CHAPTER VI

SACRED PRODUCTS

In the intimate connection of religion with life all primitive

interests are placed under its sanction. A large portion of time is

occupied with its ceremonials. The fortunes of the tribe are bound up

with it. To the bounty of its powers they owe abundant food and safety

or success in war. Beneath its protection the newly born enter the

world, and to its care the elders are committed when they die. Its

holy persons rule in their midst; its holy places are all round about

them; its sacred objects are in their homes. It is not surprising,

therefore, that all the higher possessions of the tribe, its arts and

crafts, its traditions, its customs and laws, its stories of the gods

and their dealings with each other or with man, should be ascribed to

the same origin. Where individuality is hampered at every turn by

time-honoured conventions, and personal initiative is imperfectly

developed and timidly confined within the narrowest limits, all higher

intellectual products, command over nature, inventions, poetry and

song, the usages of {171} the social order, and the rituals for serving

the gods, carry with them a secret force, a mysterious authority, which

passes the bounds of human wisdom, and has been imparted from some

higher source. Each man is dimly conscious that his single wit could

not have compassed these things; he does not observe the long processes

and imperceptible stages of advance; he accepts the theory offered to

him by those who should know best, and looks back to the days when

kindly powers took in hand the instruction of men.

Thus at the present day many of the Australian tribes whose condition

has probably changed little since the date of the oldest civilisations

of antiquity, regard their scanty institutions as ordained by beings

above. Ask the Narrinyeri why they adhere to any custom, the answer is

that Nurrundere commanded it. Baiame and Bunjil laid down the marriage

laws for their respective tribes; Bunjil, moreover, taught the Kulin

the arts of life; and Daramulun gave the Yuin laws which the old people

handed down from generation to generation.

The elaborate cultures of Babylonia and Egypt claimed similar origins.

In the vast prehistoric period before the Flood the people round the

lower Euphrates had lived without rule or order, like the beasts of the

field, till a wondrous Fish-Man, whom the Greek historian called

Cannes, appeared out of the Persian Gulf with wisdom from the sea. He

{172} taught them arts and laws, and wrote concerning the generation of

mankind, their different ways of life, and their civil polity. It was

no other than Ea, god of the encircling Deep, the source of all.

Historic inscriptions told of his "books," which may have included

ancient oracles, and which certainly laid down the duties of a king.

So the famous code of Hammurabi (about 1950 B.C.), recently discovered

at Susa (1901), was handed to him, as the tablet shows, by the great

Sun-god, Shamash.

The Egyptian priests, perhaps as late as the great Nineteenth Dynasty,

before the days of Moses, threw into definite shape the vague

traditions of immemorial antiquity, when men had lived devouring one

another, ignorant how to till the ground. Osiris (p. 119) taught the

art of tillage, the use of the plough and hoe, how to grow wheat and

barley, and the culture of the vine; and Isis added the domestic arts

of making bread and weaving linen. Osiris, moreover, appointed the

offerings to the gods, regulated the ceremonies, composed the texts and

melodies of the hymns. And among his successors was Thoth of

Hermopolis (p. 8), who introduced astronomy and divination, medicine,

arithmetic, and geometry, and whose "books," embracing a kind of

religious encyclopædia, were known to the Christian teacher, Clement of

Alexandria, in the second century of our era.

{173}

So Zeus gave laws to Minos in Crete, and Apollo revealed the Spartan

constitution to Lycurgus; Numa, the traditional founder of the Roman

ceremonial law, received instruction from the nymph Egeria. The

shepherd slave, Zaleucus (whom Eusebius placed about 660 B.C.), taught

the Locrians what Athena had first taught him, and prefaced his laws by

enjoining them to revere the gods as the real causes of all things fair

and good in life, and keep their hearts pure from all evil, inasmuch as

the gods do not take pleasure in the sacrifices of the wicked, but in

the righteous and fair conduct of the good.

