CHAPTER II

THE PANORAMA OF RELIGIONS

Twice in the history of the world has it been possible to survey a wide

panorama of religions, and twice has the interest of travellers, men of

science, and students of philosophy, been attracted by the immense

variety of worships and beliefs. In the second century of our era the

Roman Empire embraced an extraordinary range of nationalities within

its sway. In the twentieth the whole history of the human race has

been thrown open to the explorer, and an overwhelming mass of materials

from every land confronts him. It may be worth while to take a hasty

glance at the chief groups of facts that are thus disclosed, and make a

sort of map of their relations.

I

The scientific curiosity of the ancient Greeks was early awakened, and

Thales of Miletus (624-546 B.C.), chief of the seven "wise men," and

founder of Greek geometry and philosophy, was believed to have studied

under the priests of Egypt, as well as to have {38} visited Asia and

become acquainted with the Chaldean astronomy. Still more extensive

travel was attributed to his younger contemporary Pythagoras, whose

varied learning was explained in late traditions by his sojourn east

and west, among the Persian Magi, the Indian Brahmans, and the Druids

of Gaul. The first great record of observations is contained in the

History of Herodotus of Halicarnassus on the coast of Asia Minor. Born

in 484 B.C., six years after Marathon, and four years old when the

Greeks put Xerxes to flight at Salamis, he devoted his maturity to the

record of the great international struggle. Hither and thither he

passed, collecting information, an eager student of human things. In

Egypt he compared the gods with those of Greece, and attempted to

distinguish two sets of elements in Hellenic religion, Egyptian and

Pelasgic. He left notes on the Babylonians and the Persians, on the

Scythians in the vast tracts east of northern Europe, on the Getæ south

of the Danube.

When the conquests of Alexander the Great (356-323 B.C.) threw open the

gates of Asia, a stream of travellers passed into Persia and India,

whose reports were utilised by the geographers of later days. The

religion of Zoroaster, whose name was already known to Plato, attracted

great attention. At the court of Chandragupta on the Ganges, at the

opening of the third century B.C., Megasthenes, {39} the ambassador of

Seleucus (who had succeeded to the dominions of Alexander in Asia), set

down brief memoranda on the usages and belief of the Hindus among whom

he resided. Nearer home the representatives of Mesopotamian and

Egyptian learning commended their national cultures to their

conquerors. Berosus, priest of Bel in Babylon, translated into Greek a

Babylonian work on astronomy and astrology, and compiled a history of

his country from ancient documents; while his contemporary, Manetho, of

Sebennytus in the Nile Delta, undertook a similar service for his

native land.

Meanwhile the great library and schools at Alexandria had been founded.

Hither came students from many lands; and the Christian fathers

Eusebius and Epiphanius in the fourth century attributed to the

librarian of the royal patron of literature, Ptolemy Philadelphus

(285-247 B.C.), the design of collecting the sacred books of the

Ethiopians, Indians, Persians, Elamites, Babylonians, Assyrians,

Romans, Phœnicians, Syrians, and Greeks. The Jews had settled in

Alexandria in considerable numbers; they began to translate their

Hebrew Scriptures into Greek, and little by little they planted their

synagogues all round the Eastern Mediterranean, and finally established

their worship in Rome. The Egyptian deities in their turn went abroad.

The worship of Serapis was introduced at Athens. Isis, the sister-wife

of {40} Osiris and mother of Horus, goddess of many functions--among

others of protecting sailors--was carried round the Levant to Syria,

Asia Minor, Greece, and as far north as the Hellespont and Thrace.

Westwards she was borne to Sicily and South Italy. In due time she

entered Rome, and in spite of senatorial orders five times repeated (in

the first century B.C.), to tear down her altars and statues, she

secured her place, and received homage all through the West from the

outskirts of the Sahara to the Roman wall north of our own Tyne.

The introduction of Greek gods had begun centuries before. As early as

493 B.C., at a time of serious famine, a temple had been built to

Demeter, Dionysus, and Persephonê; many others followed; resemblances

among the native gods quickly led to identifications; and new forms of

worship tended to displace the old. After another crisis (206 B.C.)

the "Great Mother," Cybelê, the Phrygian goddess of Mount Ida, was

imported. The black aerolite which was supposed to be her abode, was

presented by King Attalus to the ambassadors of the Roman senate. The

goddess was solemnly welcomed at the Port of Ostia, and was ultimately

carried by noble Roman ladies on to the Palatine hill.

The history of later days was full of notes upon religion. Cæsar

interspersed them among the narratives of his campaigns in Gaul;

Tacitus drew on his recollections as {41} an officer in active service

for his description of the Germans. There was as yet no literature in

Wales or Ireland to embody the Celtic traditions; and the Scandinavian

Saga was unborn. But the geographers, like Strabo (first century

A.D.), collected a great deal of material that must have been gathered

ultimately from travellers, soldiers, traders, and slaves. A wise and

gentle philosophic Greek, Plutarch of Chæronea in Bœotia (A.D.

