XIII. 31) when it is said : ' O Friend, though dwelling

in the body, it (the Atman, the Self or the soul) does not act and is not tainted.'
The Atman unchanged amidst the changes of the World.
You see now that what /Sankara wishes to bring out, and what he thinks is implied in the language of the Upanishads, is that the Atman is always the same, and that the apparent difference between the individual soul and the Supreme Soul is simply the result of wrong knowledge, of Nescience, but is not due to any reality. He is very anxious to show that Pragfapati also in the teaching which he imparted to Indra and Viro/cana could not have meant anything else. Pra^apati, he says, after having referred to the individual or living soul (the #iva), seen, or rather seeing, in the eye, &c., continues, ' This is (if you only knew it) the immortal, the fearless, this is Brahman/ He argues that if the seer in the eye, the individual seer, were in reality different from Brahman, the immortal and fearless, it would $ot be co-ordinated (as it is by Pragapati) with the immortal, the fearless Brahman.
TBUE IMMORTALITY. 273
The reflected Self, on the other hand, is not spoken of as he who is characterised by the eye (the seer within the eye), for that would indeed render Pra^rapati obnoxious to the reproach of saying deceitful things.
/Sankara, however, is honest enough to tell us that his explanation is not the only one that has been proposed. Others, he tells us, think that Pragrapati sneaks throughout of the free and faultless Self (Atman), not of the individual soul at all. But he. points out that the pronouns used in the text point clearly to two subjects, the individual soul on the one hand, and the highest soul on the other ; and all that we have to learn is that the individual soul is not what it seems to be ; just as, for our own peace of mind, we have to find out that what seemed to us a serpent, and then frightened us, is not a serpent, but a rope, and need not frighten us any more.
Nescience or Avidya the Cause of Phenomenal Semblance.
There are others again, he continues, some of our own friends (possibly the followers of Ramanu^a), who hold that the individual soul, as such, is abso- lutely real ; but to this he objects, remarking that the whole of the Vedanta-sutras are intended to show that the one Supreme Being only is the highest and eternal intelligent reality, and that it is only the result of Nescience if we imagine that the many individual souls may claim any independent reality. It comes to- this, that according to $ankata, the highest Self may for a time be called different from the individual soul, but the individual soul is never sub- stantially anything but the highest Self, except through its own temporary Nescience. This slight concession (4) T
274 LECTURE VIII.
of a temporary reality of the individual soul seemed necessary to $ankara, who, after all, is not only a philosopher, but a theologian also, because the Veda, which in his eyes is infallible, gives all its sacrificial and moral precepts for individual souls, whose existence is thereby taken for established, though no doubt such precepts are chiefly meant for persons who do not yet possess the full knowledge of the Self.
There are many more points connected with the relation of the individual to the Highest Self, which $ankara argues out most minutely, but we need not here dwell on them any longer, as we shall have to return to that subject when treating of the systematic philosophy of $ankara. What distinguishes Ankara's view on the union of the individual soul with the Supreme Soul, is the complete Henosis or oneness which according to him always exists, but in the individual soul may for a time be darkened by Nescience. There are other modes of union also which he fully dis- cusses, but which in the end he rejects. Thus referring to the teaching of Asmarathya (I. 4, 20), $ankara argues, ' If the individual soul were different from the Highest Self, the knowledge of the Highest Soul would not imply the knowledge of the individual soul, and thus the promise given in one of the Upanishads, that through the knowledge of the one thing (the Highest Soul) everything is to be known, would not be fulfilled.' He does not admit that the individual soul can be called in any sense the creation of the Highest Soul, though the reason which he gives is again theological rather than philosophical. He says that when the Veda relates the creation of fire and the
TRUE IMMORTALITY. 275
other elements, it does never at the same time relate any separate creation of the individual soul. A Vedantist, therefore, has, as $ankara argues, no right to look on the soul as a created thing, as a product of the Highest Self, different from the latter. You see how this question can be argued ad infinitum, and it was argued ad infinitum by various schools of Vedanta philosophers.
Satyabliedavacla and Bhedabhedavada.
Two names were given to these different views, one the Satyabhedavada, the teaching of real separation or difference between the individual and the Highest Self, the other the Bhedabhedavada, the teaching of both separation and of non-separation. They both admit that the individual soul and the universal soul are essentially one. The difference between them turns on the question whether the individual soul, before it arrives at the knowledge of its true nature, may be called independent, some- thing by itself, or not. A very popular simile used is that of fire and sparks. As the sparks, it is said \ issuing from a fire are not absolutely different from the fire, because they participate in the nature of fire, and, on the other hand, are not absolutely non- different, because in that case they would not be distinguishable either from the fire or from each other, so the individual souls also, if considered as effects of Brahman, are neither absolutely different from Brahman, for that would mean that they are not of the nature of intelligence (i. e. Brahman), nor absolutely non-different from Brahman, because in
1 See Bhamatl on Ved. Sfitra I. 4, 21 ; Thibaut, part i. p. 277. Ta
276 LECTURE VTTT.
that case they would not be distinguished from each other, also because, if they were identical with Brah- man and therefore omniscient, it would be useless to give people any instruction, such as the Upanishads give. You see that Indian philosophers excel in their similes and illustrations, and this idea of the souls being scintillations of God will meet us again and again in other religions also.
In fact, these thoughts of the Upanishads could not be expressed more correctly in our own language than they were by Henry More, the famous Cambridge theologian, when he says : —
' A spark or ray of the Divinity
Clouded in earthy fogs, yclad in clay, A precious drop, sunk from Eternity,
Spilt on the ground, or rather slunk away; For then -we fell when we 'gan first to assay
By stealth of our own selves something to been, Uncentring ourselves from our great Stay, Which fondly we new liberty did ween, And from that prank right jolly wights ourselves did deem.'
Those who defend the other theory, the Satya- bhedavada, argue as follows: The individual soul is for a time absolutely different from the Highest Self. But it is spoken of in the Upanishads as non- different, because after having purified itself by means of knowledge and meditation it may pass out of the body and become once more one with the Highest Self. The text of the Upanishads thus transfers a future state of non-difference to that time when difference still actually exists. Thus the Pa>?fcaratrikas say : Up to the moment of emancipation being reached, the soul and the Highest Self are different. But the emancipated or enlightened soul is no longer different
TRUE IMMORTALITY. 277
from the Highest Self, since there is no further cause of difference.
The Approach of the Soul to Brahman.
If we keep this idea clearly in view, we may now return to the first legend which we examined, and which was taken from the Bn'hadaraTiyaka-Upani- shad. You may remember that there also we saw philosophical ideas grafted on ancient legends. The journey of the soul on the Path of the Fathers to the moon was evidently an old legend. From the moon, as you may remember, the soul was supposed to return to a new life, after its merits had been ex- hausted. In fact the Path of the Fathers did not lead out of what is called Samsara, the course of the world, the circle of cosmic existence, the succession of births and deaths. We do not read here, at the end of the chapter, that ' there is no return.'
The next step was the belief in a Devayana, the Path of the Gods, which really led to eternal blessedness, without any return to a renewed cosmic existence. We left the soul standing before the throne of Brah- man, and enjoying perfect happiness in that divine presence. Nothing more is said in the old Upanishads. It is generally admitted, however, that even those who at first go on the Path of the Fathers, and return from the moon to enter upon a new cycle of life, may in the end attain higher knowledge and then proceed further on the Path of the Gods till they reach the presence of Brahman. The Upanishad ends with one more para- graph stating that those who know neither of these two roads become worms, birds, and creeping things. This is all which the old Upanishads had to say.
278 LECTURE VIII.
But after the psychological speculation had led the Indian mind to a new conception of the soul, as something no longer limited by the trammels of earthly individuality, the very idea of an approach of that soul to the throne on which Brahman sat became unmeaning.
Later Speculations.
Brahman was no longer an objective Being that could be approached as a king is approached by a subject, and thus we find in another Upanishad, the Kaushitaki, where the same legend is told of the soul advancing on the road of the gods till it reaches the throne of Brahman, quite a new idea coming in, the idea on which the whole of $ankara's Vedantism hinges. The legendary framework is indeed preserved in full detail, but when the soul has once placed one foot on the throne of Brahman, Brahman, you may remember, is represented as saying, ' Who art thou ? ' Then, after some more or less intelligible utterances, comes the bold and startling answer of the soul : ' I ana what thou art. Thou art the Self, I am the Self. Thou art the True (satyam), I am the True.'
And when Brahman asks once more, ' What then is the True, TO 6v ? ' the soul replies : ' What is different from the gods (you see that Brahman is here no longer considered as a mere god), and what is different from the senses (namely the phenomenal world), that is Sat, TO ov, but the gods and the senses are tyam, or it.'
This is a mere play on words (of which the old philosophers in India as well as in Greece are very fond). Sattyam (for satyam) is a regular derivative,
TRUE IMMORTALITY. 279
meaning truth, but by dividing it into Sat, rd ov, and tya, it, the Upanishad wished to show that Brahman is what we should call both the absolutely and the relatively Real, the phenomenal as well as the nou- menal universe. And thus the Upanishad concludes: 'Therefore by that name of Sattya is called all this, whatever there is. All this thou art.'
Identity of the Soul with Brahman.
You see in this Upanishad a decided advance beyond the older Upanishads. Brahman is no longer a god, not even the Supreme God ; his place is taken by Brahman, neuter, the essence of all things; and the soul, knowing that it is no longer separated from that essence, learns the highest lesson of the whole Vedanta doctrine, Tat tvam a si, 'Thou art that,' that is to say, ' Thou, who for a time didst seem to be something by thyself, art that, art really nothing apart from the divine essence/ To know Brahman is to be Brahman, or, as we should say, ' in knowledge of Him standeth our eternal life.' Therefore even the idea of an approach of the individual towards the universal soul has to be surrendered. As soon as the true knowledge has been gained, the two, as by lightning, are known to be one, and therefore are one ; an approach of the one towards the other is no longer conceivable. The Vedantist, however, does not only assert all this, but he has ever so many arguments in store to prove with scholastic and sometimes sophistic ingenuity that the individual soul could never in reality be anything separate from the Highest Being, and that the dis- tinction between a Higher and a Lower Brahman is temporary only, and dependent on our knowledge
280 LECTURE VIII.
or ignorance, that the Highest Being or Brahman can be one only, and not two, as it might appear when a distinction is made between the Lower and Higher Brahman. Almost in the same words as the Eleatic1 philosophers and the German Mystics of the fourteenth century, the Vedantist argues that it would be self-contradictory to admit that there could be anything besides the Infinite or Brahman, which is All in All, and that therefore the soul also cannot be anything different from it, can never claim a separate and independent existence.
Secondly, as Brahman has to be conceived as perfect, and therefore as unchangeable, the soul cannot be conceived as a real modification or deterioration of Brahman.
Thirdly, as Brahman has neither beginning nor end, neither can it have any parts2; therefore the soul cannot be a part of Brahman, but the whole of Brahman must be present in every individual soul. This is the same as the teaching of Plotinus, who held with equal consistency that the True Being is totally present in every part of the universe. He is said to have written a whole book on this subject. Dr. Henry More calls this theory the Holenmerian, from the Greek over La 6Aei>/Aep?/s, an essence that is all in each part.
So much on what the Upanishads hint and what Vedantist philosophers, such as $ankara, try to estab- lish by logical argument as to the true nature of the soul and its relation to the Divine and Absolute
1 Zeller, p. 472. '' Zellcr, p. 511, fragm. III.
TRUE IMMORTALITY. 281
Being. From a purely logical point of view, /Sankara's position seems to me impregnable, and when so rigorous a logician as Schopenhauer declares his com- plete submission to Sankara's arguments, there is no fear of their being upset by other logicians.
LECTURE IX.
THE VEDiNTA-PHILOSOPHY.
The Veclaiita as a Pliilosopliical System.
THOUGH it is chiefly the relation between the - human soul and God which interests us in the teaching of the Upanishads and of the Vedanta-sutras, yet there are some other topics in that ancient philo- sophy which deserve our attention and which may help to throw light on the subject with which we are more specially concerned. I know it is no easy task to make Indian philosophy intelligible or attractive to English students. It is with Indian philosophy as with Indian music.
We are so accustomed to our own, that at first Indian music sounds to our ears like mere noise, without rhythm, without melody, without harmony. And yet Indian music is thoroughly scientific, and if we are but patient listeners, it begins to exercise its own fascination upon us. It will be the same with Indian philosophy, if only we make an effort to learn to speak its language and to think its thoughts.
Identity of Soul and Brahman.
Let us remember then that the Vedanta-philosophy rests on the fundamental conviction of the Vedantist,
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 283
that the soul and the Absolute Being or Brahman, are one in their essence. We saw in the old Upanishads how this conviction rose slowly, like the dawn, on the intellectual horizon of India, but how in the end it absorbed every thought, whether philosophical or re- ligious, in its dazzling splendour. When it had once been recognised that the soul and Brahman were in their deepest essence one, the old mythological lan- guage of the Upanishads, representing the soul as travelling on the road of the Fathers, or on the road of the gods towards the throne of Brahman was given up. We read in the Vedanta-philosophy (in the 25th paragraph of the third chapter of the third book), that this approach to the throne of Brahman has its proper meaning so long only as Brahman is still considered as personal and endowed with various qualities (sa- gmrn), but that, when the knowledge of the true, the absolute and unqualified Brahman, the Absolute Being, has once risen in the mind, these mythological concepts have to vanish. How would it be possible, /S'ankara says (p. 593), that he who is free from all attachments, unchangeable and unmoved, should ap- proach another person, should move or go to another place. The highest oneness, if once truly conceived, excludes anything like an approach to a different object, or to a distant place1.
The Sanskrit language has the great advantage that it can express the difference between the qualified and the unqualified Brahman, by a mere change of gender, Brahman (nom. Brahma) being used as a masculine, when it is meant for the qualified, and as a neuter (nom. Brahma), when it is meant for the unqualified 1 in. 3, 29.
284 LECTURE IX.
Brahman, the Absolute Being. This is a great help, and there is nothing corresponding to it in English.
We must remember also that the fundamental prin- ciple of the Vedanta-philosophy, was not * Thou art He,' but Thou art That, and that it was not Thou wilt be, but Thou art. This ' Thou art ' expresses some- thing that is, that has been, and always will be, not something that has still to be achieved, or is to follow, for instance, after death (p. 599).
Thus $ankara says, 'If it is said that the soul will go to Brahman, that means that it will in future attain, or rather, that it will be in future what, though unconsciously, it always has been, viz. Brahman. For when we speak of some one going to some one else, it cannot be one and the same who is distin- guished as the subject and as the object. Also, if we speak of worship, that can only be, if the worshipper is different from the worshipped. By true knowledge the individual soul does not become Brahman, but is Brahman, as soon as it knows what it really is, and always has been. Being and knowing are here simul- taneous.
