particular places. The ideas connected with sacrifice are not indeed
very lofty. Sacrifice is, in the first place, barter. Gifts are
provided for the gods, that they may give in their turn. In the
second place it is a social function in which the god and the
worshipper both take part. The food, and especially the soma,
strengthens the god, and man and god are thereby drawn into close
sympathy. But in the third place sacrifice was a piece of magic. The
mere accurate performance of the rite had a mystic efficacy. It was
believed to help to uphold the order of the world; without it the
gods would grow weak, the ordinances of nature would fail, and man
would relapse to the state of savagery. The gods themselves first
sacrificed; from sacrifice they themselves were born, so that
sacrifice is an essential principle of the universe, was so in the
beginning, and must always be so. The Vedic leaders of religion,
therefore, were not merely champions of enlightenment in religion;
they were also ritualists, the rite was to them an end in itself; the
proper performance of sacrifice was their principal object. This side
of their work had, as we shall see, grave consequences. But the
Rigveda did a great work for India in cultivating gods who were
moral, and to whom man was drawn by higher than selfish motives. Gods
who are just and who watch man's conduct, and do not fail to reward
him according to his deeds, must quicken the conscience of those who
believe in them, and gods who are able to help the weak and to
forgive the penitent must make their people also merciful. In all the
aberrations of Indian religion the high moral standard set by the
Vedic gods is never lost sight of.

Where a plurality of gods is believed in, these gods must stand in
some relation to each other; and it is of importance to notice how
the gods of the Veda are arranged. We can see here very clearly how
unstable a thing polytheism is. The position of the gods is
constantly changing with reference to each other. We find Agni
addressed as if he were undoubtedly supreme; he dwells in the highest
heavens, he generates the gods, he ordains the order of the universe;
but then we find Indra spoken of in the same way, and Varuna, and
Mitra, and others. Then we find pairs of gods addressed together.
Indra and Agni are frequently so treated; so are Varuna and Mitra.
There is no supreme god, or rather, each god is supreme in turn; the
poet wants a god capable of being exalted in every way, and does so
exalt the god he has before him. In this way a Monotheism is reached;
the mind recognises a god to whom unlimited adoration can be paid.
But it is a monotheism, as M. Barth well puts it, the titular god of
which is always changing; and Mr. Max Müller gives to this partial
monotheism the name of Kathenotheism; that is, the worship of one god
at a time without any denial that other gods exist and are worthy of
adoration. Now this form of religion, in which several gods are
worshipped, each of whom in turn is regarded as supreme, is not
peculiar to India; we have met with it already, we shall meet with it
again. But in India a peculiar way was found out of the difficulty.
The Indian gods were too little defined, too little personal, too
much alike, to maintain their separate personalities with great
tenacity; nor did they lend themselves to a monarchical form of
pantheon; no one of them was sufficiently marked out from the rest or
above the rest, to rule permanently over them. Yet the sense of unity
in Indian religion is very strong; from the first the Indian mind is
seeking a way to adjust the claims of the various gods, and view them
all as one. An early idea which makes in this direction is that of
Rita, the order, not specially connected with any one god, which
rules both in the physical and the moral world, and with which all
beings have to reckon. Philosophy is busy from the first with the
Vedic gods; the impulse to good conduct and that to mysticism are
equally innate in this religion. We can see, even in the Rigveda,
that India is to solve the problem of its many gods not in the way of
Monotheism, by making one god rule over the others, but in the way of
Pantheism, by making all the gods modes or manifestations of one
being. "Agni is all the Gods" we read here. And a religion which
arranges its objects of worship in this way will not be a religion of
action, but of speculation and of resignation.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED

_S. B. E._ vol. xxxii. Vedic Hymns. xlvi. Hymns to Agni.

Muir's _Sanscrit Texts_.

M. Müller's _Hibbert Lectures_.

Monier Williams, _Indian Wisdom; Hinduism_ in "Non-Christian
Religious Systems" (S.P.C.K.).

Kaegi, _The Rigveda, the oldest literature of the Indians_, 1886.

Barth, _The Religions of India_, in Trübner's Oriental Series.

Herrmann Oldenberg, _Die Religion der Veda_, 1894.

Bergaigne, _La Religion Védique_, 3 vols., 1878-83.

E. Hardy, _Die Vedisch Brahmanische Periode der Religion des alten
Indiens_.

Lehmann, in De la Saussaye.

Rhys Davids, _Oxford Proceedings_, vol. i. p. 1, _sqq._

CHAPTER XIX
INDIA

II. _Brahmanism_

The period in which the songs were collected by the Aryans dwelling
in the Punjaub was succeeded by a period of wars and troubles, after
which the successful race is found to have spread further towards the
East, and to have settled on the Ganges and its tributaries. Along
with this change of position a great change has also taken place in
the spirit of the people, a change which is strikingly seen in their
religion. The priesthood has come to occupy the position of a
separate class to an extent not formerly the case, and all the
phenomena are apparent which are generally found associated with a
hierocracy or rule of priests. The early religious writings have been
formed into a sacred canon: there is an active production of new
works which explain the old ones; the sacrifices grow more elaborate
and new virtues are attributed to them; and along with this hardening
and formalising of the outward parts of religion there is a religious
speculation of great volume and of great freedom of character.

The Caste System: The Brahmans.--The key to the whole movement is to
be found in the new position of the priesthood, or in the
establishment at this period of the system of caste. Though this
system is only once mentioned in the Rigveda, and that in a hymn of
late date, scholars find traces of it in the arrangement of the
hymns, and as it is found in Persia, the Indians probably had it
before they entered India. It may even, it is judged, be traceable to
the division of ranks among the primitive Aryan families. Teutonic as
well as Indian legends are found explaining how mankind were divided
from the first into different classes.[1] But the primitive
differences of rank must have had a great development before they
took shape in the rigid caste system of India. This system appears to
be organised with a view expressly to the exaltation of the
priesthood, and must have been the result of a struggle between the
priests and the warrior or ruling classes. The priests have made
themselves indispensable in nearly all religious acts. Their very
title shows this. While _Brahman_, as the name of a god, means
primarily growth, and later, devotion or prayer, _brahmana_ (neut.)
signifies the ritual texts according to which worship is performed,
and _brahman_ (mas.) is the name of those who use such texts, and
comes to stand for the highest caste of Indian society. Without the
brahman there can be no satisfactory worship, because there can be no
security that any rite is performed correctly; and a rite which is
not performed correctly has no efficacy. Religion, therefore, is in
the hands of this caste, whose sacredness is hereditary, and cannot
be acquired in any other way than by birth. The members of that caste
and they alone are qualified to superintend religious observances,
and without them the intercourse between man and the gods cannot be
kept up. From his birth the brahman is a being of superior holiness;
he is destined for higher ends than other men, and the distinction
between him and them must be manifested in all his acts and habits
throughout his life. He is the natural lord of all the classes.

[Footnote 1: Compare Hans Sachs, _Die Ungleichen Kinder Eva's_.]

If the highest caste is strictly defined, so also are the others. The
second caste is that of the Kshatriyas, warriors or rulers, the third
that of the Vaisyas or farmers. These three have rank, they are the
twice-born classes (their second birth answers to confirmation, and
takes place when a young man is invested with the sacred thread). The
Sudras are the fourth and lowest class; no duty is assigned to them
in the law books but that of serving meekly the other castes. It has
been thought that the Sudras represent the conquered aborigines, the
three classes of rank belonging to the Aryan invaders, but this is
open to question.

The student of religion has to fix his attention on the Brahmans, who
have secured themselves in the position of the leading caste. We
speak first of the literary movement in which they were concerned,
then of the sacrifices they conducted, and of their gods. We shall
then say something of the practical operation of their religion as a
rule of life, and lastly we shall come to the speculative work of
their period, which is not, however, to be set down to them alone.

1. The Growth of the Sacred Literature.--The Vedas rose in sacredness
after the age which produced them passed away. A few centuries after
they were written they were not generally intelligible; they needed
interpretation, but at the same time the doctrine of their
inspiration rose higher and higher. The brahmans had both to
interpret the words of the old hymns and to explain how, when used at
the sacrifice, they produced the effect ascribed to them. This led to
the production of the earliest Indian prose, the brahmanas or ritual
treatises. Primarily intended to be directories of worship for the
priests, these works were enriched with all sorts of ideas about the
sacrifices, their origin, and their effects; points in the ritual are
explained in them by mythological stories which we should not
otherwise know, and we see from them that many superstitions, to
which the Vedas gave no encouragement, yet lived among the people.
Each Samhita, or collection of hymns, had its Brahmana, and some of
the collections had several. These works, though transcending in
dreariness most directories of worship, are yet of great value for
the light they throw on the history of Indian manners and ideas, as
well as on that of mythology. And as it happened among the Jews in
their later period so it happened here;--the sanctity of the text was
extended to the commentary, the brahmana also was held to be
god-given and inspired, and by some was even more highly esteemed
than the hymns themselves. A third class of inspired writings
consists of the Upanishads, or speculative treatises, of which we
shall speak later. The "Veda" in the larger sense is made up of these
three bodies of compositions, mantras, brahmanas, and upanishads.
These three belong to revelation or "S'ruti," _i.e._ hearing; what is
contained in these is to be regarded as having been heard by inspired
men from a higher source. The counterpart of S'ruti is "smriti,"
_i.e._ recollection, tradition. This embraces the Sutras or works
dealing with ceremonial in the way of short rules gathered from the
older literature, with the exposition of the Vedas, with domestic
rites and conventional usages. The law books, the epics, and the
Puranas, or ancient legendary histories, also belong to this class.

The doctrine of the Vedas, of their sacredness and of their virtues,
played a great part in Indian thought. They were revered not as a
written word, for they were not written but handed down by
memory,--the Brahman still knows his sacred literature by heart,--but
as hymns possessing supernatural powers and of far higher than human
origin. They were raised to the rank of a divinity, they were said to
have had to do with the creation of the world, or to have been among
the first created beings. The value of the study of them was not to
be exaggerated; he who engages in it, we hear, offers a complete
sacrifice, obtains for himself the world which does not pass away,
and becomes united with Brahma. The class of men who had installed
themselves as the authorised interpreters of the hymns, had evidently
taken up a very strong position.

2. Sacrifice.--Indian ritual is an immense subject. In the Vedic
period there were several orders of sacrifice--the hymns of the
Rigveda have to do with the Soma-sacrifice alone--and several kinds
of priests, and it stands to reason that an elaborate ritual derived
from a distant age and cherished by a priestly caste which was
growing in power, could not quickly change. In spite of the
considerable amount of materials accessible in the Brahmanas and
Sutras, a history of Indian sacrifice as a whole has still to be
written.

It is characteristic of early Indian sacrifice that it is not
confined to a temple or to any sacred spot, and that it does not
require any image of the deity. Instructions are always given for
choosing and preparing a place for the rite, and for erecting an
altar; a place had to be prepared on each occasion. The gods were
asked to come, or were thought to be seated in heaven looking on; the
sacrifice is in the open air. While the celebration proceeded
according to a certain ritual, it lay with the worshippers to fix to
what god or gods the sacrifice should be addressed. There was not one
ritual for Agni and another for Indra, but the same would serve for
either or for both. The sacrifices of which we hear in the Brahmanas
are domestic rites; they are offered by the heads of the household,
who invite ancestors also to be present. A Brahman is present to
direct those who sacrifice and the inferior priests who assist them,
and the benefits of the act extend to all the dependants of the
household. The time was determined by natural seasons or by household
events. Some sacrifices were greater than others, the more elaborate
ones requiring several days, months, or even years for their
celebration. Among the kinds of offerings which might be made we find
that of man enumerated; human sacrifice, however, if it had prevailed
in earlier times, had now grown obsolete.