46-120), student at the university of Athens, lecturer on philosophy at

Rome, and finally priest of Pythian Apollo in his native city, is at

home in many religions. Beside altars to the Greek gods Dionysus,

Herakles, and Artemis, in his own streets, were those of the Egyptian

Isis and Anubis. The treatise on Isis and Osiris (commonly ascribed to

him) is an early essay in comparative religion. In the latter half of

the second century the traveller Pausanias passes through Greece,

describing its sacred sites, noting its monuments, recording

mythological traditions, and observing archaic rites. In this

fascinating guide-book to religious practice are survivals of ancient

savagery, still lingering at country shrines, set down with curious

unconsciousness of their significance. The historical method is as yet

only in its infancy. But Pausanias rightly discerned that its first

business is to know the facts.

In Rome, where ritual tradition held its ground with extraordinary

tenacity amid the {42} decay of belief, Marcus Terentius Varro,

renowned for his wide learning (116-28 B.C.), devoted sixteen books of

his great treatise on Antiquities to "Divine Things." Like so many

other precious works of ancient literature it has disappeared, but its

contents are partly known through its use by St. Augustine in his

famous work on "The City of God." Following a division of the gods by

the chief pontiff Mucius Scævola, he treated religion under three

heads. In the form presented by the poets' tales of the gods it was

mythical. Founded by the philosophers upon nature (_physis_) it was

physical. As administered by priests and practised in cities it was

civil. It was an old notion that religion was a legal convention

imposed by authority for purposes of popular control; and Varro does

not disdain to declare it expedient that States should be deceived in

such matters. This police-notion long regulated public custom, and

tended to render the identification of deities presenting superficial

resemblances all the more easy.

By this time the origin of the term "religion" had begun to excite

interest, as its meaning began slowly to change. Varro's

contemporaries, Cicero (106-43 B.C.) and Lucretius (about 97-53),

discussed its derivation. Cicero connected it with the root _legere_,

to "string together," to "arrange"; while Lucretius found its origin in

_ligare_, to "bind." Philology gives little help when it {43} speaks

with uncertain voice. More important is the primitive meaning which

Mr. Warde Fowler defines as "the feeling of awe, anxiety, doubt, or

fear, which is aroused in the mind by something that cannot be

explained by a man's experience or by the natural course of cause and

effect, and which is therefore referred to the supernatural." It has

nothing to do at the outset with any special rites or doctrines. It is

not concerned with state-usage or with priestly law. In its adjectival

form "religious days" or "religious places" are not days or places

consecrated by official practice; they are days and places which have

gathered round them man's sentiments of awe and scruple. The word thus

came to be applied to anything that was in some way a source or

embodiment of mysterious forces. The naturalist Pliny can even say

that no animal is "more full of religion than the mole," because

strange medicinal powers were supposed to reside in its heart and teeth.

But, on the other hand, a new use of it passes into Roman literature in

the writings of Cicero. The feeling of awe still lies in the

background, but the word takes on a reference to the acts which it

prompts, and thus comes to denote the whole group of rites performed in

honour of some divine being. These make up a particular cult or

worship, ordained and sanctioned by authority or tradition. "Religion"

thus comes to mean a body of religious duties, the entire series of

sacred acts in which {44} the primitive feeling is expressed. Roman

antiquity conceived these as under the care of priesthoods, legitimated

by the State. Around them lay a fringe of superstitions, which a

hostile critic like Lucretius could also sum up under the same term.

And thus in an age when philosophy was addressing itself to the whole

question of man's relation to the world and its unseen Rulers, and a

single word was wanted to describe his attitude to the varied

spectacle, "religion" was at hand to fill the place. It covered the

whole field of human experience, and as different nations presented it

in different forms, it became possible to speak of "religions" in the

sense of separate systems of worship and belief. The champion of

Christianity naturally distinguished his religion as the true from the

false; and over against the multiformity of polytheism he set the unity

of the faith of the Church.

Of these "religions" history and philosophy sought to give some

account. As will be seen hereafter (Chap. VI), Babylon and Egypt both

claimed a divine origin for their rites, their arts, and laws.

Plutarch expressly defends the idea of revelation in the cases of Minos

of Crete, the Persian Zoroaster, Zaleucus the shepherd legislator of

the Locrians, Numa of Rome, and others. Pan was in love with Pindar,

and Æsculapius conversed with Sophocles: if such divine diversions were

allowed, how much more should these greater {45} attempts for human

welfare be prompted from heaven! Numa had been enabled through Camena

Egeria to regulate the ceremonial law as priest-king, and pontiffs,

augurs, flamens, virgins, received their duties from him with

supernatural sanctions.

