 187 see but their lower seat. Their ways are far above and hidden from our sight, "^ We find a still more beautiful and touching expression of this deep sense of dissatisfaction oppressing the heart of the worshipper of the Vedic gods, in one strophe of the beautiful hymn to Varuna already quoted by us : " Thirst came upon the worshipper, though he stood in the midst of the waters." ^ As he stood thus by the springing fountains of his religion, the son of Vedic India felt the burning thirst of his soul unassuaged. This is more conclusive evidence than any mere argu- ment, of the paradoxical and powerless nature of this religion. The soul in its despair, exclaims : — " Which of all these gods will hear our cry and be favourable unto us ? Who will come down and deliver us ? " 3 ' Rig ig Veda, iii. 54, 5. ' Ibid., vii. 89, 4. ' Ibid., x. 64, I. CHAPTER IV. TRANSFORMATION OF THE RELIGION OF THE VEDAS AFTER THE SETTLEMENT OF THE VEDIC ARYANS ON THE BANKS OF THE GANGES.' § I. — Growth of Brahmanism. THE Aryans underwent both a social and religious transformation when they settled on the shores of the Ganges. Their constitution became strictly monarchical and hierarchical, the priesthood forming the keystone of the arch. Its tendency was always in this direction ; but, as we have seen, the priest was at first rather a divine singer than a sacrificer. The father of the family was the priest in his own house, but those who were invested with the sacerdotal office had, even in these early times, a great influence. The priestly families were distinguished by a particular mode of dressing the hair. The priests occupied a place of honour side by side with those petty princes or chiefs of the clan, whose position had a certain amount of dignity attaching to it, since the gods whom they represented, were supposed to have chariots drawn by magnificently caparisoned horses, vast palaces, and a great seraglio. The life of priests and princes was, nevertheless, still agricultural ; their wealth consisted in the possession of large flocks. They had not yet begun to seek perfection in asceticism. We have no data as to the time when these Aryans arrived on the banks of the Ganges, and after prolonged fightings, established themselves in the fertile lands watered by the river. The different clans of the con- querors disputed among themselves for their possession, ' See Dunker, " Geschichte des Alterthums," vol. iii. BRAHMANISM. 189 and the old inhabitants were reduced to slavery. In process of time, distinct nations and great states took the place of the clans. This period of conquest was no doubt prolonged through centuries. The great epic poems give no precise information as to what took place. They simply preserve the memory of wars of conquest. We are now brought into contact with powerful monarchies and with a hierarchy consisting of four great classes. 1st, The Brahmans ; 2nd, The warriors; 3rd, The husbandmen ; 4th, the Sudras. These Sudras are the old inhabitants, vanquished and reduced to slavery. This system of caste is an entirely new feature. In the Vedic times, there was no marked and absolute dis- tinction among the various classes of the nation. The conquered aborigines were simply devoted to contempt as ddsyas or enemies. One solitary verse is quoted from the Vedas, in which it is said that the priest, the warrior, the husbandman, and the serf, all alike formed part of Brahma.^ "When they divided man, how many did they make him ? What was his mouth ? what his arm ? what are called his thighs and feet ? The Brahmana was his mouth, the Rayanya was made his arms, the Vaisya became his thighs, the Sudra was born from'- his feet." 2 European critics are able to show that even this verse is of later origin than the great mass of the hymns, and that it contains modern words, such as Sudra and Rayanya, which are not found again in the other hymns of the Rig Veda, and belong to a later period. Then again, there is no trace of a constituted hierarchy in the times of the Vedas. The text quoted is simply a pantheistic formula. The distinction of castes was the peculiar work of the Brahmans, when they had acquired more power. This new charter is thus formulated in the Brahmanas. " Aryas are only the Brahmans, Kshatriyas, and Vaisyas, for they are admitted to the sacrifices. They shall not speak with everybody, but only with the Brahman, the Kshatriya and the Vaisya. If they have occasion to converse with a Sudra, let them say to another man, ^ Rig Veda, x. 90, 6, 7. *• "Chips from aGerman Workshop," Max Miiller, vol. ii., Caste, p. 312 1 90 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. ' Tell this Sudra so.' " ^ We thus get a privileged race comprising all the Aryans who are subdivided into three holy castes ; but as the distinctive sign of the noble class is admission to the sacrifices, this is the presiding caste to which belongs the moral supremacy. The Brahmans even go so far as to give themselves the name of gods. The change of climate, the first consequence of which was an entire change in the manner of living, had a great influence in the transformation of the religious ideas. Little by little the brilliant life of the early Aryans grew dull and torpid under the burning sky. Thus the old gods who carried on so desperate a struggle in the clouds and upon the earth, began to lose their importance, while the god of prayer was more and more in the ascendant. The priesthood devised a veritable apotheosis for him. Brahma, who under the name of Brahmanaspati, had already begun to rise in the old Vedic pantheon, came at length to fill the foremost place in it, and to reign with undivided sway. He became the highest impersona- tion of the divine in all its aspects. Indra could not be the favourite god of the priests, for he was the type of the warriors, the very god of battles. He then, with all his impetuous comrades in fight, must descend to the second rank. As to Varuna, not only did he lose his supremacy, but he came at last to personify with all the Adityas or Asuras, if not the element of evil, at least that of calamity. The Asuras became more and more identified with the demons. This strange transformation is very naturally explained. We have seen that Varuna, as well as the other Asuras or Adityas, allotted by turns happiness and suffering. He was the god who bound and loosed, who made night and day, because he governed all things, and was raised entirely above the dualistic element. During the time of his supremacy, the sorrows of which he was the dispenser, were the ministers of justice, of righteous indignation, and were designed to call men to repentance. But as soon as he became a secondary god, only one among others, this element of misfortune was attributed to his perversity, and thus from the summit of sanctity he was flung down, ' "Chips from a German Workshop," Max MuUer, vol. ii.. Caste, p. 336. BRAHAIANISM. 191 in the Brahmanic era, to the infernal regions where the demons reign. It is true that their maleficent power is not of much account, inasmuch as all separate contin- gent life tends more and more to be lost in the divine unity. The religious reformation was effected by the Brahmans by slow degrees. There was no loud proclamation of a new doctrine provoking schism and strife. The Brahmans never ceased to profess the most profound respect for the religion of their fathers and for the sacred hymns in which it was embodied. They were never weary of extolling the Vedas. Only as the language in which these songs had been written, became more and more a dead language, their authority imposed very little restraint upon them, and they could introduce what innovations they chose both in ritual and doctrine. Moreover, these innovators had none of the grand poetic diction of the singers of the Indian Aryas. The live coal had never touched their lips. There was between them and the Vedic poets, the same difference as between the prophets and doctors of the law in Israel. " The great and only business now is to know the Brahmanas, that is to say, the sacred texts, their use and the secret exegesis of them as handed down by tradition ; to know the rites of religion with their hidden and mystic meanings." ^ Great privileges are always promised to him who knows, for the gods love the man who fathoms the unfathomable. The Brahmans were the scribes of the Indian religion. After elaborating subtle interpretations by which they in reality changed altogether the character of the ancient religion, they began by remodelling the worship, renderirg it more and more complicated, and proportionately exalting the functions of the priest. The Vedas, by assimilating the earthly to the heavenly sacrifice, had already given great importance to ritual, but this importance was in- definitely magnified in the cultus of the Brahmans. In this way the gods of pra3'er came to be exalted over the Asuras. " Certain insignificant ceremonial arrangements are the reasons why the sun rises in the east and sets in the opposite quarter, why rivers flow in one direction ' Earth, "The Religions cf Ii.dia," p. 44. 192 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. rather than another, why the prevailing wind blows from the north-west, and why harvests ripen earlier in the south." ^ The lightest ceremonial error entails disastrous consequences. Legal purity and adherence to ritual are put upon the same level as obedience to the lavv. The Brahmanical cultus is minutely described in the Brah- manas and Sutras, which are a sort of liturgical manual. "We shall try to bring out from this complicated maze of ritual, the distinctive traits of worship. There were no sanctuaries properly so called. The holiness of the Brahman was such that it sufficed to consecrate any place in which worship was celebrated, so that it v.'as not needful to have a place set apart. Holy men did instead of holy places. The absence of temples prevented any- thing like regularity in the public worship. " Brah- manism knows no public cultus ; each of its acts, as a general rule, has a purely individual reference, and is performed for the behoof of one Yajamana, that is to say, of a person who defrays the expense of it. With the Yajamana there is strictly associated only his wife, or the first of his wives, if he has several (the wife having no rights of worship of her own) ; and it is only indirectly, by means of certain attendant variations, that the benefit of the rite is extended to the rest of his family, to the people of his household, or the body of his dependents." ^ The domestic ritual embraces the entire life of a Brahman. It includes the sacramental rites accompanying the birth of a child ; his initiation, which is a second birth ; then all the purifications of the private life, by which every act of it is sanctified, and lastly the funeral ceremonies. There are other rites to be observed by the Brahman, who having reached old age, retires into solitude and lives as a hermit. Codes, such as the Laws of Manu, give an epitome of this ritual, adding to it certain moral injunc- tions. The part of the ritual connected with the sacri- fices is given in fullest detail. The offering of the Soma, which sometimes involves costly solemnities, lasting over several days, is always placed in the foremost rank. Every sacrifice is accompanied by a round of more com- * Barth, 'The Religions of India," p. 48. ^ Ibid., pp. 50 — 52. BRAHAIANISM. 193 plicated observances, and generally animal victims are required. The herds are decimated to supply them. There are even traces in the ritual, of human sacrifices ; but these are only the exception, a strange survival, it would seem, of primitive barbarism. The most august of the sacrifices of blood is always that of the horse.^ § II. — The Speculative Evolution of Brahmanism. All these new modes of worship tended, as we have observed, to exalt the priests and their god Brahman- aspati. It was necessary indeed to justify his supremacy by a religious conception in which he should occupy the foremost place. It was easy to attach such a conception to the speculative portion of the Vedas, which celebrated in their later hymns, the ineffable and mysterious One. This One now became the central figure in the theo- gony, whereas he had hitherto been scarcely more than a vague suggestion, thrown altogether into the shade by the figures of the living gods of light, to whom the mass of the people clung. It required indeed much patient and skilful effort to bring this metaphysical crea- tion into the foreground, and to substitute for the purple cloud-chariots of the great gods, a cold and formless Divine abstraction. We shall see the Brahmans setting themselves with philosophical determination to achieve this result, but we repeat, they were but prolonging the lines already traced by the Vedic poets in making Brahmanaspati (now changed into Brahma) the symbol of the Divine unity reduced to the most complete ab- straction. It was by laying hold of one of the most daring con- ceptions in the famous Hymn 129, Book X. of the Rig Veda, that the Brahmans succeeded in making Brahma the first manifestation of the absolute. In that hymn it was said of the hidden principle of things : " The Only One breathed breathless by it." This breath, which is distinguished from the wind — that ' Barth, "The Religions of India," pp. 54—58. 13 194 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. is to say, from any natural force — is only that which is called in another Vedic hymn the Divine Atman, the Semet ipsuju, the hidden principle of the Ego and of all that is. This spirit, which breathed forth the soul of the universe, this mysterious Atman, is contounded with Brahma, from whom all beings proceed. The further finite life is removed from this first principle, the more it loses of dignity. Thus the ladder of the universal hierarchy is set up between the gods and men, who are divided into four castes : the Brahmans, whose office is prayer ; the military class, who defend the soil ; the hus- bandmen, who till it ; and the Sudras, objects of aversion and contempt, who are doomed to slavery. The ideas of a future life underwent an important change in this new theodicy. The final judgment, dividing the good from the wicked, and relegating the one to the abode of darkness, while the other entered the paradise of Yama, no longer seemed sufficient. The hierarchical scale is reproduced in the penalties of the future life. After a first judgment, the guilty descend again by successive metempsychoses, all the grades of being, only at once to recommence the ascent ; while the good and pious rise gradually into the absolute, starting from the point to which their virtue had raised them. The final term for them is absorption in Brahma. The Brahmans have left some confused attempts at a cosmogony. At one time they refer the origin of things to " a first being conceived as a person, Prajapati, who, tired of his solitude, emits " — that is to say, draws forth — from himself everything that exists, or who begets it after having divided himself in two, the one half male, the other female. At another time this first personal and creative being is represented as himself proceeding from a material substratum : in the mythic form he is Hiran- yagarbba, " the golden embryo," Ndrdyana, " he who reposes on the waters," and ViraJ, " the resplendent, who issued from the world-egg." Besides these two solutions, there is still a third. Instead of organising itself under the direction of a conscious, intelligent being, the prin.ary substance of things is represented as manifesting itself directly, without the interposition of any personal agent, BRA HMA NISM. 1 95 by the development of the material world and contingent existences/ At bottom all these theosophies seem to have been traced on " the idea that the principle of life which is in man, the Atman, or self, is the same as that which animates nature." ^ This favourite thesis of the Brahmans has been treated in all sorts of ways in the speculative portion of their sacred books, and primarily in the Upanishads.^ We shall give some examples of these lucubrations, the gist of which is always the glorification of Brahma. In the Chandogya-Upanishad, Indra, the head of the Devas, occupies at first an inferior position. He asks Prajapati, who represents the supreme Being, wherein man's true self consists. Prajapati says to him: "The person that is seen in the eye, that is the self." By this person he means, not the organ of vision itself, nor the small figure imaged in the eye, but the real agent of seeing, the being who uses not only the senses, but also the mind, as an instrument. The seer who is in the eye is the being who knows that he knows, and that the human mind, the "eye Divine," is but his instrument. This is the Atman, the self in man, an emanation from the great Atman who is the principle of all things.* " The Devas who are in the world of Brahma worship that Self. There all worlds are held by them, and all pleasures. He who knows that Self and understands it obtains all worlds and all desires."^ Brahma, who is confounded with this supreme Atman, is thus raised above all the earlier gods. In a dialogue which takes place between Yagnavalkya ' Barth, "The Religions of India," pp. 68 — 70. * Ibid., p. 71. * In the Upanishads this doctrine of the Atman is largely expanded. Doubtless the curious writings collected under this name are of very various dates, but the most important belong to an epoch anterior to Buddhism. We recognise in them a continuation of the Brahmanic religion. All the questions relating to the Upanishads are exhaustively treated in M. Regaaud's work entitled " Materiaux pour servir a la philosophic de I'lnde." ^ "Origin and Growth of Religion," Max Miiller, pp. 320—327. 6 Ibid., p. 327. 196 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. and his two wives, the latter ask him how they may attain to immortahty. The husband rephes that that which is really loved in all beings is the Atman, the Self. He says : " Verily a husband is not dear that you may love the husband, but that you may love the Self; therefore a husband is dear. Verily a wife is not dear that you may love the wife, but that you may love the Self; therefore a wife is dear. Verily the Devas are not dear that you may love the Dev^as, but that you may love the Self; therefore the Devas are dear," ^ and so on. "When there is, as it were, duality, then one sees the other, one smells the other, one hears the other, one salutes the other, one perceives the other, one knows the other ; but when the Self only is all this, how should he smell another, how should he see another, how should he hear another, how should he salute another, how should he perceive another, and how should he know another ? How should he know him by whom he knows all this ? How, O beloved, should he know (himself) the knower ? " '^ A variant reading adds : " That Self is to be described by ' No, no ! ' He is incomprehensible, for he is not com- prehended ; free from decay, for he does not decay ; free from contact, for he is not touched ;,unfettered : he does not tremble, he does not fail. How, O beloved, should he know the knower ? Thus thou hast been instructed, and thus far goes immortality." ^ The Ratha-Upanishad is a dialogue between a young child called Nakiketas and Yama, the ruler of departed spirits. Nakiketas says : " There is that doubt when man is dead, some saying that he is, others that he is not ; then I should like to know, taught by thee." Yama replies : " The future never rises before the eyes of the careless child, deluded by the delusion of wealth. This is the world, he thinks ; there is no other ; thus he falls again and again under my sway. " The wise, who, by means of meditating on his Self, recognises the Old, who is difficult to be seen, who has entered into darkness, who is hidden in the cave, whp ' " Origin and Growth of Religion," pp. 328, 329. * Ibid., p. 332. » Ibid., p. 332, note II. BRAHAIANISM. 