From the New World come a series of similar figures. Mr. Curtin claims

to show that the vast area of the American continent is pervaded by one

system of thought incalculably old. In the central group of the most

sacred personages is the Earth with Sky and Sun conceived sometimes as

identical sometimes as distinct. The Earth-maiden on whom the Sun has

gazed, becomes a mother, and gives birth to a great hero. He bestows

on men all gifts that support existence, and it is through him that the

race lives and prospers. To the Algonkins he was Michabo or Manibozho,

the "Great Light," who imparted vision, author of wisdom, arts, and

institutions. Among the Toltecs at Tulla he was Quetzalcoatl,

virgin-born, founder of civilisation, who organised worship without

human or animal sacrifices, and endured no {174} war. The Miztecs

called him Votan, prince and legislator of his people, representative

of a higher wisdom, so that he rose to be the mediator between earth

and heaven. In the plains of Begota the white-bearded Bohica appeared

to the Mozca Indians, taught them how to sow and build, formed them

into communities, contrived an outlet for the waters of their great

lake, and, having settled the government and the ritual, retired into

ascetic penance for two thousand years. Out of the depths of Lake

Titicaca in Peru there rose one day the son and daughter of the sun and

moon, Manco Capac and Mama Ogllo, sent by their father in compassion

for men's wretched plight. They taught the ignorant folk agriculture,

the chief trades, the art of building cities, aqueducts, and roads, and

Mama Ogllo showed the women how to spin and weave. Then when all was

in order, and overseers were appointed to see that each one did his

duty, they went back to the skies.

These stories all belong to the class known as myths. They are not

accounts of what actually happened, they are the work of religious

imagination operating on a particular group of facts, and endeavouring

to explain them. The scope of mythology, whatever may be its

particular origins, is of the widest compass. It embraces the whole

field of nature and life. It first came into modern view through the

study of classical antiquity {175} in Greece and Rome. The discovery

of Sanskrit and the investigation of its literature, especially of the

Vedic hymns, concentrated the attention of scholars for a time,

pre-eminently under the genius of Max Müller, on the relations of myth

to language, and the resolution of various deities of India and Greece

into the phenomena of dawn and sunshine, of the thunderstorm or the

moon.

But it was gradually found necessary to abandon one after another of

the philological identifications which had at one time been proposed

with confidence. New aspects of mythology demanded consideration. It

was not only concerned with the incidents and powers of nature, or with

the various relations of the gods. It appeared also in the field of

ritual. It often contained antique secrets of the meaning of religious

performance. It was the key to the dramatised representations of the

sacred dance, the ceremonials on which depended the welfare of the

tribe. And in proportion as action acquired a larger psychological

recognition in shaping the character of religion, and belief receded

into the background, the significance of the development of myths was

changed.

As religion, however, became more self-conscious, the intellectual

element in it gained more force and energy, and the thinkers of the

priestly schools endeavoured to bring the claims of different deities

into some sort of order, and regulate the hierarchy of heaven. {176}

But they were often confronted with ancient elements of savagery which

could be imperfectly harmonised with the more refined ideas of a

progressive culture. Thus already in Homer, Zeus, as supreme God,

bears one significant epithet; he is _mêtieta_, full of _mêtis_ or

counsel. The word is of doubtful derivation, but with the strong

tendency of Greek imagination to turn abstract ideas into persons,

Mêtis is presented by Hesiod (next in literary succession to Homer) as

the daughter of Ocean, the Hellenic equivalent of the Babylonian Deep,

source of all being even for the gods. Greek thought was not yet ripe

for the ontological conception of wisdom or intelligence as inherent in

the divine nature, so the union of Thought with Zeus is represented

mythologically as a marriage, and Mêtis becomes the bride of the great

"king of gods and men." The result is conceived in truly savage

fashion. In order to possess her in the most intimate manner, and

embody her in his own person, Zeus suddenly swallows her. Mythology,

of course, has to provide a reason; she would bear a son who would

overthrow him. The poet (or perhaps his editor), desirous of

correcting this brutal selfishness, suggests a further plea; the

goddess should be his perpetual monitor, and warn him inwardly of good

and evil. The myth is being directly moralised. Whatever, therefore,

may be the origins of myth, whether in connection with tribal {177}

tradition, in the interpretation of the incidents of nature--as when a

Siberian described to Baron von Wrangell the occultation of one of

Jupiter's moons by saying that the blue star had swallowed another very

small star and soon after vomited it up again--or in endeavours to

picture the characters and relations of the gods, the beginnings of the

world, the birth of man, the entry of evil, sin, and death, or the

condition of those who have already passed away, the myth becomes the

reflex of the culture in the midst of which it rises. It is the

depository of human experience, of man's criticism of his own life.