Philosophers, on the other hand, discussed the meaning of religion upon

different lines. A wide-spread view already noted presented it as a

mere instrument of policy, devised to overawe the intractable. The

diversity of religions seemed to support this view. Plato's Athenian,

in one of his latest works, the Laws, mentions the teaching of sophists

who averred that the gods existed not by nature but by art, and by the

laws of States which are different in different places, according to

the agreement of those who make them. In a fragment of a drama on

Sisyphus ascribed to Critias, the friend of Alcibiades, it was alleged

that in the primeval age of disorder and violence laws might strike

crimes committed in open day, but could not touch secret sins, hidden

in the gloomy depths of conscience. A sage advised that to moralise

men they must be made afraid. Let them invent gods who could see and

hear all things, cognisant not only of all human actions but also of

men's inmost thoughts and purposes. They were accordingly connected

with the source of the most terrifying and the most beneficent

phenomena, the sky, home alike of thunder and lightning, of the shining

sun and fertilising {46} rain, seat of divine powers helpful and

hurtful to mankind. In the discussion on "the Nature of the Gods" (by

Cicero), Cotta, of the Academic school, inquires of his Epicurean

opponent Velleius, "What think you of those who have asserted that the

whole doctrine concerning the immortal gods was the invention of

politicians, whose notion was to govern that part of the community

which reason could not influence, by religion?"

From another point of view, however, the practical universality of

religion was again and again cited in proof of its truth. Antiquity

was not scientific in its method of treatment, and though it did not

accept all religions as altogether equal, it had no difficulty in

regarding them as substantially homogeneous. The Egyptian worship of

animals might be lashed with satiric scorn, but the mysteries of its

religion, venerable from an immemorial past, deserved the highest

respect. The process of identification of the gods of different

religions was always going on as they were carried from land to land.

The Apologist, therefore, like the Cretan Cleinias in Plato's _Laws_

when the Athenian stranger asked him to prove the existence of the

gods, could always appeal to two main arguments--first, the fair order

of the universe and the regularity of the seasons, and secondly, the

common belief of all men, both Hellenes and barbarians. This common

belief, however, itself required explanation. Its value {47} really

depended on its origin. If that ranked no higher than the crouching

impulses of fear, it had little worth. Even if it was sought in the

sense of dependence, in quiet trust in a sheltering order, or in

intelligent inference based on the demand for a cause, the question

still pressed for an answer, "What made this possible?" The answer was

given by the doctrine of the _Logos_.

The term _logos_ has played a famous part in philosophical theology.

It appears in our New Testament at the opening of the fourth Gospel,

"In the beginning was the Logos." Our translators render the Greek

term by the English "Word." It is derived from the verb _legein_, to

"speak" or "say." _Logos_ is primarily "what is said," utterance, or

speech. Speech, however, must mean something. When we look out upon

the objects of the world around us--rock, river, tree, horse, star--we

learn to separate them into groups, because while some say quite

different things to us, others speak to us, as it were, with nearly the

same meaning. We recognise a common meaning in various sorts of dogs,

or in still larger classes such as the whole family of birds. But in

human intercourse what is said has first been thought. _Logos_ thus

takes on another meaning; it is what thinking says _to itself_, or what

we call "reason." The processes of science consist in finding out

these meanings or reasons, and getting them into intelligible relations

with each other. {48} And when the early Greek thinkers had reached

the conception of the unity of the world, here was a term which could

be called in to express it. The world must have a meaning; it must

express some thought. And did not thought imply thinking?

The philosophy of Heracleitus "the Obscure" (at Ephesus, 500 B.C.) has

received in modern times widely different interpretations; but whether

or not the Stoics were right in understanding his doctrine of the Logos

to imply the existence of a cosmic reason universally diffused, present

both in nature and man, it is certain that such ideas appear soon

afterwards in Greek literature. Pindar affirms the derivation of the

soul from the gods. Plato and Euripides declare the intelligence of

man both in nature and origin to be divine; and Pseudo-Epicharmus lays

it down (in the second half of the fifth century) that "there is in man

understanding, and there is also a divine Logos; but the understanding

of man is born from the divine Logos." On this basis the Stoics worked

out the conception of a fellowship between man and God which explained

the universality of religion. Its seat was in human nature. Every one

shared in the Generative Reason, the Seminal Word (the _Logos

spermatikos_). In the long course of ages, says Cicero, when the time

arrived for the sowing of the human race, God quickened it with the

gift of souls. So we possess a certain kinship with the heavenly {49}

Powers; and while among all the kinds of animals Man alone retains any

idea of Deity, among men themselves there is no nation so savage as not

to admit the necessity of believing in a God, however ignorant they may

be what sort of God they ought to believe in.

The part played by this doctrine in the early Church is well known.

When the new faith began to attract the attention of the educated, it

was impossible that the resemblances between Christian and Hellenic

monotheism should be ignored. Philosophy had reached many of the same

truths, and poets and sages bore the same witness to the unity and

spirituality of God as the prophets and psalmists of Israel. It was

easy to suggest that the Hebrew seers had been the teachers of the

Greek; might not Plato, for instance, have learned of Jeremiah in

Egypt? On the other hand, the pleas of chronological and literary

dependence might be insufficient; there were radical differences as

well as resemblances; the Apologist might deride the diversities of

opinion and make merry over the contradictions of the schools.