The rise of the Brahmans into a caste changed the character of the
sacrifice by making its due celebration depend more on special
knowledge, and by increasing its elaborate mystery. Once the hymn was
recognised as an essential element of such an act, the person who
could interpret the hymn and explain its effects acquired great
importance. And when the explanation of all the various features of
the sacrifice was once begun, a wide door was opened to minute
ingenuity. It is astonishing to what trifles these priestly
directories descend, what explanations are brought from every part of
earth and heaven of the most trivial circumstances, and what
sacredness is found in the very blades of grass around the altar. Now
the effect of such a treatment of ritual is inevitably that the rite
itself, the outward mechanical performance, comes to be regarded as
important, and that the ethical and religious end which was
originally aimed at, is lost sight of. The priest and those he acts
for are so intent on the minutiæ of their celebration that they
forget about the god it is intended for. And as they are quite
convinced that the sacrifice, if offered with perfect correctness and
with nothing left out, must produce its effect, the sacrifice itself
comes to appear as the agent of the desired blessing; the god grows
less but the sacrifice grows more. This process, which may be
observed wherever ritualism exists, was carried in the period of
Brahmanism to its utmost length. In this period the old gods lost the
strong hold they had before over the people's mind; men ceased to
look for their gods to the sky or to the tempest, and began to look
instead to the long ceremonies of the priest or to the hymn he
chanted at the altar, or to the austerities he practised. Gods of a
new type now make their appearance. As in the Vedic period we saw
that Brahmanaspati, lord of prayer, had a place beside Indra and
Varuna, so now we see that the supreme deity is named Brahma. The
prayer connected with the sacrifice has given its name to the ruler
of the universe. Other names for the supreme are also found to be
making their way to general use, as the old historical and
mythological gods fall into the background, and an abstract divine
unity is sought after. Prajapati, lord of creatures, who is little
heard of in the hymns, is frequently invoked as the head of all the
gods, and a triad of gods is heard of, consisting of Agni, Vayu,
Surya, fire, the air, the sun, and summing up the divine energies.
The attributes of the gods are personified, and a set of pale
abstractions is thus added to the Pantheon; and spirits and goblins
not heard of in the hymns, though not therefore necessarily unknown
in the former period, make their appearance. These are, perhaps, the
gods of the aborigines, who thus revenge themselves, as the religion
of the invaders which at first suppressed them loses its earlier
vigour. The strong gods retire and weak gods, many and shadowy, and
bad as well as good, are worshipped. The Asuras were formerly the
gods generally, now they are evil beings with whom the good gods have
to contend.

3. Practical Life.--We possess very complete pictures of Indian life
and manners in the period of Brahmanism. Of the codes of ancient
sages by which Hindu society was supposed to be governed many are
extant to us; and in Mr. Max Müller's _Sacred Books of the East_ the
English reader may make himself acquainted with several of these. The
most famous and the longest, is the laws of Manu, a mythical
progenitor of mankind. In the form in which we have it this work
dates probably from the second century A.D., but the body of the work
is much older. Originally a local collection of rules, it extended
its authority gradually over the entire Hindu population of India.
With other collections, also of local origin, it represents to us the
condition of Indian society after the caste system became fixed; but
much of the law thus handed down to us must have had its origin in
prehistoric times.

The law of Manu hinges on the superiority of the Brahman over the
other castes. The Brahmans form the centre of the state and really
control everything; but their life, in turn, is framed in strict
rules, and their whole history and actions are laid down for them to
the last detail from the moment of their birth. The life of the
Brahman is divided into four periods. For a quarter of his life he is
a student living with a teacher and learning from him the sacred
knowledge of the Vedas. Every act of study begins with the so-called
Savitri-verse, "Let us meditate on that excellent glory of the divine
Vivifier. May he enlighten our understandings." This prayer, with the
mystic syllable, Om (thought to have to do with the three gods of a
triad, but probably the original meaning is Yes, an abstract
all-embracing yes, in which nothing but pure being is affirmed), is
repeated at every return to study, and also with great frequency at
other times. The teacher is more to the student than his father, and
is to be treated with the greatest deference and courtesy; these
years are a training in gentle and seemly conduct as well as in law.
His student days completed, the Brahman offers his first sacrifice,
marries, and becomes a householder. Little is said of earning a
living; the Brahman is not to be worldly, but he is to be independent
if he can. He is, however, allowed to beg if in want. But more stress
is laid on the continued pursuit of knowledge, and on the domestic
sacrifices to gods and manes which are to be his daily care. After he
has brought up a son to take charge of his house and goods, the third
stage of his life is reached; he may retire from the world and become
a recluse, giving himself to contemplation and austerities. The
fourth stage is that of the ascetic, _bhikku_ or _sannyasin_, the
aged man who having given up all possessions, all human society, and
the practice of all rites, and subsisting only on alms, seeks to
purge his heart of all desire and to become united by deep meditation
with the supreme soul, thus attaining union with Brahma and final
liberation. In this section of the laws of Manu an ideal of moral
perfection is set forth, which is not demanded at the earlier stages
of life.

"_Let him not desire to die; let him not desire to live; let him wait
for his time as a servant for the payment of his wages._

"_Let him patiently bear hard words, let him not insult any one, nor
become any one's enemy for the sake of this perishable body. Against
an angry man let him not in return show anger; let him bless when he
is cursed._"

He is to be sedulously careful not to injure any living creature, he
is to meditate on the supreme soul which is present in all organisms,
both the highest and the lowest. He is to give up all attachments,
and in this way, as his body decays, he enters even here into a state
of perfect freedom and repose and union with the great spirit.

Such ideas prove that the mind of Brahmanism was not occupied with
sacrifices alone. Manu speaks of the superintendence of sacrifices as
only one of several careers which the Brahman might choose; and if he
might with equal right devote himself to study or to self-discipline,
we see that another side of religion than that directing itself to
external gods or occupying itself with outward acts, was pressing
itself forward. The inner world of the mind is growing larger as the
outward gods grow shadowy; it is being found that salvation may be
reached by inwards efforts as well as by outward rites, that the
search for wisdom and the work of self-conquest, and a union with the
deity which is quite apart from any offering or from any form of
worship, also lead to salvation. It is objected to the ethics of Manu
that the ideal they set up is not an active but a suffering one; the
ascetic is placed on a higher platform than the householder, men are
encouraged to withdraw from the performance of their duties in the
family and in society, and to devote themselves to an aim which,
however lofty, is personal and, so far, selfish. It is certainly a
weakness in the religion that it has no higher aim than this to set
before its most eager minds. Apart from this, life is regulated in a
way we cannot but admire. Amid the mass of trivialities and
formalities in which every action is involved there breathes a grave
humane and gentle spirit, and a sound practical morality, and the
ordinary household of the Brahman may have been a scene of activity
and cheerfulness. The Sudra, however, is spoken of everywhere as a
being whose degradation can never be removed, and to touch whom is to
be defiled. Those who belonged to no caste were in a still worse
plight and lived in the greatest misery.

4. Philosophy.--We have seen how both in the ritual system they
administered and in the ideal they formed of the highest good, the
Brahmans were led forward from the old ground of the Vedic
nature-worship to a more inward and subjective religious attitude.
The exaltation of Brahma, the power of prayer, to be the supreme god,
was an advance from an external deity to a deity both external and
present in man's own experience; and the appearance of a new way of
salvation, though only permitted at first to the world-weary ascetic,
in which inner contemplation and absorption could lead to the highest
consummation of life, also showed that a new form of religion was at
hand. In the philosophy of the Brahmanic period, the transition is
made from the service of gods external to man, by the mechanism of
rites, to the acknowledgment of a divine being with whom man feels
himself to be inwardly akin and to whom he draws near by his own
spiritual effort. In this movement, to which we learn that members of
the lay aristocracy and even women of intellectual distinction made
important contributions, and which may have appeared in its
beginnings as a sceptical revolt against their own system, the
Brahmans yet took part, and the works in which the record of it is
contained became a part of revelation. The "Upanishads" or
"communicated doctrines," form the third branch of the sacred
knowledge, and much of this literature belongs to the period before
Buddhism. These books are read still by the educated Hindu as part of
scripture, and the philosophy of them is a part of his religion. We
can only point out the principal terms and notions of that
philosophy.

Seeking to escape from the confusion of many gods the Indian mind is
looking out even from the Vedic period for some means to conceive of
them all as one. In the earliest period each reigned in turn as the
supreme; a god is supreme not because he is essentially the greatest
of the gods, but because circumstances have brought him to the front.
This is Henotheism. Then we have attempts to sum them all up in one
expression. Prajapati, lord of creatures, Visvakarman, maker of all
things, represent such attempts. Then we have as the supreme, Brahma,
the power of prayer,[2] a being of a different character from all his
predecessors. Brahma is an intellectual deity. He is a thinker, a
knower, he is the "Mahan Atma" or great spirit, which sits in
unbroken calm above the change and distraction of the universe. In
rendering Mahan Atma by great spirit, however, we are anticipating.
Atma, originally breath or life, comes, afterwards, to mean the
person, the self when all that is accidental is removed from it, the
essential, innermost self. Now Brahma is the great self, the inmost
essence of all things, which was before them, and is unaffected by
their changes. But man also has an atma, a self; it may be very small
and lodge in a part of the body where it cannot be detected, but it
is there, and the small atma is the same as the great one. By what
physiological doctrines this is upheld, cannot here be traced; but
the notion of the atma, the great form of which in Brahma is
identical with its small form in man, lies at the basis of Brahmanic
thought.

[Footnote 2: On the etymology of Brahma see Mr. Max Müller's _Hibbert
Lectures_, p. 366.]

In Brahma one god has been reached, but he has been reached by
thinking away from him everything concrete. All predicates are
unsuitable to him, as any predicate implies a limitation; he can only
be described in negatives, or in questionable metaphors. He is meant
to satisfy the religious craving for a being quite free from any
imperfection and entirely supreme--and it is the penalty of this that
he has no clear outline or character. And how indeed is he to be
related to the world? This world of change and decay, of
disappointment and sorrow, what has the perfect being to do with
that? Did he make it, and is he responsible for it? The answer to
this in Hindu thought is that the world is due to Maya, illusion. It
was due to an aberration in Brahma, which is represented in various
ways, that the transition was made from the one to the many, and this
error has been productive of all that has been suffered on the earth.
Or else it is held that it was not Brahma who became subject to
illusion, but that the illusion resides in man's views and thoughts
about the world; and if a man could free himself from the meshes of
Maya by recognising that the world is an illusion, and that nothing
exists but Brahma only, then he would have done something for his own
emancipation, the Brahma in him would be free from illusion, and he
would also have done something, though little, for the salvation of
the world from its great error.

That the whole world-process is nothing but an illusion, a confused
and troubled dream passing over the mind of Brahma, who himself alone
is real, this is the cardinal doctrine of Brahmanism, from which
Buddhism also, as we shall see, sets out. The world is really nothing
but an apparent world; and the true wisdom, the only salvation
consists in knowing this, and in living a life in accordance with
that knowledge. The wise man should regard a world which he knows to
be illusion, with complete indifference; it can do nothing to him, he
can do nothing for it; it affects him only with an ineradicable
regret that it exists at all, and with a longing for its
disappearance. The practical outcome of the state of matters which he
recognises is firstly negative, that he must not allow the world to
influence him at all, and, secondly, positive, that he must strive to
be united with Brahma. The negative task is performed by withdrawing
the mind from all particular things, and letting it be filled with
the general, the absolute alone; and similarly by forbidding the
desires to fasten on any worldly objects, by extinguishing desire and
ceasing to be affected in any way by worldly things. The positive
task is performed by means of a mental process which we cannot here
describe, but by which the mind returns to the self that is within
and realises it as it is, cleared from all particular thoughts and
affections. These exercises cannot be called moral; where all is
illusion morality disappears. There is no good, no evil, no effort to
promote the good and lessen the evil. It is not because the world is
bad that it is condemned, but because it exists. The energy which in
other faiths is devoted to a moral struggle, is here poured into the
ascetic discipline by which the individual looks to escape altogether
from the world as it is. There are no good works, what is good is to
abstain from all works; there is no benevolence further than that the
mind must be kept clear of all that confuses or degrades; the
salvation of the individual alone is sought after; there is no desire
to spread the light and save others, since few are capable of that
knowledge of the illusive nature of all things by which alone
salvation is possible.

This, it is plain, could never be a popular religion. Brahma, the
abstract one, does not appeal to the imagination; he could not drive
out the popular nature-gods with their definite myths and attributes.
Nor could a religion spread among the people, which regarded the
social and the domestic state as inferior, and could only be
practised by one who had left his home and family. The hermits and
ascetics and begging monks may form the religious aristocracy; but a
teaching of a different nature was necessary for the people. And we
find, in fact, two religions prevailing in India in the period of
Brahmanism; that which we have described for the enlightened, who
escapes in it from all law, all creed, all ritual, whose whole
religion more than any other which ever flourished in the world is
within the mind;[3] and on the other hand, a religion in which
outward gods are worshipped, an outward law enforced which is counted
sacred because a god or gods inspired it, and in which superstitions
gathered from all quarters find shelter. The higher religion by no
means killed the lower one, as we see in India to this day. On the
contrary, the withdrawal of the higher religion of the country to a
region whither the people could not follow, left the religion of the
people to sink into a degradation unknown before. One doctrine must
here be noticed. The belief in transmigration which Buddhism received
from the religion it found existing in India, does not belong to the
higher thought of Brahmanism described in this section; the atman or
self, which is identical with the supreme self, belongs to quite a
different order of thought from the soul which was formerly in some
one else, is now in me, and may yet come to be in many another being.
The doctrine is thought to have been an importation into India about
the time we are speaking of. It admits of being made a powerful
deterrent from vice and incentive to virtue. If my present sufferings
are due not to my acts, but to the acts of the person in whom my soul
dwelt before, it is possible for me so to act that my soul's future
existence may be better and not worse than this one, and that it
shall not sink but rise in the order of beings, and draw nearer to
its final deliverance. Of this we shall hear more in connection with
Buddhism.