And in its representations of a distant age when gods visibly consorted

with men, and deigned to instruct them in the conditions of social

welfare, mythology is the direct product of religion.

When the gods have withdrawn from human fellowship, and no longer

choose their brides from the dwellers upon earth, or even vouchsafe to

appear among them in various forms for temporary help or promise of

blessing, the communications from heaven do not cease altogether. The

Vedic poet might challenge the existence of Indra, the fool might say

in his heart, "There is no God"; but the Powers above never left

themselves without a witness. The negro going out of his hut one

morning strikes his foot against a peculiarly shaped stone. "Art thou

there?" he inquires, and recognises the presence of a guardian and

{178} helper. The Samoan watches the behaviour of a spinning

cocoa-nut, or the flight of a bird to right or left. The Central

Asiatic notes the cracks on a tortoise's shell, much as a modern

palmist traces the lines in a human hand. The liver is selected as the

special seat of the prophetic faculty, and Babylonian and Etruscan

developed a common diagnosis of its marks. The Celt divined by the

water of wells, or the smoke and flames of ascending fires, and slew

his prisoners that the secrets of destiny might be discovered in their

entrails. China and Rome made divination the basis of elaborate state

systems. Rome produced a literature of Augury, with books of

regulations and minutes of procedure, while Plato commended it as "the

art of fellowship between gods and men," and the philosophy of the

Stoics justified it on the ground of a providential harmony between

nature and man, so that divine guidance was vouchsafed to human need.

Did not clouds and stars move by Heaven's great ordinance?

The lot took the responsibility of decision out of the hands of man,

and vested it in the presiding deity. There is always a mystery in

chance, which could be interpreted as the will of God. The oath

implied that the heavenly Powers could be at any moment summoned to

attest man's veracity; and the vow must be fulfilled, though it might

cost Jephthah the sacrifice of his daughter. Perjury and broken vows

were early recognised {179} among the gravest of crimes. The ordeal

was in like manner the inquisition of a divine judge. When the Adum

draught was administered to an accused Ashanti upon the Gold Coast, the

god condescended to enter with it; he looked around for the signs of

guilt, and if he found none he returned with the nauseous mixture to

the light of day. It was a procedure analogous to the ancient rite

embedded in the Levitical Law as the test of a wife's faithlessness

(_cp._ Num. v. 11 _sqq._).

Another mystery lay in dreams, which have been connected with

supersensual powers all the world over. To the savage who cannot

analyse his experience the dream-world is as real as that of his waking

hours. The dreams that follow fasts, whether compulsory through

deficient food, or voluntary through preparation for some solemn event,

possess peculiar vividness; and, when attention has been fixed upon

some expected crisis, readily acquire a prophetic significance. Divine

forms are seen, and strange intimations are conveyed from another

world. The dream verses of the Icelander brought tidings from those

who had been lost at sea. To sleep upon the grave of a dead kinsman,

still more of a hero or a seer, was the means of receiving

communications from the wisdom of the dead. Did not philosophy teach

that in sleep the mind is less hampered by its physical environment,

and attains truth more nearly; {180} and what condition was so

suitable, therefore, for the beneficent revelation of a god?

In Greece, accordingly, the practice of sleeping at the tombs of heroes

or in the temples of gods was regularly organised. The sanctuaries of

Æsculapius, of which more than two hundred can be traced round the

Eastern Mediterranean and in Italy, were specially frequented by

patients who resorted thither for medical treatment and the advice of

the god. The sufferer must pass through the preliminary discipline of

the bath, and to his purifications must add the due offering of a

sheep. The victim's fleece was carried into the holy precincts, and on

it the sick man lay down for the night. In the visions of the dark

hours the god appeared, and prescribed the mode of cure, or even

condescended to operate himself. An inscription at Epidaurus records

that the stiffened fingers of a patient were straightened out and

restored for use by the god's own grasp. Was it surprising that

Æsculapius should become the object of increasing reverence, and in the

second century of our era should be enthroned in the highest as

"Saviour (or Preserver) of the universe"?