197 dwells in the abyss, as God, he indeed leaves joy and sorrow far behind. " That Self cannot be gained by the Veda, nor by under- standing, nor by much learning. He whom the Self chooses, by him alone the Self can be gained. The Self chooses him as his own. But he who has not first turned away from his wickedness, who is not tranquil and subdued, whose mind is not at rest, he can never obtain the Self, even by knowledge. No mortal lives by the breath that goes up and by the breath that goes down. We live by another, in whom these two repose. Well then, I shall tell thee this mystery, the Eternal Brahma, and what happens to the Self after reaching death. " Some are born again, as living beings ; others enter into stocks and stones, according to their work and according to their knowledge. But he, the highest person, who wakes in us while we are asleep, shaping one lovely sight after another, he indeed is called the Bright ; he is called Brahma ; he alone is called the Immortal. All worlds are founded on it, and no one goes beyond. This is that. " As the one fire, after it has entered the world, though one, becomes different according to whatever it burns, thus the one Self within all things, becomes different according to whatever it enters, and exists also apart, " As the sun, the eye of the world, is not contaminated by the external impurities seen by the eye, thus the one Self within all things, is never contaminated by the suffering of the world, being himself apart. " There is one eternal thinker, thinking non-eternal thoughts ; he, though one, fulfils the desires of many. The wise who perceive him within their Self, to them belongs eternal peace. "Whatever there is, the whole world when gone forth " (from Brahma) " trembles in his breath. That Brahma is a great terror, like a drawn sword. Those who know it become immortal. " He " (the Brahma) " cannot be reached by speech, by mind, or by the eye. He cannot be apprehended except by him who says : ' He is.' "When all desires that dwell in the heart cease, then the mortal becomes immortal, and obtains Brahma. 198 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. " When all the fetters of the heart here on earth are broken, then the mortal becomes immortal. Here ends my teaching." ^ Speculations like these made it easy to cast off the yoke of the old religion. " Know the Atman only, and away with everything else; it alone is the bridge of immor- tality," says one of the Upanishads. In such a conception of the cosmogony, nature is clearly reduced to a mere illusion. The finite world no longer exists. " It is the production of the Maya, of the deceptive magic of the god ; a mere spectacle, v/here all is illusion, theatre, actors, and piece alike ; a ' play ' without purpose which the Absolute plays with himself The ineffable and the inconceivable is the only real." " The most extreme asceticism is the final term of this evolution. In the state of ecstasy to which it introduces all consciousness of a distinct personality is lost. The system known as the Yoga is a sort of manual of mystic exercises, to throw men into this state of ecstasy, border- ing on madness. There was a reaction against this in the wild idealism of the philosophy of the Vedanta. This was what is called the Sankhya philosophy, of which Kapila was the author. In this the claims of reason are strongly affirmed. The Sankhya teaches that there is an eternal duality of soul and matter. Nature is eternal, but without knowledge. The soul is alike eternal, but with the capacity of know- ing. All the phenomena are linked in a sequence of cause and effect, and proceed from their two principles— soul and matter. Brute matter is one ; the essential soul is divided ; it is the compound of the individual souls which are all equal, eternal, and indestructible. Each soul is united to the subtle corporeal element, with which it enters into successive combinations. The aim of human life is to free itself from the body, by virtue of the knowledge which teaches man the independence of the soul in re- lation to the body, for the bond which unites them is only apparent. The soul must recognise that it is not nature. As he comes to realise the complete independ- • "Origin and Growth of Religion," Max Miiller, pp. 333 — 337. * Barth, " Religions of India," p. 75. BRAHMA NISAf. 19, ence of the soul, man is set free. In short, nature, vvhicl in the Vedanta appeared as only a transitory mode of the life of the spirit, becomes again a reality in the Sankhya. although it is in the end to be vanquished by the soul. The natural tendency of the Sankhya was to materialism and atheism. The disciples of Kapila abandoned in the end the whole Vedic and Brahmanic mythology. Their doctrine is represented as absolute scepticism, and their morality has been preserved to us in such couplets as these : " So long as life lasts, delight thy- self and live well ; when once the body is reduced to ashes, it will revive no more." The logical consequence of all this speculative movement was to brand as use- less all the rites of worship, and of necessity the priest- hood also. We must draw a distinction between this and official Brahmanism, which gave equal place to the speculative and the practical. Of this system the laws of Manu are the most complete expression. They represent, so to speak, the average religious conception of the period. § III. — The Religious Life during the Brahmanicai Period. The Laws of Manu} Whether the laws of Manu date from a period more or less remote from the Christian era, they are in any case a perfectly authentic monument of the life of the period when Brahmanism had become the predominant religion of the people. We have thus a true repre- sentation of the religious life as it was for many cen- turies, and as it still is in India, for nothing can equal ' The Indians have possessed numerous codes of laws described as holy. We shall speak only of the laws of Manu, which are the most im- portant of these codes. Dunker fixes their date as before 600 e.g., on the following grounds : I. These laws belong to a time when the Aryans had not yet settled on the coasts of Dacca, and this settlement took place about 600 B.C. 2. Buddhism was in existence five centuries before Christ, and it is certain that it was a reaction against Brahmanism as con- stituted by the laws of Manu. 3. The laws of Manu recognise only the first three books of the Vedas, and ignore the fourth, while the .200 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the immobility of these gentle, dreamy races, so rarely stirred to action. In the first place, we find in the laws of Manu the result of the speculation of the Vedanta, without the elements which made that system rather adverse than favourable to a sacerdotal religion encumbered with ritual. Religion is placed on the footing which shall be most to the advantage of the god of the priests and of the priests themselves. In its cosmogony the Vedic Pantheon is passed over in silence rather than contradicted. The doctrine of the ineffable unity in which Brahma is swal- lowed up, is formulated in a popular and almost mythical fashion. In substance it is as follows : The world was plunged in utter darkness, and deprived of attributes. The Lord, existing by himself apart from the external senses, appeared, and made the world perceptible, with its five elements. -^ He whom the spirit alone can perceive, the soul of all beings, displayed his glory. Having pro- duced the waters, he deposited a germ in them. This became an egg, luminous like himself. The supreme Being was born from it under the form of Brahma, the ancestor of all that live.^ The two parts of the egg form the heaven and the earth. All the principles of the intellectual life proceed from the supreme soul.^ As the multitude of gods is produced by Brahma, he is at once raised above them all. More than this, the manes, the ancestors of the Brahmans, were born before the gods, and are themselves gods.* It was Manu, their own ancestor, who by his austerities produced the gods.^ By Buddhist Sutras quote four. 4. There is no trace in the laws of Manu of tl.e worship of Civa, mentioned in the Siitras. Now, according to the testimoi y of the Greeks, this worship was flourishing in the fourth century B.C. Vishnu is only named once, and that in a part of the book which is doubtful. 5. The names of the kings are the same as in tl e Vedas, wliile those of the great epopceias are wanting. Much question has been raised about this remote date of the laws of Manu. They are often referred to a period but little removed from the Chris- tian era. However this may be, the substance of the ideas is very ancient and quite in harmony with the great period of Brahmanism. ' "Laws of Manu," i. 6, 7- 2 Ibid,, i. 4—7. 3 Ibid., i. 8—14. ^ Ibid., iii. 201. * Ibid., i. 33, 34. BRAHMANISM. alternating periods of waking and repose, the supreme Being makes this assemblage of moving and motionless beings perpetually die and live again, ^ This movement of growth and dissolution is like the rotation of a wheel. The end of all being is absorption in the supreme soul.^ A scale of ever-diminishing emanations runs through the three worlds, the highest, the middle, and the lowest, which are all subject to this same law of subdivision.^ Souls undergo transmigration after death in a degree proportioned to their guilt. The guilty souls ascend one by one all the rounds of this ladder of transformation, from mere animal existence to the point where their elements become disintegrated, and then they return to the primordial unity.* This doctrine of transmigration is the basis of the profound respect with which all creature life is treated, for souls are concealed in the forms even of the lower animals.^ As the highest aim of existence is absorption in Brahma, the ascetic and contemplative life is the best that man can lead. The body is indeed but the prison of the soul, which the soul should leave with the sam^ gladness with which the bird takes its flight from the tree.^ By meditation and contemplation, the spirit be- comes freed from all earthly affection, and begins its absorption in Brahma,^ who, being more subtle than the atom, can only be apprehended by the spirit in a state of ecstasy and contemplation. The last stage of the Brahman's life is the solitude of the forest, but he must on no account begin with this. His first duty is to perpetuate the holy race, to teach the Divine law, and celebrate the sacred rites. Great importance is thus attached, as we shall see, to the constitution of the family, without which the priesthood would perish, since it is a strictl}^ hereditary dignity, the lines of caste being fixed and inviolable. The laws of Manu exalt to the highest possible point the dignity of the Brahmans. The code of the priesthood interprets in the most exclusive sense, the more or less authentic ' "Laws of Manu," i. 57. ' Ibid., i. 23, et seq. * Ibid., viii. 306. * Ibid., i. 1-3. •• Ibid., xii. 3. « Ibid., vi. 7, 8. ' Ibid., i. 54, 202 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. text of the Vedas, according to which the Brahman was born from the mouth of the supreme god, and the other castes from his arms, thighs, and feet. The Brahman, who came forth from the noblest part of the god, was by this fact constituted lord of all other creatures/ He is the incarnation of the justice of the god with which he is finally to be identified.^ All that exists in the world is at his disposal.^ Whether learned or ignorant, the Brahman is a great divinity.* It is by virtue of his office that the v^^orld and the gods exist. ^ His prayers have power to call into being other worlds and other gods,^ Every offence against him is sacrilege ; his sacred character is indelible.^ Punishment assumes a milder form when applied to his delinquencies.^ The best portion is always his by right. A Sudra may not accumulate too much wealth for fear of humbling his superior,^ and he must always remember that he has been created to do service to his superior.-'*' Thus the Brahman may do nothing to raise the Sudra above his low condition. He is not allowed to instruct him, not even in the ceremonies of expiation, but he may reduce him to slavery," Gifts made to a Brahman have a meritorious value. " All that is given to this venerable man produces good fruit." He has a right to take possession, if necessary by craft or force, of everything needed for the sacrifice, even if for this purpose he has to despoil the house of the Sudra. ^^ Such were the exorbitant claims of the priestly caste. It simply placed itself above all law ; no clergy ever arrogated to itself such privileges. After the claims come the duties of the priesthood, and first those peculiar to the office. In this part of the laws of Manu the priest appears in a new character, as primarily a doctor of the law. It is logical that this preponderance should be given to religious knowledge, when the divinity himself is an impersonal principle, to which the soul is united by contemplation. This is the undisputed reign of gnosticism. Brahma is rather ' "Laws of Manu," i. 99. * Ibid., ix. 316. ^ Ibid., x. 129. ^ Ibid., i. 98. * Ibid., ix. 315. "• Ibid., viii. 413. * Ibid., i. 100. ' Ibid., ix. 319. " Ibid., viii. 414, 417. ^ Ibid., ix. 317. * Ibid., ix. 241. ''^ Ibid., xi. 12. BRAHMANISM. 203 an intellectual concept than a- living being. He is not a god " to whose knees man may cling," as said Pascal. The. preparation for the office of Brahman consists essentially in the study of the sacred books and of all that relates to the knowledge of the holy. The mere fact of ordination is not enough to qualify a Brahman for his work. A prolonged novitiate is necessary. The young novice prepares himself for the ascetic life, which is the highest term of his calling, by begging his bread,i but this is no hindrance to his loading his master with presents.^ To this master the utmost veneration must be shown, and implicit obedience rendered. " Controlling his body, his speech, his organs of sense, let the novice stand with joined hands, looking at the face of his teacher." ^ It is by unreserved submission that he will be best prepared for union with the Divine being. His master is truly his father according to the spirit, for he gives him a new birth. " Sacred science is his mother, and the teacher his father." * The sacred cord is the symbol of this new birth, effected by the knowledge of the holy." It destro3's all impurity within the novice, as fire devours the tree in the forest. It prepares him for immortality and union with Brahma. The only sure way not to err from the truth is to submit absolutely to the authority of the sacred books, which takes the place of evidence, and is weightier than logic.® The decisive interpretation is given by the Brahmans when they assemble to determine the true meaning of the texts. Beside the reverence due to his master, the novice is to honour all the gods and all his betters.^ The time of novitiate passed, the duties of the priest of Brahma begin. Above all things, he is enjoined to live an exemplary life, worthy in its general tenor, and even in the outward seeming, of his high calling.^ He has three debts to discharge : the study of the Vedas, which is to be carried on throughout his whole course; sacrifice; ' "Laws of Manu," ii. 49— 51. •• Ibid., ii. 145 — 148. * Ibid., ii. 245, 246. ^ Ibid., ii. 170. * Ibid., ii. 192. « Ibid., i. 104 — 108. ' Ibid., ii. 206—208. * Ibid., iv. 16 — 18. 204 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. and the begetting of a son. This implies a certain period devoted to family life, but through it all his aspiration is to be fixed on the final term of his probation, the ascetic life of the forest. We have already spoken of the importance of sacred study, which was not to cease for a day. Let us now say something of the duties relating to sacrifice, before touching on those of the father of the family. Judging only from the outward manifestations of the religious life, one would think that sacrifice had retained the same character as in the earlier period. It is still offered to the ancient gods : Agni, Soma, Indra, Varuna. It is still a sacred aliment, which, after it has passed through the fire, is offered to the gods for the renewal of their strength.-^ The times of sacrifice are the same as of old.^ The blood of the victim is still poured out, and the immolation of the horse is still the great ceremonial. To this is ascribed efficacy to destroy sin.^ Yet in reality all is changed. The sacrifice is now far more a purification than an ex- piation or the mysterious sustenance of the gods. That which has to be purged away is chiefly the earthly existence itself, which is always imperfect from the very fact of its limitation, since there is no real good save in the absolute being, in the ineffable One who is adored vmder the name of Brahma. The life of the body is in itself a defilement. Hence the rites used at the birth of the child are designed for the purification of its body. The foetus itself is to be purified by an offering of fire. The tonsure and the sacred cord complete the purifica- tion of the novice from any remaining defilements of his birth. ^ It is clearly said that sacred study, pious observ- ances, offerings of fire, offerings to the gods, the procrea- tion of sons, the five great ablutions, and the solemn sacrifices prepare for the final absorption into the Divine Being, which is consummated by the destruction of the body.^ Nay, more, the study of the law, which holds the first place in this category, may be a substitute for all the other sacrifices, since, by means of contemplation, it ' "Laws of Manu," iii. 8i, et seq. * Ibid., xi. 261. * Ibid., iv. 25, 26. ^ Ibid., ii. 27. = Ibid., li. 28. BRAHMANISM. 205 enables the soul to anticipate the final union with Brahma, on condition, however, that this study be accompanied with great austerities. We have seen how the knowledge oi the Vedas is compared to a purifying flame. "All sins committed by men in thought, word, or deed, can be entirely consumed by the fire of their austerity." ^ Sacred formularies are equally efficacious. There is a formula which, repeated three times, purifies the greatest criminal, even if he has stolen gold from a Erahman.- The same effect is produced by the utterance of the mystic name of the god, especially if the breath is held in speaking it, as if to symbolise the voluntary annihilation of self.^ It is said expressly that to murmur thus the ineffable name of Brahma, is a far more effectual means of purification than all ablutions and sacrifices.* The Brahman who retains in his memory the complete Rig Veda would not be defiled by any crime whatsoever, even if he had killed all the inhabitants of the three worlds and accepted food from the vilest of men.^ Just as a clod of earth thrown into a great lake would disappear, so every guilty act is buried beneath the Veda. It was not possible to exalt the Vedas more highly than this and yet at the same time more completely to belie their spirit by changing the whole conception of worship. What place is there in this new system for that sacrifice of the earth and heavens which is the life of the universe ? Here everything centres in the knowledge of the sacred letter and in asceticism, as the means to annihilate the physical life, which. formerly was to be fostered and developed that it might feed and brighten the flame of Agni. The Brahmanic legislation gives some scope, however, for the development of the natural hfe of the family, since the third great duty of the I rahman is the per- petuation of the holy race. Now: ere in the ancient world is family life placed in such c, position of honour as in the laws of Manu. The hone is represented as a true sanctuary, where morning ant evening the father ofters his oblations, by which the whole world is up- • "Laws of Manu," xi. 238 — 245. ^ Ibid., xi. 249. » Ibid., xi. 251. ■• Ibid., ii. S3, 84, * Ibid., xi. 262. 2o6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. held. Hospitality is raised to the height of a sacri- fice. " The fulfilment of the duties of hospitality is the offering to men." There are minute regulations for marriage in the religious ceremonial, and a stern repro- bation of its being treated in any way as a matter of bargain between the father of the bride and his future son-in-law.^ The union between a young man and maiden, when it is contracted under the inspiration of mutual affection, is celebrated by sacred rites.^ Prompted by love, its end is the enjoyment of love. " He only is a perfect man who consists of three persons in one — his wife, him- self, and his son. The husband is declared to be one with the wife."* Chastity was a primary virtue.^ With a view to propagating the holy race, a man has the right, and it is indeed his duty, to seek for beauty in his wife. It is said of the Brahman : " Let him take a well-made woman, with a pleasant name, with the bearing of a swan or a young elephant, with fine hair, small teeth and soft limbs." ^ To observe mutual fidelity was the first duty of husband and wife.^ Marriage was, as a rule, indissoluble. A young girl was given once only in marriage. If she lost her husband, she was not to take the name of another man. " Wherever women are honoured," says the book of the law, " the gods are satisfied ; but where it is not so, all pious acts lose their virtue. Every family in which the women are hardly treated soon becomes extinct." ** Houses upon which the curse of the women rests, because due homage has not been paid them, go to ruin as under the effect of a magic spell. To every family in which the husband delights in his wife, and she in him, perpetual happiness is secured.® When the woman is radiant with beauty, all the house is gay also.