[Footnote 3: "From the standpoint of unity with Brahma, the gods are
no-gods, the Vedas no-Vedas."]

The further development of Indian religion, apart from Buddhism, is
in two directions. There is a philosophical movement, in which the
Brahmanic ideas on God, the world, the soul and its changes, are
further worked out, and which leads to the six schools of Hindu
philosophy. On the other hand, the gods have their history. Brahma
remains the great god, but as his character is so undefined he is
little worshipped. Indra, the old national god, yields to Vishnu, the
old sun-god of the three steps (heaven, the air, the earth), who
becomes the favourite deity. The stern and destructive S'iva is a new
figure, and seems to be partly an adaptation of a god of the savage
aborigines: his worship is the most fanatical. These three, the
Creator, the Upholder, and the Destroyer, form the Trimurti, or
divine trinity of India,--a trinity arrived at not by unfolding the
riches of the one great god, but by compounding the claims of three
gods who were rivals. The doctrine of incarnation is also found here.
Vishnu has ten avatars or incarnations in human form; he comes down
to the earth when there is a special reason for his interference. In
these avatars, especially in Krishna, the dark god, whose exploits as
a hero are told in the great epic the Mahabharata, the need is to
some extent met, of which both Buddhism and Christianity lay hold, of
a divine figure who is not too far away from man, and who can be
regarded with personal affection.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED

Most of the books mentioned at the end of last chapter deal also with
Brahmanism.

Of the Brahmanic literature given in the Sacred Books of the East,
the following may be mentioned:--

  Vols. i. and xv. Upanishads.

  Vols. ii. and xiv. Sacred Laws of the Aryas.

  Vol. vii. The Institutes of Vishnu.

  Vols. xii., xxvi., and xli. The Satapatha-Brahmana (Sacrificial
    Rituals).

  Vol. xxv. Manu.

  Vols. xxix., and xxx. Grihya-Sutras (Domestic Ceremonies).

  Vol. xxxiv. Vedic Hymns. xlvi. Hymns to Agni.

  Vols. xlii.-xliv. Hymns of the Atharva-Veda.

  Vols. xxxiv., xxxviii., xlviii. Vedanta Sutras.

Muir's _Sanscrit Texts_.

Weber, _Indische Skizzen_.

Haug, _Aitareya Brahmana_.

CHAPTER XX
INDIA

III. _Buddhism_

In Buddhism the great movement of Indian religion works itself out to
its ultimate conclusion and reaches a stage beyond which there can be
no advance. Here we have a religion, if such it may be called,
without a god, without prayer, without priesthood or worship; a
religion which owes its great success, not to its theology, nor to
its ritual, since it has neither, but to its moral sentiment and to
its external organisation. Originating in the centre of India, and
giving practical form to Indian ideas, it spread rapidly and widely
both in the country of its birth and in neighbouring lands. It is now
extinct in India, yet it numbers more adherents than any other
religion. It has been divided since the Christian era into two great
branches. Southern Buddhism is the religion of Ceylon, of Burmah, and
of Siam; while Northern Buddhism extends over Tibet, China, and
Japan, and the islands of Java and Sumatra.

The Literature.--These two branches of Buddhism have different
literary traditions, though some works are common to both; and these
literatures, differing from each other in language, also differ
widely in contents and in spirit. The southern tradition, composed in
Pali, the literary language of Ceylon, has recently been opened up to
scholars, and has greatly changed their views of the origin and the
true nature of this religion. The Canon of Southern Buddhism, which
we might call the Pali Bible, is a literature about twice as large as
the Bible of Europe, although if the repetitions in it were removed,
it would be somewhat smaller than the Bible. It consists of three
Pitakas, baskets or collections. The first is the Vinaya Pitaka,
dealing with discipline, but including the Mahavagga, a history of
the first beginnings of the order as the founder gathered it around
him. The second is the Sutta Pitaka or collection of teachings. It
contains the earliest account of the later life of the founder, books
of meditation and devotion, collections of sayings by the Master,
poems, fairy tales, and fables, stories about Buddhist saints, and so
on. The third collection, the Abidhamma, contains speculations and
discussions on various subjects. Much of these materials is not
peculiar to Buddhism, there is much pre-Buddhistic speculation, and
there are many stories which are not peculiar even to India. Along
with all this, however, the books give us the earliest accounts of
the life and of the death of the founder, and contain a
representation written a century after his death, of what he was
considered to have taught. The founder himself wrote nothing; but the
work of composing books about him and his doctrine began early, and
much of the canon is considered, especially by English scholars, to
have been in existence during the first Buddhist century.[1] For many
centuries they were preserved by memory alone.

[Footnote 1: The Buddhist literature given in the _Sacred Books of
the East_ is as follows:

  Vol. x. The Dhammapada, containing the quintessence of Buddhist
  morality, and the Sutta-nipata, giving teachings of Buddha on
  religion.

  Vol. xi. Buddhist Suttas. Religious, moral, and philosophical
  discourses. Vol. xlix. Buddhist Mahayana Sutras.

  Vol. xiii. Vinaya Texts. The Patimokha or order of discipline, and
  the beginning of the Mahavagga, containing an account of the
  opening of the ministry of the founder.

  Vol. xvii. Vinaya Texts ii. Mahavagga continued. Kullavagga or
  discipline as established by the Master.

  Vol. xx. Kullavagga continued.

  Vols. xxii., xlv. contain Suttas of the religion of the Jainas.

  Vols. xxxv., xxxvi. Questions of King Milinda.]

Was there a Personal Founder?--Senart in his _Essai sur la légende du
Buddha_, and Kern in his _Het Buddhisme in Indie_, both hold that we
have here to do with a sun-myth, and interpret the various features
of the legend in a very ingenious way in accordance with that theory.
This view has made few converts. Many incidents in the story are
natural, and appear to be due to a real tradition; there is literary
evidence of the early existence of the books, and the religion can be
best understood if regarded as the work of a real personality of
commanding greatness.[2]

[Footnote 2: Recent archæological discoveries, of which an account is
given by Mr. Rhys Davids in the _Century Magazine_, April 1902, place
it beyond doubt that the Buddha really existed, and that pious
offices were paid to his ashes after his cremation by the members of
his own clan as well as by others. Inscriptions brought to light in
1898 show that the Sakhya clan, of which he was a member, dwelt at
the time of his death in what is now a frontier district of Nepal.
Three years before that event they were driven from their old capital
Kapilavastu; but they formed a new one fifteen miles further south,
just beyond the present frontier of Nepal, and there they erected a
_stupa_ or massive stone cairn, to guard the portion of the ashes of
the Buddha which was committed to their keeping.]

Scholars, however, are agreed as to the difficulty of drawing the
line between what is history and what is legend. Even in the early
Pali accounts the hero has become a religious figure, he wears titles
which lift him above mankind, and he has supernatural powers at his
command. A laborious critical process must be undertaken, comparing
the various narratives with each other and testing them in other
ways, before the real history can be regarded as made out beyond
question. The slight sketch of the story which we give does not aim
at such critical correctness; we merely indicate the outline of a
narrative which is one of the principal sources of the strength of
the religion.

The Story of the Founder.--The founder's family name was Gautama, and
by that name he was commonly known during his lifetime. The personal
name given him as a child was Siddartha. Those who wished after his
death to speak of him with reverence called him Sakya-Muni, the Sage
of the Sakyas. These were a tribe who dwelt, at the period of the
story, _i.e._ half a millennium before Christ, in the country to the
north of the sacred Ganges, a few days' journey from the city of
Benares. Gautama's father, Suddhodana, was rajah (chief) of the
Sakyas; his residence was Kapilavastu, near Oude. The future sage
thus belonged to the Kshatriya class, and was accustomed to a
position of rank and ease. We hear little of his youth; he had been
married ten years, and his wife, whom he loved, had just brought him
a son, when, at the age of twenty-nine, he suddenly and secretly left
his home to devote himself to the religious life. He was led to this
step by witnessing various painful sights which caused him vividly to
realise the suffering which accompanies all existence, and made him
scorn a life of luxury. It was a time when many were seeking a better
way, and when a superior mind naturally turned to that retirement and
absorption in which it was believed that the key to life's pains and
mysteries was to be found. In the "Great Renunciation," as this act
is called, there is nothing we cannot understand. This lofty act,
however, was followed by a temptation; Mara, the spirit of evil,
urged him, but urged him in vain, to give up the purpose he had
formed. He then attached himself to Brahmanic ascetics, from whom he
learned their philosophy; and after this he devoted himself for six
years to a life of fasting and penance, the Brahmanic method for
drawing nearer the goal of the religious life. After this period he
gave up his fasting, not having profited by it as he had expected,
and returned to an ordinary diet. This change cost him the adhesion
of five disciples who had become attached to him, and had been filled
with wonder at his mortifications. But the loss was a small one
compared with the gain which was at hand. After a second great
spiritual struggle and a renewal of the temptation, he at last
reached that which he had long been seeking. Seated under a _ficus
religiosa_, the tree afterwards called the tree of knowledge, or the
Bo-tree, he rose in contemplation above all his temptations and
doubts till he beheld at length the true nature of things. From this
moment he was Buddha, Enlightened; he had the key of truth, and for
himself he was assured that sorrow and evil had lost all hold on him.
His doctrine had dawned in his mind. He had discovered the cause of
the sorrow which is so closely intertwined in man's life, and had
divined the way in which sorrow might be overcome. The method had
been found by which one could escape from the unending succession of
new lives, all painful, to which, according to the general belief of
the time, men were condemned. The words placed in the mouth of the
founder when he attained to Buddhahood tell their own tale. "Looking
for the Maker of this tabernacle, I have to run through a course of
many births so long as I do not find him; and painful is birth again
and again. But now, Maker of the tabernacle, thou hast been seen;
thou shalt not make up this tabernacle again. All thy rafters are
broken; thy ridge-pole is sundered; the mind, approaching the
eternal, has attained to the extinction of all desires."[3]

[Footnote 3: Dhammapada, _S. B. E._ x. 42.]

The great discovery being made, and duly pondered and realised, the
question arose, What was to be done with it? The Buddha shrinks from
the work of preaching it to others. Brahma himself is brought into
the story to encourage him to make his secret known to others, and to
assure him that many will receive it with great joy. The Blessed One
consents, and thus replies: "Wide open is the gate of the Immortal to
all who have ears to hear; let them send forth faith to meet it. The
teaching is sweet and good; because I despaired of the task, I spake
not to men before."[4] He turns his steps, guided by his own
supernatural knowledge, to the city of Benares, to seek the five
monks who had formerly abandoned him. On his way thither he meets a
naked ascetic who asks the reason of his cheerful mien; he answers
that he has overcome all foes, has reached emancipation by the
destruction of desire, and has obtained Nirvana. "To found the
kingdom of Truth I go to the city of the Kasis (Benares); I will beat
the drum of the Immortal in the darkness of this world." The account
which follows of the opening of the "kingdom of righteousness"
presents many analogies to the early stages of other spiritual
movements. The founder, immovably sure of himself and of his
doctrines, goes from place to place, spending the rainy season in
town, and preaching everywhere. It is at Benares that the "wheel of
the law" is first set in motion; there the first sermon was preached.
The circumstances are also narrated under which other sermons were
delivered, details being given as to time, place, the persons who
heard them, the incidents which occasioned them. His converts at
first are few and their names are recorded, but by degrees they
become more numerous. The more devoted of them become members of his
order, Bhikkus (for Bhikshus), mendicants; they forsake domestic
life, shave their heads, adopt the yellow dress and the alms-bowl.
They also are sent out to preach. "Go ye, O Bhikkus, and wander, for
the welfare of many, out of compassion for the world, for the gain
and for the welfare of gods and men. Let not two of you go the same
way. Preach, O Bhikkus, the doctrine which is glorious in the
beginning, glorious in the middle, glorious in the end, in the
spirit, and in the letter; proclaim a consummate, perfect, and pure
life of holiness. There are beings whose mental eyes are covered with
scarcely any dust, but if the doctrine is not preached to them they
cannot attain salvation." The incidents narrated in this part of the
story are mostly connected with persons seeking admission to the
order, or persons requiring to be convinced; the doctrine and its
spread are everything. That spread takes place, as it is desired by
the Buddha, chiefly among the higher classes of society; a great
triumph is reached when Bimbisara, king of Magadha, becomes a patron
of the order, and some accounts tell of the conversion of the
Buddha's own father and mother. The work of the mission is of a
peaceful nature; the Buddha lives on good terms with the Brahmans and
with other teachers and their pupils. The only formidable opposition
he had to meet arose within the order. His cousin Dewadatta, who had
become a monk, wished to found a new order with much stricter rules
than those of the original one. The Buddha refused to attach
importance, as was proposed, to matters of clothes and food, or
living in the open air; to do so would have made his movement
narrower and less universal than he desired.

[Footnote 4: Mahavagga, _S. B. E._ xiii. 88.]