Nevertheless Christianity was often presented by its defenders as "our

philosophy." The Latin writer Minucius Felix (in the second century)

is so much struck by the parallels in the higher thought that he boldly

declares, "One might think either that Christians are now philosophers,

or that philosophers were then already Christian." The martyr Justin

(about {50} A.D. 150) incorporates such teachings into the scheme of

Providence by the aid of the Logos. For Justin, as for his

co-believers, the popular religion was the work of demons. But

philosophy had combated them in the past like the new faith. If

Socrates had striven to deliver men from them, and they had compassed

his death through evil men, it was because the Logos condemned their

doings among the Greeks through him, just as among the barbarians they

were condemned by the Logos in the person of Christ. The great truths

of God and Providence, of the unity of the moral government of the

world, of the nature and destiny of man, of freedom, virtue, and

retribution, which were to be found in the writings of the wisest of

the past, were the product of "the seed of the Logos implanted in every

race of men." Those who had lived with the Logos were Christians

before Christ, though men might have called them atheists, like

Heracleitus and Socrates. All noble utterances in theology or

legislation arose through partial discovery or contemplation of the

Logos, and consequently Justin could boldly claim "whatever things have

been rightly said among all men" as "the property of us Christians."

The cultivated and mystical Clement, who became head of the

catechetical school of Alexandria towards the close of the second

century, enforced the same theme. An enormous reader, he loved to

compare the {51} truths enunciated by Greek poets and philosophers with

the wisdom of the barbarians. Philosophy, indeed, was a special

historical manifestation of thought along a peculiar line of

development. It affected a particular race, it spread over a distinct

area, and appeared in a definite time. In these respects it resembled

the preparatory work of Israel itself. It was a discipline of

Providence, so that beside the generalisation of St. Paul that the Law

had been a tutor to bring the Jews to Christ, Clement could set

another, that philosophy had played the same part for the Greeks. On

the field of common speech Clement's contemporary, the fiery Tertullian

of Carthage, appealed to the worshipper who bore the garland of Ceres

on his brow, or walked in the purple cloak of Saturn, or wore the white

robe of Egyptian Isis--what did he mean by exclaiming "May God repay!"

or "God shall judge between us?" Here was a recognition of a supreme

authority and power, the "testimony of a soul naturally Christian."

Such comparisons, however, had a very different side. Greece had long

had its secret mysteries, with their sacred initiations, their rites of

purity and enlightenment, their promises of welfare beyond the grave.

When the new deities from Asia Minor, from Egypt, Syria, and the

further East, were brought to Italy, the resemblances of their practice

to that of the Christian Church excited the {52} believer's alarm, and

roused at once the charge of plagiarism. There was a congregation of

Mithra at Rome as early as 67 B.C., and towards the end of the first

century of our era his mysteries began to be widely spread. Here was a

baptism; here was a "sacrament" as the neophyte took the oath on

entering the warfare with evil; here were grades of soldiership and

service; here were oblations of bread and water mingled with wine which

were naturally compared with the Lord's supper; here were doctrines of

deliverance from sin, of judgment after death and ascent to heaven,

which brought the theology and practice of Mithraism very close to that

of the Church. So Mithra bore the august titles of the holy and

righteous God; or he was the Mediator, author of order in nature and of

victory in life between the ultimate powers of good and evil.

For a time the rivalry was acute, as his worship was carried through

the West as far as York and Chester and the Tyne. But with the triumph

of Christianity in the fourth century the sounds of conflict die away.

The men of learning, Eusebius of Cæsarea (about A.D. 260-340),

Augustine (A.D. 354-430) bishop of Hippo, surveyed the religions and

philosophies of antiquity as conquerors. The faiths of Egypt,

Phœnicia, Greece, and Rome, are passed in review. With a broad

sweep of learning Eusebius comments on the ancient mythologies, the

oracles, the theory of demons, {53} the practice of human sacrifice,

the history of Mosaism. His treatise on the "Preparation for the

Gospel" is the first great work on comparative religion which issued

out of Christian theology. With generous recognition of what lay

beyond the Church he taught (in the _Theophania_) that all higher

culture was due to participation in the Logos. Idolatry might be the

work of demons; the world might be filled with the babblings of

philosophers and the follies of poets; but the Logos had been

continuously present, sowing in the hearts of men the rudiments of the

divine laws, of various orders of teaching, of doctrines of every kind.

Thus ethics, art, science, and the fairest products of human thought,

were genially brought within the scope of Revelation.

II

The panorama of religions unrolled before the student of the present

day is far vaster than that which offered itself to the thinkers of

Greece and Rome, and its meaning is far better understood. When

Pausanias describes the daily sacrifice to a hero at Tronis in Phocis,

where the blood of the victim was poured down through a hole in the

grave to the dead man within, while the flesh was eaten on the spot, he

notes, like the careful author of a guide-book, a curious local usage,

but he does not know that it belongs to a group of {54} savage

practices that may be traced all round the globe. On Mount Lycæus in

Arcadia, he tells us, was a spring which flowed with equal quantity in

summer as in winter. In time of drought the priest of Lycæan Zeus,

after due prayer and sacrifice, would dip an oak-branch into the

surface of the spring, and a mist-like vapour would rise and become a

cloud. In the midst of Hellenic culture it was still possible, as

among the negroes of West Africa or the Indians of North America, to

make rain.