Under other conditions the visitation of the god expresses itself in

poetic form. Among the ruder peoples whose songs are of the

simplest--perhaps the most childish--kind, the faculty of rhythmic

utterance seems superhuman. Words, lines, stanzas, follow {181} each

other with a spontaneity which seems out of the reach of ordinary

effort. The chants of worship have been again and again carried back

to divine authorship in a distant past. The marriage of speech with

music is no art of man. So the Finnic hero, Wäinamöinen, conceived by

the wind, and born (after seven hundred years in the womb) by the

maiden Dmatar, added to his gifts of fertility and fire the invention

of the harp, and the teaching of wisdom, poetry, and music to man.

Odin was the god of wisdom and poetry for Scandinavia, god also of the

holy draught, which, like the Indian Soma, gave inspiration. The poet

brewed Odin's mead, bore Odin's cup; and in old Teutonic speech was

_godh-mālugr_, "god-inspired." Hermes passed in Greece as the

inventor of the lyre, which he gave to Apollo, chief among the deities

who declared to man the unerring counsel of Zeus; and Homer already

counts singer and song as alike divine.

The lovely forms of the Muses, daughters of Zeus and Memory, or with an

alternative mother in Harmony, were endowed with functions of song and

prophecy, and between them and the historic poets stood a group, half

mythical, half human, whose names were attached to actual hymns and

poems. Such were Orpheus, Musseus, Eumolpus, Thamyris, and Linos. The

verses ascribed to them tended to acquire an authoritative character;

they were cited as a rule or norm for conduct; {182} they were on the

way to become a Scripture. Homer and Hesiod were employed in the same

way; and Plato denounces the mendicant prophets who went to rich men's

doors offering to make atonements, and quoting Homer and Hesiod as

religious guides. Nevertheless, though he proposed to banish from his

ideal State the poets who said unworthy things of the gods, he

elsewhere formulates the highest claim for poetry as a supernatural

product. The poets are only the interpreters of the gods by whom they

are severally possessed; "God takes away the minds of the poets;" "God

himself is the speaker, through them he is conversing with us." It is

the lament of the Bantus of South Africa that since the white man came

the springs of music and song have ceased to flow: "The spirits are

angry with their children, and do not teach them any more."

Another mode of converse between deity and man was found in the oracle.

Widespread was the belief that through certain chosen persons or in

certain peculiar spots the gods deigned to communicate with those who

sought their aid. Such agencies were peculiarly numerous in the

Hellenic world, and the oracle at Delphi acquired supreme importance.

As early as the eighth century B.C., in the days of Amos and Isaiah, it

is rising into prominence as an authority that may take the leading

place in Greek religion. At one time it almost seemed as if it might

succeed {183} in co-ordinating the separate and often opposing forces

of the City States, and blend them into national unity. If that hope

was ever cherished by its guardians, they failed to realise it. The

higher minds discerned in it capacities which were never fulfilled.

They saw it give counsel to rival powers, promote enterprise, and

support plans of colonisation. They knew that it exercised a

far-reaching moral authority; it compelled reverence for oaths, and

secured respect for the lives of women, suppliants, and slaves; and

again and again in true prophetic spirit it subordinated ritual to

ethical demands. With the widest outlook over human affairs, Plato

proposes to establish the midpoint of religious legislation in Delphi

at Apollo's shrine: "He is the god who sits in the centre, on the navel

of the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind." It

is the note of universalism: had not Jeremiah proclaimed two centuries

before on behalf of Yahweh at Jerusalem: "My house shall be called a

house of prayer for all nations"?

When the Israelites had renewed their temple in the days of Darius, and

the scribes were beginning to busy themselves with the remains of their

national literature, Greek writers also interested themselves in the

collection of the utterances of the past. About 500 B.C. Onomacritus

gathered together the oracles of Musæus. It was the first instance of

what became a frequent practice {184} in later days; one of Plato's

disciples, Heracleides of Pontus, undertook a similar task; so did

Chrysippus the Stoic. A special literature was thus begotten. The

circumstances which called for the successive oracles were duly

narrated; and had Delphi maintained its early position, here would have

lain the nucleus of a Scripture, which might have developed into a

permanent record of revelation.