The beginning of the ministry is told in some detail, but of a long
period of the life only a few scattered incidents are given. There is
a detailed account of the three last months of the life. The Buddha
is now eighty years of age, and in the Maha-paranibbana Sutta[5] the
tale of his migrations and preachings is carried on according to the
same scheme as in the accounts of his early days. During the rainy
season, however, when he has reached the age of eighty, he has an
illness, and sees he cannot live long. This he tells his monks,
exhorting them with urgency to be true to the teaching and the order,
and to shed the light abroad. His end is hastened by a meal of pork
set before him by a goldsmith, a man of low caste, who hospitably
entertained him. After this his face shines with a heavenly radiance,
and as the end approaches many heavenly signs appear. The Buddha is
fully conscious that he is about to leave the world, and that his
death is an event of supreme interest to the heavenly powers, whom he
believes to be thronging around to watch his last hours. He is
solicitous, however, to soothe the grief of his friends, large
numbers of whom also are around him, and to give them such counsels
and such incentives to a faithful upholding of the cause as he yet
may. They ask about his obsequies, and he claims that the remains of
such an one as he is, of a Tathagata, "one who has attained
perfection," should be treated as men treat the remains of a king of
kings. He recognises the kindness of Ananda, his most intimate
disciple, and tries to comfort him by encouraging him to be earnest
in effort, so that he too may soon be free from evils. He directs his
disciples generally not to mourn too much at his removal as if they
were being deserted. The truths which he has set forth, and the rules
of the order he has laid down for them, are to be their teacher after
he is gone. He asks if any of them has any doubt or misgiving as to
the Buddha, or the truth, or the faith, or the way. If so, they are
to inquire freely, so that they may not reproach themselves
afterwards for not having consulted him while still among them. The
brethren, however, are silent, though addressed again and again in
the same way. In the whole assembly there is not one who has any
doubt or misgiving. Even the most backward of these brethren has
become converted (lit. "entered into the current"); he is no longer
liable to be born to a state of suffering, but is assured of eternal
salvation.

[Footnote 5: _S. B. E._ vol. xl.]

"Then the Blessed One addressed the brethren and said, 'Behold now,
brethren, I exhort you,' saying, 'Decay is inherent in all things
that have come into being. Work out your salvation with diligence!'

"This was the last word of the Tathagata!"

His death or Nirvana forms the era of Buddhist chronology, and the
date has now been approximately fixed with some certainty; it took
place somewhere in the decade 482-472 B.C.

Is Buddhism a Revolt against Brahmanism?--Before proceeding to
discuss the religion to which this somewhat monkish narrative forms
the preface, it is necessary to say a few words on the relation which
that religion is now supposed to hold to the general history of
Indian piety. It was customary, till recently, to regard Buddha as a
great reformer, and his religion as a great revolt against that which
it found prevailing in India. He is credited with having preached
atheism as a reaction against the burdensome worship of too many
gods, with having instituted a great social movement consisting in
the abolition of caste, with having openly denied the authority of
the Vedas, till then unchallenged, and with having rebuked the pride
of Brahmanism by making his order of mendicants the representatives
of his religion. None of these assertions can now be upheld. Instead
of having been a tremendous reaction against Brahmanism it is seen
that Buddhism was the natural outgrowth of that system. The closer
knowledge of both, gained by the opening up of the sacred books of
India, tends to show that much that was formerly thought distinctive
of Buddhism was in reality inherited from Brahmanism. We saw in
dealing with the earlier form of Indian religion that a form of piety
had been struck out in it which made the ascetic independent of
sacrifice, priesthood, even of the gods, all save the one God who is
in all things. In that phase of Indian religion the authority of the
Vedas had already been impugned, an inner discipline had taken the
place of outward worship, the saint had learned to forsake the world.
This turn of religious thought produced all the phenomena of Buddhism
before the period of Gautama. The sannyasin (_vide sup._, chapter
xix.) of Brahmanism is also called bhikku, mendicant; the rules of
the older ascetics are closely similar to those of the Buddhist monk;
their very outfit, their cloak and alms-bowl, are the same.

A circumstance which shows very clearly how far Buddhism was from
bearing the character of a revolt, is the occurrence at the same time
and in the same district of India of another movement of a very
similar nature. Jainism is an Indian religion so like Buddhism as to
have been considered by many to be a sect of the latter. It also has
an order of monks with robes and with a rule like those of the
Buddhist fraternity. It also has a human founder on whom many of the
same titles are conferred as on Gautama, and who is afterwards
deified and worshipped. Mahavira, the founder of Jainism, is, like
Gautama, the son of a royal house; and the Jainist and the Buddhist
legend have many features in common. Was the legend of Mahavira,
then, a sectarian version of the legend of Gautama, did no such
person exist, at least as the founder of a religious body? So it was
formerly considered; but it has now been discovered that the Buddhist
scriptures themselves bear witness to the actual existence of
Mahavira in the lifetime of Gautama, who once had an encounter with
him and confuted him. It appears then that two similar movements were
going on close together at the same time. They were independent of
each other; the two rules differ in important particulars. Jainism
carries to a much greater length than Buddhism the "ahimsa," or
prohibition of the destruction of life; the Jainists practise
austerities which Buddhism discards, and in the philosophies of the
two systems there are far-reaching discrepancies. On the other hand,
both Buddhism and Jainism borrow from Brahmanism most of their
practices and institutions; both are developments of the way of
salvation struck out not by Brahmans alone, but by men of other
castes and other views, when faith in the old national gods was
growing dim.

We now proceed to discuss the Buddhist system, taking it as it
appears in the early books, which tell us at least what was believed
in the fourth century B.C. to have been the ideas and intentions of
the founder. The following is the formula in which the convert
expressed his desire to be admitted to the order: "I take shelter in
the Buddha, I take shelter in the Dhamma (doctrine), I take shelter
in the Samgha (order)."

1. The Buddha.--This confession of faith is directed to a triad of
which the Buddha is the first member. Now the title Buddha was not
invented by Buddhism, but belongs to earlier Indian thought, which
held that from time to time, in a specially favoured age, an
Enlightened One and Enlightener, an omniscient and perfect teacher,
visited the world. Of these there had been in former ages
twenty-four, and the followers of Gautama held him to be the
twenty-fifth, but not the last. The application to Gautama of this
title removed him, to the believer, from the ranks of ordinary men,
and was the signal for a constantly increasing exaltation of his
person. In adhering to the Buddha, therefore, the convert is not
bowing to a mere man, but to one in whom a new type of deity is on
the way to be realised. He is a man; there is a record of his human
life, in which he made a great renunciation, abandoning, out of
compassion for men's sufferings, a position of lordly ease for that
of the mendicant. In this way he is a saviour not too exalted for the
pious heart to love and follow. Having found out in his own
experience the way of peace, and opened up that way for others, he is
a pattern and an encouragement as well as a lawgiver to the earnest
soul; and the personal relation which may thus be enjoyed with the
founder is one great secret of the success of the religion. On the
other hand, he is more than a man. The belief grew up very early that
he was not born in the ordinary way, but that his birth had been his
own voluntary act, and that his great renunciation consisted in his
choosing, out of compassion for men, to enter human life and to bear
the burden of its sufferings. In this way a religion which originally
had no gods and no worship began to supply itself with these. Some
scholars hold that it was among the lay community, among men not
thoroughly initiated into Buddhist thought, and failing to find in
the new faith what their former religions had afforded, that the
deification of the Buddha and the worship of him began; it may
certainly be doubted whether the religion could have lived long or
spread far if these deficiencies had not been early supplied.

2. The Doctrine.--The life of the founder gives us the key to his
doctrine. We see at once that that doctrine was not negative but
positive and constructive. Neither was it socially of a revolutionary
character, nor did it deny any part of the existing religion. We
never read that Gautama's teaching was assailed by the Brahmans as
unsound; it was centuries after his death that antagonism broke out
between the order and the upholders of other systems. Nor again did
the teaching put forward a new philosophy. On certain points which we
shall notice there is a development of thought in it; but this was
not obtruded.

In fact the doctrine is not a speculation at all, but a way of
salvation which is preached for its own sake, and carefully guarded
from being mixed up with speculative or religious controversy. The
Buddha is one who has found out a new way to be saved, and he comes
forward to preach what he has discovered, and that alone. Other
matters he leaves as they are. "All his discourses savour of
redemption as all the sea is salt." Other men may draw inferences as
to the relation his doctrine bears to the position of the Brahmans,
or to the sacrifices, or to existing beliefs; he does not draw these
inferences, he feels no need to do so.

The doctrine professes to be an answer to a definite problem--the
problem of pain. It is the most characteristic thing about both the
founder and the doctrine, that they start from the universal
existence of pain, to seek a remedy for it; they are inspired
therefore from the first by a dark view of human life, and by the
sentiment of compassion. It was the impression made on the young
prince, of the general prevalence of suffering, that drove him forth
from the palace to be a sannyasin or devotee. In a striking sermon he
uses the figure of fire to indicate how universal is the rule of pain
in all parts of nature and of human life. "All is burning; the eye is
burning, and all it looks on and all it remembers of what it has
seen"; so it is with each of the senses, so also with the mind. The
fire is that of passion, of malice, of illusion, of birth, of age, of
death, of pain, despondency, and despair. But the nature of the
complaint from which man suffers, and also the remedy for it, are
described most clearly in the "Four Noble Truths" set forth in the
opening sermon at Benares. In these memorable utterances the teacher
expresses himself according to the rules of the medical art, first
setting forth the nature of the disease, then its cause, then how it
takes end, and lastly, the means to be adopted in order that it may
do so.

1. The Noble Truth of _Suffering_. Birth is suffering, decay is
suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering. Presence of
objects we hate is suffering, separation from objects we love is
suffering, not to obtain what we desire is suffering. Briefly, the
fivefold clinging to existence is suffering.

2. The Noble Truth of the _Cause of Suffering_. Thirst that leads to
rebirth, accompanied by pleasure and lust, finding its delight here
and there. This thirst is threefold, namely, thirst for pleasure,
thirst for existence, thirst for prosperity.

3. The Noble Truth of the _Cessation of Suffering_. It ceases with
the complete cessation of this thirst, a cessation which consists in
the absence of every passion, with the abandoning of this thirst,
with the deliverance from it, with the destruction of desire.

4. The Noble Truth of the _Path which leads to the Cessation of
Suffering_. The holy eightfold Path; that is to say, Right Belief,
Right Aspiration, Right Speech, Right Conduct, Right Means of
Livelihood, Right Endeavour, Right Memory, Right Meditation.

In these statements there are some things which we can readily
understand, but also some things which are not so easy. It is a
thought with which Christians are familiar, that desire is the parent
of all sorts of pain and disappointment, that the assertion of the
self, the putting forward of personal wishes and claims, involves
suffering. And we read in the Gospels that the way to escape from
such suffering is to cease from desire, no longer to be anxious about
what this world can give us or take from us, and not to lay up
treasures. Buddhist doctrine has its moral basis in the perception of
the vanity of all human effort and desire, and in the conviction that
the true riches for man cannot consist in any of those goods to which
the heart naturally clings. Where that perception does not exist,
where the first of the Noble Truths is not accepted as beyond all
question, Buddhism can have no hold. So far the doctrine is easy to
follow. But in the second of the Truths we find that the cause of
suffering is sought in the history of the human person as Indian
thought conceives it. Man suffers because he has been born again, has
suffered a rebirth, and the cause of his rebirth is the thirst which
has been felt or even nourished in a previous existence. The thought
that suffering is due to desire is not presented simply, as it is in
our Gospels, but in connection with a doctrine of man's life and of
the connection of one generation with another, which is quite strange
to us, but apart from which primitive Buddhism held that its doctrine
of suffering could not be understood. The Buddha, after discovering
the doctrine, is at first in doubt whether or not he will preach it;
and the cause of his doubt is that he is not sure if men will be able
to understand the law of causality and the chain of existence, on
which he himself meditated a whole night after his enlightenment, and
his discovery of which he regards as a great part of his achievement.
This chain of causation is stated in a long series of asserted
processes, in which the connection between one generation and
another, and the transmission from life to life of the melancholy
heritage of desire and sorrow, is obscurely and enigmatically traced.
The beginning of all is ignorance (of the four truths); from
ignorance proceed the "samkharas" or forms of production, from these
in turn consciousness, the senses, contact, sensation, thirst, and so
on to birth and the miseries of life. Suffering is destroyed by
tracing this sequence over again in a negative way, so that, the
first member of it being destroyed, each subsequent member is
destroyed in turn.