Here lies the characteristic difference between what is generally called mystic philosophy and the Vedantic theosophy of India. Other mystic philosophers are fond of representing the human soul as burning with love for God, as filled with a desire for union with or absorption in God. We find little of that in the Upa- nishads, and when such ideas occur, they are argued away by the Vedanta-philosophers. They always cling to the conviction that the Divine has never been really absent from the human soul, that it always is there, though covered by darkness or Nescience, and
THE VEDA.NTA-PHILOSOPHT. 285
that as soon as that darkness or that Nescience is re- moved, the soul is once more and in its own right what it always has been ; it is, it does not become Brahman.
Dialogue from the AV/aiidog-ya-Upanisliad.
There is a famous dialogue in the /ifAandogya- Upanishad between a young student $vetaketu and his father Uddalaka Aru-m, in which the father tries to convince the son that with all his theological learning he knows nothing, and then tries to lead him on to the highest knowledge, the Tat tvam asi, or Thou art that (VI. 1) :
There lived once $vetaketu Anmeya. And his father said to him : ' /SVetaketu, go to school, for there is none belonging to our race, darling, who, not having studied, is, as it were, a Brahma^a by birth only.'
Having begun his apprenticeship (with a teacher) when he was twelve years of age, >S'vetaketu returned to his father, when he was twenty-four, having then studied all the Vedas, — conceited, considering himself well read, and very stern.
His father said to him : ' $vetaketu, as you are so conceited, considering yourself so well-read, and so stern, my dear, have you ever asked for that instruc- tion by which we hear what is not audible, by which we perceive what is not perceptible, by which we know what is unknowable 1 '
'What is that instruction, Sir?' he asked.
The father replied : ' My dear, as by one clod of clay all that is made of clay is known, the difference being only a name, arising from speech, but the truth being that all is clay ;
286 LECTURE IX.
' And as, my dear, by one nugget of gold all that is made of gold is known, the difference being only a name, arising from speech, but the truth being that all is gold ;
'And as, my dear, by one pair of nail-scissors all' that is made of iron (karslmayasam) is. known, the difference being only a name, arising from speech, but the truth being that all is iron, — thus, my dear, is that instruction/
The son said : ' Surely those venerable men (my teachers) did not know that. For if they had known it, why should they not have told it me ? Do you, Sir, therefore, tell me that.'
You see what the father is driving at. What he means is that when you see a number of pots and pans and bottles and vessels of all kinds and of dif- ferent names, they may seem different, and have different names, but in the end they are all but clay, varying in form and name. In the same manner, he wishes to say, that the whole world, all that we see and name, however different it seems in form and in name, is in the end all Brahman. Form and name, called namarupa in the philosophical language of India, that is name and form, — name coming before form, or, as we should say, the idea coming before the eidos, the species, — come and go, they are changing, if not perishing, and there remains only what gives real reality to names and forms, the eternal Brahman.
The father then continues :
'In the beginning, my dear, there was that only which is (TO oi'), one only, without a second. Others say, in the beginning there was that only which js
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 287
not (rd w ov), one only, without a second ; and from that which is not, that which is was born.
'But how could it be thus, my dear1?' the father continued. 'How could that which is, be born of that which is not 1 No, my dear, only that which is, was in the beginning, one only, without a second.
'It thought, may I be many, may I grow forth. It sent forth fire.
' That fire thought, may I be many, may I grow forth. It sent forth water.
' Water thought, may I be many, may I grow forth. It sent forth earth (food) l.
' Therefore whenever it rains anywhere, most food is then produced. From water alone is eatable food produced.'
' As the bees (VI. 9). my son, make honey by col- lecting the juices of different trees, and reduce the juice into one form,
'And as these juices have no discrimination, so that they might say, I am the juice of this tree or of that tree, in the same manner, my son, all these creatures, when they have become merged in the True (either in deep sleep or in death), know not that they are merged in the True.
' Whatever these creatures are here, whether a lion, or a wolf, or a boar, or a worm, or a midge, or a gnat, or a musquito, that they become again and again.
' Now that which is that subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, O $vetaketu, art it.'
' Please, Sir, inform me still more,' said the son.
1 Nearly the same succession of fire, air, water, earth ia found in Plato, Timaeus, 56.
288 LECTURE IX/
' Be it so, my child,' the father replied (VI. 10).
'These rivers, my son, run, the eastern (like the Ganga) toward the east, the western (like the Sindhu) toward the west. They go from sea to sea (i.e. the clouds lift up the water from the sea to the sky, and send it back as rain to the sea). They become indeed sea. And as those rivers, when they are in the sea, do not know, I am this or that river,
'In the same manner, my son, all these creatures, when they have come back from the True, know not that they have come back from the True. Whatever these creatures are here, whether a lion, or a wolf, or a boar, or a worm, or a midge, or a gnat, or a musquito, that they become again and again.
' That which is that subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, O /Svetaketu, art it.'
' Please, Sir, inform me still more,' said the son.
'Be it so. my child,' the father replied (VI. 11).
c If some one were to strike at the root of this large tree here, it would bleed, but live. If he were to strike at its stem, it would bleed, but live. If he were to strike at its top, it would bleed, but live. Pervaded by the living Self that tree stands firm, drinking in its nourishment and rejoicing ;
' But if the life (the living Self) leaves one of its branches, that branch withers ; if it leaves a second, that branch withers ; if it leaves a third, that branch withers. If it leaves the whole tree, the whole tree withers. In exactly the same manner, my son, know this.' Thus he spoke :
' This (body) indeed withers and dies when the living Self has left it ; the living Self never dies.
THE VEDA.NTA-PHILOSOPHY. 289
'That which is that subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, O $vetaketu, art it.'
' Please, Sir, inform me still more/ said the son.
' Be it so, my child,' the father replied (VI. 13).
' Place this salt in water, and then wait on me in the morning.'
The son did as he was commanded.
The father said to him : ' Bring me the salt, which you placed in the water last night.'
The son having looked for it, found it not, for, of course, it was melted.
The father said : ' Taste it from the surface of the water. How is it ? '
The son replied : ' It is salt.'
' Taste it from the middle. How is it ? '
The son replied : ' It is salt.'
' Taste it from the bottom. How is it ? '
The son replied : ' It is salt.'
The father said : ' Throw it away and then wait on me.'
He did so ; but salt exists for ever.
Then the father said : ' Here also, in this body, forsooth, you do not perceive the True (Sat), my son ; but there indeed it is.
'That which is the subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, O $vetaketu. art it.'
' Please, Sir, inform me still more,' said the son.
' Be it so, my child,' the father replied (VI. 15).
' If a man is ill, his relatives assemble round him and ask: "Dost thou know me1? Dost thou know me?" Now as long as his speech is not merged in
(4) U
290 LECTURE IX.
his mind, his mind in breath, his breath in heat (fire), heat in the Highest Godhead (devata), he knows them.
'But when his speech is merged in his mind, his mind in breath, breath in heat (fire), heat in the Highest Godhead, then he knows them not.
' That which is the subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, O $vetaketu, art it.'
Union not Absorption.
In this dialogue as given in the Upanishad we have before us a more popular and not yet systematised view of the Vedanta. There are several passages indeed which seem to speak of the union and absorp- tion of the soul rather than of its recovery of its true nature. Such passages, however, are always ex- plained away by the stricter Vedanta-philosophers, and they have no great difficulty in doing this. For there remains always the explanation that the quali- fied personal Brahman in the masculine gender is meant, and not yet the highest Brahman which is free from all qualities. That modified personal Brahman exists for all practical purposes, till its unreality has been discovered through the discovery of the Highest Brahman ; and as, in one sense, the modi- fied masculine Brahman is the highest Brahman, if only we know it, and shares all its true reality with the Highest Brahman, as soon as we know it, many things may in a less strict sense be predicated of Him, the modified Brahman, which in truth apply to It only, the Highest Brahman. This amphiboly runs through the whole of the Vedanta-sfttras, and a
THE VEDA.NTA-PHILOSOPHY. 291
considerable portion of the Sutras is taken up with the task of showing that when the qualified Brahman seems to be meant, it is really the unqualified Brah- man that ought to be understood. Again, there are ever so many passages in the Upanishads which seem to refer to the individual soul, but which, if properly explained, must be considered as referring to the Highest Atman, that gives support and reality to the individual soul. This at least is the view taken by /S'ankara, whereas, as I hinted before, from an histori- cal point of view, it would seem as if there had been different stages in the development of the belief in the Highest Brahman and in the highest Atman, and that some passages in the Upanishads belong to earlier phases of Indian thought, when Brahman was still conceived simply as the highest deity, and true blessedness was supposed to consist in the gradual approach of the soul to the throne of God.
Knowledge, not Love of God.
Anything like a passionate yearning of the soul after God, which forms the key-note of almost all religions, is therefore entirely absent from the Vedanta- sutras. The fact of the unity of soul and God is taken for granted from the beginning, or at all events as sufficiently proved by the revealed utterances of the Upanishads.
The Tat tvam asi. ' Thou art that,' is accepted by the Vedantists in a dry and matter-of-fact spirit. It forms the foundation of a most elaborate system of philosophy, of which I shall now try to give you an idea, though it can be very general only.
292 LECTURE IX.
Aviclya or Nescience.
The fundamental principle of the Vedanta-philo- sophy that in reality there exists and there can exist nothing but Brahman, that Brahman is everything, the material as well as the efficient cause of the universe, is of course in contradiction with our ordinary experience. In India, as anywhere else, man imagines at first that he, in his individual, bodily, and spiritual character, is something that exists, and that all the objects o£ the outer world also exist, as objects. Idealistic philosophy has swept away this world-old prejudice more thoroughly in India than anywhere else. The Vedanta-philosopher, however, is not only confronted with this difficulty which affects every philosophy, but he has to meet another difficulty peculiar to himself. The whole of the Veda is in his eyes infallible, yet that Veda enjoins the worship of many gods, and even in enjoining the worship (upasana) of Brahman, the highest deity, in his active, masculine, and personal character, it recog- nises an objective deity, different from the subject that is to offer worship and sacrifice to him.
Hence the Vedanta-philosopher has to tolerate many things. He tolerates the worship of an objective Brahman, as a preparation for the knowledge of the subjective and objective, or the absolute Brahman, which is the highest object of his philosophy. He admits one Brahman endowed with quality, but high above the usual gods of the Veda. This Brahman is reached by the pious on the path of the gods ; he can be worshipped, and it is he who rewards the pious for their good works. Still, even he is in that cha- racter the result of nescience (Avidya), of the same
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 293
nescience which prevents the soul of man, the Atman, from distinguishing itself from its incumbrances (the so-called Upadhis), such as the body, the organs of sense and their works.
This nescience can be removed by science or know- ledge only, and this knowledge or vidya is imparted by the Vedanta, which shows that all our ordinary knowledge is simply the result of ignorance or ne- science, is uncertain, deceitful, and perishable, or as we should say, is phenomenal, relative, and conditioned. The true knowledge, called samyagdarsana or com- plete insight, cannot be gained by sensuous perception (pratyaksha) nor by inference (anumana), nor can obedience to the law of the Veda produce more than a temporary enlightenment or happiness. According to the orthodox Vedantist, $ruti alone, or what is called revelation, can impart that knowledge and remove that nescience which is innate in human nature.
Of the Higher Brahman nothing can be predicated but that it is, and that through our nescience, it ap- pears to be this or that.
When a great Indian sage was asked to describe Brahman, he was simply silent — that was his answer. But when it is said that Brahman is, that means at the same time that Brahman is not ; that is to say. that Brahman is nothing of what is supposed to exist in our sensuous perceptions.
Brahman as sat, as kit, and as ananda.
There are two other qualities, however, which may safely be assigned to Brahman, namely, that it is intelligent, and that it is blissful ; or rather, that it is intelligence and bliss. Intelligent seems the nearest
294 LECTURE IX.
approach to the Sk. kit and /caitanya. Spiritual would not answer, because it would not express more than that it is not material. But Ait means that it is, that it perceives and knows, though as it can per- ceive itself only, we may say that it is lighted up by its own light or knowledge, or as it is sometimes expressed, that it is pure knowledge and pure light. Perhaps we shall best understand what is meant by 7dt, when we consider what is negatived by it, namely, dulness, deafness, darkness, and all that is material. In several passages a third quality is hinted at, namely, blissfulness, but this again seems only another name for perfection, and chiefly intended to exclude the idea of any possible suffering in Brahman. It is in the nature of this Brahman to be always subjective, and hence it is said that it cannot be known in the same way as all other objects are known, but only as a knower knows that he knows and that he is.
Philosophy and Religion.
Still, whatever is and whatever is known, — two things which in the Vedanta, as in all other idealistic systems of philosophy, are identical, — all is in the end Brahman. Though we do not know it, it is Brahman that is known to us, when conceived as the author or creator of the world, an office, according to Hindu ideas, quite unworthy of the Godhead in its true character. It is the same Brahman that is known to us in our own self-consciousness. Whatever we may seem to be, or imagine ourselves to be for a time, we are in truth the eternal Brahman, the eternal Self. With this conviction in the background, the Vedantist
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 295
retains his belief in what he calls the Lord God, the creator and ruler of the world, but only as phe- nomenal, or as adapted to the human understanding.
The Supreme Lord or f . vara.
Men are to believe in a personal God, with the same assurance with which they believe in their own personal self; and can there be a higher assurance? They are to believe in him as the creator and ruler of the world (samsara), and as determining the effects or rewards of good and evil works (karman). He may be worshipped even, but we must always re- member that what is worshipped is only a person, or, as the Brahmans call it, a pratika, an aspect of the true eternal Essence, as conceived by us in our inevitably human and limited knowledge. Thus the strictest observance of religion is insisted on while we are what we are. We are told that there is truth in the ordinary belief in God as the creator or cause of the world, but a relative truth only, relative to the human understanding, just as there is truth in the perception of our senses, and in the belief in our personality, but a relative truth only. This relative truth must be carefully distinguished from falsehood. His belief in the Veda would suffice to prevent the Vedantist from a denial of the gods or from what we should call Atheism, or rather, as I explained, Adevism.
In deference to the Veda the Vedantist has even to admit, if not exactly a creation, at least a repeated emanation of the world from Brahman and re- absorption of it into Brahman, from kalpa to kalpa, or from age to age.
296 LECTURE IX,
Upadhis, Sukshmasarira, and Sthulamrira.
If we ask, what led to a belief in individual souls, the answer we get is the Upadhis, the surround- ings or incumbrances, that is, the body with the breath or life in it, the organs of sense, and the mind. These together form the subtle body (the sukshmasarira) and this sukshmasarira is supposed to survive, while death can destroy the coarse body only (the sthula- sarira). The individual soul is held by this subtle body, and its fates are determined by acts which are continuing in their consequences, and which persist in their effects for ever, or at least until true know- ledge has arisen, and put an end even to the subtle body and to all phantasms of nescience.
Creation or Emanation.