From continent to continent a multitude of observers have gathered an

immense range of facts, which show that amid numerous differences in

detail the religions of the lower culture may all be ranked together on

the basis of a common interpretation of the surrounding world.

Philosophy suggests that man can only explain nature in terms of his

own experience. He is encompassed by powers that are continually

acting on him, as he to a much smaller extent can in his turn act on

them. By various processes of observation and reflection (p. 85), he

comes to the conclusion that within his body lives something which

enables it to move and feel and think and will, until at death it goes

away. To this mysterious something many names are given, and for

purposes of modern study they are all ranked under the term "spirits."

This explanation is then applied to the behaviour of all kinds of

objects within {55} his view; though it does not at all follow that

this was actually the first explanation. The animals that are stronger

and more cunning than himself, the trees that move in the wind, the

corn that grows so mysteriously, the bubbling spring, even the things

that he himself has made, his weapons, tools, and jars, all have their

"spirits," so that the entire scene of his existence is pervaded by

them. To this doctrine, with its many branches of belief and practice,

Sir E. B. Tylor, in his classical work on _Primitive Culture_ (1871),

gave the name of "Animism," and the religions founded upon it are

called "animistic," or sometimes, from the multitude of unorganised

spirits which they recognise, "polydæmonistic" religions.

Such religions belong to no specific ethnic group. They appear either

in existing practice or in the shape of occasional survivals in all of

the three great racial divisions of mankind--the white or Caucasic, the

yellow or Mongolian, and the black or Negroid. They are to be found

under the Equator and among the Arctic snows. They are sometimes

associated with a peculiar form of social structure regulating

inter-tribal relations known as _totemism_. It was at one time

supposed that this designated a stage of evolution through which all

peoples had passed. The totem or clan-sign, whether animal or plant,

or more rarely an inanimate object like wind, sun, or star, was

supposed to have {56} become an object of worship, and various theories

were invented to explain the divisions and subdivisions of the clans,

and the selection of their special signs. Hence, it was argued, came

the cultus of beast and bird and tree; hence the altar and the idol;

hence the animal sacrifice and the sacramental meal. In clever hands

it supplied a universal key. The extraordinary intricacy of the

subject, and the widely scattered character of the evidence, prevent

any discussion here. But the most recent researches have not sustained

these attempts. Among the Central Australian tribes the totems are not

worshipped, they are in no sense deities, no prayers or sacrifices are

offered to them. They may be brought into the sphere of religion in

some tribes as part of a social order to which a superhuman origin is

ascribed (p. 171). But totemism cannot be established as the typical

form of "primitive religion" any more than any other complicated

system. Its general diffusion is questionable. At the present day

there are large areas over which no signs of totemic organisation are

found; and many phenomena which were formerly assumed to be proofs of

totemism in the higher religions of antiquity, in Egypt, Greece, and

Italy, now receive other explanations.

The higher forms of animistic religion pass out into polytheisms of

more or less dignity. They do not succeed in embodying themselves in

permanent literary product, they create no {57} scriptures or sacred

books. They have their rude chants, their songs for weddings and

funerals, their genealogies and tales of ancient heroes. Strange

cosmogonies float from island to island in Polynesia. The Finnic

peoples enshrined their faith in the ballads collected under the name

of the Kalevala. Among the Indians of North America speculation is

sometimes highly elaborated in mythologic tradition; and out of the

fusion of nationalities in Mexico rose a developed polytheism in which

lofty religious sentiment seems strangely blended with a hideous and

sanguinary ritual. Peru, no less, presented to the Spanish conquerors

bewildering and incongruous aspects. In these two cultures native

American civilisation reached its highest forms. In Mexico the

apparatus of religion was very minutely organised. There were immense

temples, which required large numbers of priests and servitors. The

capital alone is said to have contained 2000 sacred buildings, and the

great temple had a staff of 5000 priests. There were religious orders

and temple-schools; rites of baptism and circumcision; feasts and

sacrifices and sacraments, in which the monkish chroniclers found

strange parallels to their own practice. The issues of victory were

disastrous. With the death of the last Aztec emperor (1520) the doom

of the old gods was assured, and the Inquisition (1571) completed what

the sword of Cortes had begun.

{58}

In the old world Asia has been the mother of religions, but various

fates have befallen her offspring. The ancient cults of Babylonia,

after an existence longer than the period from Moses to the present

day, vanished from the scene. The teachings of Zoroaster were planted

in China in A.D. 621, and a temple was erected at the capital, Changan;

but the Persian faith could not maintain itself in such a different

culture. After the Mohammedan conquest in the eighth century it was

finally carried by a little band of exiles into India, and is still

cherished by their descendants who bear the name of Parsees. The Jew

and the Christian have only a precarious toleration in the land which

was once their home. In India and in China alone is the religion of

to-day linked in unbroken continuity with the distant past. Islam may

set itself in lineal succession to the teachers of old, and claim a

place for Mohammed in the sequence of Abraham, Moses, and Christ. But

it is the youngest, and in some respects the least original, of the

world's great faiths.