It is no wonder that the founder doubted whether this doctrine of
causation would be generally understood; for it is in fact an attempt
to reconcile two opposite views of the nature of the human person. In
the first place we find in early Buddhism the thought that there is
no such thing as a self in the human being; a man is made up of
various bundles of attributes and sensations called _skandhas_, but
he himself is none of these. There is no persistent substratum of a
self under these activities and forms, any more than there is a
carriage in addition to the wheels, shafts, nails, etc., of which a
carriage is composed. The Buddhist is called on to give up the belief
in a permanent ego; only where the various parts come together is the
man there. This is the well-known denial of the soul in this
religion; the soul is nothing but the "name and form" of a chance
collocation of elements. It is hard to know where this doctrine came
from; Kern says it is derived from the science of dissection, others
compare it with the doctrine of Heraclitus, taught about the same
time in Greece, that all things are in constant flux, nothing
permanent. The last words of the Master assert that decay is
universal; and the doctrine of the skandhas is a corollary from that
principle; if all the elements of which the human person is made up
are in process of decay, then the self cannot be a substantial and
persistent thing. That doctrine, however, does not go well together
with the belief in the universality and inexorableness of suffering.
If there is no self, must not consciousness come to an end when the
elements fall asunder which chance has brought together, and must not
the hour of death be also the hour of complete emancipation? This,
however, it was impossible to hold in India at the time of Gautama;
the belief in transmigration was too firmly fixed, he never thought
of disputing it. That belief indeed is what chiefly makes the
suffering of the world so lamentable. To Indian eyes the pain
actually in the world was magnified a hundred-fold by the dark
imagination of its connection with the past and with the future. What
a man suffered was the result of acts done in many former lives, all
spent in the vain misery of desire; and the sad prospect was extended
before him that death would not end his pains, but that he would be
born again and again to suffer ever anew so long as desire continued.
But if this is the case, then the soul would seem to be a durable and
persistent thing which is able to go through many lives and much
suffering without being brought to an end. On the theory of
transmigration the soul is not a mere shadow-name of an aggregation
of qualities, but the one durable thing which survives when all that
is accidental and temporary falls away from it. The doctrine of the
Skandhas and that of transmigration are thus opposed, and the
doctrine of the _nidanas_ or the chain of causation is the bridge
which satisfied Gautama's own mind, but which he was doubtful about
presenting to others, to bring them into harmony. He aimed at showing
by his catalogue of these obscure processes how the actions done in a
life set up a tendency to a corresponding existence in another life
which begins after the former one ends. Though there is no soul to be
transmitted, the moral effects of former lives are transmitted to
their successors.

The essential doctrine of the Buddha, however, is determined by the
belief in transmigration. His cry of triumph at the time of his
enlightenment is to the effect that the long series of suffering
existences through which he has passed has now come to an end, and
that he will not be born again. And what he preaches with constant
iteration is the misery of this awful succession of births to renewal
of suffering, and the infinite blessedness of escaping from this
cycle. The disciple, when converted, is to be able to say: "Hell is
destroyed for me, and rebirth as an animal or a ghost or in any place
of woe. I am converted, I am no longer liable to be reborn in a state
of suffering, and am assured of eternal salvation."

Now it rests with a man's own acts to end his sufferings. The chain
of causation which ends with suffering begins with ignorance. The
ignorance which is meant is that of the four noble truths, of the way
of salvation. Let a man cease from ignorance, let him accept the
Noble Truths and the insight they convey into the cause of suffering,
then by ceasing to thirst, or to burn, or in our own language by
turning his mind away from all desire, believing that what he does
will be effective for his salvation, he sets up a chain of causation
in an opposite direction, and having destroyed ignorance he may rest
assured that he has destroyed suffering too and is in the right way.
The burden he has inherited he will not need to carry any farther,
but will, when he dies, lay down for ever.

When we look at the fourth Noble Truth, which tells what a man has to
do in order to obtain this salvation, we are at first surprised.
After the deep earnestness with which the nature of the disease and
the cause and cure of the disease have been stated, we expect that
stronger practical measures will be asked for than these eight forms
of moderation. Christianity speaks of cutting off the right hand,
plucking out the right eye, in order to cut off desire: and the
Brahmanic method of union with the Deity was, as we have seen, that
of the most extreme self-mortification united with contemplation.
This Brahmanic method, the _yoga_ by which the devotee sought to
escape from all the accidents of being and to make himself one with
the great Self, the Buddha had tried for six years; but he had given
it up for a year when the hour of his enlightenment struck, and he
explicitly condemns for others the path he had found unprofitable for
himself. It is one of two extremes, both to be avoided, "The one
extreme is a life devoted to pleasures and lusts; this is degrading,
sensual, vulgar, profitless; the other is a life given to
mortifications; this is painful, ignoble, and profitless. By avoiding
these two extremes the Tathagata has gained the knowledge of the
Middle Path, which leads to insight, wisdom, calm, to Nirvana." The
way, therefore, to escape from the Karma, the moral retribution which
works inexorably in one life the result stored up in previous lives,
is that of a careful and unintermitted self-discipline, which does
not run to extremes, but practices, with perfectly clear purpose and
self-possession, the needful virtues mentioned in the fourth of the
Noble Truths. What are these? There is to be--

  1. Right belief, without superstition or delusion.

  2. Right aspiration, after such things as the thoughtful and
     earnest man sets store by.

  3. Right speech, speech that is friendly and sincere.

  4. Right conduct, conduct that is peaceable, honourable, and pure.

  5. Right means of livelihood, _i.e._ a pursuit which does not
     involve the taking or injuring of life.

  6. Right endeavour, _i.e._ self-restraint and watchfulness.

  7. Right memory, _i.e._ presence of mind, not forgetting at any
     time what one ought to remember; and

  8. Right meditation, _i.e._ earnest occupation with the riddles of
     life.

This is the path; there are four stages of it--

  1. The stage of him who has entered the path.

  2. The stage of him who has yet to return once to life.

  3. The stage of him who returns not again, but may be born again as
     a superior being; and

  4. The stage of the worthy, holy one, the _Arahat_, who is free
     from desire for existence, and also from pride and
     self-righteousness, and who is saved and has obtained holiness,
     even in this life.

An Arahat is not equal to a Buddha; the former is himself saved, but
the perfect Buddha is able by his perfect knowledge to save others.
Of Buddhas, however, there are not many. One becomes an Arahat by a
life of strenuous and untiring discipline. Ten fetters are to be
broken by which a man is kept from freedom; self-deception is one of
them, trust in sacrifice another, and the list embraces both sensual
and intellectual weaknesses. One must watch and be sober; every act,
however trivial, is to be done with full self-consciousness and
earnestness. One must remember that he is engaged in a great and a
hard work, and must resolutely "swim upstream," estimating at its
proper value every affection and temptation that would hold him back.
The body is to be contemned, and all natural ties; emotion is to be
uprooted from the heart so that the proper state of entire calm and
undisturbedness may be maintained. Then one is an Arahat, a true
Brahman. This manner of life requires withdrawal from the world; the
true salvation can only be attained by him who has left his home for
the houseless life. But Buddhism has also a general moral code for
those who have not taken this step; the keeping of it will not save
them directly; from the life they are now leading that is impossible,
but it is a beginning; it will make it easier for them to become
Arahats and attain salvation in some future existence. For all it is
good to be free from desire; as all desire contains in itself a germ
of death, there is no approach to salvation except in this direction.

Buddhist Morality.--Towards fellow-men Buddhist morality is based on
the notion of the equality of all; respect is to be paid to all
living beings. The five rules of righteousness which are binding on
all followers of the Buddha are:

  1. Not to kill any living being.

  2. Not to take that which is not given.

  3. To refrain from adultery.

  4. To speak no untruth.

  5. To abstain from all intoxicating liquors.

To these are added five more for members of the order, who are also
required to refrain from all sexual intercourse, viz.:

  1. Not to eat after mid-day.

  2. Not to be present at dancing, singing, music, or plays.

  3. Not to use wreaths, scents, ointments, or personal ornaments.

  4. Not to use a high or a broad bed.

  5. To possess no silver or gold.

These commandments, like those of the Decalogue, are negative in
form; but in the Buddhist scriptures a positive moral ideal is
inculcated on all, which is grave and attractive in its character,
and is sustained by a strong though quiet enthusiasm. We find here a
delicate conscientiousness as to the relations to be cultivated with
one's fellow-men; the widest toleration is enjoined, a toleration
extending to all beings, to all opinions. Hatred is to be repaid by
love, life is to be filled with kindness and compassion. The
Dhammapada and the Sutta-nipata deserve to be read by all who care
for the unseen riches of the soul. By their simple earnestness, their
quaint use of parable and metaphor, and their mingling of the
homeliest things with the highest truths, these books take rank among
the most impressive of the religious books of the world. We give only
a few jewels from this treasury.

From the Dhammapada.--Earnestness is the path of immortality
(Nirvana), thoughtlessness the path of death. Those who are in
earnest do not die, those who are thoughtless are as if dead already.

All that we are is the result of what we have thought; it is founded
on what we have thought, it is made up of what we have thought. If a
man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a
shadow that never leaves him.

By oneself evil is done, by oneself one suffers; by oneself evil is
left undone, by oneself one is purified. Purity and impurity belong
to oneself; no one can purify another.

From the Sutta-nipata.--To live in a suitable country, to have done
good deeds in a former existence, and a thorough study of oneself,
this is the highest blessing.

As a mother at the risk of her life watches over her own child, her
only child, so also let every one cultivate a boundless friendly mind
towards all beings.

A Bhikku who has turned away from desire and attachment, and is
possessed of understanding in this world, has already gone to the
immortal place, the unchangeable state of Nirvana.

Nirvana.--Our account of the doctrine would appear incomplete if we
did not attempt to answer the question, What is Nirvana? It is, as
the last extract shows, the state of salvation in Buddhism. As we
have seen, it is the condition of the man who has escaped from the
series of rebirths, and will never be born again. It is attained even
in this life by the Arahat, in whom all desire and restlessness have
come to an end. On the other hand, it is said of such an one that he
enters Nirvana when he dies, as if it were a state not of this life,
but of the period beyond. Thus it has been much debated whether the
Buddhist (or rather Indian, for the notion is not peculiar to
Buddhism) Nirvana is extinction, annihilation, of which the quenching
of desire in this life is the prelude, or if it is a state of
negative or quiescent blessedness, on which the saint can enter here
and now, but which is only made perfect when he dies. But there are
two Nirvanas;--that of entire passionlessness attained in this life,
and the consummate Nirvana entered at death. The saint does not need
to wait for death for his redemption, nor must he hasten his death in
order to enjoy it fully; Buddha, by example and by precept, forbids
any such anticipation. Death seals that which was already won, there
is no return from the Nirvana of death to any further life. This,
however, does not amount to an assertion that the dead Arahat has no
life or knowledge in the beyond; he is freed from desire, but whether
his consciousness is altogether extinguished, Buddhism does not
decide, and regards as a vain speculation.

No Gods.--We shall speak afterwards of this view of redemption, which
is the key to the nature of the Buddhist religion. We remark here
that it is a redemption man achieves by his own efforts, without any
outward prop or aid. In this system there is no occasion for any
priests or sacrifices, for any prayers, or for any gods. There is no
ritual, because there is no object of worship, there is no sin in the
sense of offending a higher being. The gods are denied not because of
any speculative doubt of their existence, but because in that inner
world of moral effort which man has come to feel so supremely real
and important, they have no part to play. As all the gods faded away
in Indian speculation before Brahma, so Brahma's own turn has come to
fade away. The Buddhist speaks of the gods as if they existed, and he
makes no attack on the sacrifices; but no living god fills his heart.
The Buddha is greater than all the gods; his teaching is for the
benefit of gods as well as men. But the Buddha is not an object of
worship. If the Buddhist can be said to worship any higher power, it
is the moral order which never fails to reward men according to the
deeds done in this or former existences. That is for him a real and
tremendous, though impersonal power, and in contemplating it he may
be said to worship after a fashion. But he has no aid to look for
from any power in heaven or earth in working out his salvation.
Buddhism is the most autosoteric of all religions; it declares more
uncompromisingly than any other, that man must save himself by his
own efforts, and that no one can possibly stand in his place or
relieve him of any part of his great task. All that any one, even the
Buddha, can do for another, is to enlighten him, to open his eyes to
the true knowledge, and show him the narrow path on which he must
thenceforth walk.