^'^ The woman must be submissive first as a daughter, then as a wife.^^ She must be good-tempered, manage her household economically, and be absolutely faithful. ' "Laws of Manu,"iii. 70. * Ibid., iii. 33, ^•^ s^y. ^ Ibid., iii. 60. * Ibid., iii. 27, 30. * Ibid., iii. 10. "» Ibid., iii. 62. * Ibid., iii. 32. ' Ibid., ix. 101, 102. " Ibid., v. 148— 15 1. * Ibid., ix. 45. • Ibid., iii. ■;■?— 57. BRAHMANISM. 207 Unhappily this high-toned morality was relaxed in practice as far as the husband was concerned. The wife," it is said, "must be invariably faithful, and must revere her husband like a god, even when he has indulged in illicit amours." ^ The happiness of the family is valued at such a price, that even the offices of piety are subor- dinate to it. Neither sacrifice, nor fast, nor pious observ- ance can avail for the woman like the love and respect of her husband. These sentiments suffice to procure honour for her in heaven," as they have already secured her all respect upon earth. "Way must be made for a woman, as for a king, a bridegroom, or an aged man." ^ There can be no security for family life without a normal constitution of the State. Thus the Brahmanic legislation determines its organisation with great care and singular wisdom. The principal institution of the State is the monarchy. Its Divine origin is clearly re- cognised. The king is expressly enjoined to rely upon the Brahmans and to favour them.^ The rules laid down for him in the performance of his duties both in peace and war, are based on high-minded and liberal principles. He is never to strike a defenceless enemy." He is the great guardian of justice ; this is his true priesthood." "When justice, wounded by injustice, presents itself before the judges, and the judges do not draw out the dart, they are themselves wounded. Justice strikes when it is wounded, and protects when it is main- tained.^ It is the only friend that accompanies man after death. ** Punishment is a celestial being, created by the gods, in order to ensure to all the possession of their rights.^ It is a king, full of courage, of sombre hue, but keen eye, which governs the human race, protecting the feeble against the strong. It would strike even the king if he strayed from the path of his duty." ^° This social morality is based upon a general morality of singular purity, in which we trace the righteous reaction of conscience against speculative errors. The laws of ' "Laws of Manu," v. 154. ■• Ibid., vii. 37, 38, 58. ^ Ibid., viii. 12. * Ibid., V. 155. * Ibid., vii. 90—93, * Ibid., viii. 17. • Ibid., ii. 138. 6 Ibid., viii. 311. » Ibid., vii. 14. '• Ibid., vii. 17, 28. 2o8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. Manu do not contain only particular precepts, admirable in themselves, such as those which enjoin the forgiveness of injuries,^ the gene;'ous sharing of the necessaries of life with others, and w^acchfulness against incitements to evil by which the purity of even a wise man may easily be sullied.^ These lofty maxims are connected with great general principles f)r the regulation of the entire life, principles which ri^.e far above the downward religious conception of Brahrr anism. In the first place, the authority of conscience is appealed to in addition to tha; of the sacred code and of tradition, although the law n-tains its supremacy, even when it seems to enjoin that which is evil. "The law," we read in one significant pr.ssage, " has for its basis the entire Veda, the injunctions and practices of those who possess it, the immemorial cistoms of the great and good, and in doubtful cases the sense of inward satisfaction." ^ We know, indeed, that t!.e written law was too often allowed to overrule the higher promptings of the inward law ; but it is nevertheless a great thing that the authority of con- science should have been able to assert itself in the face of tradition and ritual. This authority is unequivocally affirmed in the following passages : " The soul is its own witness and its own refuge. Let us not despise our soul, that imerring witness." ^ " The wicked sa}' to them- selves : ' None sees us,' but the gods see them, as does the spirit that is in them." ^ " While thou sayest : ' I am alone,' in thy heart there dwells all the time that supreme spirit, the silent observer of all good and all evil ; there is a severe judge ; there is a god." ^ Truthfulness is enjoined as a virtue of the first order.^ All things are determined by the word ; from t!ie word it is they all proceed. The rogue who falsifies the word for his own purposes, falsifies the basis of all things. Sometimes the moral idea has enough power to break the fetters of sacerdotalism. Religious observances are declared to be worse than use- less, when they are observed from interested motives.^ A sacrifice is nullified by a lie, the merit of austere practices ' "Laws of Manu," viii. 313. * Ibid., viii. 84. ' Ibid., iv. 175. * Ibid., lii. 114, ei seq. ° Ibid., viii. 85. * Ibid., xi. lO. ' Ibid., iL 6. • Ibid., viii. 91. BRAHMANISM. 209 by vanity, and charitable actions by boastfulness.^ " Though (by his learning and sanctity) a Brahman may be entitled to accept presents, let him not attach himself (too much) to that habit; for through his accepting (many) presents the Divine light in him is soon extin- guished." ^ The very rule of caste seems to give way to a higher nobility. *' It is not years, nor grey hairs, nor parentage which impart greatness ; he is great who knows the Vedas." ^ "An ignorant Brahman is like an elephant made of wood."^ There is something even higher than sacred knowledge, since this only confers superiority when it is accompanied with the virtue which resists the impulses of passion. Even with less knowledge of the sacred books, the Brahman who exercises self-control is greater than he who yields to temptation.^ Forgetting his implacable severity towards all that is outside the holy caste, the legislator, in a sudden access of charity, allows almsgiving even to heretics.^ This whole system of morals may be thus summed up : " Contentment, the act of returning good for evil, temper- ance, purity, repression of that which is sensual, the knowledge of the holy books, union with the supreme soul, truthfulness, and the avoidance of anger — these are the virtues which constitute our duty." ^ Being care- ful not to hurt any living being, the Brahman should add to his virtue, as the white ants enlarge their habita- tion.^ Let him remember that man comes into the world alone, that he dies alone, and receives alone the recom- pense of his good deeds, and that, in order that he may not have to pass alone through the impenetrable darkness, he must have merit as his companion.^ It would be impossible that, in view of this lofty moral ideal, the Brahman should not have also at least an occasional consciousness of sin, and that he should not desire some other expiation than the mere purification of the defilement of the body or the recitation of sacred formulas. The confession of wrong done is indeed pre- ' "Laws of Manu," iv. 237. ^ Ibid., ii. 157. ' Ibid., vi. 92. 2 Ibid., iv. 186. * Ibid., ii. 118. 8 Ibid., iv. 238. • Ibid., ii. 154. « Ibid., iv. 32. * Ibid., iv. 240, 242. 14 210 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. sented as the first expiation. When it is sincere the man is freed from guilt, " as a snake from its slough." ^ Wrong done to others must also be repaired by restitution of the goods unjustly acquired, as well as by austerities and prayers. In the third place, the offender must repent, and he is only absolved when he says ; " I will do so no more." ^ Lastly, he is to rise above mere formalism in the exercises of his devotion. " If, after having made expiation, his mind is still uneasy, let him repeat the austerities (prescribed as a penance) till they fully satisfy (his conscience)." ^ It must not be forgotten that prayer forms a part of these devotions. We may then venture to believe that there sometimes rose from the lips of the penitent, some- thing hke an echo of the sublime penitential hymns of the Veda which we have already cited. And yet this invocation of the supreme pity died away in empty air, so long as the worshipper of Brahma re- mained shut up within the narrow circle of his religion. His god did not, like Indra, incline his ear to receive his groaning, for he was lost in the dull void of unconscious- ness. All this high religious morality was objectless, since the ultimate ideal was not to live well, but to cease to live at all, the individual losing himself by contemplation and asceticism in the supreme soul, the immutable Brahma. The higher grade of holiness towards which the Brahman was to be ever striving, was the life of the anchorite, for which he was to leave the family home and bury him- self in the depths of the forest. Even while living as a husband and father, he is bound often to seek soli- tude in order to meditate on the future blessedness of his soul, and that he may attain to felicity.* W^hen the time so long looked forward to comes at length, he leaves his house, carrying with him a few utensils, keeping silence, all desire dead, and devotes himself to a life of asceticism. He is to meditate in silence and fix his mind on the Divine Being. A hut of earth or the roots of a great tree for his habitation, scanty garments, and absolute soli- tude— these are the signs which distinguish the Brahman who is aspiring after the final deliverance. He may not ■ "Laws of Manu," xi. 229, ^ Ibid., xi. 234. * Ibid., xi. 231. * Ibid., vi. 61, et seq. BRA HMA NISM. 2 1 1 desire either life or death, but await the moment appointed for him, as a servant waits for his wages. ^ This is the final term of that adoration of Brahma in which all in- dividuality is lost. The fundamental idea of the religion of the Hindoos, long veiled under its brilliant mythology, thus reveals its true nature, and approaches that doctrine of annihilation which is to be its ultimatum, in spite of the righteous protests of conscience. § IV. — The Messiah of the Brahmans in the Epic Poems of India. Brahma, the abstract, motionless god, who rather resembles no-being than the principle of life, could not long suffice for the religious needs of the people. In spite of the honour put upon the family life, it was well under- stood that the final goal to be reached w^as the stern asceticism of the solitary, who sought to imitate his god by quenching in himself all individual life, and putting away all that forms the charm of existence. The con- science of the people prevailed, as it always does, in the end, and made its claims heard by the leaders of religion, who contented themselves with giving a political and speculative response. They could not return to the gods of the past, to the valiant Indra, Agni, and Soma ; but they retained what was compassionate and helpful in their attributes, and tried to perpetuate their better element by ascribing it to other gods, who, if they were not new, were at Jeast so transformed as to be brought as near as possible to poor humanity. Thus was founded the worship of the Divine deliverers in human form, those incarnate gods who, under the names of ^iva, Vishnu, Rama, and Bhagavat, played so important a part in the religious evolution of the Indians, both before Buddhism and after. This cultus was sometimes divided among various sects, each attaching itself to the worship of one of these gods to the exclusion of the rest, or at least placing its particular god so high above his ancient rivals, that he seemed to reign alone, ^iva and Vishnu were by turns the favourite gods of great religious com- '■ " Laws of Manu," vi. 45, 212 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. munities. We shall not follow the complicated history of these sects, because they belong to a later development. The attempt made to unite in one common worship, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and (^iva the Destroyer, also belongs to modern history. This essen- tially metaphysical trinity represents the absolute under three forms, and gives us a sort of triple evolution of the Divine unity.^ We shall content ourselves with briefly explaining in its fundamental idea, the religious conception by which the Divine incarnations were multiplied, as it comes out in the two most ancient poems of India. Even though they may have been considerably modified in their transmission through various sects, it is beyond question, that they represent a general tendency of the Indian mind, by which the transition was effected from Brahmanism to the laws of Manu and to Buddhism. Of the two great Indian poems, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, the former is the more ancient. Without dwelling on the numberless interpolations it contains, we may say there is no certain indication by which to determine the date of its original compilation. It appears to us probable that, in its elementary form at least, it was antecedent to Buddhism, for it contains not a single allusion to it. In any case, in this changeless land, where a century is as a day, the substance of the ideas contained in these two great poems certainly dates from the period when the hearts of men began to be stirred by ardent aspirations after a god less remote, less dreary, than the old Brahma, even before the time had come for openly forsaking his worship. It is to these aspirations that satisfaction is given in the epic poems in which the supreme god appears as a hero. He no longer dwells on high, like Indra, in the bright clouds ; he has truly come down to this earth on which we live and suffer and struggle. Truly man, he fights side by side with men and for them ; yet he is still the greatest of the gods even in the earthly form which he has assumed in order to accomplish his work of deliverance. He is, indeed, the Messiah of Brahmanic India. ' For all this history of the Indian sects, see Earth's "Religions of India." BRA HMA NISM. 2 13 The human gods of the great poems are completely distinct from Buddha, inasmuch as they do not enter into conflict with the ancient gods. They belong even by their names to the Vedic pantheon, and they leave Brahma to sleep his eternal sleep, without disturbing him at all with the noise of their battles. They take his place as supreme, at least in the direct influence upon hearts and minds, as he himself had taken the place of the gods of the Vedas, whose worship had never ceased, though they had been relegated to comparative obscurity. The revolution was effected gradually and quietly, without struggles or schism. It is easy to connect with the ancient religion, under its two forms — the Vedic and Brahmanic — the origin of the human gods who henceforth occupy the foremost place. They form at first one and the same divinity under various names, (^iva, Rudra, Rama, are originally only appellations or manifestations of Vishnu. Subse- quently, no doubt, Civa becomes a distinct character and the object of a particular worship. But we find nothing like this in the two great epic poems. In the Mahabharata, ^iva is worshipped by the same title as Vishnu ; they form one and the same divinity, at once supreme and human, ^iva is hardly mentioned in the Vedas. Yet we recognise him in Rudra, the father of the Maruts, the lightning gods already identified with Agni. He is thus preparing for the formidable part to be assigned to him later, but at this period his consuming flames are for the behoof of man. Rudra-^iva appears in a new character in the hymn to The hundred Riidras, inserted in all the editions of the Yajur-Veda. He is there represented as the god of the people, the patron of all craftsmen, the head of the armies, the god of the brave, whether soldiers or brigands. It only remains to identify him with Vishnu, and he becomes the incarnate god of the Mahabharata.^ We have already seen Vishnu occupying a very exalted place in the Vedas as sun-god. " Friend Vishnu," says Indra to him, "arm thyself, and roll the thunder across the sky. Strike Vritra" (the serpent). His beneficent * Earth, "Religions of India," p. 163. 214 THE ANCIEN7 WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. character was expressed in the praj^er : " Grant us thine aid, O swift god. Look upon us with an eye of favour, that we may be enriched." He becomes a human god by being confounded with Krishna, who rapidly rises very high in the Indian pantheon. He is at first simply the disciple of a sage ; then he becomes a god of the people, like ^iva, as is shown by the dramatic representa- tions of his adventures given three centuries before Christ. As he becomes more and more identified with Vishnu, he shares in the suprem.acy of the old solar gods, and in the end concentrates in himself the myths of the fire, the lightning, and the storm. In return, he imparts to Vishnu life and movement. By means of this evolution Vishnu finally becomes pre-eminently the human god, always ready for incarnation. In the Bhagavad Gita, which is of much later date than the Mahabharata and the Rama- yana, he is made to say : " Every time that religion is in danger and that impiety triumphs I issue forth." ^ This is the theory of the Avataras, or the " Descents," the series of hypostases of the deity in order to assure the triumph of good. Rama is another representation of Vishnu. We shall see how far he assumes the character of a human hero in the poem which bears his name.^ At the period of the two great epic poems, the theory of the Avataras is still in embryo. They are the first popular expressions of the deep-felt need of bringing the god near to man, of making him a sharer in man's con- flicts and sufferings, in order that he may give the help without which victory cannot be won. There is as yet no "^isystematised philosophy, for the old Brahmanic idea is retained, though in subordination. The Mahabharata requires a submission so absolute to the masters of sacred science, that even that which is evil must be done if so enjoined. The disciple must give to the Brahman part of all he receives. The ascetic lives in solitude in a state of exaltation not to be described.^ He possesses the • " Bhagavad Gita," iv. 7, 8. ^ On this subject of the incarnation, see Barth, "Religions of India," "Hinduism," p. 159, ct scq. * We quote the Mahabharata from M. Fauche's translation, in 10 BRATIMANISM. 215 knowledge of the divine, the supreme good, and by his prayers and austerities he is in a manner raised even above the gods. He reduces the enemy to ashes more readily than Agni himself. All this is done by the mighty magic, the sacramental virtue of the formula. These devotees order by the truth the goings of the sun, and uphold the world by their penitence. Sacred science is omnipotent. If a man had committed more sins than all the rest of the world put together, he could be carried safely across this ocean of sins in the bark of divine knowledge.^ We find in the Mahabharata the cosmogony of the laws of Manu. The eternal Brahma is represented as the supreme certainty, the eternal light, comprehending in himself the birth, death, and resurrection of all that live. It is true that in another passage, Vishnu is in his turn represented as the eternal, absolute one, the god of being and not-being at the same time ; the lord of all that moves and of all that moves not. This identification of Brahma with Vishnu is indeed quite in harmony with the old syncretism of the Vedas.^ The solar myths constantly reappear with their brilliant metaphors, as in the fine passage in which the two Acvins are compared to two skilful weavers, weaving alternately the white of the dawn and the black veil of night, which they spread over the sun. The solar myths are constantly confounded with the epic story of the battles between the Pandus, the sons of the Aryans, and the children of Kama. It is a renewal under another form of the eternal struggle of light with darkness, w'ith its counterpart upon earth, in which those who represent the principle of light are incessantly com- bating the sons of the demons. The Mahabharata rings from end to end with the clash of arms in giant con- flicts, which are described with as much minuteness of detail as exaggeration of the number and strength volumes. The poem is divided into eighteen parts, each with its distinct name, as the Vana-parva, "Forest Chapter"'; BhJshnia-parva, "Book of Bhishma"; Karna-pmva, " Book of Kama," etc. The numbering of the series recommences with each part. ' Bhishma-parva, v. 1028. * Ibid., see opening verses. 