Italy, in like manner, had its _libri fatales_, its sacred books of

destiny. There were Etruscan oracles under the name of the nymph Begoe

or Vegone; there were the Marcian Songs, said to have been adopted as

genuine by the Roman Senate in 213 B.C. The ancient city of Veii had

its books; Tibur (Tivoli) the "lots" of the nymph Albunea. Most famous

of all were the Sibylline books, brought (according to later tradition)

from Cumæ to Rome, perhaps in the last days of the monarchy, or a

little later (about 500 B.C.), and placed in the Temple of Jupiter on

the Capitol under the charge of two special guardians. These were

afterwards increased to ten, and in the year 51 B.C. to fifteen. The

office remained till the books were destroyed in A.D. 400, when

Christianity had been finally established as the imperial religion.

What they contained is doubtful; how they were consulted is not known.

Their aid was sought after prodigies, pestilence, or disaster had

awakened general alarm; but their actual {185} words were not made

public. Nevertheless they supplied the basis for important religious

innovations. The introduction of Greek deities by their sanction

profoundly affected Roman religious ideas, and left deep marks on

literature and art.

In the year 83 B.C. the temple which contained the books was burned.

The greatest anxiety was displayed for their restoration. Envoys were

sent to Sicily, Greece, and Asia Minor to collect fresh verses; they

were deposited in a new temple, and prophecies were founded on them in

the last days of the Republic. But it was believed that spurious

verses had got into circulation, and Augustus ordered a rigid

examination. Some two thousand volumes, it is alleged, were destroyed;

those which were admitted as genuine were removed to a temple of Apollo

which Augustus had himself dedicated on the Palatine hill. Here are

the characteristics of a Canon. The books are kept under special

charge in a temple. Their authority suffices to modify old cults and

introduce new. When they perish, they must be restored. The false

must be separated from the true, the genuine eliminated from the

spurious. The Amoral element in them seems to have been entirely

subordinated to the ritual; but they were believed to express in

seasons of difficulty and danger the demands of the gods.

The transition to what are formally called "Sacred Books" leaves a

considerable {186} literature upon the boundary. The collection of the

ancient national Finnic songs, made with so much patience by the

Swedish Lonrott, under the name of the Kalevala, presents no claim to

inspiration, but it is the poetical expression of the national

religion. In the literature of the Eddas, the Volospa (p. 248) is a

product of the prophetic spirit. After Herodotus remarked that Homer

and Hesiod made the gods of the Greeks, the Homeric poems acquired more

and more authority, until by the usage of centuries they gained a

semi-canonical position. Lectures were given upon their sacred text,

and the most extravagant methods of interpretation were employed to

reconcile them with the world-view of philosophy. The ancient Egyptian

accepted the "Book of the Dead" as his guide to the next world.

Chapters of it were inscribed on the walls of his tomb, engraved on his

coffin, or laid inside it with his mummy. It contained the charms

needful for the preservation of his soul on its journey to the land of

the West. Its authors were unknown, but it contained the secrets of

the life to come.

The "Bibles of Humanity," as the foundation-books of the great

religions have been called, belong to one continent. Asia has been the

mother of them all. The oldest takes shape in India in the Vedic

hymns; and the immense literatures of Brahmanism, early and later

Buddhism, and the Hinduism which {187} finally drove Buddhism off the

field, follow in due course. Cognate in language with the immigrant

Aryans, the ancient Persians preserved, amid many losses, some of the

compositions of their prophet Zarathustra, mingled with religious

documents of later date, known to modern students by the name Zend

Avesta. Palestine produces Judaism, with its collection of national

literature embracing law, history, prophecy, poetry, and wisdom.

Judaism gives birth to Christianity, which sets its New Testament

beside the Old; and Judaism and Christianity lie behind Mohammed and

the Koran, where the person and the book blend in the closest union.