3. The Order.--There were monks before Buddhism. That religion made
its appearance when Indian thought was at the stage of growth at
which monastic communities may be expected to arise. When religion
has ceased to be regarded as the affair of the nation or the tribe,
and is cherished as the affair of the individual, when the mind turns
from the sacrifices and ritual of public religion to cultivate
relations with a power known chiefly in the heart and soul, and when
religious duty has thus come to be recognised as a boundless and
all-embracing thing, not a service the hands and feet can discharge,
but the effort, never ending, still beginning, to make the whole
personality with all its acts and aims conform to the ideal, then it
is that men who are living for religion seek for such aid as they can
give each other, and find it in an order and a discipline. The rules
of the Buddhist Samgha or order are extant, and so are the rules of
the contemporary Jainist fraternity. The Samgha resembled the
Franciscan more than the other great Christian orders. The Bhikku on
joining it abandoned his family and property, assumed the yellow robe
and other scanty properties of the character, and lived thenceforth
by begging, and in strict subjection to the rules, in which every
detail of his food, his clothing, his residence, and his daily walk
and conversation, were laid down. The two great objects of the
society were mutual help in the religious life and the preaching of
the doctrine. Under the first head come the frequent meetings of
monks and the confessions they make to each other according to a
fixed form. There is no vow of obedience; the monk obeys the law, not
the human authority. In preaching they are to go one by one, and they
are to preach to all. To all who would hear it was the gate open to
this salvation. Here the Buddhist neglect of caste comes in. Buddhism
makes no general or formal declaration of the equality of all men,
nor is there any attack on the Brahman caste or any exaltation of the
lower castes. The order drew its recruits at first from the ranks of
the Brahmans. But the impelling motive of the new religion was
compassion, and genuine compassion is not to be restrained in
artificial limits. The salvation preached was fitted for all men. The
disease to be cured was one from which all suffer, and the cure was
one which all could at least begin to lay hold of. Thus Buddhism was
fitted to break through the barriers of caste, and to gather into one
religious community men of all castes alike. In the community, it was
held, these distinctions disappeared. Not birth but conduct there
made the true Brahman. The universalist tendency of the religion also
fitted it to spread to other lands. It was not limited by anything in
its teaching to the soil of India, nor to the territory of any
particular set of gods. So wide indeed is its toleration, that a man
may embrace it without giving up the faith in which he lived before.
One can add it without incongruity to one's former beliefs and
practices. The believer in Shang-ti can be a Buddhist as well as the
believer in Brahma.[6] The absence of any hierarchy or centralised
organisation enabled it to spread freely, and the very meagreness of
its doctrine, and its freedom from ritual, were also in its favour.

[Footnote 6: Millions of Buddhists in China and Japan are also
adherents of the other religions of these countries.]

Buddhism made Popular.--Buddhism proved able to spread over many
lands because it was so simple, and in its essence so moral and so
broadly human. But, like other faiths which have spread to many
lands, it assumed very different forms in different countries, and
the later form is often very different from the early simplicity.
Even at the outset it was not free from a strong infusion of magic;
the Arahat, like the Brahmanic ascetic before him, was believed to
obtain influence over the gods by his virtues, and thus a claim to
supernatural power is brought in, which agrees but ill with the
ethical doctrine. The religion, which at first ignored the gods and
bade each man trust to his own efforts for his highest good, became,
ere long, what a popular religion at the stage of progress prevailing
at that time necessarily was, namely, a worship of superior beings
and a method of obtaining benefits from them. The national gods were
discarded, but the deification of the founder early furnished a being
who could be worshipped. Legend grew luxuriantly round his birth and
early career; and he obtained the rank of the greatest of all the
gods. Former Buddhas who had lived in former ages still lived as
gods; and the divine family, being once founded, admitted of various
additions; even a popular deity, such as Indra, could be joined to
the growing circle. The chief scenes of the life of the founder
became holy places and objects of pilgrimage, where relics were
exposed for adoration. The growth of legend and of magic proceeded
more rapidly, and went to greater lengths, in Northern than in
Southern Buddhism; but in the land of its birth, too, Buddhism proved
unable to serve as a working religion without additions and
modifications entirely foreign to its true character. The profession
of Buddhism was combined even with the savage worship of the
non-Aryan tribes; Siva was identified with Buddha and then worshipped
instead of him, as also was Vishnu, and the perversion and
degradation of the religion prepared for its expulsion from the
country of its birth. That expulsion was probably brought about more
immediately by the advance of Mohammedanism in India, and took place
in the period of the early Middle Ages. We cannot speak here of the
strange guise Buddhism has assumed in the north of India, notably in
Tibet. The Lamaism of that country, with its perpetual living
incarnation of the divine Buddha in a succession of human
representatives, its hierarchical church strongly resembling in many
of its features the Church of Rome, and the prayer-flags and wheels
for the mechanical discharge of religious acts, have long been the
wonder of the world.

Conclusion.--It is not from what Buddhism is now in any of the
countries where it flourishes, and where it has votaries who profess
other religions also, that we can judge of what it really is, or
estimate its value as a product of the human mind. It is to early
Buddhism that we must look for this. What are we to judge of this
religion without gods, and based on the assertion that all life is
suffering, and that the chief good is altogether to escape from life?
It is not true to characterise it as a religion in which there is no
joy, and which deliberately refuses to have anything to do with joy.
The Arahat, in whom desire is vanquished, and who has no further
birth to anticipate, is filled with a deep joy and triumph as of a
victor who has conquered every foe; and those who are less advanced
in the path yet have their share in this enthusiasm, and are inspired
by it to continue the struggle. Still Buddhism is a sad religion. It
arrives in India when the Deity there believed in has deserted the
world, and tells man he is alone in it. There is no one to help him,
no one to assure him that the good cause in a wider sense--a cause
extending beyond his own personal life--is destined to succeed; there
is no upholder of any moral order beyond that which works itself out
in each individual experience. The result is that the believer does
not trouble himself about the world, but only about his own personal
salvation. This religion is not a social force, it aims not at a
Kingdom of God to be built up by the united efforts of multitudes of
the faithful, but only at saving individual souls, which in the act
of being saved are removed beyond all activity and all contact with
the world. Buddhism, therefore, is not a power which makes actively
for civilisation. It is a powerful agent for the taming of passion
and the prevention of vagrant and lawless desires, it tends,
therefore, towards peace. But it offers no stimulus to the
realisation of the riches which are given to man in his own nature:
it checks rather than fosters enterprise, it favours a dull
conformity to rule rather than the free cultivation of various gifts.
Its ideal is to empty life of everything active and positive, rather
than to concentrate energy on a strong purpose. It does not train the
affections to virtuous and harmonious action, but denies to them all
action and consigns them to extinction. This condemnation it has
incurred by parting with that highest stimulus to human virtue and
endeavour, which lies in the belief in a living God. By so doing it
ceased to fulfil the office of a religion for men, and though, for
historical purposes, we may class it among the religions of the
world, a system which leaves its adherents free not to worship at
all, or to find satisfaction for their spiritual instincts in the
worship of beings whom it regards with indifference, comes short of
the notion of religion, and is not properly entitled to that name.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED

Monier Williams, _Buddhism, in its connection with Brahmanism and
Hinduism, and in its contrast with Christianity_, 1889.

Rhys Davids, _Buddhism_ (S.P.C.K.).

Oldenberg's, _Buddha, his Life, his Doctrine and his Order_, 1882
(out of print). (Third German Edition, 1897.)

Spence Hardy, _Manual of Buddhism_, 1860.

E. Hardy, _Der Buddhismus_.

CHAPTER XXI
PERSIA

The Aryans who entered India to become its dominant race came from
Central Asia, and left behind them there other tribes of Aryan
culture. These tribes remained in what is called Iran, in the lands,
that is to say, between the Indus, the Caspian Sea, the Black Sea,
and the Persian Gulf. It is from this region, a part of which bore in
ancient times the name of Ariana, that the word "Aryan" is derived.
The languages of this territory are akin to Sanscrit; and there is
ample evidence that before the Indian invasion the progenitors of the
Indians and those of the Iranians dwelt together there, and enjoyed a
common civilisation. If the civilisation was the same the religion
also was the same. How the Indo-Iranian religion was developed in
India, we have seen. At first a worship of active and militant
deities, it became by degrees a religion of a passive type, in which
a suffering, acquiescent, and brooding humanity presented to heaven
its needs and problems, and received a corresponding answer. The
Aryans who remained in Iran retained their active and practical
disposition. While by no means wanting in sensitiveness and
flexibility of mind, they were less given to speculation and more to
a robust morality than their Indian kinsmen. It has to be noted that
while the religion of India has not influenced Europe in any manifest
degree until the present century, that of Persia has contributed in a
marked way to form the world of thought in which we dwell.

Sources.--The views generally current about the ancient religion of
Persia are derived from late Greek writers, whose accounts will be
noticed at the end of this chapter. A truer knowledge is now
possible, since the sacred books of the religion are now open to the
world. They were only obtained from the Parsis, who keep up their
ancient religion on the soil of India, during last century, and the
study of them has been very laborious and difficult, and has given
rise to great controversies which are not yet settled. These ancient
books are furnished with Eastern translations and commentaries. Is
the Western scholar to place himself under the guidance of these,
which no doubt are part of the historical tradition of the religion,
or may he claim that he is himself in as good a position as the
Oriental commentator for understanding the original meaning of the
texts; and will he best interpret them by comparing them with the
Vedas? What is their age; in which of the lands of Iran were they
written; was any part of them written by Zoroaster, or is Zoroaster
to be regarded as an historical personage at all? On all these
questions and on many others, scholars are not yet agreed; and while
so much is uncertain about the books, there must also be great
uncertainty about the history and the very nature of the religion. In
what follows we are guided mainly by the scholars who have taken
charge of the volumes connected with Persia in the _Sacred Books of
the East_.[1] In the last of these volumes (xxxi.) a new clue is
given to the subject, of which we shall gladly avail ourselves.

[Footnote 1: Zend-Avesta, _S. B. E._, vols. iv., xxiii., xxxi.]

The sacred books of Persia are known by the name of "Zend-Avesta,"
which is an incorrect expression; we ought to say Avesta and Zend.
"Avesta," like the kindred word "Veda," signifies knowledge, and the
word "Zend" denotes here not the language of that name, but the
"commentary" afterwards added to the original knowledge or text. The
commentary is not written in the Zend language, but in Pahlavi or
Persian. The Avesta, which is written in the older Zend, the sacred
language of Persia, is, like other Bibles, a collection of books
written in different ages, and even, it may be, in different lands.
The books were brought together into one only at some period after
the Christian era. The later legends as to the supernatural
communication to Zoroaster of the earlier books need not detain us;
we must notice, however, that the preserved books of Persian religion
are held to be no more than the scanty ruins of an extensive
literature. The Avesta consisted originally of 21 Nosks or books, and
most of these were destroyed by Alexander when he invaded the East;
only one Nosk was preserved entire. As we have it, the Avesta is a
liturgical work, it contains some legends and some ancient hymns, as
well as a good deal of law, but its prevailing character is that of a
service-book, and it is to this that its partial preservation both at
the invasion of Alexander, and at that of the Mohammedans in a later
century, is probably due. It consists of three parts. The oldest is
the Yasna, a collection of liturgies, which admit and indeed invite
comparison with those of early Christianity: along with these are
found the Gathas or hymns, the only part of the Avesta composed in
verse, and written in an older dialect. The Visperad is a collection
of litanies for the sacrifice; and the Vendidad is a code of early
law, but contains also various religious legends. Besides these
works, which constitute the Avesta proper, there is the Khorda (or
small) Avesta containing devotions for various times of the day, for
the days of the month, and for the religious year; these are for the
use not of the priests alone but of all the faithful, and many of
them are still so used.

The Contents of the Zend-Avesta are Composite.--In these works the
student soon observes that he has before him not one religious system
only but several. In one place we find a worship of one god, as if
there were no others to be considered; some of the litanies on the
other hand contain lengthy and elaborate lists of objects of worship.
In some parts the religion is personal and immediate; in others it is
priestly. Parsism is often called fire-worship, and the elements of
earth and water also obtain extreme sanctity in it, but of this also
there is in the oldest books little trace. The variety in the
literature no doubt reflects a variety in the religion of Iran. Iran
in fact had not one religion but several, and thus the problem is to
trace how these successively entered into contact with Mazdeism or
Zoroastrianism, which is the religion most native to Iran, and were
embodied in it. The different religions belonged to a certain extent
to different provinces. We know that Persia, the conqueror of Media,
was conquered in turn by the Median religion; we also know that the
religion of the Persian kings as read in their inscriptions[2] does
not correspond to any of the religious positions held in the Avesta.
The Magi, from whom also the religion as a whole derives one of its
names, belonged to Media and passed from there to greater power in
Iran as a whole. From the Scythians on the north and from Babylonia
on the south, ideas and practices were imported; and in these and
other ways, forms of religion arose as different from the faith of
Zoroaster as later forms of Christianity from the simplicity of
Christ, yet looking to him as their founder and the giver of their
law.

[Footnote 2: _Records of the Past_, i. 107.]

Zoroaster.--We begin with the teaching of Zoroaster. Dr. E. Meyer in
his _Geschichte des Alterthums_, vol. i., and Mr. Darmesteter in his
admirable introduction to the Avesta (_S. B. E._ vol. iv.) both treat
Zoroaster as a mythical personage, a figure-head of the official
class of the religion, who give currency to their edicts under his
name. Weighty authorities may, however, be quoted for the historical
reality of Zoroaster, and what appears to us most important of all,
the editor of the Gathas, in the _S. B. E._ vol. xxxi., departing
from his collaborateur, Mr. Darmesteter, has treated these hymns,
which give an account of the founder's acts and experiences when
first proclaiming the true doctrine, in such a way as to produce on
the mind of the reader the strongest impression of the historical
reality of the prophet and of his mission. They introduce us to a
religious movement actually in progress in the poet's time, a
movement in which a pure and lofty faith is struggling to establish
itself against prevailing superstitions. The doctrine placed in the
mouth of the reformer is that which is most central in Persian
religion; and only by such deep earnestness and devotion as is here
ascribed to him, could it have attained that position. We start,
then, with Zoroaster and his work; and first of all we ask what was
his date, where did he live, and what kind of religion did he find
existing in his country?