How the emanation of the world from Brahman is conceived in the Vedanta-philosophy is of small interest. It is almost purely mythological, and pre- sents a very low stage of physical science. Brahman is not indeed represented any longer as a maker, or a creator, as an architect or a potter. What we trans- late by creation (sn'shtfi) means really no more than a letting out, and corresponds closely with the theory of emanation, as held by some of the most eminent Christian philosophers. There are few opinions that have not been condemned by some Council or Pope as heretical ; but I know of no Council that has con- demned as heretical the theory of Emanation instead of Creation or Fabrication. But if belief in emanation instead of creation has been condemned by the Church,
THE VEDiNTA-PHILOSOPHY. 297
then the Church has condemned some of its strongest supporters as heretics. It would be easy to put such men as Dionysius and Scotus Erigena, or even St. Clement, out of court, as claiming the character of orthodox theologians. But what should we say of Thomas Aquinas, the very bulwark of catholic ortho- doxy ? And yet he too declares in so many words (Summa p. 1. 9-19 a4) that creatio is emanatio totius entis ab uno. Eckhart and the German Mystics all hold the same opinion, an opinion which, though it may run counter to Genesis, seems in no way incom- patible with the spirit of the New Testament.
The Upanishads propose ever so many similes by which they wish to render the concept of creation or emanation more intelligible. One of the oldest similes applied to the production of the world from Brahman is that of the spider drawing forth, that is producing, the web of the world from itself. If we were to say, No, the world was created out of Nothing, the Vedantist would say, By all means ; but he would remind us that, if God is All in All, then even the Nothing could not be anything else, anything out- side the Absolute Being, for that Being cannot be conceived as encompassed or limited whether by any- thing or by nothing.
Another simile which is meant to do away with what there is left of efficient, besides material causality in the simile of the spider, which after all wills the throwing out and drawing back of the threads of the world, is that of the hair growing from the skull.
Nor is the theory of what we, as the most recent invention, call Evolution or development, wanting in
298 LECTURE IX.
the Upanishads. One of the most frequent similes used for this, is the change of milk into curds, the curds being nothing but the milk, only under a dif- ferent form. It was soon found, however, that this simile violated the postulate, that the One Being must not only be One, but that, if perfect in itself, it must be unchangeable. Then a new theory came in, which is the theory adopted by $ankara. It is distinguished by the name of Vivarta from the PariTiama or Evolution theory which is held by Ramanugra. Vivarta means turning away. It teaches that the Supreme Being remains always unchanged, and that our be- lieving that anything else can exist beside it, arises from Avidya, that is, Nescience. Most likely this Avidya or ignorance was at first conceived as purely subjective, for it is illustrated by the ignorance of a man who mistakes a rope for a snake. In this case the rope remains all the time what it is ; it is only our own ignorance which frightens us and determines our actions. In the same way Brahman always re- mains the same ; it is our ignorance only which makes us see a phenomenal world and a phenomenal God. Another favourite simile is our mistaking mother-of-pearl for silver. The Vedantist says: We may take it for silver, but it always remains mother- of-pearl. So we may speak of the snake and the rope, or of the silver and the mother-of-pearl, as being one. And yet we do not mean that the rope has actually undergone a change, or has turned into a snake, or that mother-of-pearl has turned into silver. After that, the Vedantists argue, that what the rope is to the snake, the Supreme Being is to the world Gore, lib. cit., p. 179). They go on to
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 299
explain that when they hold that the world is Brah- man, they do not mean that Brahman is actually transformed into the world, for Brahman cannot change and cannot be transformed. They mean that Brahman presents itself as the world, or appears to be the world. The world's reality is not its own, but Brahman's ; yet Brahman is not the material cause of the world, as the spider is of the web, or the milk of the curds, or the sea of the foam, or the clay of the jar which is made by the potter, but only the substratum, the illusory material cause. There would be no snake without the rope, there would be no world without Brahman, and yet the rope does not become a snake, nor does Brahman become the world. With the Vedantist the phenomenal and the nou- menal are essentially the same. The silver, as we perceive and call it, is the same as the mother-of- pearl; without the mother-of-pearl, there would be no silver for us. We impart to mother-of-pearl the name and the form of silver, and by the same process by which we thus create silver, the whole world was created by words and forms. A modern Vedantist, Pramadadasa Mitra, employs another simile in order to explain to European scholars the true meaning of the Vedanta. ' A man,' he says, ' is created a Peer, by being called a Peer, and being invested with a Peer's robe. But what he really is, is not a Peer — he is what he always has been, a man — he is, as we should say, a man for all that.' Pramadadasa Mitra concludes, ' In the same manner as we see that a Peer can be created, the whole world was created, by simply receiving name and form.' If he had known Plato, instead of name and form, he would have
300 LECTURE IX.
spoken of ideas, as imparting form and name to what was before formless and nameless.
Far be it from me to say that these similes or the theories which they are meant to adumbrate can be considered as a real solution of the old problem of the creation or of the relation between the absolute and the relative ; but after all we think very much in similes, and these Vedantic similes are at least original, and deserve a place by the side of many others. Besides, the Vedantist is by no means satisfied with these similes. He has elaborated his own plan of creation. He distinguishes a number of stages in the emanation of the world, but to us these stages are of less interest than the old similes. The first stage is called akasa, which may be translated by ether, though it corresponds very nearly to what we mean by space. It is, we are told, all-pervading (vibhu), and often takes its place as the fifth element and therefore as something material. It is from this ether that air emanates (vayu), from air, fire (agni, te^as), from fire, water (apas), from water, earth (prithivf or annam, lit. food). Corresponding to these five ele- ments as objects, there emanate likewise from Brah- man the five senses, the sense of hearing correspond- ing to ether, the senses of touch and hearing as cor- responding to air, the senses of sight, touch, and hearing as corresponding to fire, the senses of taste, sight, touch, and hearing as corresponding to water, and lastly, the senses of smelling, tasting, seeing, touching, and hearing as corresponding to earth.
After this emanation of the elements, and of the senses which correspond to them, has taken place, Brahman is supposed to enter into them. The indi-
THE VEDANTA-PHIL080PHY. 301
vidual souls also, which after each return of the world into Brahman, continue to exist in Brahman, are supposed to awake from their deep slumber (mayamayi mahasushupti), and to receive each ac- cording to its former works, a body, either divine, or human, or animal, or vegetable. Their subtle bodies then assume again some of the coarser ele- ments, and the senses become developed and differen- tiated, while the Self or Atman keeps aloof, or remains as a simple witness of all the causes and effects which form the new body and its sur- roundings. Each body grows by absorbing portions of the coarser elementary substances, everything grows, decays, and changes, but the grown-up man is nevertheless the same as the young child or the embryo, because the Self, the witness in all its aloof- ness, remains throughout the same. The embryo, or the germ of the embryo, was, as we saw in a former lecture, supposed to have entered into the father in the shape of heavenly food, conveyed by the rain from the sky or the moon. When it has been ab- sorbed by man, it assumes the nature of seed, and while dwelling in the womb of a mother changes its subtle body into a material body. Whenever this material body decays again and dies, the soul with its subtle body leaves it, but though free from the material body, it retains its moral responsibility, and remains liable to the consequences of the acts which it performed while in the coarse material body. These consequences are good or evil ; if good, the soul may be born in a more perfect state, nay, even as a divine being and enjoy divine immortality, may, in fact become a god like Indra and the rest ; but even that
302 LECTURE IX.
divine immortality will have an end whenever the universal emanation returns to Brahman.
If we distinguish, as many philosophers have done, between existence (Dasein) and Being (Sein), then all being is Brahman, nothing can be except Brahman, while all that exists is simply an illusory, not a real modification of Brahman, and is caused by name and form (nama-rupa). The whole world is therefore said to be vafcarambhana, beginning with the word, the word being here taken in the sense of idea, or concept or Logos. We must never forget that the world is only what it is conceived to be, or what by name and form it has been made to be, while from the highest point of view all these names and forms vanish, when the Samyagdarsana, the true knowledge, arises, and everything becomes known as Brahman only. We should probably go a step further, and ask, whence the names and forms, and whence all that phantas- magoria of unreality1? The Vedantist has but one answer : it is simply due to Avidya, to nescience ; and this nescience too is not real or eternal, it is only for a time, and it vanishes by knowledge. We cannot deny the fact, though we cannot explain the cause. There arc again plenty of similes which the Vedantist produces ; but similes do not explain facts. For in- stance, we see names and forms in a dream, and yet they are not real. As soon as we awake, they vanish, and we know they were but dreams. Again, we imagine in the dark that we see a serpent and try to run away, but as soon as there is light, we are no longer frightened, we know that it is a rope only. Or again, there are certain affections of the eye, when the eye sees two moons. We know that there can be
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 303
*
only one, as we know that there can be only one Brahman; but till our eyes are really cured, we cannot help seeing two moons.
Again, it seems that Indian jugglers knew how to make people believe that they saw two or three jugglers, while there was only one. The juggler himself remained one, knew himself to be one only, like Brahman, but to the spectators he appeared as many.
There is another simile to which I have already alluded. If blue or red colour touches a pure crystal, however much we may be convinced that the crystal is pure and transparent, we cannot separate the blue colour from it till we remove all surrounding objects, like the upadhis or surroundings of the soul. But all these are similes only, and with us there would always remain the question, Whence this nescience ?
Brahman and Avidya the Cause of the Phenomenal World.
The Vedantist is satisfied with the conviction that for a time we are, as a matter of fact, nescient, and what he cares for chiefly is to find out, not how that nescience arose, but how it can be removed. After a time that nescience or Avidya came to be considered as a kind of independent power, called Maya, illusion ; she became even a woman. But in the beginning Maya meant nothing but absence of true knowledge, that is, absence of the knowledge of Brahman.
From the Vedantist point of view, however, there is no real difference between cause and effect. Though he might admit that Brahman is the cause, and the phenomenal world the effect, he would at once qualify that admission by saying that cause and effect must
304 LECTURE IX.
never be considered as different in substance, that Brahman always remains the same, whether looked upon as cause or as effect, just as the substance is the same in milk and curds, though from our nescience we may call the one cause, and the other effect.
You see that if we once grant to the Vedantist that there exists one Infinite Being only, it follows that there is no room for anything else by the side of it, and that in some way or other the Infinite or Brahman must be everywhere and everything.
The Essence of Man.
There is only one thing which seems to assert its independence, and that is the subjective Self, the Self within us, not the Ego or the person, but what lies behind. the Ego and behind the person. Every possible view as to what man really is, that has been put forward by other philosophers, is carefully examined and rejected by the Vedantist. It had been held that what constituted the essence of man was a body endowed with intelligence, or the intellectual organs of sense, or the mind (manas) or mere knowledge, or even absolute emptiness, or again the individual soul reaching beyond the body, active and passive in its various states, or the Self that suffers and enjoys. But not one of these views is approved of by the Vedantist. It is impossible, he says, to deny the existence of a Self in man. for he who denies it would himself be that Self which he denies. No Self can deny itself. But as there is no room in the world for anything but Brahman, the Infinite Being, it follows that the Self of man can be nothing but that very Brahman in its entirety, not only a portion or a
THE VEDiNTA-PHILOSOPHY. 305
modification of it, so that whatever applies to Brah- man applies also to the Self in man. As Brahman is altogether knowledge, so is the Self; as Brahman is omnipresent or all-pervading (vibhu), so is the Self. As Brahman is omniscient and omnipotent, so is the Self. As Brahman is neither active nor passive, neither enjoying nor suffering, so is the Self, or rather, so must be the Self, if it is what it is, the only thing that it can be, namely Brahman. If for the present the Self seems to be different, seems to be suffering and en- joying, active and passive, limited in knowledge and power, this can be the result of nescience only, 01 of a belief in the Upadhis or hindrances of true knowledge. It is owing to these Upadhis that the omnipresent Self in the individual is not omnipresent, but confined to the heart ; is not omniscient, is not omnipotent, but ignorant and weak ; is not an in- different witness, but active and passive, a doer and an enjoy er, and fettered or determined by its former works. Sometimes it seems as if the Upadhis were the cause of nescience, but in reality it is nescience that causes the Upadhis *. These Upadhis or in- cumbrances are, besides the outer world, and the coarse body, the mukhya prawa, the vital spirit, the Manas, mind, the Indriyas, the senses. These three together form the vehicle of the soul after death, and supply the germ for a new life. The sukshmasarira, the fine body, in which they dwell, is invisible, yet material, extended, and transparent (p. 506). I believe it is this fine body, the sukshma- sarira, which the modern Theosophists have changed
1 Ved. Sutras III. 2, 15, upadhinam Mvidyapratyupasthitatvat. (4) X
306 LECTURE IX.
into their astral body, taking the theories of the ancient jRtshis for matters of fact. It is called the asraya or abode of the soul, it consists of the finest parts of the elements that form the germ of the body (dehavi^ani bhutasukshmara), or, according to some passages, it consists of water (p. 401), or something like water. This fine body never quits the soul, and so long as the world (samsara) lasts, the soul clothed in this fine body assumes new and coarser bodies again and again. Even when it has reached the path of the gods and the throne of Brahman, the soul is still supposed to be clothed in its fine body. This fine body, however, consists not only of the faculties of sensuous perception (indriya/ni), of mind (manas), and of vital breath (mukhyapra/na), but its character is likewise determined by former acts, by k arm an.
Karman or Apurva.
In the Purvamfmamsa this continuity between acts and their consequences is called Apurva, literally, that which did not exist before, but was brought about in this life or in a former life. When the work has been done and is past, but its effect has not yet taken place, there remains something which after a time is certain to produce a result, a punishment for evil deeds, a reward for good deeds. This idea of Gaimini is not, however, adopted without modification by Badarayana. Another teacher attributes rewards and punishments of former acts to the influence of Lsvara, the lord, though admitting at the same time that the Lord or the Creator of the world does no more than superintend the universal working of cause and effect. This is explained by the following illustration. We see a
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 307
plant springing from its seed, growing, flowering, and at last dying. But it does not die altogether. Some- thing is left, the seed, and in order that this seed may live and thrive rain is necessary. What is thus achieved by the rain in the vegetable world, is supposed to be achieved by the Lord in the moral world, in fact in the whole creation. Without God or without the rain, the seed would not grow at all, but that it grows thus or thus is not due to the rain, but to the seed itself.
And this serves in the Vedanta-philosophy as a kind of solution for the problem of the existence of evil in the world. God is not the author of evil, He did not create the evil, but He simply allowed or enabled the good or evil deeds of former worlds to bear fruit in this world. The Creator therefore does not in His creation act at random, but is guided in His acts by the determining influence of karinan or work done.
Different States of the Soul.