In the Far East Chinese culture reposes on the so-called Classics, the

five King and the four Shu, which had a chequered history till they

finally acquired their position as fountains of knowledge and models of

composition. The ancient odes of the Shî King, the traditions of

rulers and the counsels of statesmen in the Shu King, the collections

of the teaching of Confucius and Mencius, and the remaining works which

need not be mentioned here, raise none of the claims which have been

preferred for the Indian Veda, or the Christian Bible. Nor does the

singular little book of aphorisms ascribed to Lao-Tsze, which serves as

the starting-point for Taoism (p. 67). The Shintoist of Japan finds

the earliest records of his religion in the national chronicles known

as the Kojiki and the Nihongi; and the {188} modern believer, who has

been offered an infallible Bible, responds with a profession of faith

in the practical inerrancy of his own traditional books.

Some smaller communities claim a passing word. The Jains (p. 61), once

the rivals of the Buddhists, possess a sacred literature only less

copious. Group after group appears in mediæval India singing the hymns

of its founder, such as the Kabir-panthis, till the poet Tulsi-Das

(born 1532) embodies in his version of the ancient Rāmāyana the

essence of Hindu religion for some ninety millions from Bengal to the

Punjab. The Sikhs (p. 62) stay themselves upon the words of their holy

teachers in the _Ādi-Granth_. The followers of Mani in the third

century of our era, who threatened the progress of the Christian

Church, and spread all the way from Carthage to Middle Asia, possessed

a gospel and epistles of their Prophet, portions of which were brought

to Berlin a few years ago from Chinese Turkestan. The Druzes of the

Lebanon, whose origin goes back to the Caliph Hakim at Cairo in the

eleventh century A.D., treasure the documents of the faith in 111

treatises and epistles, starting from Hakim's vizier, Hamza. And the

hapless prophet of Persia, who designated himself the Bab (p. 70),

composed in the _Beyyan_ (among numerous other works) an exposition of

the Truth for his disciples. For such small communities a sacred

literature is in fact a necessity. {189} Without it they have no

adequate cohesion. It is at least one of the conditions of permanent

resistance to the forces of decay.

Around the Scriptures of the greater religions devout reverence has

gathered with ardent faith. The Hindu term Veda (meaning literally

"knowledge") has a narrower and a wider sense. In its limited

application it denotes the four collections of hymns, of ritual

formulæ, and sacrificial songs, of which the Rig-Veda is the most

important (p. 10). Their history must be inferred from their contents;

of the circumstances of their formation there is no external evidence,

save that the early Buddhist texts show that the fourth or Atharva-Veda

had not acquired canonical value in the days of the Teacher Gotama.

But the term Veda is also extended to include a mass of ceremonial

compositions known as Brāhmanas, attached to one or other of the

ancient collections, and handed down in different religious schools.

These are all included more or less definitely in what a Western

theologian might term "Revelation." They are technically designated as

_çruti_ or "hearing"; they form the matter of the sacred teaching

transmitted orally, which must be reserved for a special order and not

imparted to the world outside.

The books of household law, on the other hand, prescribing the domestic

ceremonies for birth, marriage, and death, regulating caste-privileges,

and laying down rules for {190} the conduct of life, were open to all.

But just as the Rig-Veda was exalted into a reproduction on earth of

what existed eternally in heaven, so endeavours were made to convert

the legal works current in particular schools into sacred codes of

divine origin. One was boldly ascribed to Vishnu, who communicated it

to the goddess of the earth. Another, most famous of all, was attached

to Manu, the eponymous hero of the human race. "Father Manu" he is

called in the Rig-Veda, and as the sire of mankind he was the founder

of social and moral order. First king, and Rishi (or seer) privileged

to behold the sacred texts, he was the inventor of rites and author of

the maxims of law. And yet higher dignity belonged to him, for he

sprang from the Self-Existent and could thus be identified with Brahma

himself; and as Prajāpati (p. 143) he took part in the creation of

the world. In due course poetry and philosophy had their turn. The

immense epic known as the Mahābhārata, where tradition and myth

and imaginative speculation are blended in rich confusion, was put in

the scales by the gods against the four Vedas, and its sanctity

outweighed them all.