India has its own panorama of religions, from the animistic practice of

the tribes of the jungle and the hills, up to the refined pantheism of

the philosophical school. Diversities of race have been strangely

intermingled, and fifty languages make it impossible to secure any

uniformity of culture. There are the descendants of the ancient

inhabitants who occupied the country before {59} the Aryan ancestors of

the Hindus settled themselves upon the fertile lands. They are

represented to-day by the wild tribes of Central India such as the

Bhils and Gonds. Some ten million probably profess a religion of a

well-marked animistic type. But this also lies at the base of

wide-spread popular belief and custom, where the propitiation of

spirits, the cultus of Mother Earth, and the veneration of village

deities, engage much more attention than the higher gods of Hinduism.

The literary foundation of the religions of India lies in the ancient

hymns of the Rig Veda, sung by the immigrant Aryans as they entered

from the North-west and gradually established themselves in the Ganges

valley. These hymns were addressed to gods of earth and air and sky;

they celebrated the glories of dawn and day; they told of the conflict

between sunshine and storm; they praised Agni, the god of fire,

messenger between heaven and earth, himself as agent of the sacrifice a

kind of priest among the gods; they commemorated the dead who passed

into the upper world and adorned the sky with stars. Already in some

of the later hymns the poet's thought endeavoured to find some

principle or power that should unite these different agencies as

manifestations of one ultimate reality; and philosophic imagination at

length fixed on the conception of Brahman, a term whose original

meaning {60} seems to hover between that of sacred spell and prayer.

Viewed in a personal aspect (Brahma) as a god of popular worship, he

could be described as "Lord of all, the Maker, the Creator, Father of

all that are and are to be."[1] But behind this sovereign ruler

metaphysical abstraction placed a neuter Brahma, all-embracing, the

ground of all existence, summed up in three terms--Being, Thought, and

Bliss. Here was the ultimate Self of the whole universe; and to know

the identity of the human self with the Absolute, to be able to repeat

the mysterious words _tat tvam asi_, "that art thou," was the aim of

the forest-sages and the highest attainment of holy insight.

[1] So in the early Buddhist texts describing the popular religion.

Many new forms appear in these documents.

Meantime the social order was acquiring the first forms of caste. The

priests and the fighting men, the people who settled on the lands for

pasture and tillage, and the tribes of aborigines whom they

dispossessed and subdued, formed the basis of divisions which were

gradually multiplied with extraordinary complexity. A religious

authority was found for the whole system in the teachings of the Veda,

and to contest its claims was to defy the power which slowly spread

with subtle hold through the whole peninsula. By its side arose the

doctrine of the Deed (_karma_, p. 217), which explained the varied

conditions of human life by the principle that {61} "a man is born into

the world that he has made." The lot of each individual had a moral

meaning: it was the result of previous conduct, good or ill. This is

the conception embodied in the word "transmigration." It pictures man

as involved in a continuous series of births and deaths, and religion

and philosophy undertook in their several ways to secure him a

favourable destiny hereafter, or by various means of divine grace, or

strenuous self-discipline, or pious contemplation, to extricate him

altogether from the weary round of ignorance and pain.

Out of these elements, a crude and ever-varying animism at the bottom,

a highly refined metaphysical pantheism at the top, figures of

incarnation and deliverance, the cultus of the dead, caste, and

transmigration, the complex strands of modern Hinduism have been woven.

Many have been the growths upon the way. The early Buddhist texts,

representing the society of the "Middle Country," show already in the

fifth century B.C. a surprising activity of speculation, busily engaged

in questioning every received doctrine of religion and morals. Some

forms held their ground for a few centuries and then disappeared. One

religious community of that date alone survives, viz. the Jains, who

still number about a million and a third. Buddhism, after sending out

its missionaries into Ceylon in the south and China in the north, was

driven from its ancient seats, and {62} only some 300,000 hold its

creed in India itself. In Burma, however, it numbers between ten and

eleven million lay adherents, and in the adjacent kingdom of Siam it

has 13,000 temples, and more than 93,000 mendicants have taken its vows.

But Hinduism still lives on with a marvellous and self-renewing power.

Two great divine figures have been set beside the original creative

Brahma, representatives of the forces that preserve and destroy, Vishnu

and Çiva (p. 128). Vishnu succeeded to the place of the Buddha; and

Hindu religion gave prominence in him to the conception of a Divine

Person who out of love for man assumed human shape to conquer evil and

establish truth. The worship of Çiva has been carried everywhere by

the Brahmans; if he destroys, he also reproduces; he, too, appears to

bless and help, and the Tamil poets of South India in the early Middle

Ages sang his praises in hymns that still feed the piety of the people.

Again and again reforming teachers have initiated movements on behalf

of spiritual religion. Their followers have multiplied and broken up

into sects, but still remain within the general area of the ancestral

faith, which now embraces considerably more than 200 million souls.

The disciples of Nānak (1469-1538), however, known as Sīkhs,

formed into a semi-military organisation by the Guru Gobind "the Lion"

(1675-1708), retain their religious independence, {63} touching

Hinduism on one side and Mohammedanism on the other. They number at

the present day more than two millions, and are found almost

exclusively in the Punjab.