We have still to consider some rather fanciful theories with regard to the different states of the individual soul. It is said to exist in four states, in a state of wakefulness or awareness, of dream, of deep sleep, and, lastly, of death. In the state of wake- fulness the soul dwelling in the heart pervades the whole body, knowing and acting by means of the mind (manas) and the senses (indriyas). In the state of dreaming, the soul uses the mind only, in which the senses have been absorbed, and, moving through the veins of the body, sees the impressions (vasanas) left by the senses during the state of wakefulness. In
X 2
308 LECTURE IX.
the third stage the BOU! is altogether freed from the mind also, both the mind and the senses are absorbed in the vital spirit, which alone continues active in the body, while the soul, now free from all upadhis or fetters, returns for a time to Brahman within the heart. On awaking, however, the soul loses its temporary identity with Brahman, and becomes again what it was before, the individual soul.
In the fourth state, that of death, the senses are absorbed in the mind, the mind in the vital spirit, the vital spirit in the moral vehicle of the soul, and the soul in the fine body (siikshmasarira). When this absorption or union has taken place, the ancient Vedantists believe that the point of the heart becomes luminous so as to illuminate the path on which the soul with its surrounding (upadhis) escapes from the body. The Soul or Self which obtains true knowledge of the Highest Self, regains its identity with the Highest Self, and then enjoys what even in the Upanishads and before the rise of Buddhism is called Nirvana or eternal peace.
Kramamnkti.
It is generally supposed that this idea of Nirva/na is peculiar to Buddhism, but like many Buddhist ideas, this also can be shown to have its roots in the Vedic world. If this Nirvana is obtained step by step, beginning with the Path of the Fathers, or the Path of the Gods, then leading to a blissful life in the world of Brahman and then to the true knowledge of the identity of Atman, the soul, with Brahman, it is culled Kramamukti, i.e. gradual liberation.
THE VEDANTA-PHILOSOPHY. 309
(?ivanmnkti.
But the same knowledge may be obtained in this life also, in the twinkling of an eye, without waiting for death, or for resurrection and ascension to the world of the fathers, the gods, and the god Brahman ; and this state of knowledge and liberation, if obtained by a man while still in the body, is called by later philosophers Givanmukti, life-liberation.
It may take place in this life, without the help of death, and without what is called the Utkranti or the Exodus of the soul.
The explanation given of this state of perfect spiritual freedom, while the soul is still in the body, is illustrated by the simile of a potter's wheel, which goes on moving for a time, even though the impetus that set it going has ceased. The soul is free, but the works of a former existence, if they have once begun to bear fruit, must go on bearing fruit till they are quite exhausted, while other works which have not yet begun to bear fruit may be entirely burnt up by knowledge.
If we ask whether this Nirvana of the Brahman means absorption or annihilation, the Vedantist, different from the Buddhist, would not admit either. The soul is not absorbed in Brahman, because it has never left Brahman ; there can be nothing N different from Brahman ; nor can it be annihilated, because Brahman cannot be annihilated, and the soul has always been nothing bub Brahman in all its fulness ; the new knowledge adds nothing to what the soul always was, nor does it take away anything except
310 LECTURE IX.
that nescience which for a time darkened the self- knowledge of the soul.
These living freed souls enjoy perfect happiness and ease, though still imprisoned in the body. They have obtained true Nirvana, that is, freedom from passion and immunity from being born again. Thus the Brihadara?iyaka-Upanishad IV. 4, 6 says : ' He who is without desire, free from desire, whose desires have been fulfilled, whose desire is the self, his vital spirits do not emigrate ; being Brahman, he becomes Brahman.'
We should ask at once, Does then the soul, after it has obtained the knowledge of its true essence, retain its personality?
Personality of the Soul.
But such a question is impossible for the true Vedantist. For terrestrial personality is to him a fetter and a hindrance, and freedom from that fetter is the highest object of his philosophy, is the highest bliss to which the Vedantist aspires. That freedom and that highest bliss are simply the result of true know- ledge, of a kind of divine self-recollection. Everything else remains as it is. It is true the Vedantist speaks of the individual soul as poured into the Universal Soul like pure water poured into pure water. The two can no longer be distinguished by name and form ; yet the Vedantist lays great stress on the fact that the pure water is not lost in the pure water, as little as the Atman is lost in Brahman. As Brah- man1 is pure knowledge and consciousness, so is the Atman, when freed, pure knowledge and con-
1 Nitya-upalabdhisvarupa. Deusscn, p. 346.
THE VEDiNTA-PHILOSOPHY. 311
sciousness, while in the body it is limited knowledge and limited consciousness, limited personality only. Anything like separateness from Brahman is impossi- ble, for Brahman is all in all.
Whatever we may think of this philosophy, we cannot deny its metaphysical boldness and its logical consistency. If Brahman is all in all, the One without a second, nothing can be said to exist that is not Brahman. There is no room for anything outside the Infinite and the Universal, nor is there room for two Infinites, for the Infinite in nature and the Infinite in man. There is and there can be one Infinite, one Brahman only ; this is the beginning and end of the Vedanta, and I doubt whether Natural Religion can reach or has ever reached a higher point than that reached by /S'ankara, as an interpreter of the Upanishads.
LECTURE X.
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. Equivocal Passages in the Upanishads.
IN laying before you a short outline of the Vedanta- philosophy, I had several times to call your attention to what I called the equivocality which is per- ceptible in theUpanishads, and likewise in the Vedanta- sutras. In one sense everything that exists may be considered as Brahman, only veiled by nescience, while in another sense nothing that exists is Brahman in its true and real character. This equivocality applies with particular force to the individual soul and to the Creator. The individual soul would be nothing if it were not Brahman, yet nothing of what is predicated of the individual soul can be predicated of Brahman. A great portion of the Vedanta-sutras is occupied with what may be called philosophical exegesis, that is, with an attempt to determine whether certain passages in the Upanishads refer to the individual soul or to Brahman. Considering that the individual soul-has been and will be, in fact always is, Brahman, if only it knew it, it is generally possible to argue that what is said of the individual soul, is in the end said of Brahman. The same applies to the personal God, the Creator, or as he is commonly called, Isvara, the Lord. He, too, is
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 313
in reality Brahman, so that here again many things predicated of him may in the end be referred to Brahman, the Supreme Being, in its non-phenomenal character.
This amphiboly of thought and expression has found its final expression in the two schools which for many centuries have claimed to be the true representatives of the Vedanta, that of $ankara and that of Rama- nu^a. I have generally followed the guidance of $ankara, as he seems to me to carry the Vedanta doctrine to the highest point, but I feel bound to say that Professor Thibaut has proved that Ramanugra is on many points the more faithful interpreter of the Vedanta-sutras. $ankara is the more philo- sophical head, while Ratnanur/a has become the suc- cessful founder of one of the most popular religious sects, chiefly, it seems, because he did not carry the Vedanta to its last consequences, and because he man- aged to reconcile his more metaphysical speculations with the religious worship of certain popular deities, which he was ready to accept as symbolical represen- tations of the Universal Godhead. Nor was Rama- nu#a a mere dissentient from $ankara. He claimed for his interpretation of the Vedanta the authority of philosophers more ancient even than $ankara, and. of course, the authority of the Vedanta-sutras them- selves, if only rightly understood. Ramanu lowers do not possess now, so far as I know, manu- scripts of any of these more ancient commentaries, but there is no reason to doubt that Bodhayaua and other philosophers to whom Ramanu(/a appeals, were real characters and in their time influential teachers of the Vedanta.
814 LECTURE X.
Sankara and Baxn&nti'/a.
Ramanu points, yet the points on which they differ possess a peculiar interest. They are not mere matters of interpretation with regard to the Sutras or the Upani- shads, but involve important principles. Both are strictly monistic philosophers, or, at all events, try hard to be so. They both hold that there exists and that there can exist but one Absolute Being, which supports all, comprehends all, and must help to explain all. They differ, however, as to the way in which the phenomenal universe is to be explained. $ankara is the more consistent monist. According to him, Brah- man or Paramatman, the Highest Self, is always one and the same, it cannot change, and therefore all the diversity of the phenomenal world is phenomenal only, or, as it may also be called, illusory, the result of avidya or of unavoidable nescience. They both hold that whatever is real in this unreal world is Brahman. Without Brahman even this unreal world would be impossible, or, as we should say, there could be nothing phenomenal, unless there was something noumenal. But as there can be no change or variance in the Supreme Being, the varying phenomena of the outer world, as well as the individual souls that are born into the world, are not to be considered either as portions or as modifications of Brahman. They are things that could not be without Brahman ; their deepest self lies in Brahman ; but what they appear to be is, according to $ankara, the result of nescience, of erroneous perception and equally erroneous concep- tion. Here Ramanuya differs. He admits that all that really exists is Brahman, and that there is and
THE TWO SCHOOLS OP THE VEDA.NTA. 315
can be nothing besides Brahman, but he does not ascribe the elements of plurality in the phenomenal world, including individual souls, to nescience, but to Brahman itself.
Bamann^a.
Brahman becomes in fact, in the mind of Ramanu^a, not only the cause, but the real source of all that exists, and according to him the variety of the phenomenal world is a manifestation of what lies hidden in Brah- man. All that thinks and all that does not think, the kit and the afcit, are real modes (prakara) of Brahman. He is the an tar yam in, the in ward ruler of the material and the immaterial world. All individual souls are real manifestations of the unseen Brahman, and will preserve their individual character through all time and eternity. Ramanu(/a admits the great renovations of the world. At the end of each kalpa, all that exists is wrapt up for a time (during the pralaya) in Brah- man, to appear again as soon as Brahman wills a new world (kalpa). The individual souls will then be once more embodied, and receive bodies according to then- good or evil deeds in a former life. Their final reward is an approach to Brahman, as described in the old Upanishads, and a life in a celestial paradise free from all danger of a return to a new birth. There is no- thing higher than that, according to Ramanuf/a,
Sankaxa.
$ankara's Brahman on the contrary is entirely free from differences, and does not contain in itself the seeds of the phenomenal world. It is without quali- ties. Not even thought can be predicated of Brah-
316 LECTUBE X.
man, though intelligence constitutes its essence. All that seems manifold and endowed with qualities is the result of Avidya or Nescience, a power which can- not be called either real or unreal ; a power that is altogether inconceivable, but the workings of which are seen in the phenomenal world. What is called Isvara or the Lord by Ramanu^ra is, according to £ankara, Brahman, as represented by Avidya or Maya, a personal creator and ruler of the world. This which with Ramanu(/a is the Supreme Being, is in the eyes of $ankara the Lower Brahman only, the qualified or phenomenal Brahman. This distinction between the Param and the Aparam Brahman, the Higher and the Lower Brahman, does not exist for Ramanu^/a, while it forms the essential feature of Ankara's Vedantism. According to $ankara, individual souls with their ex- perience of an objective world, and that objective world itself, are all false and the result of Avidya ; they possess what is called a vyavaharika or practical reality, but the individual souls (yiva) as soon as they become enlightened, cease to identify themselves with their bodies, their senses, and their intellect, and per- ceive and enjoy their pure original Brahmahood. They then, after having paid their debt for former deeds and misdeeds, after having enjoyed their rewards in the presence of the qualified Brahman and in a celestial paradise, reach final rest in Brahman. Or they may even in this life enter at once into their rest in Brah- man, if only they have learnt from the Vedanta that their true Self is the same • and has always been the same as the Highest Self, and the Highest Brahman.
What has often been quoted as the shortest sum-
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 317
mary of the Vedanta in a couple of lines, represents the Vedanta of /S'ankara, not of Ramanu^/a.
' In half a couplet I will declare what has been declared in mil- lions of volumes,
Brahma is true, the world is false, the soul is Brahma and is nothing else.'
Slokardhena pravakshyami yad uktam granthakoiibhife Brahma satyam gagan mithya, jrivo brahmaiva naparam1.
This is really a very perfect summary. It means: What truly and really exists is Brahman, the One Absolute Being ; the world is false, or rather is not what it seems to be ; that is, everything that is pre- sented to us by the senses is phenomenal and relative, and can be nothing else. The soul again, or rather every man's soul, though it may seem to be this or that, is in reality nothing but Brahman.
This is the quintessence of the Vedanta ; the only thing wanting in it is an account as to how the phenomenal and the individual comes to be at all, and in what relation it stands to what is absolutely real, to Brahman.
It is on this point /S'ankara and Raman u/^a differ, Ramanuj/a holding the theory of evolution, the Parir Vivarta-vada.
Intimately connected with this difference between the two great Vedantist teachers, is another difference as to the nature of God, as the Creator of the world, Ramanugra knows but one Brahman, and this, accord- ing to him, is the Lord, who creates and rules the world. /Sankara admits two Brahmans, the lower and the higher, though in their essence they are but one.
1 A Rational Refutation of the Hindu Philosophical Systems, by Nehe- miah Nilakawtfza Gore, translated by Fitz-Edward Hall. Calcutta,
318 LECTURE X.
Great as these differences on certain points of the Vedanta-philosophy may seem between $ankara and Ramanu(/a, they vanish if we enter more deeply into this ancient problem. Or rather we can see that the two meant much the same, though they expressed themselves in different ways. Though /S'ankara looks upon the individual soul and the personal God or Isvara as, like everything else, the result of Avidya, nescience, or Maya, illusion, we must remember that what he calls unreal is no more than what we should call phenomenal. His vyavaharika, or practical world, is no more unreal than our phenomenal world, though we distinguish it from the noumenal, or the Ding an sich. It is as real as anything presented to us by our senses ever can be. Nor is the vyavaharika or pheno- menal God more unreal than the God whom we igno- rantly worship. Avidya or nescience with /Sankara produces really the same effect as parinama or evolu- tion with Ramami(/a. With him there always remains the unanswered question why Brahman, the perfect Being, the only Being that can claim reality, should ever have been subjected to parmama or change, why, as Plato asks in the Sophist and the Parmenides, the one should ever have become many ; while $ankara is more honest in confessing, though indirectly, our ignorance in ascribing all that we cannot undei-stand in the phenomenal world to that principle of Nescience which is inherent in our nature, nay without which we should not be what we are. To know this Avidya consti- tutes the highest wisdom which we can reach in this life, whether we follow the teaching of $ankara or Rfuuanui/a, of Sok rates or St. Paul. The old problem remains the same whether we say that the unchange-
THE TWO SCHOOLS OP THE VED&NTA. 319
able Brahman is changed, though we are ignorant how, or whether we say that it is due to ignorance that the unchangeable Brahman seems to be changed. We have to choose between accepting Avidya as a fact not to be accounted for, or accepting change in the perfect Being as a fact not to be accounted for. This, however, would carry us into fields of philosophy which have never been cultivated by Indian thinkers, and where they would decline to follow us.
But whatever we may think of their Vedantic specu- lations, we cannot but admire the fearless consistency with which these ancient philosophers, and more par- ticularly $ankara, argue from their premisses. If Brahman is all in all, they say — if Brahman is the only real Being — then the world also must be Brahman, the only question being, how? /S'ankara is quite con- sistent when he says that without Brahman the world would be impossible, just as we should say that with- out the absolutely real the relatively real would be impossible. And it is very important to observe that the Vedantist does not go so far as certain Bud- dhist philosophers who look upon the phenomenal world as simply nothing. No, their world is real, only it is not what it seems to be. $ankara claims for the phenomenal world a reality sufficient for all practical purposes (vyavaharika), sufficient to deter- mine our practical life, our moral obligations, nay even our belief in a manifested or revealed God.