2i6 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of the combatants. We must not look for plan or sequence in these extravagant poems, in which the genius of the Indian race displays its singular brilliance in the description of nature, but allows its vivid imagination to run riot, breaking through all definite and recognised forms. The poetic soul of the Indian seems to delight in those limitless aspects of nature which overpower it with their grandeur. What can be more sublime for example, than the description of the sea, in the Mahabharata ? It is represented as the vast cave of the waves, its waters ever surging and restless, peopled with fishes, sharks, and living creatures innumerable. It is the mother of all gems, the monarch of the rivers, the habitation of the flames of hades, at once awful and divine, the bottomless laboratory in which the ambrosia of the gods is prepared. Its tumult strikes terror into the hearts of all that live, as, driven by the stormwind, it dashes itself against the shore, rears itself up in fierce agitation, and dances, making its waves clap their hands. It is the glorious couch of Vishnu, when, on the eve of the world's renovation, he begins to taste the ecstasy of absorption. Upon its breast floats the lotus from which emerges Brahma, the father of all that live. The great forest which is the constant theatre of the complicated action of these poems, is described in a still more m.ajestic manner. Is it not, indeed, the most faith- ful image of India, with its depths of darkness under the shade of the thick trees, with its intersecting glades, and the mysterious whisperings among its leaves, as the wind sweeps through them like the breath of the Infinite ? In spring, the forest is the garden of India, all perfumed with flowers, when the great trees rain down blossoms, or bend beneath their weight of fruit. It seems like the unfurled banner of the Lord. A soft, balmy wind plays in the branches. The forest, clothed anew in living green, re-echoes to the song of birds and murmur of innumerable bees. All creatures are intoxicated with the wine of new life. Deer, buffaloes, tigers, roam through the woods. The elephant seeks his mate in the forest depths ; and soft v/avelets of sound thrill through the lotus leaves as they open to the sun. BRAHMANISM. 217 It is in this enchanted spot that the Mahabharata places the idyll of Sakuntala, the betrothed of the young king. Forsaken by him under the influence of an evil spell, she only regains his affections after the most cruel ordeals. The characters thus sketched are truly human. Nothing could be more pathetic than the picture of Savita, weeping over the corpse of her husband, taken away from her by Yama, and winning the promise that he should come back by such lamentations as these : — " No joy for me without my husband. Without him, I desire not heaven ; I desire not happiness ; I desire not life." Over the mortal remains of her father and mother, the young girl cries : " They live in me." Even in this poem we find an appeal to the voice of conscience as the highest authority. Sakuntala, the de- serted wife, remonstrating with the king Dushyanta for his evil deeds says: "If you think I am alone, you do not know that wise man within your heart. He knows of your evil deed — in his sight you commit sin. A man who has committed sin may think that no one knows it. The gods know it, and the old man within." ^ Feelings of gentleness and consideration for others blossom out under the influence of the more human gods. To them is due the respect shown for human life, even in the tumult of the battlefield. The last utterance of the dying warrior whose passing is compared to the setting of the sun, is a word of pardon. " Let the father be given back to the son, and brother to brother." Another warrior says : " He who gives a trembling fugitive into the enemy's hand, will see his son die before the time. Turn not away from friend or servant, nor from any who asks help of thee." We must now look more closely at these human gods, whom the religious consciousness of India made for itself, in its alarm at feeling itself so far from Brahma. It is he himself who in the Mahabharata proclaims the incarnation of a god-deliverer. He says: "It is impossible for the Asuras and even for the gods to overcome the evil genii. This is the means I have chosen to subdue them. Vishnu, Mahab. v 3c 15- 16. 21 8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. the four-armed, the bravest of warriors, shall come down and do this work.^ " Be thou born upon the earth," says Brahma to Vishnu, "and beget heroes to be thy com- panions in the family of monkeys." ^ Monkeys represent the good genii, the allies of the holy race in their battles with powerful foes. Vishnu soon ceases to be the mere minister of the will of Brahma. He becomes himself under the name of ^iva, as well as under his own name, the cause of causes, the most powerful and subtle of beings, the sovereign of the gods.^ " I am haopy," exclaims one warrior, " though I am banished from heaven. I have seen the giver of all gifts, under one of his forms, and touched his hands." Vishnu speaks thus of his incarnation : " Though I was not born and my life is immortal, I, the sovereign of all beings, command my own nature, and am born of myself by magic, whenever there is a failure in virtue and increase of vice. Then I produce myself for the preservation of the good and the destruction of the wicked and the restoration of truth.* I am not visible to man. I have neither beginning nor end ; I am before the gods, the typal man, the Lord.^ The wicked despise me in the body which I have assumed. I am the soul which is in all beings. I am in all sacrifices, in all prayer." ^ The worshipper of Vishnu falls at his feet adoring in him the universal god. "Thy beams, O Brahma," he exclaims, "consume the whole universe. Thou art Yama, Agni, Varuna, Prajapati." ^ " Thinking thee my friend, a man like myself," says his companion in arms, " I called thee abruptly. Ho ! Krishna !^ and behold this man apparently like his fellows, was in truth the supreme god, came down into the world of men, to be born again upon earth and to overcome the Asuras." ^ " Where Krishna is, there is duty, there is victory ! " The sons of Pandu are sustained by the alliance made * Vana-parva, V. 15-932. * Ibid., v. I136, I145, 1173. * Ibid., V. 159-33. « Ibid., V. 1223, 1224. ■ Karna-parva, v. 1558— 1562. ' Ibid., v. 12S5. * Bhishma-parva, v. 999, 1000. " Ibid., v. 12^7. • Ibid., V, 2990. BRAHAIANISM. 219 with him. " He about whom thou dost ask me, the leader of the holy armies, is the eternal god, (J^iva himself." ^ He has made himself the son of an earthly king in order to crush the enemies of the holy race. The great god mounted in the chariot of the world, with the four Vedas for steeds, and by whose dart the Asuras have been pierced through, has made himself upon earth the driver of the war-chariot of the Pandus.^ " Thanks to his valour, the heaps of slain foes are like high mountains upheaved from their foundations, with their trees, their rocks and flowers. There lie great elephants wounded, bellowing and bleeding. Beside them are the corpses of heroes, and the ground is covered with the slain like the sinuous trail of a serpent." ^ This allusion to the serpent carries us back to the cosmical idea of the eternal conflict between darkness and light which is always in the background of these battles between the holy race and its foes. The victorious people know well that he in whom they triumph is not a human hero, but a son of god who has put the battalions of the enemy to flight. They see in him the adorable lord of the universe, with the power of three worlds at command, sending forth his arrows."* Has the Indian religion really gained anything by this incarnation of the supreme god ? Has he thus become more real, more living ? We think not. In his earthly manifestation, he is after all only a changing form of the hidden, invisible, immutable god. This changing form seems to have gained a certain individuality, by becoming human, but it is only a semblance, just because it is changing, and to-morrow some other form equally evanescent will take its place. We never for a moment arrive at a distinct moral personality. It eludes us just as we are about to approach it. Man cannot unite himself truly to this impalpable divinity ; he can no more grasp it than the hand can grasp water. His own personality is after all only a semblance ; it also is but a changing form of the one substance in which all individuality is absorbed. Hence the hope of immortality, after being ' Bhishma-parva, v. 3009. ' Ibid., v. 4S98, 4906. * Karna-parva, v. 1524, 1525. * Ibid., v. 1568. 220 THE ANCIEN7 WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. admirably expressed, ends in mere absorption, as in this significant passage of the Mahabharata : " Just as in the present lixC, we pass first through childhood, then maturity, then old age, so death gives us another body. Thus the Vvdse man does not trouble himself. The arrows cannot pierce the soul, nor the fire burn it, nor the waters drown, nor the winds dry it up ; it is imperishable. It is not born ; it dees not die ; it is eternal." ^ What does this mean but that the soul is only an ephemeral mani- festation of the one substance ? Thus, at death it puts on a new body like a garment, and enters the vortex of metamorphoses, unless it has attained here below by sacred science to the ineffable union with Brahma. It follows that the Messiah of the Indian epic is not a true deliverer since he is not a real person. Hence his v/ork has not the character of a true redemption. It is a system of magic in which there is no distinction between the natural and the supernatural. This divine magic is constantly intervening in the life of nature and of man ; indeed it is itself an element in the law of per- petual transformation. It bears no resemblance to the intervention of a free Being for the reparation of wrong in the world. In fact, there is nothing wrong. We have simply the repetition upon earth of the cosmic struggles going on under the laws of fatality. The free action of man is distinctly denied. When he does not obey the will of a master, he is governed by some antecedent necessity in his life. He feels himself to be the toy of an unknown power, and he is in reality only one of the transitory modes of the universal life. There is but one thing for him to do, namely to aspire to lose himself in the infinite, and to extinguish those restless desires, the tendency of which is to reinforce the indivi- dual fife. Hence we do not wonder when in the midst of these martial strains, at a moment when it would seem as if there was everything to stir the pulses of action, we find a strange disgust with life which becomes the keynote of Buddhism. There must be a drawing back from outward things, as the tortoise shrinks back into ' Bliishma-parva, v. 1157. BRA HMA NISM. 221 its shell, that the mind may be wholly absorbed in the contemplation of the absolute Being. The final stage is one of complete passivity, all action is left behind, even desire is dead/ This brings us to the verge of Buddhism.^ ' See the first part of the Bhishma-parva, v. 11 78. ^ The same conclusions are arrived at in the Ramaj'ana, which is more tender and human in its strains than the Mababharata. We find there the same incarnation of the supreme god with perhaps a fuller par- ticipation in the afi'ections and sorrows of our human life ; the same victorious conflicts, symbolising cosmical crises ; and the same ascetic pantheism underlying the whole conception of things. The Bhagavata Purana, translated by Burnouf, is of much later date, and treats of nature as a lying illusion. It is the seductive Maj'a, the false courtesan, whose eyes are like stars, and whose magic spells fill the world with trouble. She represents material life with its miseries and the bondage of the creature. The soul is attacked by the five senses as by five brigands in the forest of existence. The purpose of Vishnu in his incarnations, in which he changes his appearance like an actor in a masquerade, is to free us from this material life. He has taken it upon himself as one may use one thorn to extract another. This is Buddhism in its essence. All that is wanting now is the legend and the name of Cakyamuni. CHAPTER III. BUDDHA} BUDDHISM is the last term in the logical develop- ment of the religion of India, though Brahmanism has never ceased to exist side by side with it ; and has even in the end, expelled it from the land which was its cradle, while leaving it in possession of a great part of the Oriental world. The religion of Buddha is only the gradual development of the dominant idea of the national cultus, under the combined influence of an ascetic piety, and a subtle and profound system of metaphysics. The nihilism which is its final utterance, really underlies all naturism even when it assumes the brilliant garb of the Vedic poetry. To seek in nature the Divine Absolute, is to enquire of her for that which she has not to give ; it is a quest that can but end in disappointment, for all that is simply natural fades and perishes. The ephemeral life of nature, is in comparison with that which the soul ' It is not possible to take in a note even the most cursory glance at the literature on this subject. I shall merely indicate the books to which I refer most frequently. Max Mi'tller, " Chips from a German Workshop," vols. i. ii. Burnonf, "Introduction a I'histoire du Buddhisme Indien," 1848. Barth, "The Religions of India." Barthelcuiy St. Hilaire, " Le Buddhisme et sa religion," 1862. Se'iiart, " Essai sur la religion de Buddha, son caractere et ses origines," 1875- "Non-Christian Religious Systems. Buddhism," by F. W. Rhys Davids, London, 1882, an excellent resume taken from many sources. "History of Buddhism. Cakyamuni," by Mrs. Mary Summer, with preface and index by MM. Ed. Foucaux and Ernest Leroux, 1874. We must also mention as most valuable, the delineation of Buddhism given by M. Renan in his new " Etudes d'iiiitoire reli- gieuse," 18S4. "Le Buddhisme et le Qhx'xiX^hy Alfred Porret,\s^.•!\ eloquent parallel drawn between the two Messiahs. On the modern developrrent of Buddhism, see "Manual of Buddhism in its modern development," translated from Singhalese MSB. by R. Spence Hardy, 1853. The papers on Buddhism by M. L. Feer, in the Asiatic Journal, aie of great interest. See also Oldenber^, " Buddhism." BUDDHA. 2 2,3 athirst for the infinite, seeks in her, as empty nothing- ness. This changing, perishable being, ever loolving forth with a new face from its successive metamorphoses, is equivalent to not-being. We have seen Brahmanism removing out of their place the gods of light, of quickening and consuming fire, and lastly the god of the eternal conflict, the valiant Indra, and substituting for them the silent, inert Brahma, the ineffable One, in whom all individual life is to be absorbed by means of asceticism and contemplation, after passing through the final ordeals of metempsychosis which only prolong its agitation to no pur- pose. Nothing could be a more hopeless prospect than tliis of the mysterious absorption of being in the infinite, which is not even annihilation. Moreover, before arriving at this submergence in the dark and fathomless path of asceti- cism and contemplation by the abyss, the worshipper of Brahma is plunged into the vortex of life on earth, as the head of a family bearing his part in the turmoil and suffering incident to such a lot. If tliese v'aried exercises were designed, as in the religions of Egypt and Persia, to prepare him for a blissful eternity, there would be a counterbalancing good. But it is not so. Men are like the ephemera that sport for a moment in the rays of the sun, only to die of inanition with the first chills of evening. Life is thus deprived of all end and aim, and is only one long abnegation of that which for an instant it has been permitted to enjoy. We can well understand then how it should come to be regarded as an evil in itself, an evil without a remedy ; and how the only gospel for such a people to whom existence v/as a curse, would be the gospel of annihilation. This was what Buddha proclaimed to a race sick to death of the ill of living. If he liad been content to preach annihilation under the form of a cold and abstract metaphysical doctrine, he would not have found the way to the hearts of the people, and held thousands of disciples hanging on his lips, disciples who in their turn were to win over whole nations. But his teaching was first of all a life. He was in his own person an incarnation of his doctrine; it was kindled at the flame of his loving heart ; it w*as realised in his life of purity and devo- 2 24 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY, tion, for he lived out the ideal which he set up. It is vain to attempt to reduce him to a mere personification of the old solar myths. One feels that the vast move- ment which bears his name, must have originated in a personal influence, in a true type of humanity, who could speak to the heart, and whose image, full of moral beauty, stands forth in relief against the phantasmagoria of a complicated and often absurd mythology. However delusive in the end the consolation he brought, it was a great thing to have possessed the consoler himself, to have seen and heard him, or at least, to know that he had been seen and heard, that he had trodden with his own feet the rough ways of human life. He responded to the universal heart-felt cry of humanity for a deliverer who should come near to it, one who should weep its tears and bear its burdens. There had been an attempt to meet this same need in the religious movement of which the great Indian poems are the expression. Vishnu and (^iva were made to descend from the heights of heaven to do heroic battle as men against the enemies of the holy race. But they bore too close a resemblance to their worshippers, being subject like them to all the impulses of passion. Their only weapons were the vulgar arts of magic, which astonished without elevating the soul. Buddha, who is of humbler origin, since at least in the primitive form of the tradition concerning him, he is but an ordinary man, is endowed nevertheless with moral excellence which assures to him a far greater power over hearts. He is at once nearer to man and more exalted. This moral excellence comes out not only in his unsullied purity, but also and above all in the spirit of his life and work, which was always that of the most tender charity towards all living beings. To him may be applied the description of One greater than he : he was truly a man " moved with compassion." The philosophical outcome of his teaching is indeed dark and hopeless, since it consists in representing being as in itself an evil ; but if the moral inspiration of a doctrine be high and holy, it can outweigh mistake and error. Thus the terrible doctrine of predestination in the sixteenth century pro- duced admirable results, because the inspiration of this BUDDHA. 225 stern system was the ardent desire to reassert the sovereignty of God as opposed to the insolent pretensions of the creature. In Hke manner, doctrine of despair though Buddhism was, the charity which animated its founder, conjured, at least in part, its evil influence, and won for him a great following of the suffering and the despised. How could these but rally round a master, who, without violently breaking the barriers of caste, practically overstepped them, and addressed himself to every man as a brother, to whom he brought a word of deliverance ? Mournful as was theburden of this doctrine, it at least recognised the equality of men. Nothing could be less revolutionary than the teaching of Buddha, in its original form. He connected it closely with the past, only breaking the husk which enclosed the fruit, not snapping the branches which bore it ; for this divine fruit had ripened well upon the great tree of the religion of his forefathers, beneath which so many genera- tions had found shelter. Buddha did not smite it with the hatchet ; the severance came later. In the history of Buddhism we must carefully distin- guish the early times when everything came under the teaching and personal influence of the master, from its later developments. We find in this period all the cha- racteristic traits of Buddhism, but its metaphysical system, though already formulated, is presented only in a poetic garb. Over it is thrown a veil woven of the fair flowers of parable. It is not possible indeed at any stage in the history of Buddism to free it entirely from the legendary element, and so to determine exactly what comes from Buddha himself. But this is of little moment. The legend, at least in its early development, does not distort his physiognomy or his doctrine. It belongs to the primi- tive Buddhism of the creative period which went far beyond the life of the master. The legend gives the impression produced by him, and forms an essential part of this great religious movement. Even in much later times, we trace in the developments of this legend (when- ever they are not mere travesties), clear indications of genuineness, and we may safely accept it as an illustration of the true Buddhist doctrine. It is of great importance 15 226 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRIS7IANITY. to distinguish between this doctrine and the mythological accretions by which it was soon overlaid ; as also that we should not confound its first purely secular realisation, with the monastic institution which both consolidated and narrowed it. We must be careful moreover, not to assign to the time of its origin, the constitution of Buddhism into a state religion under Agoka, although this was the most generous and liberal of state religions. It would be as great a mistake to identify the Buddhism of Buddha with that which became a state religion four centuries before Christ, as it would be to confound the gospel of Jesus Himself with the doctrine of the great councils of the fourth century. With these reservations, let us proceed to derive from the texts, some idea of primitive Buddhism. § I, — Primitive Buddhism.