The date of Zoroaster or Zarathustra--the former is the Greek, the
latter the old Iranian form of the name, contracted in Persian to
Zardusht--can only be fixed very approximately. He stands at the very
beginning of the Avesta literature, and the developments in religion
to which that literature testifies must have occupied a long period.
On the other hand no one proposes to place Zarathustra before the
departure of the Indian Aryans from the Indo-Iranian stock. From such
vague data he may be assigned perhaps to somewhere about 1400 B.C. As
to his province, there is considerable agreement among scholars that
his doctrine spread from the east of Iran westwards; and though
tradition gives him a birthplace in Media, his mission lay nearer to
India, in Bactria.

Primitive Religion of Iran.--He did not preach to men unacquainted
with religion. Many of the religious ideas and figures of the Vedas
occur also in Persia, and by the study of these it is possible to
form certain inferences as to the mental history of Persia before
Zarathustra. Mithra the sun-god belongs to Persia as well as India.
The heaven-god known in India as Varuna grew into the principal deity
of Persia. A fire-god, wind- and rain-gods, and the serpent hostile
to man, on whom these made war, are common to both countries. The
institution of sacrifice, in which the deities are served with
offerings and with hymns, is markedly alike in both countries. In
both alike sacrifice is at first the affair not of a priesthood but
of laymen, especially of princes, and is not confined to temples but
is performed in the open air, on a spot judged to be suitable. The
most imposing sacrifice is that of the horse, and an offering of
constant occurrence is that of the intoxicating liquor, in India
Soma, in Persia by a recognised transliteration Homa, which is itself
viewed as a cosmic principle of life, and addressed as a deity. And
in both countries alike the view of sacrifice prevails in early
times, that the gods come to it to take their part in a banquet which
their worshippers share with them, and that they are strengthened and
encouraged by it.

These similarities, and others which might be mentioned, show that
the religion of India and that of Persia started from a common stock
of ideas and usages. A further circumstance of great importance shows
not only the original identity of the two systems, but also perhaps
how they came to diverge from each other. Two generic titles for
deities occur in India. The first of these--_deva_, is said to
signify the bright or shining one, the second--_asura_, the living
one. Now these titles are also found in Persia; but the use of the
terms is different in the two countries. In India both are at first
titles for deity, but by degrees, while "deva" continues to denote
the gods who are worshipped, "asura" assumes a less favourable
meaning, until at length it comes to stand for a second order of
beings, inferior to the devas, and including such powers as are
malignant and hostile. In Persia the fortunes of the two words are
reversed. _Ahura_ becomes the god _par excellence_, the supreme god;
while "deva," the title which in India remained in honour, is in the
Avesta that of evil gods who are not to be worshipped. In this some
scholars consider that we may hear the watchwords of the conflict
which led to the separation of the two religions; there was a schism
between the followers of the Ahuras and those of the Devas, which led
to the entire separation of the two parties. This is the latest form
of the old view which makes Zoroastrianism the outcome of a religious
conflict, of a reaction against the gods afterwards worshipped in
India. There is no direct evidence of such a conflict, and the
difference we have described may be due to the natural development of
the Indo-Iranian religion in different sets of circumstances and
among different peoples. Zarathustra in the Gathas finds the
antithesis fully formed between the good and the evil deities; he
appeals to his countrymen on that matter as one which he does not
need to teach them, but with which they have long been familiar. In
speaking of his date this has to be remembered.

We proceed now to describe from the Gathas the work and teaching of
Zarathustra. The Gathas are poems written in metres which occur also
in the Vedas, and intended, like the Indian hymns, to be used in
worship. The account which they furnish of the mission and the
teaching of the sage are thus clothed in a poetical dress, and do not
narrate bare facts as they occurred, but the facts as interpreted and
treated for religious use. They are in the mouth of Zarathustra
himself; he writes them for use at sacrifice, and remembering how
they are to be rendered, he sometimes puts in the mouth of the
celebrants the words, "Zarathustra and we." These words do not prove
that the hymns are not by him. As explained by Dr. Mills, the hymns
are seen to be very fully charged with meaning and with sentiment.
Uncouth and inartistic in expression, and demanding an immense amount
of patience and ingenuity to trace their connection of thought, they
surprise the reader when once he seizes their meaning, by the depth
and spirituality of their contents, and force him to acknowledge that
they are a worthy document of the birth of a great religion.

The Call of Zarathustra.--The hymns give a vivid picture of that
early world in which the prophet lived. It was a world distracted
with conflict. On one side there is an agricultural community bent on
industry, and, like the Hindus, even at this day, valuing as most
sacred the cattle which form their chief substance. On the other
hand, there are men who dwell on the outskirts between the tilled
land and the wilderness, who are constantly making raids on the
farms, driving off and killing the cattle for sacrifice and for food,
and ruining the fields by destroying the irrigating works on which
their fertility depends. And there is a religious difference as well
as a difference in culture between these two sets of people. The
agriculturists are worshippers of Ahura; the contemners of the cattle
worship beings called in the Gathas "daevas." This schism was not of
Zarathustra's making, he found it going on, and being a priest was
entitled to come forward and seek to guide others with regard to it.
Such is the situation which the hymns present to us. We will try to
state the substance of some of those hymns. The naked words of them,
even when we are sure of the correctness of the translation, are
barely intelligible without lengthy commentary; and on the other
hand, no short statement in modern terms can convey the force and
solemnity of these struggling utterances. As we are dealing with the
original revelation of Zarathustra, the source of the Persian
religion, we shall give the story with some degree of detail.

The first hymn in the arrangement presented to us in _S. B. E._ deals
with what we may term the call of Zarathustra. It sums up in a poetic
and dramatic form the religious result of the movement which led him
to come forward.

The "Soul of the Kine" first speaks; it is the impersonation of the
agricultural community, to whom their cattle are most sacred. She
raises a complaint to Ahura and Asha (the righteousness which is an
attribute of Ahura, and like his other attributes often appears as an
independent person) of the insolence and highhanded devastation and
robbery she has to suffer. "For whom did ye fashion me," she says;
"wherefore was I made?" She appeals to the Immortals for instruction
in tillage with a view to security and welfare.

Ahura then speaks and asks Asha what guardian has been appointed for
the kine to lead and to defend her; and Asha answers that no one,
himself free from passion and violence, could be found who was
capable of being an adequate guardian. The causes of these evils lie
at the roots of the constitution of things, and therefore those
seeking success in any enterprise must approach Ahura himself and not
any subordinate being.

Zarathustra speaks, and confirms the utterances of Asha; it is in
Ahura himself that he and the kine place their confidence; to his
will they submit themselves; the doubts and questions arising from
their outward insecurity, they refer to him.

Ahura speaks and answers his own question. It is true that no lord of
the kine is to be found, who in himself is quite equal to that
position, but he appoints Zarathustra as head to the agricultural
community.

A chorus speaks, consisting of a company of the faithful supposed to
be present, or of the Ameshospends, the personified attributes of
Ahura, and praise the Lord for his bounty and for the wisdom he makes
known; but asks whom he has endowed with the Good Mind, or, as we
might say, the Holy Spirit, to make known to mortals his doctrine.
The call of Zarathustra, intimated in the foregoing verse, is
overlooked, as if it were impossible that such a one as he could
undertake the office. Ahura replies, repeating his commission to
Zarathustra, here called also by his family name of Spitama, and
promising to establish him and make him successful in his work.

The Soul of the Kine speaks, lamenting still that no adequate lord
has been assigned her. Zarathustra is a feeble and pusillanimous man,
not one of royal state who is able to bring his purpose to effect.
The Ameshospends join in the cry for the true lord to appear.

Zarathustra then speaks, accepting the mission in an address to
Ahura, whom he entreats to send his blessings of peace and happiness,
since none but he can give them, and to set up in the minds of the
disciples of the cause that joy and that kingdom which, though it
first comes inwardly, yet brings with it also all outward blessings.
For himself also he prays that the Good Mind and the Sovereign Power
(another of the attributes) of the Lord may hasten to come to him and
strengthen him for his mission.

This poetical rendering of the call of Zarathustra is free both from
miraculous embellishment and from undue exaltation of the person of
the prophet, and forms a great contrast to later statements in the
Avesta, where the prophet is placed in secret conclave with Ahura,
asking him questions and receiving detailed replies which at once
rank as revelation. In the Gathas, allowing for the theological and
poetic form, everything is human and natural. We are strongly
reminded of the accounts of the calls of prophets in the Old
Testament--there is the same choice by the deity of an apparently
weak instrument to accomplish a work urgently called for by the
times, the same sense of insufficiency on the part of the prophet,
but the same absolute confidence on his part in the power of the
deity, and hence the same absolute assurance, once the mission is
accepted, that the cause which he has been called to carry forward
must succeed. In many of the following Gathas the same parallel is
strongly impressed on the mind of the reader. The sense of weakness
is expressed again and again--the prophet has no victorious career,
but is exposed to much gainsaying, which he feels acutely. Yet he
never doubts that his god is with him, and is working for him. To him
he commits his doubts and fears, of his goodness he is joyfully
assured, and his aid he expects with confidence. He is entirely
devoted to Ahura and his cause, and offers himself up with his whole
powers to work out the divine will. He will teach, he says, as long
as he is able, till he has brought all the living to believe. He is
conscious of a divine power working in him. Nothing in himself, he is
strong by the divine grace which Ahura sends him: his words have
efficacy to keep the fiends at a distance, and to advance in men's
minds the divine kingdom; like St. Paul he feels his message to be to
some a savour of life unto life, to others a savour of death unto
death.

The Doctrine.--And what is the message he proclaims? It is a
philosophy of the origin of the world, but a philosophy the
acceptance of which involves immediate and strenuous action. The
distracted condition of the world before him requires to be
explained, so that a remedy for it may be found; and Zarathustra
prays, when he is about to bring forward his doctrine, that Ahura
would help him to explain how the material world arose. The
explanation when it appears is not quite new, it has been shaping
itself already in the mind of his people, but he sets it forth as a
dogma, and draws from it at once all its practical consequences. In
the third hymn of the first Gatha he solemnly brings forward his
doctrine before the people, and appeals to them, not as a people, but
as individuals, each for himself, with a full sense of his
responsibility, to consider it, and adopt it, and act upon it. It is
the doctrine of dualism, not in the fully developed later form in
which two personal potentates divide the universe between them from
the first, but as yet in a form more speculative and vague. There are
two primeval principles, spirits, things, as is well known--the
expression is indefinite--the counterparts of each other, independent
in their action, a better and a worse, and Zarathustra calls on his
audience to choose between them, and not to choose as do the
evildoers. The world, as it is, was made by the joint action of the
two principles, and they also fixed the alternative fates of men, for
the wicked, Hell--the worst life; and for the holy, Heaven--the best
mental state. After the creation was accomplished, the two principles
drew off from each other, the evil one making choice of evil and of
evil works, and the bounteous spirit choosing righteousness, making
his strong seat in heaven, and taking for his own those who do good
and who believe in him. The Daevas and their followers are incapable
of making a just choice between the good and the evil; they have
surrendered themselves from the outset to the "Worst Mind," the demon
of fury, and to all evil works. (There are vague suggestions here of
a temptation and a fall, but only of the evil spirits and their
followers.) From this point onwards the world is filled with a great
struggle. On the one side is Ahura, the only god worshipped by name
in the Gathas. Ahura is a heaven-god, he is, in fact, the bright
heaven, and then the good and beneficent being who dwells in
brightness. In the hymns he is losing his definite character and
becoming an abstraction, a god of dogmatics rather than of history.
He is the good principle personified, and as becomes a god of such
transcendent character, he does not act directly, but through his
satellites. His attributes personified, do his bidding, aid the
saints in spiritual ways, and prepare for the better order of things.
On the other hand are the Daevas with the demon of wrath, who
propagate everywhere lies and mischief, and heap up vengeance for
themselves against the final judgment. For the good there is nothing
better than to aid,--for they can aid, in bringing on the renovation,
dwelling with Ahura even now, and by his attributes which work in
them as well as in him, reinforcing the righteous order, and
preparing themselves to dwell where wisdom has her home. In the end
the Demon of the Lie will be rendered harmless and delivered up to
Righteousness as a captive.