There is a veil, but the Vedanta-philosophy teaches us that the eternal light behind it can always be per- ceived more or less darkly, or more or less clearly, through philosophical knowledge. It can be per- ceived, because in reality it is always there. It has
320 LECTURE X.
been said that the personal or manifested God of the Vedantists, whether they call Him Isvara, Lord, or any other name, possesses no absolute, but a relative reality only — that he is, in fact, the result of Avidya or Nescience. This is true. But this so-called relative reality is again sufficient for all practical and religious purposes. It is as real as anything, when known by us, can be real. It is as real as anything that is called real in ordinary language. The few only who have grasped the reality of the One Absolute Being, have any right to say that it is not absolutely .real. The Vedantist is very careful to distinguish between two kinds of reality. There is absolute reality which belongs to Brahman only ; there is phenomenal reality which belongs to God or Isvara as Creator and to all which he created as known to us ; and there is besides, what he would call utter emptiness or sunyatva, which with the Buddhists represents the essence of the world, but which the Vedantist classes with the mirage of the desert, the horns of a hare, or the son of a barren woman. Whenever he is asked whether he looks upon the Creator and his works as not absolutely real, he always falls back on this that the Creator and the creation are the Absolute itself, only seeming to be conditioned. The phenomenal attaches to their appearance only, which translated into our language would mean that we can know God only as He is revealed in His works or as He appears to our human understanding, but never in His absolute reality. Only while with us the absence of knowledge is subjective, with the Hindu it has become an objec- tive power. He would say to the modern Agnostic : We quite agree with you as far as facts are concerned,
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 321
but while you are satisfied with the mere statement that we, as human beings, are nescient, we in India have asked the further question, whence that Nescience, or what has made us nescient, or what is the cause, for a cause there must be, that we cannot know the Absolute, such as it is. By calling that cause Avidya or Maya the Agnostics might say that the Vedantists do not gain much ; still they gain this, that this uni- versal Agnosis is recognised as a cause, and as dis- tinct both from the subject, as knowing, and from the objects, as known. We should probably say that the cause of Agnosis or of our limited and conditional knowledge lies in the subject, or in the very nature of what we mean by knowledge, and it was from this very point of view that Kant determined the limits and con- ditions of knowledge as peculiar to the human mind.
Though by a different way, the Vedantist arrived really in the end at the same result as Kant and more recent philosophers who hold with Kant that ' our experience supplies us only with modes of the Uncon- ditioned as presented under the conditions of our con- sciousness/ It is these conditions or limitations of human consciousness which were expressed in India by Avidya. Sometimes this Avidya is represented as a power within the Divine (devatma-sakti, Vedanta- sara, p. 4); sometimes, by a kind of mythological metamorphosis, the Avidya or Maya has become per- sonified, a power, as it were, independent of ourselves, yet determining us in every act of sensuous intuition and rational conception. When the Vedantist says that the relative reality of the world is vyavaharika, that is practical or sufficient for all practical purposes, we should probably say that ' though reality under the
(4) Y
322 LECTURE X.
forms of our consciousness is but a conditioned effect of the absolute reality, yet this conditioned effect stands in indissoluble relation with its unconditioned cause, and being equally persistent with it, so long as the conditions persist, is to consciousness supplying these conditions, equally real.'
It may seem strange to find the results of the philo- sophy of Kant and his followers thus anticipated under varying expressions in the Upanishads and in the Vedanta-philosophy of ancient India. The treatment of these world-old problems differs no doubt in the hands of modern and ancient thinkers, but the start- ing-points are really the same, and the final results are much the same. In these comparisons we cannot expect the advantages which a really genealogical treatment of religious and philosophical problems yields us. We cannot go back by a continuous road from Kant to $ankara, as if going back from pupil to teacher, or even from antagonists to the authorities which they criticise or attack. But when that treat- ment is impossible, what I call the analogical treat- ment is often very useful. As it is useful to compare the popular legends and superstitious customs of people who lived in Europe and Australia, and between whom no genealogical relationship is conceivable, it is instructive also to watch the philosophical problems, as they have been treated independently in different times and in localities between which no intellectual contact can possibly be suspected. At first no doubt the language and the method of the Upanishads seem so strange that any comparison with the philosophical language and method of our hemisphere seems out of the question. It sounds strange to us when the
THE TWO SCHOOLS OP THE VEDANTA. 323
Upanishads speak of the soul emerging from the veins, ascending to the moon, and after a long and danger- ous journey approaching at last the throne of God ; it sounds stranger still when the soul is made to say to a personal God, ' I am what Thou art, Thou art the Self, I am the Self, Thou art the True, I am the True.' Yet it is only the old Eleatic argument carried out consistently, that if there is but one Infinite or one God, the soul also can in its true essence be nothing but God. Religions which are founded on a belief in a transcendent yet personal God, naturally shrink from this conclusion as irreverent and as almost im- pious. Yet this is their own fault. They have first created an unapproachable Deity, and they are afterwards afraid to approach it ; they have made an abyss between the human and the divine, and they dare not cross it. This was not so in the early cen- turies of Christianity. Remembering the words of Christ, 'Eycb £v avrois, /cai eis perfect in one,' Athanasius declared, De Incarn. Verbi Dei, 54, AiVos (6 rov deov Aoyo?) e-mivdp 0eo7roi?70w/xei>, ' He, the Logos or Word of God, became man that we might become God.' In more recent times also similar ideas have found expression in sacred poetry, though more or less veiled in meta- phorical language. Not more than 200 years ago there was that noble school of Christian Platonists who rendered Cambridge famous in all Christendom. They thought the same thoughts and used almost the same language as the authors of the Upanishads 2000 years ago, and as the Indian Vedanta- philosophers about 1000 years ago, nay as some solitary thinkers
Y 2
824 LECTUBE X.
to be found at Benares to the present day. The following lines pf Henry More might have been written by a Vedanta-philosopher in India :
'Hence the soul's nature we may plainly see: A beam it is of the Intellectual Sun. A ray indeed of that Aeternity, But such a ray as when it first out shone From a free light its shining date begun.'
And again :
'But yet, my Muse, still take an higher flight, Sing of Platonick Faith in the first Good, That faith that doth our souls to God unite So strongly, tightly, that the rapid flood Of this swift flux of things, nor with foul mud Can stain, nor strike us off from th' unity Wherein we steadfast stand, unshaked, unmoved, Engrafted by a deep vitality, The prop and stay of things in God's benignity.'
The Vedanta-philosophy, as we saw, is very rich in similes and metaphors, but no philosophy has at the same time so courageously removed all metaphorical veils, when the whole truth had to be revealed, as the Vedanta, particularly in the mouth of $ankara. And what is peculiar to the Vedanta is that, with all its boldness in speaking unmetaphorical language, it has never ceased to be a religion.
The Vedanta sanctioned a belief in Brahman as a masculine, as an objective deity, or as an Isvara, the Lord, the creator and ruler of the world. It went even further and encouraged a worship of the Highest Brahman under certain pratikas, that is, under cer- tain names or forms or persons, nay even under the names of popular deities. It prescribed certain means of grace, and thereby introduced a system of moral discipline, the absence of which in purely metaphysical systems, is often urged as their most dangerous
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 325
characteristic. The Vedantist would say that the truly enlightened and released soul, after finding its true home in Brahman, could not possibly commit sin or even claim merit for its good deeds. We read (Brih. Ar. IV. 4, 23), ' He who has found the trace or the footstep (of Brahman) is not sullied by any evil deed.' And again : ' He that knows it, after having become quiet, satisfied, patient, and collected, sees self in Self, sees all as Self. Evil does not burn him, he burns all evil. Free from evil, free from spots, free from doubt, he becomes a true Brahmana, his self is at rest in the Highest Self.'
Moral Character of the Vedanta.
To guard against the dangers of self-deceit, the Vedantists prescribe a very strict moral discipline as the essential condition of the obtainment of the highest knowledge. In the Upanishads (Brih. Ar. IV. 4, XJ2) we read : * Brahmans seek to know Him by the study of the Veda, by sacrifice, by gifts, by penance, by fasting, and he who knows Him becomes a sage. Wishing for that world (of Brahman) only, they leave their homes as mendicants. The people of old, know- ing this, did not wish for offspring. What shall we do with offspring, they said, we who have this Self and are no longer of this world ? And having risen above the desire for sons, wealth, and new worlds, they wander about as mendicants.'
Here you find again in the Upanishad all the germs of Buddhism. The recognised name of mendicant. Bhikshu, is the name afterwards adopted by the followers of Buddha.
The danger that liberty of the spirit might de-
326 LECTURE X.
generate into licence, existed no doubt in India as elsewhere. But nowhere were greater precautions taken against it than in India. First of all there was the probation, through which every youth had to pass for years in the house of his spiritual teacher. Then followed the life of the married man or householder, strictly regulated by priestly control. And then only when old age approached, began the time of spiritual freedom, the life in the forest, which brought release from ceremonial and religious restriction, but at the same time, strict discipline, nay more than discipline, penance of every kind, torture of the body, and strictly regulated meditation.
Six requirements were considered essential before a Brahman could hope to attain true knowledge, viz. tranquillity (sama), taming of the passions (dama), resignation (uparati), patience (titiksha), collection (samadhi), and faith (sraddha). All these preparatory stages are minutely described, and their object is throughout to draw the thoughts away from things external, and to produce a desire for spiritual freedom (mumukshatva), and to open the eyes of the soul to its true nature. It must be clearly understood that all these means of grace, whether external, such as sacrifice, study, penance, or internal, such as patience, collection, and faith, cannot by themselves produce true knowledge, but that they serve to prepare the mind to receive that knowledge.
Ascetic Practices.
It is well known that in India the perfect absorp- tion of thought into the supreme spirit is accompanied, ur rather preceded, by a number of more or less pain-
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDlNTA. 327
ful practices, which are fully described in their ancient catechisms (in the Yoga-sutras, &c.), and which con- tinue to be practised to the present day in India. I believe that from a pathological point of view there is nothing mysterious in any of the strange effects pro- duced by restraining or regulating the breathing, fixing the eyes on certain points, sitting in peculiar positions, and abstaining from food. But these things, which have of late attracted so much attention, are of small interest to the philosopher, and are apt to lead to much self-deceit, if not to intentional deception. The Hindus themselves are quite familiar with the extraordinary performances of some of their Yogins or so-called Mahatmas, and it is quite right that medical men should carefully study this subject in India, to find out what is true and what is not. To represent these performances as essential parts of ancient Hindu philosophy, as has lately been done by the admirers of Tibetan Mahatmas, is a great mistake.
Esoteric Doctrines.
It is likewise a mistake to suppose that the ancient Hindus looked upon the Upanishads or the Vedanta- sutras as something secret or esoteric. Esoteric mysteries seem to me much more of a modern inven- tion than an ancient institution. The more we be- come fainilar with the ancient literature of the East, the less we find of Oriental mysteries, of esoteric wisdom, of Isis veiled or unveiled. The profanum vul(jus, or the outsiders, if there were any, consisted chiefly of those who wished to stay outside, or who excluded themselves by deficiencies either of know- ledge or of character. In Greece also no one was
328 LECTURE X.
admitted to the schools of the Pythagoreans without undergoing some kind of preparation. But to require a qualifying examination is very different from ex-* clusiveness or concealment. The Pythagoreans had different classes of students ; naturally, as we have Bachelors and Masters of Arts ; and if some of these were called eo-wrepiKot and others e^coTepiKoi, that meant no more at first than that the latter were still on the outskirts of philosophical studies, while the former had been admitted to the more advanced classes. The Pythagoreans had even a distinctive dress, they observed a restricted diet, and are said to have abstained from flesh, except at sacrifices, from fish, and from beans. Some observed celibacy, and had all things in common. These regulations varied at different times and in different countries where the Pythagorean doctrines had spread. But nowhere do we hear of any doctrines being withheld from those who were willing to fulfil the conditions imposed on all who desired admission to the brotherhood. If this constitutes mystery or esoteric teaching, we might as well speak of the nrvsteries of astronomy, because people ignorant of mathematics are excluded from it, or of the esoteric wisdom of the students of Compara- tive Mythology, because a knowledge of Sanskrit is a sine qua non. Even the Greek Mysteries, whatever they became in the end, were originally no more than rites and doctrines handed down at the solemn gather- ings of certain families or clans or societies, where no one had access but those who had acquired a right of membership. It is true that such societies are apt to degenerate into secret societies, and that limited ad- mission soon becomes exclusiveness. But if outsiders
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 329
imagined that these so-called mysteries contained any profound wisdom and were meant to veil secrets which it seemed dangerous to divulge, they were probably as much deceived as people are in our days if they imagine that doctrines of esoteric wisdom have been handed down by the Freemasons from the days of Solomon, and are now confided to the safe keeping of the Prince of Wales.
It is quite true that the doctrine of the Upanishads is called Rahasya, that is, secret, but it is secret in one sense only, that is to say, no one was taught the Upanishads in ancient times, who had not passed through the previous discipline of the two stages of life, that of the student, and that of the householder, or who had not decided from the first on leading a life of study and chastity. This secrecy was easy when there existed as yet no books, and when therefore those who wished to study the Upanishads had to find a teacher to teach them. Such a teacher would naturally com- municate his knowledge to men only who had attained the proper age, or had fulfilled other necessary condi- tions. Thus we read at the end of the Samhita- Upanishad in the Aitareya-araTiyaka, ' Let no one tell these Sa?7ihitas to any one who is not a resident pupil, who has not been with his teacher at least one year, and who is not himself to become an instructor. Thus Bay the teachers.'
As to the study of the Vedanta-sutras, I know of no restriction, particularly at a time when MSS. had become more widely accessible, and when numerous commentaries and glosses enabled students to acquire a knowledge of this system of philosophy even by themselves. Nay, it is certainly curious that while
380 LECTURE X.
the ordinary education and the study of the Veda was restricted to the three upper classes, we read again and again of members of the fourth class, mere $udras, sharing the knowledge of the Vedanta, and joining the rank of the mendicants or Bhikshus.
Difference between India and Greece.
What constitutes, however, the most important dif- ference between the ancient Vedanta-philosophy in India, and similar philosophies in Greece, is the theo- logical character retained by the former, while the latter tended more and more to become ethical and political rather than theological. With regard to metaphysical speculations the Eleatic philosophers, Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, and Melissus, come nearest to the Vedanta-philosophers. Xenophanes may still be called almost entirely theological. He speaks of Zeus as the Supreme Being, as all in all. In fact, he represents the same stage of thought which is represented as the lower knowledge in the Vedanta, a belief in Brahman, as masculine, which, to judge from the Upanishads themselves, was in India also earlier than a belief in Brahman as neuter. This belief left the individual soul face to face with the universal, but objective deity, it had not yet reached to the knowledge of the oneness of the Atman and the Brah- man. Xenophanes retains his belief in Zeus, though his Zeus is very different from the Zeus of Homer. He is first of all the only God, neither in form nor in thought like unto mortals. Thus Xenophanes argues :
' If God is the strongest of all things, he must be one, for if there were two or more, he would not be the strongest and best of all things.'