^ I. Buddha was born at Kapilavastu, the capital of the kingdom of that name, at the foot of the mountains of Nepaul. His father, the king of Kapilavastu, was one of the family of the Sakyas, and belonged to the clan of the Gautamas. " His mother was Mayadevi the daughter of ' The principal authorities on Buddhism are the following: 1. Southern authorities: The Pitakas or collections which are sup- posed to have formed part of the Canon fixed at the council of Patna under A9oka, 260 b.c, which presupposes a much earlier date for the writings composing them. 2. Northern sources : The principal are the Lalita-Vistara, translated from the Sanscrit by M. Foucaux ("Musee Guimet, tome vi. Paris ; Ernest I eroux, 1884). As a Chinese translation of the Lalita-vistara was in existence in the first century a.d. its composition may be assigned to a 3^et earlier date. We take most of our quotations from the Lalita-vistara, the "Lotus de la bonne loi," translated by Burnouf (Paris, 1S85) which also forms part of the sacred books of the North. For the biography of Buddha, as far as it can be freed from the o\er- growth of legend, I have availed myself largely of Mr. David's excellent re'siiine, which seems to make a judicious selection among the more ancient Siitras. Here internal evidence pla3'S a legitimate part. The simplest is obviously the oldest. We may refer lastly to the " Sept Suttas Palis tires du Digha-Nikaya," M. P. Grimblot. (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1871). This gives a confirmation of the atheism of Buddha, and of his negation of all immortality, especially in the Brahma-Jala-Sutta, which contains a sort of excommunication of the Brahmanic doctrines on these two points. (Se^ the Introduction by M. Gogerly.) BUDDHA. 227 king Suprabuddha. Buddha was therefore by birth of the Kshatriya or warrior caste, and he took the name of Sakya from his family and that of Gautama from his clan." ^ He was subsequently called ;-)iddhartha (he whose objects have been accomplished). Endowed with all the gifts of genius and physical beauty, lie easily outstripped all his comrades and even his masters in feats of bodily and intellectual strength. But from his childhood he was possessed by a deep melancholy from which nothing could divert him. Those around could see no cause for it, but it was in truth the sorrow of the world, the insoluble problem of life which was weighing on his soul. In the hope of turning the current of his thoughts, he was married to the beautiful Gopa, the daughter of Dandapam. The marriage proved one of the happiest, but Buddha remained as he had been before, absorbed in meditation on the problems of life and death. " Nothing is stable on earth," he used to say, ** nothing is real. Life is like the spark produced by the friction of wood. It is lighted and it is extinguished — we know not whence it came or waither it goes. It is like the sound of a lyre, and the wise man asks in vain from whence it came and whither it goes. There must be some supreme intelligence where we could find rest. If I attained it, I could bring light to man ; if I were free myself, I could deliver the world." ^ The kirg, who perceived the melancholy mood of the young prince, tried everything to divert him from his speculations, but all was in vain. At length the decisive day came. One morning, when the young prince with a large retinue was driving through the eastern gate of the city, he met on the road an old man, broken and decrepit. One could see the veins and muscles over the whole of his body, his teeth chattered, he was covered with wrinkles, bald, and hardly able to utter hollow and unmelodioas sounds. He was bent on his stick, and all his limbs and joints trembled. " Who is that man?" said the prince to his coachman. " He is small and weak, his flesh and his blood are dried ' Max Miiller, "Chips from a German Wo.kshop, vol. i. p. 210. '■* Ibid., pp. 210, 211. 2i8 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. up, his muscles stick to his skin, his head is white, his teeth chatter, his body is wasted away ; leaning on his stick he is barely able to walk, stumbling at every step. Is there something peculiar in his family, or is this the common lot of all created beings ? " " Sir," replied the coachman, " that man is sinking under old age. His senses have become obtuse, suffering has destroyed his strength, and he is despised by his relations. He is without support and useless, and people have abandoned him, like a dead tree in a forest. But this is not peculiar to his family. In every creature, youth is defeated by old age. Your father, your mother, all your relations, all your friends, will come to the same state. This is the appointed end of all creatures." "Alas !" replied the prince, " are creatures so ignorant, so weak and foolish, as to be proud of the youth by which they are intoxicated, not seeing the old age which awaits them. As forme, I go away. Coachman, turn my chariot quickl}'. What have I, the future prey of old age, what have I tc do with pleasure ? " And the young prince returned to the city, without going to his park.^ Twice more he drove out in his chariot, only to en- counter on each occasion, some wretched, suffering fellow- creature. The first was a man at the point of death, parched and wasted with fever. "Alas!" exclaims Euddha, "health is but the sport of a dream, and the fear of suffering must take this frightful form. Where is the wise man who, after having seen what he is, could any longer think of joy or pleasure ? " The next time as he was driving to his pleasure garden through the western gate, the prince saw a dead body on the road, lying on a bier, covered with a cloth. The friendj stood about crying, sobbing, tearing their hair, covering their heads with dust, striking their breasts, and uttering wild cries. The prince again calling his coach- man to witness this painful scene, exclaimed : " Oh ! woe to 3'outh, which must be destroyed by old age ! Woe to health which must be destroyed by so many diseases ! Wee to this life, where a man remains so short a time ! ' " Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i. pp. 211, 212, BUDDHA. 229 If there were no old age, no disease, no death ; if these could be made captive for ever!" Then betraying for the first time his intentions, the young prince said : " Let us turn back, I must tl.ink how to accomplish deliverance." A last meeting put an end to his hesitation. He was driving through the noithern gate on the way to his pleasure gardens, when he saw a mendicant, who appeared outwardly calm, subdued, looking downwards, wearing with an air of dignity his religious vestment, and carrying an alms-bowl. "Who is this man ?" asked the prince. " Sir," replied the coachman, " this man is one of those who are called blikshus or niendicants. He has renounced all pleasures, all desires, and leads a life of austerity. He tries to conquer himself. He has become a devotee. Without passion, without envy, he walks about asking for alms." "This is good and well said," replied the prince. "The life of a devotee has always been praised by the wise. It will be my refuge, and the refuge of other creatures ; it will lead us to a real life, to happiness and immortality." With these words the young prince turned his chariot, and returned to the city.^ His resolution was taken — kingdom, glory, power, wife, all must be abandoned, while he shut himself up to lead in solitude the life of an ascetic. So far he had not gone in practice beyond the ideal of the Brahmans, who looked upon the life of the anchorite as the final goal to be reached. But he had already risen to a much fuller and higher conception of the religious life than theirs. He saw more clearly than any before him, the intensely sorrowful side of life. To him it appeared indeed only as a transparent veil cast over the death to which it leads, and which is therefore the only abiding reality. Hence he was not long satisfied with the teaching the Brahmans had to give him either at Vaisati or at Rajagriha. Having learnt all that the most illustrious Brahmans of the day could impart, he went away dis- appointed. In leaving them he still adhered to his faith ' " Chips frcm a German Worksliop," vol. i. pp. 213, 214. The whole cf this narrative is given in the Lalita-vistara,"' c. xiv. 230 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. in the virtue of asceticism, but he soon discovered that this also was vanity, at least under the idea then entertained of it ; for it was supposed to be a means of acquiring merit and power over outward things. Buddha felt that he must go further than this in self-renunciation. He therefore gave up his exercises, and was at once deserted as an apostate by his five remaining disciples. He now began to elaborate his own system. Lost in deep medita- tion, he descended every step in the ladder of existence, till he reached the point where it is lost in the darkness of the absolute void. To him the supreme deliverance seemed to be the conviction that nothing has any reality ; that gods, men, all beings in heaven and earth, are but a vain show, the foam upon the wave. Henceforward, in order to attain to salvation, existence must be regarded as a fatal illusion ; nay more, the very consciousness that it is so must be lost in the utter vacuum of absolute annihi- lation. It was from the moment when he arrived at this knowledge that he claimed the name of Buddha, the Enlightened ; for he was about, by his teaching, to illumi- nate in some sort the vasty deep in which all existence revolves, but of which man must become conscious, in order to escape from the mirage of this mortal life. " The union of the three worlds is destroyed as by fire, through the pangs of sickness and old age. The world having no protection, is consumed by the fire of death. The creature does not flee to save himself; in his infatuation he only buzzes about like a bee in a bottle ! " This is the revela- tion of which Buddha was the apostle. Before entering on this strange mission, he had to pass through a supreme moral conflict under the tree of temp- tation— the mystical fig-tree which was to play so important a part in the Buddhist mythology of later days. Under the name of the Bo-tree or tree of wisdom, it became to Buddha that which the cross is to Christians. In this solemn and crucial vigil, he was assailed by all the memories of his brilliant youth. The prestige of his royalty, the smiles and caresses of fair women, all that life has to offer of glory and pleasure, passed before him in a delicious and alluring dream. All day he battled with the false enchantment, and when night fell he was vie- BUDDHA. 231 torious. " He had grasped, as it seemed to him, the solution of the mystery of suffering, and had learned at once its causes and its cure. He seemed to have gained the haven of peace, and in the power over the human heart, of inward culture, and of love to others, to rest at last on a certitude that could never be shaken." * He said : " I now desire to turn the wheel of the excellent law, For this purpose I am going to the city of Benares, To give light to those enshrouded in darkness, And to open the gates of immortality to men." - In this desire to comfort and deliver, this vast pity for all suffering existence, this burning charity, lay, as we have already said, the secret of Buddha's power. In this the genius of his heart comes out as much greater than that of his head. His absolute pessimism and boundless nihilism might easily have led to selfishness and in- difference to the sorrows of others. He might well have said : Of what avail is it to concern myself for these m3'riads of insignificant beings, who only appear for a few short moments on the illusive surface of things ? . The life of the world is but a lightning flash in an unend- i ing night. Why not leave men to their brief illusion ? It will soon be over, after giving as much joy as sorrow to those who are deluded by it. Such is most frequently ] the conclusion of our Western pessimsm, but such was ' not Buddha's. Heart-struck with the horrors of our wretched existence, he could not leave his brethren a prey to its cruel deception. If he could not draw his pitying love from any higher source, since he recognised no great First Cause of being, he drew it from his own full heart. He was fired with an earnest desire to enlighten the ignorant of all classes. He was not satisfied with imparting to them his doctrine, although he himself had found in it the secret of deliverance. He had proved by experiment the futility of a stern, pitiless ascetism ; and he had compassion on the poor, the lowly, and the suffering. This compassion is explained even from his own peculiar point of view. As every evil comes from the conscious- ' "Buddhism," p. 40. * Ibid., p. 43. 232 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. ness of existence, and as suffering, no less than pleasure, stimulates this consciousness, everything must be done to soothe it to rest, as the surest way to lessen the woes of mankind. Thus this apostle of annihilation was the gentlest, the most kindhearted of masters, even devoting himself by preference to the classes that had so long endured the cruel contempt of the Brahmans. It must not be supposed that he repelled those who came to him - by presenting to them abruptly the sternest aspects of his doctrine. He imparted his teaching in poetic form, so as to make it popular before he showed what were the ultimate issues involved in it. The enchantment of his tender and humane teaching is poetically described in the following passage taken from one of the Sutras of the following age : " The evening was like a lovely maiden ; the stars were the pearls upon her neck, the dark clouds her braided hair, the deepening space her flowing robe. As a crown she had the heavens where the angels dwell ; these three worlds were as her body ; her eyes were the white lotus flowers, which open to the rising moon ; and her voice was, as it were, the humming of bees. To worship the Buddha, and to hear the first preaching of the vv'ord this lovely maiden came." ^ This initial teaching prepares the way for the final deliverance, by teaching man to escape from the dominion of the senses and to apprehend the "four noble truths with which his enfranchisement begins. These are : 1st Suffering or sorrow. Birth causes sorrow ; growth, decay, illness, death, all cause sorrow ; separation from objects we love, hating what cannot be avoided, and craving for tvkat cannot be obtained, cause sorrow ; briefly such states of mind as co-exist with the consciousness of individuality, with the sense of separate existence, are states of suffering and sorrow. "2nd. The cause of suffering. The action of the outward world on the senses excites a craving thirst for something to satisfy them, or a delight in the objects presenting themselves, either of which is accompanied by a lust of life. These are the causes of sorrow. ' Rhys Davids, " Buddhism," p. 46. BUDDHA. 211 " 3rd. The cessation 0/ sorrow. The complete conquest over and destruction of this eager thirst, this lust of life, is that by which sorrow ceases. " 4th. The path leading to the cessation of sorrow is the noble eightfold path briefly summed up in the description of a virtuous life/ At the head of the way of deliverance stands the "Middle Path" with its eight steps: "(i) right belief; (2) right feelings ; (3) right speech ; (4) right actions ; _ (5) right means of livelihood ; (6) right endeavour ; (7) right memory ; (8) right meditation." - By meditation man enters on the " noble path " of deliverance, which terminates in his exemption from all illusions. This end is, however, only attained by slow degrees and in passing through four stages which are, so to speak, the four great phases of the spirit. First. Conversion, which frees us (l) from the delusion of self; (2) from doubt as to the Buddha and his doctrines ; (3) from the belief in the efficacy of rites and ceremonies. Better than universal empire in this world, better than going to heaven, better than lordship over all worlds is this (threefold) fruit of the first Path."^ The second step may also be taken by those who reserve for themselves the possibility of returning to the world. Second. TJie path of those ivho will only return once to this ivorld. The converted man free from doubt and the delusions of self and ritualism, succeeds in this path, in reducing to a minimum, lust, hatred and delusion. Third. The path of those who zvill never return to this world; in which the last remnants of sensuality and malevolence are destroyed ; not the least low desire for oneself or wrong feeling towards others can arise in the heart. Fourth. The path of the holy ones, more exactly worthy ones, Arahats ; in which the saint becomes free from desire for material or immaterial existence ; from pride and self- righteousness and ignorance.* He is now free from all sin ; he sees and estimates all things in this life at their true value. Evil desires of all kinds being rooted up from his « Rhys Davids, " Buddhism," p. 48. ^ Ibid., p. 108. * Ibid., p. 47. * Ibid., p. 108-9. 234 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. mind, he only experiences right desires for himself, and tender pity and regard and exalted spiritual love for others. "As a mot:ier, even at the risk of her own life, protects her son, her only son ; so let there be good-will without measure am jng all beings. Let good-will without measure prevail in the whole world, above, below, around, unstinted, unmixed with any feeling of differing or oppos- ing interests. If a man remain steadfastly in this state of mind all the while he is awake, whether he be standing, walking, sitting or lying down, then is come to pass this saying, Even in this world holiness has been found." ^ This state — the Iiighest attainable in this life — leads to Nirvana, that is, to the extinction of all trouble in heart or mind, consequently the extinction of being. It is the indispensable condition of that extinction, and is really indistinguishable from it, for its essence consists in proving for oneself that nothing exists. To recognise that there is nothinr.^ is to sound the depth of things, to enter into annihilation. " The wise man finishes by extinguishing himself, like the flame of a lamp."^ All this teaching cf Buddha's would have been without significance if it had not been based upon a metaphysical conception. It is impossible not to trace back to him what may be called the Buddhistic philosophy, at least in its essential elements; otherwise his preaching of annihilation would 1 ave no meaning. Nothing can be more complicated than his anthropology, which is devoid of all moral unity. " Man consists of an assemblage of different properties or qualities, of which the principal are these: material qualities; sensations ; abstract ideas; tendencies of mind, and mental powers."^ "The first group, material qualities, are like a mass of foam, that gradually forms and then vanishes. The second group, the sensations, are like a bubble dancing en the face of the water. The third group, the ideas, are like the ' Rhys Davids, " Buddhism," p. 109. ' Nirvana, which represents annihilation or the absolute nothing, is unquestionably the logical consequence of the teaching of Buddha, alike from a moral and metaphysical point of view. The solid argument of M. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire on this point has not been shaken. See Max Muller, " Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i. p. 254. * Rhys Davids, " Buddhism," p. 90, BUDDHA. 