China, like India, illustrates the principle of religious continuity.

Its earliest historic date is fixed by an eclipse in 776 B.C.; and the

traditions of its dynasties stretch more than a thousand years beyond.

The ancient religion depicted in the books known as the _Shu_ and the

_Shî Kings_, which Confucius (550-478 B.C.) was supposed to have edited

out of much older documents, rested upon the solemn order of the living

Heaven and Earth, with multitudinous ranks of associated spirits, and

the generations of the dead. This has remained the formal basis of the

national religion (p. 97). Meanwhile the ethical sayings of Confucius

acquired extraordinary ascendency. They formed the chief element in

the national education, and supplied the ideals of popular culture.

Carried into Japan in the sixth century of our era, they filled a gap

in the old Japanese teaching, which we know by the name of Shin-To or

"Spirits' way." Confucius himself became the object of general

commemorative homage; and annual ceremonies are still celebrated in his

honour with great splendour in the Confucian temples which adorn every

city within the empire above a certain rank.[2]

[2] These are at present in danger, like other public forms of Chinese

State Religion, of being rudely abolished.

{64}

In the popular religion demonology and magic play a constant part, and

numerous growths out of the worship of ancestors provide ever fresh

additions to the higher ranks of spirits. These are regulated by

decrees of the Board of Rites, one of the most ancient religious

institutions in China. The spirit of a departed governor, perhaps two

centuries ago, is believed to have appeared in time of flood, and by

his beneficent influence dangers have been averted. Memorials are sent

up to Peking by the local authorities, and after repeated

manifestations divine honours are awarded. Beneath these august

personages are the spirits which preside over the trades and

professions, over the parts of a house--the door, the bed, or the

kitchen range--over the breeding of domestic animals, and a large

variety of occupations, to say nothing of medicine and disease, the

limbs of the body, and the stars. They are analogous to the Kami, the

equivalent powers in Japan (p. 91); and they are not without parallel

in religions further west.

Half a century before Confucius, in 604, was born another sage, known

in history as Lao Tsze. Fragments of his teaching are embodied in a

small book of aphorisms, concerned with the doctrine of the Tao, the

way, the path, or course. In nature this corresponded to the ordered

round of the seasons, and the regularities which we call laws. In man

it might be seen in the line of right {65} conduct, and the inner

principles which pointed to it. On this conception, which was much

older than Lao Tsze himself, a kind of metaphysical mysticism was

reared by later disciples, not without affinities with some aspects of

the Brahmanical philosophy. They have been explained by suggestions of

travel and contact which more careful study cannot justify. The

religion of the Tao (whence the name Taoism) could never have been

popular had it not become strangely entangled with alchemy and

transformed under the influence of its later rival, Buddhism, from

which it derived much both in ritual, in ethics, and in doctrine.

The statements about the appearance of Buddhist teachers and Buddhist

books in China before our era have been much disputed: the first

trustworthy record relates that in the year A.D. 65, a deputation of

eighteen persons was sent to Khotan to make inquiries, and they

returned two years later with books and images and a teacher. A second

teacher arrived shortly after, a temple was built at the imperial

capital, Lo-Yang, and the laborious work of translation was begun. A

stream of missionaries, Hindus, Parthians, Huns, slowly flowed into the

Flowery Land, "moved," says the chronicler, "by the desire to convert

the world." After a while the Chinese students sought the holy places

in India, and learned Sanskrit at the great Buddhist university at

Nalanda, near Buddha {66} Gaya. Vast collections of sacred literature

were gathered. The first Chinese catalogue, dated A.D. 520, enumerates

2,213 distinct works. Twelve successive revisions were made under

imperial order, and to the last, in 1737, the Emperor himself,

following the example of some of his predecessors, contributed a

preface.

Opposed again and again by the Confucian _literati_, its temples

destroyed, its religious houses suppressed, its monks and nuns driven

back into the world, Buddhism has still lived on. It has created

impressive devotions, and generated numerous sects. It has spread

through Corea, Mongolia, and Japan; on the west it is planted in Tibet.

It has exercised immense influence on Chinese culture; architecture,

art and letters being all deeply indebted to it. In numerical

estimates of different religions common in the last century Buddhism

always headed the list, for the whole population of China--vaguely

reckoned at 400,000,000--was included in its fold. Such estimates are

no longer trustworthy.[3] The ancestral cultus of the dead under the

shelter of Confucianism, the rites of Taoist and of Buddhist priests,

are strangely blended. The incidents of life from birth to death are

never completed without help from one or other of the two faiths once

rivals, and now {67} so curiously intertwined. As early as the sixth

century a famous Buddhist scholar Fu Hhi was asked by the Emperor Wu-ti

if he was a Buddhist, and he pointed to his Taoist cap. "Are you a

Taoist?" he showed his Confucian shoes. "Are you a Confucian?" he wore

a Buddhist scarf. When the Abbé Hue made his famous journey two

generations ago, he observed that when strangers met, politeness

required that each should ask his neighbour, "To what sublime religion

do you belong?" The first might be a Confucian, the second a Taoist,

the third a disciple of the Buddha. Each would then begin to commend

the religion not his own, and they would conclude by saying, "Religions

are many, reason is one, we are all brothers." It was the maxim of Lu

Shun Yang (a distinguished Buddhist) centuries ago that "the teaching

of the sects is not different. The large-hearted man regards them as

embodying the same truths. The narrow-minded man observes only their

differences."