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDANTA. 331
(Ei 8' Z TTpo (TTov KO! /3eAnoToz> O.VTOV flvai TrdvT&v. Clem. Strom, v. 601 c.)
He must also be immoveable and unchangeable (oLKivrjros or apariwata). And again :
' He revolves everything in his mind without effort.'
('AAA' dirdvfvdf TIOVOIO voov typevl TIO.VTO. Kpabaivei. Simpl. Phys. 6 a, m.)
' He is altogether mind and thought, and eternal.'
(SvfJiTrdvTa T flvai (rov deoi>) vovv na\ atbiov. Diog. ix. 19.)
'He sees altogether, he thinks altogether, he hears altogether.'
(OuAo? 6pq, ovAo9 8e vocl, ovAos 8e T' a/covet.)
So far Xenophanes is still theological. He has not gone beyond the conception of Brahman, as the supreme and only Being; his Zeus is still a mascu- line, and a personal deity.
In some of the utterances, however, that are ascribed to Xenophanes, he goes beyond. Plato at least ascribes to Xenophanes as well as to his successors, the philosophical tenet that all things are many in name, but in nature one1, which reminds one strongly of the Sat, or TO ov, of the Upanishads, that becomes manifold by name and form. Cicero, however (Acad. ii. 37, 118), states clearly that Xenophanes took this one to be God.
(Xenophanes unum esse omnia neque id esse muta- bile et id esse Ueum, neque natum unquam et sempi- ternum.)
Even the argument which we found in the Upani-
1 Sophist, 242 5.
332 LECTURE X.
shads, that what is cannot have sprung from what is not, is ascribed to Xenophanes also, who calls this One and All, which truly exists, unborn, unchange- able, imperishable, eternal, — all attributes that could easily be matched in the Upanishads. Like the Upanishads, Xenophanes insists on the One and All being intelligent (&aitanya, \oyiKov), the only doubtful point being whether Xenophanes went so far as his successors in surrendering altogether its divine or Zeus-like character. According to Sextus (Hyp. Pyrrh. i. 225) it would seem that this was not the case. ' Xenophanes,' he writes, ' held that the All was one and that God was congenital (crvfjL^vtjs) with all things,' or, as we should say, that God was immanent in the world. That Xenophanes conceived of this Being as o-^aipoeiSrjs, or spherical, is well known, but it hardly conveys any definite meaning to our mind ; and you will find that ancient as well as modern authorities are by no means agreed as to whether Xenophanes considered the world as limited or unlimited 1.
What is preserved to us of the physical philosophy of Xenophanes seems to be quite apart from his meta- physical principles. For while from his metaphysical point of view all was -one, uniform and unchangeable, from his physical point of view he is said to have considered earth, or earth and water, as the origin of all things (e/c yai'^s yap TraVra, /cal eis yi]V navra reAewa, Fragm. 8), ' All things are from the earth, and all things end in the earth ; ' and iraires yap yacr/y re KM vbaros (Kyevofjitada, Sext. Emp. adv. Math. ix. 361, and yfj Kai vbtop Tiavd' ocraa yivovrai 7j5e (frvovrai, Simpl. Phys. fol. 41 a.
1 Zeller, Die Philosophie der Griechen, i. pp. 457-8.
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDlNTA. 333
'Earth and water are all things, whatever is born or grows.'
Xenophanes is also credited with the statement that the earth arose from air and fire— theories which again might easily be matched in the Upanishads. But the essential point on which Xenophanes and the Upani- shads agree is the first conception of the One Being, as the substance of everything, though that concep- tion has not yet become purely metaphysical, but is, like the Brahman in the older Upanishads, still sur- rounded by a kind of religious halo.
On this point Parmenides marks a decided advance in the Eleatic school, the same advance which we observed in the later Upanishads. With him the concept of the One Being has become entirely meta- physical. It is no longer God, in the ordinary sense of the word, as little as the Highest Brahman is God, though whatever there is real in God, is the Highest Brahman. In the definition and description of this One Being, Parmenides goes even beyond the Vedanta, and we see here once more how the dialectic flexibility of the Greek mind outstrips the dogmatic positiveness of the Hindu mind. According to Parmenides, what is, is ; what is not, can neither be conceived nor enunciated. What is, cannot have a beginning or an end1. It is whole, unique, unmoved and at rest. We cannot say that it was or will be, but only that it
1 Cf. Simplicius, Phys. fol. 31 a, b : Moros 5' tn pvOos oSoTo Aetirerai, wy tffnv. Tavrr) 6" (trl art/tar' taai IToXXd juaA.', u>s aytfr/Tov eov Kal avw- \tdpov ianv, OSAoi/ fjLovvoyffts re Kal drpe/ies 7j5* ardKavrov Ov nor' ir)v ovb' (ffrai, iirtl vvv tanv ufiov •ndv,*'Ev fvvexfS- riva ycip ftwav St^rjarfai avrov ; njj n6dtv av£r]0ev ; OUT' «* pf) (6vros (daea QaoOai a' ov5e vofiv • ov yap tparov ovSe fO7}r6v 'Eartf oircas OVK eari. ri 8' civ fuv Kal xptos Sipatv, "fffrfpov fj irpoaO' (K rov pr)8tvfa dpfapfrov Trf\(/jKf \ptujv tanv fj OVKI,
334 LECTURE X.
is, for how could it have become anything but itself? Not from not being, for that is not, and cannot bring forth ; nor from being, for this would never bring forth anything but itself. And this ov cannot have parts, for there is nothing different from it by which its parts could be separated. All space is filled by it, and it is there immoveable, always in the same place, by itself and like itself. Nor is thinking different from being1, because there is nothing but being, and thinking is thinking of being. It is curious that Parmenides will not have this Being to be infinite, because he looks even upon infinity as something im- perfect, because not having definite limits. In fact, this Real Being of Parmenides is by no means immaterial ; we can best explain it by the simile we met with in the Upanishads, that all that is made of clay, is clay, differing only by name and form. Parmenides does not deny that these forms and names exist in the pheno- menal world, he only insists on the uncertainty of the evidence which the senses offer us of these forms and names. And as in the Upanishads this erroneous knowledge or nescience is sometimes called tarn as
«. o
or darkness, as opposed to the light (te^as) of true knowledge, we find that Parmenides also speaks of darkness (vv£ abai'is] as the cause of erroneous, and of light (alOfpiov Ttvp] as the cause of true knowledge.
We thus see how the level of thought reached by the earlier Eleatics, is much the same as that of the earlier Upanishads. They both start from religious ideas, and end in metaphysical conceptions, they both have arrived at the highest abstraction of TO ov, the
1 Itavrov 6' iarl votiv rt KO.I ovveKtv tan vin^a, &c. Simplicius, Phys. ff. 19 a, 31 a, b.
THE TWO SCHOOLS OF THE VEDiNTA. 335
Sk. Sat, as the only reality; they both have learnt to look upon the manifold of experience as doubtful, as phenomenal, if not erroneous, and as the result of name and form (poppas ovo^a^iv, namarupa). But the differences between the two are considerable also. The Eleatic philosophers are Greeks with a strong belief in personal individuality. They tell us little about the soul, an 1 its relation to the One Being, still less do they suggest any means by which the soul could become one with it, and recognise its original identity with it. There are some passages (Zeller. p. 488) in which it seems as if Parmenides had be- lieved in a migration of souls, but this idea does not assume with him the importance which it had, for instance, among the Pythagoreans. The psychological questions are thrown into the background by the metaphysical problems, which the Eleatic philosophers wished to solve, while in the Upanishads the psycho- logical question is always the more prominent.
LECTURE XI.
SUFIISM. Religion, System of Relations between Man and God.
I ALLUDED in a former lecture to a definition ot religion which we owe to Newman. ' What is religion,' he writes (Univ. Serm., p. 19), 'but the sys- tem of relations between me and a Supreme Being.' Another thoughtful writer has expressed the same idea, even more powerfully. ' Man requires,' he said, * that there shall be direct relations between the created and the Creator, and that in these relations he shall find a solution of the perplexities of existence V
This relationship, however, assumes very different forms in different religions. We have seen how in the Vedanta it was founded on a very simple, but irrefragable syllogism. If there is one being, the Ve- dantist says, which is all in all, then our soul cannot in its substance be different from that being, and our separation from it can be the result of nescience only, which nescience has to be removed by knowledge, that is, b}7 the Vedanta-philosophy.
We saw in the Eleatic philosophy of Greece, the same premiss, though without the conclusion deduced from it, that the soul cannot form an exception, but
1 Disraeli in Lothair, p. 157.
8UFII8M. 337
must, like everything else, if not more than every- thing else, share the essence of what alone is infinite, and can alone be said truly to exist.
Sufiism, its Origin.
We shall next have to consider a religion in which the premiss seems to be wanting, but the conclusion has become even more powerful, I mean the Sufiism among the Mohammedans.
As the principal literature of Sufiism is composed in Persian, it was supposed by Sylvestre de Sacy and others that these ideas of the union of the soul with God had reached Persia from India, and spread from thence to other Mohammedan countries. Much may be said in support of such a theory, which was shared by Goethe also in his West-Ostlicher Divan. We know of the close contact between India and Persia at all times, and it cannot be denied that the tempera- ment and the culture of Persia lent itself far more naturally to the fervour of this religious poetry than the stern character of Mohammed and his immediate followers. Still we cannot treat Sufiism as genealo- gically descended from Vedantism, because Vedant- ism goes far beyond the point reached by Sufiism, and has a far broader metaphysical foundation than the religious poetry of Persia. Sufiism is satisfied with an approach of the soul to God, or with a loving union of the two, but it has not reached the point from which the nature of God and soul is seen to be one and the same. In the language of the Vedanta, at least in its final development, we can hardly speak any longer of a relation between the soul and the Supreme Being, or of an approach of the soul to, or of (4) Z
838 LECTURE XI.
a union of the soul with God. The two are one as soon as their original and eternal oneness of nature has been recognised. With the Sufis, on the contrary, the subject, the human soul, and the object, the divine spirit, however close their union, remain always distinct, though related beings. There are occasional expressions which come very near to the Vedanta similes, such as that of the drop of water being lost in the ocean. Still, even these expressions admit of explanation ; for we are told that the drop of water is not lost or annihilated, it is only received, and the Persian poet when he speaks of the soul being lost in God need not have meant more than our own poet when he speaks of our losing ourselves in the ocean of God's love.
Tholuck seems to have been one of the first to show that there is no historical evidence for the supposition that Sufiism is founded on an ancient Persian sect, prior to the rise of Islam. Sufiism, as he has proved, is decidedly Mohammedan in origin, and its first manifestations appear early in the second century of the Hedjra.
Mohammed said indeed in the Koran1, 'In Islam there is no monachism' ; but as early as 623 A. D., forty- five men of Mekka joined themselves to as many others of Medina, took an oath of fidelity to the doctrines of the prophet and formed a fraternity, to establish community of property, and to perform daily certain religious practices by way of penitence. They took the name of Sufi, a word that has been derived from stif. wool, a hair-cloth used by penitents in the
1 See the 'Aw&rtfuL-Madi if, translated by Lieut.-Col. H.Wilber force Clarke, 1891, p. 1.
8UFITSM. 339
early days of Islam, or from sufiy, wise, pious, or from safi, pure, or from safa, purity.
Abstract of Sufi Doctrines.
The principal doctrines of Sufiism have been summed up by Sir W. Jones as follows1: 'The Sufis believe that the souls of men differ infinitely in degree, but not at all in kind, from the divine spirit of which they are particles, and in which they will ultimately be absorbed ; that the spirit of God pervades the universe, always immediately present to His work, and consequently always in substance ; that He alone is perfect in benevolence, perfect truth, perfect beauty ; that love of Him alone is real and genuine love, while that for other objects is absurd and illusory ; that the beauties of nature are faint resemblances, like images in a mirror, of the divine charms ; that, from eternity without beginning to eternity without end. the supreme benevolence is occupied in bestowing happiness, or the means of attaining it ; that men can only attain it by performing their part of the personal covenant between them and the Creator ; that nothing has a pure absolute existence but mind or spirit ; that material substances, as the ignorant call them, are no more than gay pictures presented continually to our minds by the sempiternal artist ; that we must beware of attachment to such phantoms and attach ourselves exclusively to God, who truly exists in us, as we exist solely in Him ; that we retain even in this forlorn state of separation from our Beloved, the idea of heavenly beauty and the remembrance of our primeval vows; that sweet musick, gentle breezes,
1 Sir W. Jones, Works, 1807, vol. iv. p. 212.
Z 3
840 LECTURE XI.
fragrant flowers, perpetually renew the primary idea, refresh our fading memory, and melt us with tender affections ; that we must cherish these affections, and by abstracting our souls from vanity, that is from all but God, approximate to this essence, in our final union with which will consist our supreme beatitude.'
Eabia, the earliest Sufi.
It is curious that the first person quoted as express- ing Sufi opinions is a woman of the name of Rabia, who died 135 after the Hedjra. Ibn Khalikan tells a number of stories of her : ' She would often in the middle of the night go on the roof of the house and call out in her solitude : " O my God, the noise of the day is hushed, the lover dallies with the beloved in the secret chamber; but I in my solitude rejoice in thee, for I know thee to be my true beloved." ' Ferid eddin Attar tells of the same Rabia, that once when she was walking across the rocks, she cried out: ' Desire of God has seized me ; true thou art stone also and earth, but I yearn to see thee.' Then the High God spoke directly in her heart : ' O Rabia, hast thou not heard that when Moses once desired to see God, only a mote of the Divine Majesty fell on a mountain, and yet it burst asunder. Be content therefore with my name.'
Again, we are told that when Rabia came to Mekka on a pilgrimage, she exclaimed, 'I want the Lord of the Kaaba, what use is the Kaaba to me? I have come so near to God, that the word He has spoken applies to me : Whoever approaches me a span, I ap- proach him a yard.'
There are ever so many stories about this Rabia,
SUPIISM. 341
all intended to show her devotion, nay, her spiritual union with Allah. When she was asked to get mar- ried, she said : ' My inmost being is married, therefore I say, that my being has perished within me, and has been resuscitated in God. Since then, I am entirely in His power, nay, I am all Himself. He who wishes for me as his bride, must ask not me, but Him.' When Hassan Basri (a famous theologian) asked her by what way and by what means she had risen to that height, she answered : * By losing everything that I had found, in Him.' And when asked once more, by what way and by what means she had come to know Him, she exclaimed : ' O Hassan, thou knowest by certain ways and by certain means ; I know without ways and means.' When she was ill and laid up, three great theologians visited her. One, Hassan Basri, said : * He is not sincere in his prayers, who does not bear patiently the castigation of the Lord.' The other, Shakik by name, said: 'He is not sincere in his prayers, who does not rejoice in His castigation.' But Rabia, still perceiving something of the self in all this, replied : ' He is not sincere in his prayers, who, when he sees the Lord, does not forget that he is being chastised.'