235 uncertain image which appears in the sunshine. The fourth group, tlie mental and moral predispositions, are Hke the plantain stalk, without firmness or solidity. And the last group, the thottghts, are like a spectre or magical illusicn. It is repeatedly and distinctly laid down in the Pitakas that none of these Skandhas or divisions of the qualifies of sentient beings is the soul." ^ The substance, the life, the individual being is only the effect of ignorance ; and as life, as being is the great evil, it is of primary importance to destroy ignorance by means of the true doctrine to which man only rises by meditation. But this is not enough. The essence of life is not only a false notion ; there is also inclination, feeling, desire. Now these are the consuming fires w^hich destroy our peace and keep us from that solitary contemplation the end of which is Nirvana. It is not enough, therefore, to free the mind from error; the flame of desire also must be quenched. Hence the importance of morality and the place it occupies in the teaching of Buddha, though it has no distinct or metaphysical status. This morality, as M. Renan has well observed, does not rest upon the categorical imperative, for in order to this, it would be necessary that the absolute should have an existence, at least for the conscience ; and it has no such existence. Individual morality is simply the extinction of all indi- viduality, it is moral suicide. It is therefore in reality, a morality of self interest, since it seeks only its own good. This at least is its final term. Nevertheless, as we have seen, it becomes charity by the manner in which it regards the relation of men among themselves. It breathes a tender pity for their illusions, which it seeks to dispel, and for their sufferings which it would fain soften in order to dull the consciousness of individual existence. Buddhism does indeed recognise a connection between moral cause and efiect. A man certainly reaps that which he has sown. On this is based one of its mysteries, the doctrine of karma. "This is the doctrine that, as soon as a sentient being (man, animal, or angel) dies, a new * Rhys Davids, " Buddhism," p. 93. 236 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. being is produced in a more or less painful and material state of existence, according to the karma, the desert or merit of the being who had died." ..." The karma of the previous sentient being then determines the locality, nature and future of the new sentient being." ^ This is indefinitely repeated till all desire, all consciousness is quenched, when the blessedness of Nirvana will be attained. The moral teaching of Buddha remains his best title to honour and the real secret of his power. Though he keeps the extinction of sentient life always in view as the goal of all endeavour, he commences with precepts Vv'hich while they tend in this direction (since all are designed to produce absolute quiescence), are also of general application. When Buddha represents Nirvana as the result of continence and purit}', he directly helps to promote a most excellent good. He says : " The real treasure is that laid up by man or woman Through charity and piety, temperance and self-control. The treasure thus hid is secure and passes not away ; Though he leave the fleeting riches of this world, this man takes with him A treasure that no wrong of others, and no thief can steal. Let the wise man do good deeds — the treasure that follows of itself." * Again : " Fornever in this world does hatred cease by hatred, Hatred ceases by love ; this is always its nature." " As the bee injuring not The flower, its colour or scent, Flies away, taking the nectar ; So let the wise man dwell upon the earth." " One may conquer a thousand thousand men in battle, But he who conquers himself alone is the greatest victor." •' Let a man make himself what he preaches to others ; The well-subdued may tame others, oneself indeed it is hard to tame." • Let us live happily then, not hating those who hate us, Let us live free from hatred among men who hate." ^ • Rhj's Davids, " Buddhism," p. lOI. ^ Ibid., p. 127. ' Ibid., p. 129, 130. BUDDHA. 2n What wisdom there is in such words as these : "Let no man think lightly of sin, saying in his heart, 'It cannot overtake me.' As the waterpot fills by even drops of water falling, The fool gets full of sin, ever gathering little by little." " He who formerly was heedless, and afterwards becomes earnest, Lights up this world, like the moon escaped from a cloud." ' One is astonished to find in this Buddhist system of morals, precepts touching the family Hfe, which must have appeared to its apostles a miserably low state of existence. And yet it enjoins the child to respond to the love of its parents, lending them all necessary help ; it charges the husband to cherish the wife and to be faithful to her ; the wife to love her husband and to be hospitable and chaste; the master to be watchful over the well-being of his servants, to apportion the work according to their strength, to tend them in sickness, to share with them unusual delicacies, and to give them occasional holidays. Obviously we have here only the preliminary steps to the " Noble Path " into which the feet must be directed as soon as possible. This elementary morality is summed up in the eight following precepts. 1. One should not destroy life. 2. One should not take that which is not given. 3. One should not tell lies. 4. One should not become a drinker of intoxicatmg liquors. 5. One should refrain from unlawful sexual intercourse — an ignoble thing. 6. One should not eat unseasonable food at nights. '/. One should not wear garlands or use perfumes. 8. One should sleep on a mat spread on the ground.^ • Although the more excellent way was not closed to any, it seems nevertheless, that from the first, Buddha instituted the order of mendicants. This was not a new priesthood, or an exclusive caste, for it was open to all who made themselves worthy. The master had proclaimed religious equality in a more admirable manner, " The gift of the law," he said, " sur- » "Buddhism," p. 13a \ Ibid., p. 139. 238 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. passes all gifts, its sweetness excels all sweetness, its delights surpass all delights. The extinction of all inclina- tion, of all desire, banishes pain. It is not by birth that one belongs to the lower class ; it is not by birth that one is made a Brahman. It is by his deeds a man is de- graded to the lowest class ; by his deeds also he becomes a Brahman."^ Buddha did not apply this mighty spiritual law only to the Brahmans from whom he had severed himself, but also to his own followers, " What is the use of platted hair, O fool ? What of a garment of skin ? Your low yearnings are within you ! And the outside thou makest clean.'"'* Nothing could be more unlike the original mendicant societies than the rich and powerful monasteries of modern Buddhism, The intention of the founder was that these mendicants should realise not the superiority there is in learning, but in holiness. As there is no official status for a priesthood to mediate between men and the deity, and to offer him sacrifices of propititation, so the Buddhist monk neither binds nor looses. His is only a moral influence. He is enjoined to content himself with small alms, and to think them, however small, greater than he deserves. His life is to be love. • " The mendicant who, though receiving little, Thinks not his alms are less than he deserves, Him the very gods will magnify Whose life is pure, who is not slothful. The mendicant whose life is love, Whose joy, the teaching of Buddha, He will enter the tranquil lot ; Nirvana's bliss, where the Sanskaras end. Let his livelihood be kindliness, his conduct righteousness. Then in the fulness of gladness, he will make an end of grief." ^ To be eligible for the order of mendicants, a man must be free from contagious disease, he must not be either a slave or a soldier ; he must be in a word, master of him- self, and must have obtained the consent of his parents. At the end of eight years, the candidate makes this ' Renan, " Etudes d'histoire religieuse," p. 33. * Rhys Davids, "Buddhism," p. 155. * Ibid., p. 154. BUDDHA. 239 prayer to the initiated : " Have pity on me, lord, take these robes, and let me be ordained that I may escape from sorrow and experience Nirvana." ^ Then he takes a vow to fulfil all the commandments and to observe all the rule of the monastic life. Chastity, poverty and obedience are required of him. The great punishment is exclusion from the order. The extensive development of the Buddhist monastic system belongs no doubt to the following epoch. The life of the novice and of the monk was then placed under strict rule. The former had to sweep his own dwelling, to seek his daily food, and to devote himself to meditation. When he had carried flowers to the holy images — the only rite of his cultus — he made his round as a mendicant and spent the rest of his time in study and meditation. He had to confess his faults to his superiors. The initiated passed their life in meditation, concerning which the regulations were very minute. A sort of mystic ladder was set up before the mind of the anchorite, and this ladder he was to climb step by step. The theme of the first meditation was love. In this the Buddhist monk included all living things and blessed them. The second meditation was one of pity, in which he laid upon his heart the burden of the sorrows of the world. The third meditation was on joy, in which the mendicant was to think of the gladness and prosperity of others and rejoice in their joy. The fourth meditation was on impurity, in which he represented to himself " the vileness of the body, and the horrors of disease and corruption ; how it passes away like the foam of the sea, and how by the continued repetition of birth and death, mortals become subject to continual sorrow." The fifth meditation was on serenity, wherein the mendicant thinks of all things that worldly men hold good or bad ; power, oppression, love and hate, riches and want, fame and contempt, youth and beauty, decrepitude and disease, and regards them all with fixed indifference, with utter calmness and serenity of mind." ^ We are thus brought to the brink of the silent abyss of Nirvana which is the final goal. The language used ' Rhys Davids, "Buddhism," p. 159. * Ibid., p. 171. 240 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. by Buddha in his dying hour to the first mendicants trained in his own school, shows that the spirit of these monastic institutions was caught from him: "O mendi- cants ! thoroughly learn and practise and perfect and spread abroad the law thought out and revealed by me, in order that this religion of mine (literally, this purity) may last long and be perpetuated for the good and happiness of the great multitudes, out of pity for the world, to the advantage and prosperity of gods and men. What is that law ? It is the four earnest Meditations, the four great Efforts, the four roads to Iddhi,^ the five moral Powers, the seven kinds of wisdom, and the noble eight-fold Path." To these multitudes Buddha unsparingly devoted him- self after his arrival in Benares and entrance on his public ministry. It was for them that he embodied his grand thoughts in the form of impressive and pathetic parables. The old Sutras give us an echo of some of his sermons. " Once seated on the Elephant Rock, near Gaya, with some new disciples who had been worshippers of Agni, (the sacred fire), a fire broke out in the jungle on the opposite hill. Taking the fire as his text, the Teacher declared that so long as men remained in ignorance they were, as it were, consumed by a fire — by the excitement produced within them by the action of external things. These things acted upon them through the five senses and the heart (which Gautama regarded as a sixth organ of sense). The eye, for instance, perceives objects ; from this perception arises an inward sensation, producing pleasure or pain. Sensations produce this misery and joy, because they supply fuel as it were to the inward fires of concupiscence, anger and ignorance, and the anxieties of birth, decay and death. " The same was declared to be the case with the sensa- tions produced by each of the other senses. But those who follow the Buddha's scheme of inward self-control, — the four stages of the path whose gate is purity and whose goal is love, have become wise. The sensations ' The supernatural powers acquired in a certain condition of trance. * "Buddhism," p. 172. BUDDHA. ^ 2^1 trom without no longer give fuel to the inward fire, since the fires of concupiscence have ceased to burn. True disciples are thus free from that craving thirst which is the origin of evil. The wisdom they have acquired will lead them on, sooner or later, to perfection. They are delivered from the miseries which would result from another birth, and even in this birth they no longer need the guidance of such laws as those of caste and ceremonies and sacrifices, for they have already reached far beyond them." ' Two of the most famous of Buddha's parables strikingly resemble, in more than one feature, those of the Sower and the Prodigal Son in the Gospel. " Faith," said the Teacher, " is the seed I sow, and good works are as the rain that fertilises it. Wisdom and modesty are the parts of the plough, and my mind is the guiding rein. I lay hold of the handle of the law ; earnestness is the goad I use, and diligence is my draught ox. Thus this ploughing is ploughed, destroying the weeds of delusion. The harvest that it yields is the ambrosia fruit of Nirvana, and by this ploughing ail sorrow ends.""^ The parable of the Prodigal Son given in the " Lotus de la bonne loi," clearly does not belong to the primitive period of Buddhism, but it bears none the less the genuine impress of its prevailing inspiration. In the midst of m.any wearisome details, comes out the image of the father full of compassion for the son, wl";0, after leaving him has fallen into abject misery, while the father himself is living in wealth and plenty. He bemoans himself in a piteous manner that he, now old, broken down and ready to die, cannot find his son to make him the sharer of his goods ; when, without knowing it, his son comes back to the threshold of his father's palace, in vile raiment and hoping for nothing but the pauper's portion. His father, who has recognised him, cries out in his joy : '' Lo, I have found him who is to inherit all that is mine. I thought of none but him. And now he is come of his own accord, and I, I am old and bent ! " The reconciliation does not take place imm.ediately, however. ' " Buddhism," p. 59, 60. ' Ibid., p. 135. 16 242 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. The father wishes to prove the wanderer, and so he sets him to the most menial of tasks, that of sweeping up the refuse. At length after twenty years of this hard service, the father clasps him to his arms. "Thou art my son," he exclaims, "and all that I have is thine." But the son still stays outside the palace feeling his poverty. This is a sure proof that the ordeal is no longer needed. The father calls together all his relations, and pointing to the beggar, says : " This man is my beloved son. It was I who begat him. For fifty years he disappeared from this town. Far and wide have I gone seeking him ; I came back here, and lo ! 1 have found him. He is my son and I am his father. All this wealth is his." The son falls at the father's feet, saying : " Here am I then in possession of all these treasures ! " The explanation of the parable does not come up to the pathetic beauty of the narrative. It means simply that the disciple of Euddha begins with the study of the lower laws which constrain him to the humblest offices, but that in the end he becomes a partaker of the supreme wisdom. " The master of the world, in order to prove us, does not tell us at once the true meaning of his words. He gives his treasures to those who have subdued their sinful inclinations."^ The parable of the three chariots symbolises the same fatherly compassion. There is a father who can find no other way of saving his children from a burning house, than by giving them three chariots. The burning house is the world which is being consumed by the flaming anguish and distress arising from birth. The unhappy inhabitants of the burning house, in their eagerness for play, do not heed the danger. They play on and take no alarm. Buddha rescues them b}' giving them three cars of deliverance. Only the best among them choose the chariot of contemplation.^ Elsewhere the hearers of the good doctrine are compared to various plants of the earth which all drink the same water from heaven, for the law is one.^ The most beautiful of these parables is that of the precious pearl. It is thus summed up: "We ' "Lotus de la bonne loi," c. iii. '^ Ibid., c. iii. ^ Ibid., c. v. BUDDHA. 2^j bear concealed within us the jewel of truth. We lorget it, like a man carrying a ring hidden in a knot tied at one extremity of his outer garment. He thinks no more of it and believes himself a beggar. He is content with just a morsel of bread a day, till a friend reminds him that he is the possessor of a precious stone. Thus do v,e fail to know the supreme good which we bring with us from previous states of existence."^ Whether or not these parables were spoken by Buddha himself, they are none the less in the spirit of his teaching, and they help us to understand its attractiveness and popularity. But again we say the great charm lay in himself and in his moral suasion. From the time he entered on his apostolate, he lived for nothing but his mission. Nothing could be imagined more pure and noble than this life of devotedness, of generous inspiration and holy activity. He desired no other triumph than to know that good was done, and the truth proclaimed free from all admixture of passion. His brow was crowned with an august serenity. This comes out very clearly from all the Buddhist legends, obscured as they are by spurious additions. Accompanied by the disciples who had gathered round liim at Gaya, Buddha repaired to the environs of Rajagriha, the capital of Magadha or Behar, in the western valley of the Ganges. He commanded his disciple Kasyapa to declare in his name that if he rejected the sacrifice of Agni, it was because he had come to see that men must not only renounce the allurements of sense, but also sacrifices. This is the only way to attain to the ineffable peace in Nirvana, where there is no more birth, or old age, or death. Gautama himself confirms the words of Kasyapa. He leaves an impression of admiration and ahnost of enthusiasm on the Rajah and his people. Jt uiust have been at this time that he codified his teaching in the assembly of his first disciples. To those among them who complained that they were despised by the Brahmans for their miserable life, he replies that they have nothing to seek but the right way, that they have ' Lotus de la bonne loi,"' c. v. 244 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. no other weapon at their command but persuasion, and that they can only gain adherents to their cause by the proclamation of the truth for the good of all. The most touching episode of this period of his life is his interview with his father Suddhodana at Kapilavastu. Suddhcdana implores him to visit his native town and not to neglect his father's hoary hairs. Gautama yields to his entreaty, but he takes up his abode in a cave near the town, and only comes forth to beg from door to door. On hearing this, his father hurries indignantly to him and asks why he does him this dishonour. "It is the custom of our race," replies Gautama. " But are we not of an illustrious race?" rejoins his father, "of a race that was never known to beg ? " " You and your family may be descended from kings," replied Buddha, " but for myself I am descended from the old prophets, who always begged their bread. When a man has found a secret treasure, it is his duty to give his father his most precious jewel." This jewel was his doctrine. He had the joy of converting his father as well as Yasodhara, the wife of his youth, who had never ceased to love and to lament him.^ During the years which followed, Buddha pursued his holy calling, devoting the month of flowers to meditation, and the rest of the year to teaching. When he felt his end drawing near, in the village of Vai^ali, he gathered his disciples around him and delivered to the Mendicants, the charge Ave have quoted as the institution of their order. He then proceeded to Kusinagara, one hundred and twenty miles from Benares, and passed the night in a cave on the banks of the river. Ananda, his beloved disciple, who is, so to speak, the St. John of the Indian Messiah, received his last utterances. At the close of this conversation Ananda broke down and went aside to weep. " I am not yet perfect," he sobbed, " and my teacher is passing away, he who is so kind." But Gautama missed him, and sending for him, comforted him with the hope of Nirvana, repeating what he had so often said about the impermanence of all things. " O Ananda, ' Lotus de la bonne loi," p. 64—66. Foucaux says that Gautama had three wives — Gopa, Yasodhara, and Utpalavarna ! BUDDHA. 