Inconsistencies.--As it happens in every such reform, the new
teaching is not quite consistent with itself; old views are taken up
into the new teaching, although they do not harmonise with it; the
spiritual way of looking at things alternates with a more worldly
way. The following are some examples of this:--The great doctrine of
Heaven and Hell as inner states, as being simply the best and the
worst state of mind, is clearly announced; but the traditional view
of future abodes of happiness and misery also appears. The
Kinvat-bridge is mentioned several times in the Gathas, over which
Iran conceived that the individual had to pass after death. If he was
righteous the bridge bore him safely over to the sacred mountain,
where the good lived again; if he was wicked, he fell off the bridge
and found himself in the place of torment. It is another
inconsistency that Zarathustra expects, on the one hand, to convert
the world by his preaching, while on the other hand his sense of the
antagonism between the good and the evil spirits and their followers
often hurries him into violent methods. One hymn concludes with a
summons to his adherents to fall on the unbelievers with the halberd,
and he is constantly predicting their sudden overthrow. Along with
this, we may mention that he sought to ally himself with powerful
families for the sake of the support they would bring the cause. The
name of Vishtaspa, king we know not of what realm, is always
associated with the prophet as that of his royal patron; other
influential friends are also mentioned. Another point, in which we
notice accommodation to existing usage, is that of sacrifice. The
Gathas have several noble passages describing the true sacrifice man
has to offer to God for his goodness, as consisting simply in the
offering of self, in the devotion to the deity of all a man is, and
all he can do. At the same time Zarathustra has not a word to say in
disparagement of the sacrifice of victims. He prays for guidance in
this part of religious duty; he desires to have everything connected
with sacrifice done in the best way and with the most effective
hymns. Thus the spiritual life is not left to stand alone. There is a
personal walk with God, our piety is said to be God's daughter in us,
his righteousness is working in us and moulding us for his purposes;
both will and deed of the good man are attributed to him, and the
processes are described with true insight by which the soul is
sanctified and wedded to her task and her true destiny; but at the
same time there is an intent looking to that sacred Fire which is an
outward representative of deity; there is the offering of victims,
even of horses, when the prophet's mind is bent on war (the
Homa-offering does not occur, and we may suppose the prophet rejected
this service of the deity by intoxication); there is the smiting of
the demons with prayer, and imprecations, similar to those in the
Psalms, against adversaries of the cause.

It is no proof of unspirituality that the welfare of the Kine, with
whose wail the call of the prophet began, is steadily kept in view
during his mission. The agriculturists are on the side of the
righteous being, good and ever-better tillage is a means of pleasing
him; it is his will that the kine should be freed from alarms and
should prosper; and he may be appealed to to give lessons with a view
to that end. The doctrine passes far beyond its first occasion; yet
the occasion which called for it is never lost sight of.

The Gathas, taken alone, tell us hardly anything of the religion in
which Zarathustra's fellow-countrymen believed. They believed
undoubtedly in many gods; in those parts of the Avesta which come
next to the hymns in time, polytheism is in full force. That
Zarathustra only speaks of one god, Ahura (though he also speaks of
"the Immortals" generally), may be due to the limited extent and
special purpose of the hymns, but it may also be taken as an
indication that the prophet did not needlessly interfere with the
beliefs of his people: content to preach the doctrine with which he
was charged, and which was to him the sum and substance of all
religion, he, like several other religious founders, stirred up no
strife he could avoid. The doctrine he preached was not unprepared
for in the mind of his country, and continued to be the leading
feature of Persian religion in subsequent periods.

It is a momentous step in religious progress, which the prophet of
Iran calls on his countrymen to take. We notice the main features of
the advance.

1. Man is Called to Judge between the Gods.--Zarathustra, like
Elijah, puts before his people the choice between two worships.
Various distinctions between the two cases might be drawn. In the
Scripture case Baal is not a bad god, but simply the wrong god for
Israel to worship. In the case of our reformer the difference between
the two worships is a deeper one. The individual is to choose his
god, he is to declare of his own motion that one god is better than
others, and that no worship whatever is to be paid to these others.
This was a new departure in antiquity; the early world loved to think
of many gods, all alike divine and worshipful, each race or clan
having its god whom it naturally served, or each part of the earth
being portioned out to a divine lord of its own. Neither Greece nor
Rome ever thought of making the individual man the arbiter among the
unseen beings whom he knew, and requiring him to decide which of them
he should consider divine, and which he should disown. In the case
before us, moreover, the choice is to be made on moral grounds. Men
are called to judge of the character of the beings who are called
gods, they are told that there is no necessity to acknowledge those
of whom they disapprove, they are emancipated from the fear of
hurtful and evil beings. There is war in heaven, and men are
encouraged to take part in that war, and to cast off allegiance to
such powers as do not make for righteousness. How there came to be
such strife among the gods, and how it became necessary that men
should judge of it, we have no clear information; we only know that
the momentous step was called for and was taken.

The belief, however, remains even after the decision that there are
unseen evil beings, who had influence in forming the constitution of
things, and who have influence still over the government of the
world. The position taken up is not monotheism. The good god is not
sole creator or sole governor of the world, he is a limited being;
from the outset he has only in part got his own way, and he has
adversaries in the very constitution of things, whom he cannot get
rid of. Persian thought is dualistic; the conception of an Evil
Creator and Governor co-ordinate with the good one differentiates it
from the thought of India, which always tends to a principle of
unity.

2. In the second place, this religion is essentially intolerant and
persecuting. Having chosen his side in the great war which divides
the universe, man can only prosecute that war with all his force; he
must regard the Daevas and their followers as his enemies, and try to
weaken and extinguish them. The general feeling of the ancient world
about differences in religion was that all religions were equally
legitimate, each on its own soil. The Jews, we know, shocked the
Greeks and Romans greatly by denying this, and maintaining that there
was only one true religion, namely, their own, and that all the
others were worships of gods false and vain. But the Persians came
before the Jews in this; the Gathas preach persecution, and the
insults offered by Persian kings in later times to the religions of
Egypt and Greece were no doubt justified by their convictions. In
Persia, as in Israel, religion had come to entertain the notion of
false gods. And a religion which entertains that notion must be
exclusive. Those who have refused to worship beings hitherto deemed
gods, on the ground that they ought not to be worshipped and are not
truly gods, cannot but desire to bring the worship of such beings
entirely to an end, and to make the worship of the true God prevail
instead, by rude or by gentle means, as the stage of civilisation may
in each case suggest.

Growth of Mazdeism.--After the Gathas proper we have other hymns
written in the Gathic dialect, from which the history of the religion
after its foundation may be to some extent inferred.[3] These show
that the Zarathustrian religion was regarded, after the departure of
the founder, as a great divine institution, and was worked out on the
lines he had laid down. The forms of it became of course more fixed.
The god it serves is now called "Ahura Mazda," the "All-Knowing Lord"
(the name is afterwards contracted into the Greek Oromazdes, the
Persian Hormazd; and the religion is called from it Mazdeism); he is
still implored for spiritual blessings both for this and for the
future life, and for furtherance in agriculture. There is, however, a
tendency to address prayer not only to Ahura himself but to beings
connected with him. As if the mind wearied of dwelling on the one
supreme, the Bountiful Immortals are associated with him, the parts
of his holy creation are invoked, the fire which is most closely
identified with him, the stars which are his body, the waters, the
earth, all good animals and plants. The kine's soul receives
sacrifice, and not only the kine's soul which we have met before, but
the souls of "just men and holy women," the Fravashis or spirits not
only of the departed but of the living also, the service of which
continues and increases henceforward in Persian religion. These are
invented deities and have a shadowy character; but gods of more
substance, and more historical reality also came into view at this
point. Zarathustra becomes a god, the hymns themselves are adored;
the Homa-offering reappears, Mithra is often coupled with Ahura,
other old gods creep back and are mentioned along with the moral
abstractions, which also increase in number; in one passage there are
said to be thirty-three objects of worship, a number which also
occurs in India.

[Footnote 3: Yasna Haptanghaiti, _S. B. E._ xxxi. p. 218, _sqq._, and
others following.]

Organisation of the Heavenly Beings.--With all this multiplication
there is, as we shall see, no compromise of the supreme claims of
Ahura. In some of the hymns, all beings, all attributes, all places,
and all times of a sacred nature are heaped indiscriminately
together, in interminable catalogues. But this apparent confusion is
corrected by a remarkable tendency to organisation. The Persian
religion ultimately came to have a very simple and very striking
theology; and that theology was made up by transforming the
abstractions in which the founder dealt, into persons, and arranging
them after the pattern of Oriental society. In the later Yasnas
(liturgies) a figure rises into view which the Gathas do not mention;
that of Angra Mainyu, later Ahriman, the Bad Spirit. In this
counterpart of Spenta Mainyu, the Good Spirit (who is not at first
identified with Ahura, but proceeds from him), the demons obtain a
personal head, and the dualism which appears in all nature and all
human society is thus brought to a personal expression. Ahura and
Ahriman confront each other as the good power and the evil. Both
alike had part in making the world what it is. In every part of the
world, and in all that is felt and done they are at strife. Ahura, to
quote Mr. Darmesteter, is all light, truth, goodness, and knowledge;
Angra Mainyu is all darkness, falsehood, wickedness, and ignorance.
Whatever the good spirit makes, the evil spirit mars; he opposes
every creation of Ahura's with a plague of his own, it is he who
mixed poison with plants, smoke with fire, sin with man, and death
with life.

The Attributes of Ahura.--Each of these beings has his retinue. That
of Ahura was formed first; it consists of his attributes. Even in the
hymns the attributes are regarded as persons, inseparable companions
of Ahura; appeals are made to one or another of them, according as
the worshipper seeks help from one side or the other of the divine
being. By a process which frequently occurs in religious thought,
they afterwards come to be more formally arranged and defined; there
are six of them, and each is charged with a province of the divine
economy. They are as follows:

  Vohu Mano (Bahman) Good Mind; he is the head and the guardian of
  the living creation of Ahura.

  Asha Vahista (Ardibehesht), Excellent Holiness; he is the genius of
  fire.

  Kshathra Vairya (Shahrevar), Perfect Sovereignty; he is the lord of
  metals.

  Spenta Armaiti (Spendarmat) divine piety, conceived as female, the
  goddess of the earth.

  Haurvatat (Khordat) health.

  Ameretat (Amerdat) immortality.

The last two are a pair, and have charge conjointly of waters and of
trees.

Ahura is himself one of these spirits; thus there are seven supreme
spirits.

Retinue of Ahriman.--Angra Mainyu on his part comes to have a
corresponding retinue of six daevas, each being the evil counterpart
of one of the good spirits. Evil Mind, Sickness, and Decay are the
names of some of them. The whole spiritual world is ranged on the
side of the good or of the evil deity. The Izatas (Izeds) or angels
consist of gods of immemorial worship in Iran, some of whom are the
same as gods worshipped in India; but the title also applies to gods,
heavenly and earthly, of later creation, so that the class is a very
wide and elastic one. It comprises some beings who have been reduced
by the operation of the new ideas from the first to the second rank
of deities, such as Verethragna, who corresponds to the Vedic Indra,
and Mithra, the sun-god. These now appear in the same rank as gods of
the newer style, such as Sraosha, Obedience, and survivals of early
superstition, such as the "Curse of the wise," a very powerful Ized.
Zarathustra himself belongs to this class of deities, a miscellaneous
one indeed. Another class of sacred beings of world-wide extent is
that of the Fravashis spoken of above. If the good spirits are many
and various, so are the evil. Of these are the great demon-serpent
Azhi who plays a great part in Persian mythology, as Vrittra does in
Indian. Aeshma, later Asmodeus, may be named; he is one of the
Drvants, or storm-fiends. Gahi, an unfaithful goddess, has fallen to
a demon of unchastity; the Pairikas (Peris) are female tempters; the
Yatu are demons connected with sorcery.

The firm organisation of these hosts of spiritual beings, and the
sense of a great conflict in which they are all engaged from the
greatest to the least of them, preserve Mazdeism from the weakness
and absurdity which are apt to creep over religion when the
population of the upper and the nether regions is unduly multiplied.
The faithful never forget Ahura in favour of the minor deities, nor
do they forget that morals and industry are the chief ends of
religion, and that in cultivating these they hasten the coming of the
kingdom. The following is the formula, the "Praise of Holiness," with
which every act of worship begins in the Yasts[4] (liturgies of the
Izeds):

  May Ahura Mazda be rejoiced!

  Holiness is the best of all good!

  I confess myself a worshipper of Mazda, a follower of Zarathustra,
  one who hates the daevas and obeys the laws of Ahura.

[Footnote 4: _S. B. E._ vol. xxiii.]

Ancient Testimonies to the Persian Religion.--It is at this stage,
while it is still in a state of vigour, that we hear of the Persian
religion from various quarters in ancient records. The chapters in
the latter half of Isaiah, which so vigorously denounce idolatry,
hail the approach of Cyrus towards Babylon, and claim unity of
religion between him and the Jews (Isaiah xliv. 28 _sq._). He is the
shepherd who is to lead Jehovah's people back to their own land, and
to cause their temple to be rebuilt. And this claim that the Jewish
and the Persian religions were the same, that the Jews and the