Another time when she was very ill, and was asked the cause of her illness, she said : ' I have been think- ing of the joys of paradise, therefore my Lord has punished me.' And again she said : ' A wound within my heart devours me; it cannot be healed except through my union with my friend. I shall remain ailing, till I have gained my end on the last day.'
This is language with which students of the lives of Christian Saints are familiar. It often becomes
342 LECTURE XI.
even more fervid both in the East and in the West, but it sounds to our ears less offensive in the East than in the West,' because in Eastern languages the symbolic representation of human love as an emblem of divine love, has been accepted and tolerated from very early times.
But though it is impossible to trace the first begin- nings of Sufiism directly to a Persian source, it cannot be denied that in later times Persia and even India, particularly after they had been brought under Mo- hammedan sway, contributed largely to the develop- ment of Sufiism and of Sufi poetry.
Connection of Sufiism with Early Christianity.
The chief impulse, however, which Sufiism received from without, seems to have come from Christianity in that form in which it was best known in the East. By the end of the third century, as Mr. Whinfield writes in the Preface to his translation of the Mesnevi, por- tions of Plato, of Aristotle, ' the parent of heresies,' and of the Alexandrian commentators had been translated into Arabic. The theosophy of the Neo-platonists and Gnostics was widely spread in the East. Sufiism might almost be called a parallel stream of mystical theosophy derived in part from Plato, 'the Attic Moses,' as he was called, but mainly from Christianity, as presented in the spiritual gospel of St. John, and as expounded by the Christian Platonists and Gnostics. Traces of the influence of Platonism have been dis- covered in the reference of the Sufis to the One and the Many, the figment of Not-being, the generation of opposites from opposites, the Alexandrian gnosis of the Logos, of ecstasy and intuition, and the doctrine
SUFIISM. 343
propounded in the Phaedrus, that human beauty is the bridge of communication between the world of sense and the world of ideas, leading man by the stimulus of love to the Great Ocean of the Beautiful.
Traces of Christianity have been pointed out by Mr. Whinfield, not only in the distinct mention of the chief events of the Gospel history, but in actual renderings of sentences and phrases taken from the Gospels. The cardinal Sufi terms, ' The Truth,' ' The Way,' ' Universal Reason ' (Logos), ' Universal Soul ' (Pneuma), 'Grace' (Fais), and 'Love,' are all treated by him as of Christian extraction.
Mr. Whinfield might in support of his theory have mentioned a poem in the Gulshen Has, the secret of the bed of roses, a very popular but anonymous poem on the principles of Sufiism written about the begin- ning of the fourteenth century, in which the mystic union of the soul with God is described as the es- sential feature of Christianity.
There we read : —
'Dost thou know what Christianity is? I shall tell it thee. It digs up thy own Ego, and carries thee to God. Thy soul is a monastery, wherein dwells oneness, Thou art Jerusalem, where the Eternal is enthroned ; The Holy Spirit works this miracle, for know that God's being Rests in the Holy Spirit as in His own spirit. The Spirit of God gives to thy spirit the fire of the spirit, He moves in thy spirit beneath a thin veil ; If thou art delivered by the Spirit from manhood, Thou hast found eternal rest in the sanctuary of God ; He who has directed himself so that all passions are silent, Will surely, like Jesus, ascend to heaven.'
Abu Said Abul Cheir, Founder of Sufiism.
Rabia may be called a Sufi before even the rise of Sufiism. Her Sufiism seems quite her own, without any traces of foreign influence. The real founder,
344 LECTURE XI.
however, of the Sufis as a religious sect was Abu Said Abul Cheir, about 820 A. D.
Abu Yasid and Junaid.
Towards the end of the same century a schism took place, one party following Abu Yasid al-Bu- shani, whose pantheistic views were in open conflict with the Koran, the other following Junaid, who tried to reconcile Sufiism with orthodoxy. There were then, as at present, Sufis and Sufis. Some wrote in Persian, such as Senai, Ferid eddin Attar, Jellal eddin Mini (d. 1162), Jaini (d. 1172); others in Arabic, such as Omar ibn el Faridh, and Izz eddin Mutaddesi, others even in Turkish.
Some of their poetry is magnificent in imagery, and highly valued even by those who are afraid of the consequences of their doctrines. Sufiism was said to breed an alarming familiarity with the deity, and a disregard of human and divine ordinances, at least among those who have not reached the highest spiritual purity, and might be tempted to use their outward sanctity as a cloak for human frailty.
Sufi, Fakir, Darwish.
The etymology of Sufi, as derived from suf wool, because they walked about dressed in white woollen garments is now generally accepted1. Formerly it was supposed that Sufi came from the Greek a-o impossible. At present the Sufis are generally known as Fakirs, in Persian as Darwfoh, i. e. poor. Formerly they were also called Arif, theosophist, and Ahl alyakyn, the people of surety. Thus one of them, Abd al Razzak,
1 Sprenger, i. p. 262.
SUFIISM. 345
says: 'All praise to Allah, who by His grace and favour has saved us from the researches of conven- tional sciences, who by the spirit of immediate in- tuition has lifted us above the tediousness of tradition and demonstration, who has removed us from the hollow threshing of straw, and kept us pure from disputation, opposition and contradiction ; for all this is the arena of uncertainty and the field of doubt, of error, and heresy ; glory to Him who has taken away from our eyes the veil of externals, of form, and confusion.'
Asceticism.
The Sufis trust to the inward eye that is opened in raptures ; and which, if it is weak or blind, can be helped on by ascetic discipline. This ascetic discipline was originally no more than abstaining from food and drink, and other pleasures of life. But it soon degenerated into wild fanaticism. Some of the Fakirs indulged in violent exercises intended to produce convulsions, cataleptic fits, and all the rest. The Darwishes, who may be seen now turning round and round till they break out in delirious shouts, are the degraded descendants of the Sufis. Attar and Jellal eddin Rumf, like true lovers of God, required no stimulants for their enthusiasm, and their poetical genius found utterance, not in inarticulate ravings, but in enraptured hymns of praise. The true Sufis were always honoured, not only for their genius, but for their saint-like lives, and they could well bear comparison with their contemporaries in the West, even such as St. Bernard.
846 LEOTUBB XI.
When speaking of the true and saint-like Sufis, Jellal eddin says: —
'Faithful they are, but not for Paradise, God's Will the only crowning of their faith : And not for seething Hell flee they from sin, But that their will must serve the Will divine. It is no struggle, 'tis not discipline Wins them a will so restful and so blest ; It is that God from His heart-fountain core Fills up their jubilant soul.'
It is true there is little of what we call theosophic philosophy in their utterances. That belongs almost exclusively to the Vedantist, and to a certain extent to the Yogins also of India. The Sufi trusts to his feelings, nay, almost to his senses, not, as the Vedantist, ' to his philosophical insight. He has intuitions or beatific visions of God, or he claims at least to have them. He feels the presence of God, and his highest blessedness on earth is the mystic union with God, of which he speaks under ever- varying, and sometimes, to us at least, startling imagery. Yet for his highest raptures he too confesses that human language has no adequate expression. As Sady says, the flowers which a lover of God had gathered in his rose-garden, and which he wished to give to his friends, so over- powered his mind by their fragrance, that they fell out of his lap and withered ; that is to say, the glory of ecstatic visions pales and fades away when it has to be put into human language.
The Mesnevi.
Jellal eddin in the Preface to his Mesnevi, says: 1 This book contains strange and rare narratives, beautiful sayings, and recondite indications, a path
8UFIISM. 347
for the devout, and a garden for the pious, short in expressions, numerous in its applications. It contains the roots of the roots of the roots of the Faith, and treats of the mysteries of union and sure knowledge.' This book is looked upon by Mohammedans as second only to the Koran, and yet it would be difficult to imagine two books more different one from the other.
Mohammed's Opinion.
Mohammed's idea of God is after all the same as that of the Old Testament. Allah is chiefly the God of Power ; a transcendent, but a strongly personal God. He is to be feared rather than to be approached, and true religion is submission to His will (Islam). Even some of the Sufis seem to shrink from asserting the perfect oneness of the human and the divine natures. They call the soul divine, God-like, but not yet God ; as if in this case the adjective could really be dis- tinguished from the substantive, as if anything could be divine but God alone, and as if there could be even a likeness of God, or anything God-like, that was not in its essence God. Philosophical specu- lations on God were distasteful to Mohammed. ' Think on the mercies of God,' he says in one place, 'not on the essence of God.' He knew that theo- logical speculation would inevitably lead to schism. ' My people shall be divided,' he says, ' into three and seventy sects, of which all save one shall have their portion in the fire.' That one with Mohammed would certainly not have been that of the Sufis.
There is an interesting poem in which Said, the servant, first recounts one morning an ecstasy he had
848 LECTURE XI.
enjoyed, and is then warned by Mohammed against excessive fervour : Said speaks :
' My tongue clave fever-dry, my blood ran fire, My nights were sleepless with consuming love, Till night and day sped past, as flies a lance, Grazing a buckler's rim ; a hundred thousand years No longer than a moment. In that hour All past eternity and all to come Was gathered up in one stupendous Now, — Let understanding marvel as it may, Where men see clouds, on the ninth heaven I gaze, And see the throne of God. All heaven and hell Are bare to me and all men's destinies. The heavens and earth, they vanish at my glance, The dead rise at my look. I tear the veil From all the worlds, and in the hall of heaven I set me central, radiant as the sun. Then spake the Prophet (Mohammed), Friend, thy steed is
warm;
Spur him no more. The mirror in thy heart Did slip its fleshly case, now put it up — Hide it once more, or thou wilt come to harm.'
There are long systematic treatises on Sufiism, but they refer chiefly to outward things, not to the great problems of the true nature of the soul and of God, and of the intimate relation between the two. We read of four stages through which the Sufi has to pass.
The Four Stages.
First comes the stage of humility, or simple obedience to the law and its representative, the Shaikh (nasut or shariat); then follows the way (tarikat), that is, spiritual adoration and resig- nation to the Divine Will; then 'Aruf, or Marifat, Knowledge, that is, inspired knowledge ; and lastly Kakikat, that is, Truth, or complete efiacement in God.
8UFIISM. 849
The Poetical Language of Sufiism.
When we read some of the Sufi enraptured poetry, we must remember that the Sufi poets use a number of expressions which have a recognised meaning in their language. Thus sleep signifies meditation ; perfume, hope of divine favour ; gales are illapses of grace ; kisses and embraces, the raptures of piety. Idolators are not infidels, but really men of the pure faith, but who look upon Allah as a transcendent being, as a mere creator and ruler of the world. Wine is forbidden by Mohammed, but with the Sufi wine means spiritual knowledge, the wine-seller is the spiritual guide, the tavern the cell where the searcher after truth becomes intoxicated with the wine of divine love. Mirth, intoxication, and wantonness stand for religious ecstasy and perfect abstraction from all mundane thoughts. Beauty is the perfection of Deity ; tresses are the expansion of His glory ; the lips of the beloved mean the inscrutable mysteries of His essence ; the down on the cheeks stands for the world of spirits ; a black mole for the point of indivisible unity.
When we read some of this enraptured Sufi poetry we are at first somewhat doubtful whether it should not be taken simply in its natural sense, as jovial and erotic ; and there are some students of literature who will not admit a deeper meaning. It is well known that Emerson rebelled against the idea of seeing more in the songs of Hafiz than what there is on the surface, — delight in women, in song and love. ' We do not wish,' he, writes l, ' to make mystical
1 Works, 1882, vol. iv. p. 201.
850 LECTURE XI.
divinity out of the Songs of Solomon, much less out of the erotic and bacchanalian songs of Hafiz. Hafiz himself is determined to defy all such hypo- critical interpretation, and tears off his turban and throws it at the head of the meddling dervis, and throws his glass after the turban. Nothing is too high, nothing too low,, for his occasion. Love is a leveller, and Allah becomes a groom, and heaven a closet, in his daring hymns to his mistress or to his cupbearer. This boundless charter is the right of genius/ So it is, and there are no doubt many poems in which Hafiz means no more than what he says. No one would search for any but the most obvious meaning in such Anacreontic verses as the following :
' Wine two years old and a damsel of fourteen are sufficient society for me, above all companions, great and small.'
' How delightful is dancing to lively notes and the cheerful melody of the flutes, especially when we touch the hand of a beautiful girl ! '
'Call for wine, and scatter flowers around: what more canst thou ask from fate? Thus spake the nightingale this morning: what sayest thou, sweet rose, to his precepts ? '
'Bring thou a couch to the garden of roses, that thou mayest kiss the cheeks and lips of lovely damsels, quaff rich wine, and smell odoriferous blossoms.'
But no one acquainted with the East, would doubt that some kind of half- erotic, half-mystic poetry, was a recognised style of poetry among Mohammedans, was tolerated and admired alike by laity and clergy. Nor
8UFTTSM. 851
was the mystic meaning a mere afterthought, forced into the poetry of the Sufis, but it was meant to be there from the first.
At first the perfume of such poetry has something sickening to us, even when we know its true meaning. But the Sufi holds that there is nothing in human language that can express the love between the soul and God so well as the love between man and woman, and that if he is to speak of the union between the two at all, he can only do so in the symbolic language of earthly love.
We must not forget that if earthly love has in the vulgar mind been often degraded into mere animal passion, it still remains in its purest sense the highest mystery of our existence, the most perfect blessing and delight on earth, and at the same time the truest pledge of our more than human nature. To be able to feel the same unselfish devotion for -the Deity which the human heart is capable of, if filled with love for another human soul, is something that may well be called the best religion. It is after all the Christian command, ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.' If once we understand this, then no one can claim to come nearer to the highest Christian ideal than the true Sufi, whose religion is a burning love of God, whose life is passed in the constant presence of God, and whose every act is dictated by love of God.