245 do not let 3'ourself be troubled, do not weep. Have I not told you that we must part from all we hold most dear and pleasant ? No being, born, or put together, can overcome the dissolution inherent in it. No such condition can exist. For a long time, Ananda, you have been very near to me by kindness in act, and word, and thoughtfulness. You have always done well ; persevere, and you too shall be quite free from this thirst of life, this chain of ignorance." ^ The disciple found his best consolation in carrying on the work of the master by scattering his teaching far and wide. It was indeed one of the noblest features of Buddhism that it was so largely a religion of propagand- ism. In this, it was faithful to the lofty spirituality of its principle which raised it above all distinctions of class and nation, so that its concern for man was purely for man as man, needing to be raised from his low estate. Its primary inspiration was charity, pity for the unhappy creature man, whom it yearned to deliver from his miserable condition by imparting to him the true know- ledge, and thus setting him in the way to Nirvana. It may be said that this missionary spirit was an essential element of Buddhism, and we know to what an extent it was successful, since in the end whole nations accepted it as the law of their life. The novissima verba of the master sum up his whole teaching. " Mendicants," he said, " I now impress upon you, the parts and powers of man must be dissolved ;^ work out your salvation with diligence." Shortly after uttering these words he became unconscious and in that state passed away.^ Gautama, was, to the end, a man of peace. His hand was not lifted against any, and yet he made all things new by the strange and powerful influence he exerted. He reminds us of one of tho.se south winds full of faint ' " Lotus de la bonne loi," p. 81. 2 Ibid., p. 83. ^ The date of his death has been determined by means of three inscrip- tions of the Emperor Agoka. From these we gather that the thirty- seventh year of A(;oka"s reign was the two hundred and thirty-sixth since the death of the master, which gives us an approximate date 482—472, B.C. 246 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. sweetness which sometimes blow from the desert. We read in the Lalita-Vistara, " From east to west the air thrills with the accents of Buddha, a sweet melodious sound which goes straight to the heart." ^ Such is indeed the strange morbid fascination of this teaching, which, while it leads to annihilation, points the way in a garb of beneficence and love. The " wheel of the law " which Buddha turns, revolves only in a vacuum ; it is the dull round of a life without thought, desire, affection, utter- ance.'-^ He places upon his brow the diadem of the great Deliverer. He looks upon all beings with the love of a father for an only son, and holds out to them the key of the only true knowledge, by which they are to be set free from all sorrow. But the satisfaction he promises is to be realised only in annihilation.^ This is the goal of all this high moral teaching. Herein lies the hopeless paradox of Buddhism. The way is better than the end. " Fortunately the millions who embraced the doctrine of Buddha, and were saved by it from the depths of barbarism, brutality and selfish- ness, were unable to fathom the meaning of his metaphy- sical doctrines. The Nirvana, to which they aspired was only a relative deliverance from the miseries of human life." * § II. — Development and Transformation of Primitive Buddhism. Buddhism rises before us, like a building in which story after story is added on the same foundation. At first the human side is most prominent. Buddha appears primarily as a master, like one of ourselves, who allures us to follow him by the way of moral purity and meditation^ into the blessed Nirvana. We have connected with this inaugural period, everything in the Buddhist documents which bears this im.press of humanity unobscured by my- thological overgrowths. The second period in the develop- ' Lalita-Vistara, p. 332. Mbid., p. 351. » Ibid , p. 361. * Max P.lLiHcr, "Chips from a German Wcrksliop," voL i. p. 251. BUDDHA. 247 ment of the legend seems to us marked by the extraor- dinary exaggeration of the part of Buddha as Messiah. This process is alr.eady traceable in the Lalita-Vistara. He is there no longer merely the son of a king. His actual life was preceded by numberless existences in which he had already accomplished his mission as a deliverer. " It is handed down as a tradition among the gymnosOphists of India, that he was miraculously conceived, and was brought forth by a virgin from her side." ^ His future glory is announced by a great Rishi (or seer) who, like another Simeon, blesses the child of miracle. It was said that "by him, the Water appearing in the midst of the fires of sin devouring the world, the Light appearing in the darkness of the world's ignorance, the Ship appearing amidst the perils of the ocean of human misery, the Liberator of those enchained in the bonds of sin, the Ph3'sician of those tormented by decay and disease — by him v/ould be obtained the truth which would be the salvation of sentient beings."^ The Buddhist legends soon began to add to the touching story of the three meetings which determined the young prince to abandon his royal estate. He is. represented as wooed into a life of solitude by the incantations of number- less Buddhas, his forerunners and compeers.' From t! e four points of space, they implore him to leave his palace and flee into the desert. Their songs contain the whole doctrine which he is to preach, and are far more profound and metaphysical than the more ancient Sutras. " Go speedily," say they, " take thy place beside the best of trees, and attain to immortality. In millions of previous existences hast thou given up that which cost thee dear — gold, precious stones, thy hands, thy feet ; thy beloved sons, thy kingdom, without anger or hatred in thine heart against those who asked of thee the sacrifice. Thou hast pardoned thy murderers. Numberless are the forms which thy heroism has assumed." The celestial Buddhas reveal to him afresh the deep hidden reason of the doctrine of final annihilation. "Every substance," say they, "must perish in the end; » "Buddhism," p. 1S3. '^ Ibid., p. 187. 248 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. no composite bod}^ has any permanence." In early life, '.hose who are beautiful are loved and desired. When old age and sickness have destroyed the glory of the body, they are forsaken, as the hart forsakes the dried- up stream. Death bears them away, like a river carrying down a pine tree in its swirling waters. Man goes away alone, followed by the fruit of his own works, which leave him with strength spent. Composite bodies being by nature weak and dependent are swept away like loose soil in times of much rain. They are inert and empty, like the empty hand held out to deceive a child. All composite bodies proceed from primary and secondary causes. Just as where there is a seed, there is a bud, though the seed is not itself the bud, so that without the one the other would have no existence, so though the substance has no proper durability, it goes on without interruption. Com- posite bodies are the result of ignorance and have no real existence.^ The celestial choir makes touching appeals to the young prince. " From the cloud of mercy " it prays, " send down the refreshing, peace-bringing shower. Do not neglect the miserable, the poor, the afflicted. Gather them together, O Conductor of men ! That thou mayest appease the passion and restlessness of those who are in the body, lead them to the other side of the ocean of pure existence, where they may dwell in quietness and peace, free from the fever of living. Do not pass by those who are tormented with hatred and envy. Let the world be established in patience. Let the minds of thy creatures become so absorbed in meditation that they may understand that into this country where thou dwellest, joy cannot enter." ^ Buddha, on leaving his famil}^, sojourns for a little time with an illustrious anchorite ; but the disciple soon gets beyond his master and discovers that asceticism itself is but vanity. The temptation under the sacred Bo-tree or tree of wisdom, is magnified into a pretentious myth by which it loses much of its m.oral beauty. The fundamental principle " Lalita-Vistara," pp., 156, 157. "^ Ibid., p. 158. BUDDHA. 249 of his doctrine presents itself to Buddha with new pre- cision. " On account of ignorance," says Buddha in one of the discourses that appear in the Sanyutta, as translated by Rev. D. J. Gogerly, " merit and demerit are produced ; on account of merit and demerit, consciousness ; on account of consciousness, body and mind ; on account of body and mind, their organs of sense, touch (or contact) ; on account of contact, desire ; on account of desire, sensation (of pleasure or pain) ; on account of sensation, cleaving (or clinging to existing objects) ; on account of clinging to existing objects, renewed existence (or reproduction after death) ; on account of reproduction of existence, birth ; on account of birth, decay, death, sorrow, crying, pain, disgust, and passionate discontent. Thus is produced the complete bcdy of sorrow. From the complete separation from and cessation of ignorance, is the cessation of merit and demerit ; from the cessation of merit and demerit is the cessation of consciousness ; from the cessation of consciousness is the cessation of (the existence of) body and mind ; from the cessation of (the existence of) body and mind is the cessation of (the pro- duction of) the six organs ; from the cessation of (the production of) the six organs is the cessation of touch ; from the cessation of touch is the cessation of desire; froiYi the cessation of desire is the cessation of (pleasurable or painful) sensation ; from the cessation of sensation, is the cessation of cleaving to existing objects ; from the cessation of cleaving to existing objects is the cessation of a reproduction of existence ; from a cessation of a reproduction of existence is the cessation of birth ; from a cessation of birth is the cessation of decay. Thus this whole body of sorrow ceases to exist." ^ It follows that the basis of the whole pyramid of being rests upon ignorance, and crumbles away as knowledge takes the place of ignorance. Thus in his holy vigil, Buddha was brought to see that even knowledge must be destroyed, or must at least be recognised to have no true existence. " As a successful warrior sees all the army of the enemy put to the rout, ' "Manual of Buddhism," R. Spence Hardy, pp. 406, 407. 250 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. so the Buddhas see natural corruption, desire, anger, the offspring of ignorance, put to flight like thieves who escape with what they have stolen. The thirst for existence, and even existence itself has been quenched. The well-woven tissue of reasoning with the thread of thought running through it, has been completely consumed, so that no vestige remains. The great fire of passion with its accompanying smoke of logic has been put out. The great enemy who troubles man from the very moment of his birth has been destroj'ed." ^ " After the four stages of meditation are passed, the Buddha (and every being is to become a Buddha) enters into the infinity of space, then into the infinity of in- telligence, and thence he passes into the region of nothing. But even here there is no rest. There is still something left — the idea of the nothing in which he rejoices. That also must be destroyed, and it is destroyed in the fourth and last region, where there is not even the idea of a nothing left, and where there is complete rest, undisturbed by nothing or what is not nothing." ^ It is not enough that Buddha has found the great conso- lation for himself, it must be communicated to men. " Show to all men the path of peace," say the Buddhas, his pre- decessors. " Have pity, O guide, on this erring world, which has wandered from the path of Nirvana. Open wide the doors of full deliverance. Be full of compassion for miserable creatures ! Arise, O conqueror ; shine forth like the full moon after an eclipse. Bring gods and men into the full Nirvana!"^ Although the actual history of Buddha has been greatly exaggerated and obscured by mythical elements, the primrary idea of this great movement is retained and comes out with even added lustre, caught from the same fire of universal compassion. The repetition of Buddha's favourite formulas is a part of his method. It is ever the great wheel of the law turning in the infinite void. The mythological side of Buddhism has received count- less accretions in the course of time. Buddha has been ' " Lalita-Vistara," p. 307, * Max Muller, "Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i, p. 2£4. ■ "Lalita-Vistara," pp. 331 — 333- BUDDHA. 251 divided into thousands and hundreds of thousands of Buddhas, who preceded him but who were nevertheless in permanent communication with him. This multiphcaUon ever going on in fantastic proportions, is designed to exalt more and more the greatness of the master, as though indefinite subdivision were not of necessity a diminution. The numerous pre-e>;istences of Buddha are really so much taken from his greatness. They show, after all, that he has not truly attained Nirvana, since he has to begin to live again. One is surprised to find it said that " Buddha also was tossed about in this trouble- some world, after having been born into the midst of the degradation of the creatures, and having previously taught them the great law of peace." ^ If he had found this law for himself and for others, why must he start again on the quest ? The miserable life of men reaches backward in periods or Kalpas which include hundreds of thousands of years. And in spite of the consolation imparted by the teaching of millions of Buddhas, it has no guarantee that its misery may not be prolonged through the countless Kalpas of the future. It needs then that the healthful rain of the law should be ever falling upon a land consumed with, the flames of desire, and where birth still brings old age and death. The successive manifestations of Buddha are an avowal of their failure. Not only can hummity not succeed in curing the ills of life, it cannot even die outright. Anni- hilation, which should be the end of all chimeras, is itself only another illusion. These doubts must have crossed the minds of the followers of Buddha, but they have left no trace except in the writings of some of their deeper and more subtle thinkers. The powerful organisation of the Buddhist monastery, with its assertion of inflexible authority, long maintciined the unity of doctrine by tabooing awkward questions and reasonable doubts. We have already spoken of the order of Mendicants constituted by Buddha himself It exercised an ever- growing influence. The Mendicant or Buddhist monk, ' " Lalita-Vistara," p. ^.x. 2 -.2 THE A NCI EXT WORLD AND CHRISTIANTTY. became a person of supreme importance. He received his teaching direct from the Buddhas, who made him hear the deep quiet harmony of their voices, that they might lead him more quickly than any other creatures Vv'hose heart is broken by the sorrows of this earthly life, into the supreme calm of Nirvana/ Those who embraced a religious life were not allowed to wear any dress except rags collected in cemeteries, and these rags they had to sew together with their own hands. A 3'ellow cloak was to be thrown over their rags. They were to cut close the hair and beard, and live in forests, not in cities, and their only shelter was to be the shadow of a tree. There they were to sit, to spread their carpet, but not to lie down even during sleep. Some gave abundant alms, others taught the law of progressive annihilation. The great difference between the Buddhist monk and the Brahman was, that the former sought his disciples in all classes, and attached no merit or supernatural efficacy to the practices of asceticism. In speaking of the Brahmans the Buddhist says : " They take that to be a refuge which is no refuge, and that for a benediction which is no benediction.^ We find no trace of any sacerdotal rites anong the Buddhist Mendicants. They are neither -thaumaturgi nor priests, and lay no claim to be mediators between God and man. The god himself indeed has no real existence. The Buddhist monk is a penitent and a preacher. Nothing can be more simple than his worship. It consists in reciting a sort of office, presenting an offer- ing of flowers, and keeping lamps burning before the image or the shrine of Buddha. Though poor as indivi- duals, the Buddhist Mendicants accepted wealth for their monasteries. The large properties which they thus held collectively, enabled them to erect splendid monuments commemorative of the life of the Master. Buddhist monasticism became a great institution. The ideal of the life is beautifully rendered, as we have already said, in the following lines : " Lalita-Vistara," p. 6. " "Lotus de la bonne loi," p. 205. BUDDHA. 253 "That Mendicant whose life is love, Whose joy, the teachings of Buddha, He will enter the tranquil lot, Nirvana's bliss, where the Sanskaras end." ' The rainy season was spent in the monastery. At its close the Mendicants dispersed through the country to carry on their mission. The most important events in the history of the Buddhist monasteries are the three great Councils which fixed their doctrine. The first was held near Rajagriha in the year following the death of the Master. Five hundred members are said to have there met in council. It is impossible to say precisely what was decided upon, or to what extent the tradition was then fixed. The second Council took place at Vaisali a hundred years later. In this, questions of monastic casuistry seem to have been the chief subject of discussion. The keen controversies to which they gave rise, led to two more conflicting Councils. The last of these excommunicated the more rigid party. The third great Council was held at Patna under the Constantine of Buddhism, King Acoka, who three centuries before Christ, about the year 250, made Buddhism a veritable state religion. The grandson of King Chandragupta, who had driven the Greeks out of India and defeated Seleucus on the banks of the Hyphasis, he embraced the Buddhist religion, which was the more attractive to him because he himself was not of noble race. The Council of Patna, at which many thousands were present, lasted seven months. The doctrine and rules of the Buddhist religion were revised and codified. The king himself promulgated its decisions as the only ones in harmony with the sacred tradition which was of supreme authority. A catalogue of sacred books was drawn up. Agoka has preserved for us in monumental inscriptions engraved on the rocks in many parts of India, the faithful expression of the religious ideas which he wished to promul- gate. In them we find, as might be expected, a Bud- dhism much broadened and toned down, to meet the feelings of the great body of the nation. The m.etaphysical * Rhys Davids, "Buddhisir," p. 154. 254 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. side is left in the shade. There is no allusion to Nirvana : all turns on social morality.^ We have first injunctions bearing upon the observances most cherished by the Buddhists, the respect due to all forms of life and the con- sequent prohibition to kill any animal. The king desired that his country should be largely hospitable. He was careful to multiply everywhere useful trees and medicinal herbs. He planted by the roadsides, gardens of mango- trees, and sunk wells and made pools of water for the con- venience of travellers.^ Respect for all living creatures, and gentleness towards all men are strictly enjoined.^ The king's surveyors are charged to be the protectors of the weak, to comfort the prisoner, and to succour him if he has a family. The king is the mover in everything. " It is my duty," he says, " to secure the public weal by my counsels. Now the source of the public weal lies in the administration of justice." "All my efforts have but one end in view, namely, to pay this debt which the divine owes to the creatures." * " In the past, kings went out for their own pleasure, for the chase and other diversions, but in the end of my reign I have come to the true understanding. My pleasure consists in visiting and giving alms to the Brahmans and to the aged, and religious instruction to my people." ^ "My principle is this: government by religion, pro- gress by religion, security by religion." Religion, as understood by the king, does not consist in vain rites, for these are like a bag of dry and empty mangoes. "The practice of religion consists in care for slaves and servants, almsgiving and respect to parents.' ' M. Senart has given a translation of these principal edicts in the Journal Asiatique (1880 — 1885). Tliey are placed under the name Piyadasi, which is one of the names of A^oka. The eminent ciitic justly observes that we may find the point of contact between the chronolog}' of India and that of Greece, in the identification of the Sandracothcs of the Greeks, the adversary of Seleucus, with Chandragupia, the grandfather of A^oka. We are thus brought to the middle of the third century B.C. ''^ Journal Asiatique, 18S0, p. 287. ^ Ibid., p. 236. * Ibid., p. 267. * Ibid., p. 317. BUDDHA. 