[3] The latest official estimate, February 1911, based on a reckoning

of families, gives 312,400,590 for the total Chinese people.

Yet another great religion, the latest born among the higher faiths of

the world, has established itself in both India and China. The first

Mohammedan invasion of India took place in A.D. 664. The followers of

the prophet are now reckoned at more than 66 millions. In 628 Mohammed

himself sent his uncle to China with presents to the Emperor. He

travelled by sea to Canton, where the first mosque was afterwards

built. {68} Good observers number the Mohammedans in China to-day at

30 millions, mostly in the north and west; and it is supposed that

there are about as many more in the Malay Archipelago. In Africa,

especially among the negroes of the west, their numbers have increased

enormously in the last century, and some two-fifths of the

multitudinous peoples of the Dark Continent, 80 millions out of 200,

are believed to live in the obedience of Islam.

Islam, resignation or submission to the will of God, was the name given

to his religion by the prophet himself, who died in A.D. 632. But in

the hands of his first followers submission was no passive virtue.

Tradition ascribed to him the idea of addressing all known sovereigns,

and promising them safety if they accepted the faith. His successors,

therefore, conceived that the fulfilment of Allah's will demanded a

resolute effort to make known the new revelation. A fierce burst of

missionary effort carried the Moslem armies far and wide. In the year

of Mohammed's death they attacked Persia and Syria; a few years later

they invaded Egypt. Within the first century they had entered India,

and had swept through north Africa into Spain. But they had twice been

obliged to retreat from Constantinople, and in 732 they were defeated

on the Loire by Charles Martel near Tours, and forced to retire behind

the Pyrenees.

With the same astonishing energy they {69} created centres of culture

from Baghdad to Cordova. Through Syriac versions of Aristotle's works

Arabian teachers carried Greek philosophy into Western Europe when the

light of ancient learning had grown dim. The contact with new thought

stimulated theological discussion, and the Moslem had to justify

himself against the Christian, the Zoroastrian, the Manichæan and the

Buddhist. Above the simple ritual demands of the prophet, the recital

of the creed--"There is no god but God (Allah), Mohammed is the apostle

of God"--the observance of prayer five times daily, the annual fast in

the month of Ramadhān, the bestowal of alms, and the pilgrimage to

Mecca, arose the debates of the schools and the divisions of sects.

The nature of the divine attributes, and their relation to the being or

essence of the Deity, the problems of predestination and free will, of

reason and revelation, excited eager interest. Beside the Koran vast

numbers of traditions concerning religious life and practice were

gradually put in circulation, and in the third century after Mohammed's

death they were reduced to writing in six great collections. To these

sources of truth and rules of conduct the jurists and theologians added

two others: agreement or universal consent, where beliefs and practices

are generally received though not specially sanctioned by the Koran or

tradition; and analogy, by which a doctrine or usage may be accepted as

valid because {70} of its resemblance to something legitimated by

revelation.

Like the higher religions of India, like Judaism in its long and

chequered career whether in Palestine or in the Dispersion, like the

"universal religions" of Buddhism and Christianity, Mohammedanism has

known how to accommodate itself to very different levels of culture.

In the Arabian deserts much of the earlier animism still remains. It

is not rudely expelled either at the present day as Islam advances

through Africa. Other impulses have worked in different directions.

There are religious orders and mendicant ascetics. There are mystical

schools of refined spirituality, to which the influences of

Neo-platonism, of Christianity, and Buddhism, have all contributed.

Sūfiism (as this type of thought is called) was fed from various

sources, and has assumed different forms in different countries, but

its best-known literary products came from the great poets of Persia.

From that subtle race issues the most remarkable movement which modern

Mohammedanism has produced. In 1844 a young man not twenty-five years

of age, named Ali Mohammed, of Shiraz, appeared under the title of the

"Bab" or Gate. Disciples gathered round him, and the movement was not

checked by his arrest, his imprisonment for nearly six years, and his

final execution in 1850. Thirteen years later one of his disciples

named Bahá-ullah, "Splendour of God," announced {71} himself as "He

whom God shall manifest," whose advent the Bab had foretold. Exiled to

Acre, he died in 1892, and was succeeded in the leadership by his son

Abbas Efendi. The new faith declared that there was no finality in

revelation, and while recognising the Koran as a product of past

revelation, claimed to embody a new manifestation of the divine Unity.

Carried to Chicago in 1893 by a Bâbî merchant, it succeeded in

establishing itself in the United States; and its missionaries are

winning new adherents in India. It, too, claims to be a universal

teaching; it has already its noble army of martyrs and its holy books;

has Persia, in the midst of her miseries, given birth to a religion

which will go round the world?

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Comparative Religion · 第 2 / 8 章