The Buddhist Scriptures were early grouped in three divisions under the

title of the Three Baskets. The teachings of the Supremely Enlightened

were of course absolutely true, and his rules for the members of his

Order were of compelling authority. It was assumed {191} that they

were recited correctly at an assembly held immediately after his

decease. The "Buddha-Word" thus became the infallible standard of

faith and practice. There are traces of provision to meet difficulties

in case different elders should believe themselves to possess varying

traditions of the Buddha's commands: but not even the enormous

expansion of the Scriptures of the Great Vehicle, as preserved in China

and Japan, shook the faith of the disciple in the authentic character

of their doctrine. The higher teaching belonged to the later years of

the Buddha's life, and was transmitted by special channels. It is much

as if Gnosticism had established itself in the Christian Church of the

second century, and had formed its literature into a Canon beside our

New Testament. Nepal, according to the testimony of Bryan Hodgson,

raised its sacred books into objects of worship. Chinese respect was

satisfied when they were issued from time to time (p. 66) with a

preface by the imperial Son of Heaven.

The oldest portion of the sacred literature collected under the name of

the Zend Avesta consists of five hymns (called Gathas), ascribed to

Zarathustra himself. They bear many marks of high antiquity, and they

acquired a peculiar sanctity, so that the later sacrificial hymns

already regard them as objects of homage to which worship should be

offered. Above the actual Scriptures rose a radiant figure, in which

the conception of revelation {192} was impersonated. Iranian thought

was markedly idealist; each earthly object had its spiritual type, its

antecedent or counterpart in the heavenly realm. The religion and law

of Zarathustra had their representative in Daena, who is already

celebrated with pious praise in the Avesta. Sacrifice is offered to

her as she dwells in the Heavenly House, the Abode of Song. Thence

Zarathustra summons her, beseeching her fellowship--she is associated

with Cista, "religious knowledge"--and he asks of her mystic powers and

righteousness in thought and speech and deed. Later teaching declared

her to be produced by Vohu Mano, the "Good Mind" of Ahura Mazda himself

(p. 131). As the actual utterance of the Lord Omniscient, the sacred

Law might also be called his _mãthra çpenta_ or "Holy Word."

Jewish theology was not altogether deficient in similar conceptions.

Corresponding to the Torah or Law imparted to Moses, was a heavenly

Torah, infinitely richer in content. It formed one of a mysterious

group of seven Realities which existed, like the Throne of Glory, Eden,

and Gehenna, before the making of the earth and sky. It was a kind of

epitome of all possible cosmic relations, so that as an architect

frames his plan for a city, God looked into the Torah when he would

create the world. Christian theology has never employed this imagery

to express its conception of Revelation. But it lies at the back of

the curious language of the Koran concerning the "Mother {193} of the

Book" (p. 13). Mohammedan theologians reckoned no less than ten ways

in which the Prophet received his revelations. Sometimes the divine

inspiration came in a dream, sometimes like the noise of a bell through

which he recognised the words which Gabriel wished him to understand.

Other books had been given previously to Moses, to David, to Jesus, and

each nation would be summoned to its own book at the judgment. The

believer in Islam recognised in the "Mother of the Book" the

pre-existent or Eternal Word, which God from time to time "sent down"

to his Prophet. It had definite size and aspect for Arab imagination.

The commentator Jalâlain described it as existing in the air above the

seventh heaven. There angel guardians defended it from theft by Satan

or the change of any of its contents. It was as long as from heaven to

earth, and as broad as from east to west; and its consistency was of

one white pearl. Was it surprising that Mohammedan faith should

support the utterance of the pious Câdi Iyâd (who died in Morocco, A.D.

1149): "The Koran, as it lies between the two covers is God's own word,

which he imparted by way of inspiration to the Prophet. Therefore is

it in every way inimitable, and no man can produce anything like it"?

Christian theology has refrained from these physical emblems. But it

was possible for a scholar of unquestioned learning to declare {194} in

the pulpit of the University of Oxford barely half a century ago (1861)

that "the Bible is none other than the voice of him that sitteth upon

the throne. Every book of it, every chapter of it, every verse of it,

every word of it, every syllable of it (where are we to stop?), every

letter of it, is the direct utterance of the Most High ... faultless,

unerring, supreme."

{195}

Comparative Religion · 第 6 / 8 章