255 " The progress of religion among men is secured in two ways: first, by positive rules, and second by infusing right sentiments into their minds. In the first place there must be obedience to positive rules, as for example when 1 forbid the killing of certain animals, and give many other direct religious prescriptions. But it is only by a change in the feelings of the man himself, that there is marked progress in religion, in the general respect for life, and in carefulness not to sacrifice any creature whatsoever. It is to this end that I have graven this inscription on the rock, that it may go down to my sons and grandsons, and endure as long as the sun." ^ What a lofty idea of kinghood we get from the following words : " For this end this religious inscription was graven, that our sons and grandsons may not think they ought to make fresh conquests. That they may not think that conquest by the arrow deserves the name; that they may look upon it as only disturbance and violence. That they may consider nothing a true conquest, but the conquests of religion. These avail for this world and the other. Let them seek all their diversions in the pleasures of religion ; for these are good for both worlds." Here is an inscription which raises us far above a merely political religion. " Listen to the words of King Piyadasi, beloved of the Devas : Each man sees only his own good actiotis ; he says to himself, ' I have done a good deed.' On the other hand, he does not see the ill he does. He does not say to himself, ' I have done this or that evil thing.' It -is true that this scrutiny is painful; and yet it is necessary to examine oneself and to say: 'Such and such acts are sins, such as anger, cruelty, passion, pride. We must keep a jealous watch over ourselves, and say, ' I will not yield to envy ; I will not speak evil ; this shall be for my greatest good here below ; and it shall be indeed my greatest good in the world to come." ^ Is there not a touching philanthropy in this inscription also ? " From this day I make the following rule : ' To the prisoners who have been judged and condemned to death, I grant a reprieve of three days (before the execu- ' Journal Asiatique, 1880, p. 370. ^ Ibid., r. 417. 256 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. tion).' They shall be warned that they have neither more nor less than this to live. Warned then of the term of their existence, they will give alms in .view of the future life, or will fast. I desire, indeed, that even while shut up in a dungeon, they should make sure of what is be3'ond. I desire to see them fulfilling the various duties of religion, gaining the dominion over the senses and distributingalms." The Buddhist Constantine, openly proclaimed liberty of worship, as in the following decree : " King Piyadasi beloved of the Devas, wills that all the sects may dwell in all places. All set before them the same end— the subjugation of the senses and the purity of the soul. But the soul is diverse in its will, and in its affections. Let the sects then observe each its own rules in whole or in part." ^ Here is a decree still higher in tone : " King Piyadasi beloved of the Devas, honours all the sects. He honours them by almsgiving and by every token of respect. But the king beloved of the Devas, attaches less importance to these alms and honours, than to the wish to see the virtues prevail which are the essential parts of all religions. It is true that in these essentials there will be great diversity. But the one virtue all may have in common is moderation of speech, that no sect should exalt itself and decry others ; that nothing should be said against any without good cause, that on the contrary every opportunity should be taken to pay due honour to all. In thus acting, each sect promotes its own progress while seeking that of others."^ If Buddhism had done nothing more than inspire such maxims of government, it would have covered itself with eternal honour. This wise policy was nevertheless a dereliction from the doctrinal standpoint. If it had long prevailed. Buddhism must in the end have renounced alike its pessimism and its charity, that is, it must have denied its own spirit. ' Journal Asialique, iSSo, p. 132. ^ That which gives pecuhar importance to the decrees of A^oka is their analogy with a buddhist book vvliich has a canonic;il value— the Pali Dhammapada. M. Senart conclutivcly prc.es this analogy. {^Journal Asiatique, April, 1SS5, p. 410 j BUDDHA. 257 It is not for us to inquire into the circumstances (\v! i:h are indeed sufficiently obscure,) leading to its proscrip- tion in India. Suffice it to say it still held its own in Ceylon in the south, and in Nepaul and Thibet in the north ; and was subsequently adopted by the vast popula- tions of China and Indo-China. During the long period from the time of Agoka to the conquests which carried it into the extreme East, it lost more and more of what had been the secret of its charm and its power — that element of humanity so striking in Buddha himself The legend of his life underwent great alterations and became more and more mixed up with the solar myths. From them were taken the signs by which the Buddhas were recognised, and most of the principal episodes of his life were made to bear some such naturalistic explanation. It would be a great mistake however to allow his person- ality to be resolved into this fantastic mythological creation, as though there had been nothing real and human at the commencement of this great movement, which loses all its originality if it is severed from its founder.^ Whatever transformation passed over primitive Bud- dhism under the withering breath of subtle speculation and puerile legend, it nevertheless preserved in spite ' M. Senart has devoted the whole of his learned book, " La legende de Bouddha," to showing how the events of the life of Cakyamuni can be brought into the cycle of the solar mythology. His supernatural birth, his leaving his palace, his conflict, his triumph, the ten signs by which he is known, and which have all a solar meaning, the myriad- rayed wheel which he sets in motion, his disappearance in Nirvana, wiiich represents the setting of the star, all appear to the learned author to indicate the constant identification of Buddha, as of all the gods of India, with the immortal Agni, the sun-god. We do not deny that the legend of Buddha came in the end to be cast in the uniform mould of Indian thought. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied tliat Buddhism had its own new and special province. There v\as in it an original element, not found in the antecedent mythologies. This new element is just the individuality, the personal influence of its founder, Is not this clear from M. Senart's ov.'n conclusions ? He says : — ■ "Buddhism introduced into the ideas and practices of its i'ollowers a new doctrine and a human master, in place of the old divine masters. But the popular imagination took its revenge. Religious tradition mani- fested after its wont, its indestructible vitality. On Cakj'amuni devolved the legendary mantle which fell from the shoulders of the dethroned god ; and the timid Indians gladly laid hold again of the consolation and hope of divine visitations in human form.'' — Senart, "La legende de Bouddha." p. 45S. 17 ^ 258 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. of all, its own peculiar type. Undoubtedly, popular superstition has made of it in many respects, a gross mythology ; and Buddha has been exalted into an idol, though he himself repudiated belief in any god whatsoever. To-day we see hundreds of millions of men bowing before an image of Buddha which bears no kind of likeness to his true ideal ; a motionless, vacant-eyed giant, sunk in unconsciousness, the features expressing only a dull, blank indifference, without a smile or ray of inward light ; and we feel how low the race must have sunk under the pressure of an immense despair, to prostrate itself before this dreary symbol of moral and intellectual nothingness. This then is the issue of that brilliant naturism which has no life in itself and can impart none, so long as man does not recognise the principle of the divine above him and in the depth of his consciousness. The gods of light and of fruitfulness are not true gods ; the absolute is not in them. Thus when man falls back into pantheistic naturism, from the heights of moral good of which he has caught a momentary glimpse, he finds himself in a region of death and emptiness. The holy inspiration of love cannot long warm these realms of the eternal void. Buddha is in truth the anti-Messiah, the only one whom nature left to herself, can offer to man. The true Messiah is He who redeems and restores the natural no less than the spiritual life. All the attempts made to combine the two Messiahs in an im- possible syncretism, are frustrated by the stubbornness of facts.^ India, which had at times anticipated and cried out for the great God of conscience and of broken hearts, the Deliverer of the future, fell under the spell of pantheistic metaphysics. Hence her only Messiah was the Messiah of the great void. She lighted up the vacuum at first with a warm ray of love £nd pity ; but it soon flickered down and died, leaving her desolate at the feet of her dreary Buddha, who failed to convey to her even the gift of oblivion, or to perfect the illusion of absolute absorption. Thus, as we have seen, she is ever crying out for fresh ' For a striking illustration of this see "The Light of Asia," by Edwin Arnold. BUDDHA. 259 incarnations of the Master. Why should she desire these if the first Buddha had been able to fulfil his mission ? It follows that annihilation itself is an illusion. The problem, stated by this race, so bold in its metaphysical speculations, has remained unsolved. We must not suppose that this rcdiidio ad absiirdum of naturism in a land which seemed singularly adapted for its triumph, was confined to India and had no effect upon the general development of the ancient world on the eve of the coming of Christ. It must not be forgotten that at this period, there were no longer any impassable barriers between East and West. The wind wiiich blew from Asia, carried to the very heart of Greco-Roman civilisation, the moans of despair uttered in the valley of the Ganges. Thus in the evening of the day of preparation, Buddhism did much to destroy the beliefs of the past, and to create in the souls of men a mournful void which silently pleaded for a new faith. BOOK IV. HELLENIC PAGANISM. CHAPTER I. FIRST PERIOD. THE naturism of the Aryans assumes a new character as it touches the shores of Greece, and commences an evolution in the course of which it becomes altogether transformed.^ When it was first introduced into Greece in a dim past which defies chronology, it was simply the religion common to all the primitive Ayrans, which we have found to be identical both in Iran and on the shores of the Indus. But in Greece naturism is soon outgrown, and all but superseded, so far at least as it can be so, apart from a complete monotheism. It is no longer simply modified by the vague anthropomorphism of oriental religions, which is a mere metaphor, for it does not transform the forces of nature into moral personalities, but only invests them with some human attributes, leaving them still under the dominion of a fatal necessity. These religions are only traversed now and again by a flash of moral consciousness, as suddenly vanishing into darkness. In Greece we have true humanism, a thing of a much higher order. The Greek divinity is essentially human. ' Our chief source of information is Greek literature itself. To this we shall have constantly to refer our readers. We quote only the principal authorities more or less recent bearing on the subject. For Greek history we have availed ourselves of Grote's, and Curtius' " History of Greece." For the literature and religion of Greece we refer to " History of the Literature of Ancient Greece," H. O. Mi'dlci; and " Kunstarchaeologische Werke," by the same. L. von Rank, " Universal History." Dunker, "Geschichte des Alterthums." F. Creiize, " Symbolik and Mythologie der alten Voelker, besonders der Griechen." L. F.A. Maury, " Histoire des religions de la Grece antique." L. Preller, " Griechische Mj'thologie." P. Decharme, "Mythologie de la Grece antique." Jules Girard, " Le sentiment religieuse en Gr^ce, d'Hom6re a Eschyle." E. Havet, "Le Christianisme et ses origines.' 264 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. He is man at his highest and best, at first with all the admixture of good and evil common to men, but gradually becoming spiritualised and idealised, till at length he exhibits the triumph of the moral element, which in the depths of man's being unites the human to the divine. We know, indeed, that these human gods retained too many traces of their naturalistic origin to inhabit per- manently a purely spiritual region. They never brought the lower elements in human nature entirely into subjec- tion to its higher aspirations. Hence they did not long remain on the serene heights, to which they were raised by the genius of Greece in the noblest era of its art, philosophy, and poetry. The ideal perceived for a moment, soon vanishes, leaving a blank of dull disappointment in the hearts of those who adoringly beheld the vision. They fall back instinctively upon the religious conceptions of the past, however inferior to the beliefs of a grander age, because they imagine that they can thus regain the faith which seems slipping from their grasp. These old conceptions of the Divine reappear in the mysterious rites which filled so important a place in Hellenism, and by which the Greeks vainly sought to quiet their troubled conscience. We shall see this race supposed to be so frivolous and gay, by those who judge of it only by its brilliant aestheticism, really manifesting more than any other, the longing for pardon and expiation, and lifting with feverish eagerness the veil which hides the invisible. We are too apt to think of Greece as though her whole nature was personified in the enchanting goddess who, according to one of her most poetic legends, rises from the crest of the waves on a morning in spring, in all the brilliancy of her young and ideal beauty, with the smile upon her lips which is the joy of creation. We forget that beneath the same shining sea la}'- the land of shades, into whose mysterious depths the Greek gazed hungrily, passionately questioning the sphynx who kept guard over all the tombs, and seeking with unwearied earnest- ness to get the pangs of conscience assuaged. All this he did in his own way, with the exquisite sense of fitness inherent in his genius. These sublime and often sorrow- ful thoughts did not prevent him from developing in all FIRST PERIOD. 265 their beauty, those incomparable gifts which made Greece the grandest exponent of high art, nor from displaying in action the most indomitable energy. It was in the recognition of man as above nature and as the type par excellence of the higher life, that the moral superiority of the Greek religion consisted. But before this height was reached, it was necessary that the spontaneous in man should acquire an intensity and energy, which should render it capable of commanding the forces of nature. At first, nature seems to overwhelm no less by her splendours than by her terrors. The religious evolution which ends in humanism, begins by stimulating the faculties of man in all directions, so that conscious of his own strength and dignity, he may stand erect in the presence of the greatness of nature. It is only when he has thus lifted up himself as man, that a yet deeper and higher intuition will lead him to recognise in the Ego, Him who is greater than the Ego,^ the unseen God who appeals to his conscience. Then he will no longer stand erect ; his knees will bow in holy awe; he will seek satisfaction for his deepest religious con- victions ; and if he does not find it, he will give vent to what M. Renan so well calls " the prayer of the earth in travail," ^ unless indeed he seeks refuge in scepticism, or in a life of pleasure. Such, briefly, is the development of the religious consciousness of Greece, which we must now follow more in detail in its successive phases. We shall have to enquire first, what were the causes which produced this great transformation of the naturism brought from Asia into Greece by its first colonists, and which gradually raised it into humanism. When we come to the mythological development of Hellenism, we shall see how all the gods of the Greek pantheon grew up out of the old conceptions of Oriental naturism. There is not one of them which is not at first a mere force or particular aspect of nature ; but little by little, this elementary conception is lost sight of, and the god becomes a real personality, invested with moral attributes which constitute his proper and distinctively human character. ' Charles Secrctaxi. ^ "Les Apotres," p. 342. 266 THE ANCIENT WORLD AND CHRISTIANITY. § I. — Conditions favourable to the Development of Humanism in Greece. The beginnings of the Greek race are lost in the mystery which envelopes all pre-historic times, a mystery all the deeper in this case, because from national pride, Greeks have never been willing to acknowledge any other cradle than the privileged land of Greece. It is certain that they were pre- ceded in that country by independent tribes, leading the life of the savage, just as we find it elsewhere. At some distant period, to which we can attach no date, there was a first migration from the Himalayas into Greece, bringing with it the elements of primitive civilisation common to all the Aryan races. Of this we find undoubted traces in the words which the Greek, in common with other Indo- European languages, has retained to describe its religious, agricultural, and social life. The first immigration of the future Hellenes seems to have followed that which gave birth to the gre it nations, first of the Goths, then of the Celts. It comprised in its broad afflux, all the Graeco- Italicans as we may call them. While a considerable section settled in the Italian peninsula, another flood of immigrants known as the Pelasgi occupied what is now called Greece. The Greeks have always acknowledged their kinship with the Peksgi. Peleus, the father of Achilles, invokes in the Iliad, the Pelasgian Zeus, who represents in all points the grea. celestial god of the Aryans.^ The Pelasgi rapic'y disappeared from history, becom- ing merged in the ilellenes or Greeks, who were their direct descendants. The name of Hellenes suggests the marshy country where dwelt the inhabitants of Southern Thessaly, and that of Greeks the mountainous regions occupied by others of the Pelasgi.^ It is not our intention to sketch the history of the formation of the Greek nationality. We simply note that the first Oriental iiiimigration was followed by others from various parts oi" the mountains of Phrygia. " One division took the Jandway through the Hellespont's ancient portal of the i.ations; they passed through Thrace * ZeO ireXaffyiKi, Iliad, xvi. v. 233. * Maury, i, 29. FIRST PERIOD. 2^7 into the Alpine land of northern Greece.^ " At the foot of these mountains grew up the powerful tribe of the Dorians, which spread over central Greece, and finally made Sparta their capital. According to the national legend, they were led in this victorious expedition by the Heraclidae, the descendants of the greatest and most divine of heroes. " Others descended from the Phr3^gian tablelands down the valleys to the coasts of Asia Minor." On these enchanted shores the Ionian race blossomed out like a splendid flower, promising rich fruit. From thence, these Asiatic lonians spread under the name of the Leleges along the seaboard of the Mediterranean. They settled in large numbers in Attica, the favoured land where their nationality found its finest developments. When it had reached its culminating point, it sent back its surplus population to those shores of Asia Minor, whence it had sprung, and returned with interest in civilisation and wealth all that it had brought away. The Hellenic nationality includes also two other less important tribes : the Achaeans, settled at first in the Peloponnesus, and the .