Barrow, no mean theologian, and in no way tainted by religious sentimentalism, speaks in language which might have been used by the most fervent Sufi poets. ' Love/ he writes, ' is the sweetest and most delectable
852 LECTURE XT.
of all passions ; and when by the conduct of wisdom it is directed in a rational way toward a worthy, congruous, and attainable object, it cannot otherwise than fill the heart with ravishing delight : such, in all respects superlatively such, is God ; who infinitely beyond all other things deserveth our affection, as most perfectly amiable and desirable. He is the most proper object of our love; for we chiefly were framed, and it is the prime law of our nature, to love Him ; our soul, from its original instinct, vergeth towards Him as its centre, and can have no rest till it be fixed on Him. He alone can satisfy the vast capacity of our minds, and fill our boundless desires. He, of all lovely things, most certainly and easily may be attained ; for, whereas commonly men are crossed in their affection, and their love is embittered from things imaginary, which they cannot reach, or coy things, which disdain and reject them, it is with God quite otherwise : He is most ready to impart Himself; He most earnestly desireth and wooeth our love ; He is not only most willing to correspond in affection, but even doth prevent us therein: He doth cherish and encourage our love by sweetest influences and most consoling embraces ; by kindest expressions of favour, by most beneficial returns ; and whereas all other objects do in the enjoyment much fail our expectation, He doth ever far exceed it. Wherefore in all affectionate motions of our hearts toward God ; in desiring Him, or seeking His favour and friendship ; in embracing Him, or setting our esteem, our good will, our confidence on Him ; in enjoying Him by devotional meditations and addresses to Him ; in a reflective sense of our interest and propriety in
SUFIISM. 353
Him ; in that mysterious union of spirit, whereby we do closely adhere to, and are, as it were, invested in Him ; in a hearty complacence in His benignity, a grateful sense of His kindness, and a zealous desire of yielding some requital for it, we cannot but feel very pleasant transports : indeed, that celestial flame, kindled in our hearts by the spirit of love, cannot be void of warmth ; we cannot fix our eyes upon infinite beauty, we cannot taste infinite sweet- ness, we cannot cleave to infinite felicity, without also perpetually rejoicing in the first daughter of Love to God, Charity toward men ; which in complection and careful disposition, doth much resemble her mother ; for she doth rid us from all those gloomy, keen, turbulent imaginations and passions, which cloud 'our mind, which fret our heart, which discom- pose the frame of the soul ; from burning anger, from storming contention, from gnawing envy, from rank- ling spite, from racking suspicion, from distracting ambition and avarice ; and consequently doth settle our mind in an even temper, in a sedate humour, in an harmonious order, in that pleasant state of tran- quillity, which naturally doth result from the voidance of irregular passions.'
I have given the whole of this long passage, because, as Sir William Jones has pointed out, it differs from the mystical theology of the Sufis and Yogis no more than the flowers and fruits of Europe differ in scent and flavour from those of Asia, or as European differs from Asiatic eloquence. ' The same strain,' he writes, ' in poetical measure, would rise to the odes of Spenser on Divine Love and Beauty, and, in a higher key with richer embellishments, to the song of Hafiz
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354 LECTURE XI.
and Jayadeva, the raptures of the Mesnevi, and the mysteries of the Bhagavata.'
Morality of Sufiism.
The Sufi's belief that he who is led by love is no longer subject to the outward law is by no means so outrageous as it has been represented. It does not mean that the true Sufi claims any licence for himself, it only means that he whose heart is filled with love of God and who never loses sight of God, can think no longer of the outward law, but is led in all his acts by the love of God only, claiming no merit for his good works, and feeling quite incapable of committing any act displeasing to God.
Extracts from Sufi Poets.
I shall now read you a few extracts from Sufi poets, translated by Sir William Jones : —
' In eternity without beginning, a ray of thy beauty began to gleam ; when Love sprang into being, and cast flames over all nature.
' On that day thy cheek sparkled even under thy veil, and all this beautiful imagery appeared on the mirror of our fancies.
' Rise, my soul, that I may pour thee forth on the pencil of that supreme Artist, who comprised in a turn of His compass all this wonderful scenery.
' From the moment when I heard the divine sentence, " I have breathed into man a portioji of my Spirit," I was assured that we were His, and He ours.
' Where are the glad tidings of union with thee, that I may abandon all desire of life 1 I am a bird of holiness, and would fain escape from the net of this world.
SUFIISM. 355
' Shed, O Lord, from the cloud of heavenly guidance, one cheering shower, before the moment when I must rise up like a particle of dry dust.
' The sum of our transactions on this universe is nothing : bring us the wine of devotion; for the possessions of this world vanish.
' The true object of heart and soul is the glory of union with our beloved : that object really exists, but without it both heart and soul would have no existence.
' 0 the bliss of the day, when I shall depart from this desolate mansion ; shall seek rest for my soul ; and sliall follow the traces of my beloved ;
' Dancing, with love of His beauty, like a mote in a sunbeam, till I reach the spring and fountain of light, whence yon sun derives all his lustre.'
The next extract is from Jellal edclin Ruini's Mes- nevi, as translated by Mr. E. H. Whinfield. Jellal eddin thus describes the perfect union with God : —
A loved one said to her lover to try him, Early one morning ; ' O such a one, son of such a one, I marvel whether you hold me more dear, Or yourself; tell me truly, O ardent lover!' He answered: 'I am so entirely absorbed in you, That I am full of you from head to foot. Of my own existence nothing but the name remains, In my being is nothing besides you, 0 object of my desire. Therefore am I thus lost in you, Just as vinegar is absorbed in honey; Or as a stone, which has been changed into a pure ruby, Is filled with the bright light of the sun. In that stone its own properties abide not, It is filled with the sun's properties altogether; So that, if afterwards it holds itself dear,
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356 LECTURE XI.
"Pis the same as holding the sun dear, O beloved !
And if it hold the sun dear in its heart,
Tis clearly the same as holding itself dear.
Whether that pure ruby hold itself dear,
Or hold the sun dear,
There is no difference between the two preferences;
On either hand is naught but the light of dawn.
But till that stone becomes a ruby it hates itself,
For till it becomes one " I," it is two separate " I's,"
For 'tis then darkened and purblind,
And darkness is the essential enemy of light.
If it then hold itself dear, it is an infidel ;
Because that self is an opponent of the mighty sun.
Wherefore 'tis unlawful for the stone then to say " I,"
Because it is entirely in darkness and nothingness.'
Pharaoh said, ' I am the Truth,' and was laid low.
Mansur Hallaj said, ' I am the Truth,' and escaped free. •
Pharaoh's ' I ' was followed by the curse of God ;
Mansur's ' I ' was followed by the mercy of God, 0 beloved !
Because Pharaoh was a stone, Mansur a ruby;
Pharaoh an enemy of light, Mansur a friend.
O prattler, Mansur's ' I am He ' was a deep mystic saying,
Expressing oneness with the light, not mere incarnation.
This poetical image of the Sun is often applied to th« Deity by Sufi poets. Thus Jellal edclin says : —
None but the sun can display the sun,
If you would see it displayed, turn not away from it.
Shadows, indeed, may indicate the sun's pi'esence,
But only the sun displays the light of life.
Shadows induce slumber, like evening talks,
But when the sun arises the 'moon is split asunder.'
In the world there is naught so wondrous as the sun,
But the Sun of the soul sets not and has no yesterday.
SUFIISM. 357
Though the material sun is unique and single, We can conceive similar suns like to it. But the Sun of the soul, beyond this firmament, — No like thereof is seen in concrete or abstract. Where is there room in conception for His essence, So that similitudes of Him should be conceivable?
Sometimes the soul is called the mirror of God. Thus Jellal eddin says : —
If a mirror reflects not, of what use is it? Knowest thou Avhy thy mirror reflects not ? Because the rust has not been scoured from its face. If it were purified from all rust and defilement, It would reflect the shining of the Sun of God.
Often the Sufi poet warns against self-deceit: —
Whoso is restricted to religious raptures is but a man ;
Sometimes his rapture is excessive, sometimes deficient.
The Sufi is, as it were, the ' son of the season,'
But the pure (Sufi) is exalted above season and state.
Religious raptures depend on feelings and will,
But the pure one is regenerated by the breath of Jesus.
You are a lover of your own raptures, not of me ;
You turn to me only in hope of experiencing raptures.
Whoso is now defective, now perfect,
Is not adored by Abraham ; he is ' one that sets.'
Because the stars set, and are now up, now down,
He loved them not ; ' I love not them that set.'
Whoso is now pleasing and now unpleasing
Is at one time water, at another fire.
He may be the house of the moon, but not the true
moon ;
Or as the picture of a mistress, but not the living one. The mere Sufi is the ' child of the season ; '
358 LECTURE XI.
He clings to seasons as to a father,
But the pure one is drowned in overwhelming love.
A child of any one is never free from season and state.
The pure one is drowned in the light ' that is not begotten/
' What begets not and is not begotten ' is God.
Go ! seek such love as this, if you are alive ;
If not, you are enslaved by varying seasons.
Gaze not on your own pictures, fair or ugly,
Gaze on your love and the object of your desire.
Gaze not at the sight of your own weakness or vileness,
Gaze at the object of your desire, 0 exalted one.
The next extract is from Jami's Salaman and Absab as translated by Fitzgerald, the same Fitz- gerald to whom Browning was so cruel. Jami ascribes all earthly beauty and all earthly love to the Divine presence in it. Without that Divine light man would see no real beauty, would know no real love.
SALAMAN AND ABSAB, BY JAMI.
O Thou, whose Spirit through this universe In which Thou dost involve Thyself diffused, Shall so perchance irradiate human clay That men, suddenly dazzled, lose themselves In ecstasy before a mortal shrine Whose light is but a shade of the Divine ; Not till Thy secret beauty through the cheek Of Laila smite, doth she inflame Majnuu ; And not till Thou have kindled Shirin's eyes, The hearts of those two rivals swell with blood. For lov'd and lover are not but by Thee, Nor beauty; — mortal beauty but the veil Thy Heavenly hides behind, and from itself Feeds, and our hearts yearn after as a bride
SUFIISM 359
That glances past us veil'd — but ever so
That none the veil from what it hides may know.
How long wilt Thou continue thus the world
To cozen with the fantom of a veil
From which Thou only peepest 1 I would be
Thy Lover, and Thine only — I, mine eyes
Seal'd in the light of Thee to all but Thee,
Yea, in the revelation of Thyself
Lost to myself, and all that Felf is not
Within the double world that is but one.
Thou lurkest under all the forms of thought,
Under the form of all created things ;
Look where I may, still nothing I discern
But Thee throughout this universe, wherein
Thyself Thou dost reflect, and through those eyes
Of him whom Man Thou madest, scrutinise.
To thy Harim, Dividuality
No entrance finds — no word of This and That;
Do Thou my separate and derived self
Make one with Thy Essential ! Leave me room
On that Divan which leaves no room for twain ;
Lest, like the simple Arab in the tale,
I grow perplext, oh God! 'twixt 'Me' and 'Thee';
If I — this Spirit that inspires me whence ?
If Thou — then what this sensual impotence ?
We see here the same temper of mind for which the Christian poet prays when, he says, ' Let all do all as in Thy sight.' Sufiism, short of its extravagances, may almost be called Christian ;• nor do I doubt that it owed its deepest impulses to Christianity, more particularly to that spiritual Christianity which was founded on Platonist and Neo-Platonist philosophy. We saw that the Sufis themselves do not deny
360 LECTURE XI.
this: on the contrary, they appeal to Jesus or Isa as their highest authority, they constantly use the language of the New Testament, and refer to the legends of the Old. If Christianity and Mohammedan- ism are ever to join .hands in carrying out the high objects at which they are both aiming, Sufiism would be the common ground on which they could best meet each other, understand each other, and help each other.
LECTQRE XII.
THE LOGOS. Religion a Bridge between the Visible and Invisible.
TT may be truly said that the founders of the •*- religions of the world have all been bridge- builders. As soon as the existence of a Beyond, of a Heaven above the earth, of Powers above us and beneath us had been recognised, a great gulf seemed to be fixed between what was called by various names, the earthly and the heavenly, the material and the spiritual, the phenomenal and noumenal, or best of all, the visible and invisible world (oparo? and av- o'paTo*), and it was the chief object of religion to unite these two worlds again, whether by the arches of hope and fear, or by the iron chains of logical syl- logisms 1.
1 A writer in the Christian Register, July 16, 1891, p. 461, expresses the same thoughts when he says : 'At the bottom of all religions is man's instinct of his relationship with the Infinite ; and this will not be weakened, but on the contrary will be made stronger and firmer from age to age, as the survey of the career of the race gives man wider and wider experience, and enables him more and more clearly to interpret his history, and see it as a consistent whole, under the rule of invariable law. Eeligion therefore is something above or beyond any form in which it has ever ap- peared, and Christianity is a- distinctive, yet natural step in an unfolding process, not a supernatural form projected into human life from without, and not yet absolute religion.'
362 LECTURE XII.
This problem of uniting the invisible "and the visible worlds presented itself under three principal aspects. The first was the problem of creation, or how the invisible Primal Cause could ever come in contact with visible matter and impart to it form and meaning. The second problem was the relation between God and the individual soul. The third problem was the return of the soul from the visible to the invisible world, from the prison of its mortal body to the freedom of a heavenly paradise. It is this third problem which has chiefly occupied us in the present course of lectures, but it is difficult to separate it altogether from the first and the second. The in- dividual soul as dwelling in a material body forms part of the created world, and the question of the return of the soul to God is therefore closely con- nected with that of its creation by, or its emanation from God.
We saw while treating of the last problem and examining the solutions which it had received that most of the religions and philosophies of the ancient world were satisfied with the idea of the individual soul approaching nearer and nearer to God and retaining its terrestrial individuality face to face with an objective deity. There was one religion only, or one religious philosophy, that of the Vedanta, which, resting on the firm conviction that the human soul could never have been separate from the Divine Soul, looked upon a return or an approach of the soul to God as a metaphor only, while it placed the highest happiness of the soul in the discovery and recovery of its true nature as from eternity to eternity one with God. This contrast was most clearly shown in
THE LOGOS. 363
Sufiism as compared with Vedantism. The Sufi with all his burning love of God conceives the soul as soaring upward, as longing like a lover for a nearer and nearer approach to God, and as lost at last in ecstatic raptures when enjoying the beatific vision. The Vedantist on the contrary, after having once con- vinced himself by rigorous logic, that there can be but one Divine Substance, which he calls the Self or Atman, and that his human self cannot be anything different in its essence from the true and universal Self, from that which was and is and is to be, all in all, is satisfied with having by means of rigorous reasoning recovered his true self in the highest Self, and thus having found rest in Brahman. He knows no raptures, no passionate love for the Deity, nor does he wait for death to deliver his soul from its bodily prison, but he trusts to knowledge, the highest knowledge, as strong enough to deliver his soul from all nescience and illusion even in this life. It is true that some of the Sufis also come sometimes very near to this point, as when Jellal eddin says : ' The " I am He " is a deep mystic saying, expressing oneness with the Light, not mere incarnation.' Still in general the oneness which is the highest good of the Sufi, is union of two, not the denial of the possibility of real separation.
There are religions in which there seems to be no place at all either for an approach of the individual soul to God, or for its finding itself again in God. Buddhism, in its original form, knows of no objective Deity, of nothing to which the subjective soul could approach or with which it could be united. If we can speak of Deity at all in Buddhism, it would reside in the Buddha, that is in the awakened soul,
364 LECTURE XII.
conscious of its true eternal nature, and enlightened by self-knowledge. But that self-knowledge was no longer the Vedanta knowledge of the Atman, or, if it was so originally, it had ceased to be so in that Buddhism which is represented to us in the sacred books of that religion.
In Judaism, on the contrary, the concept of the Deity is so strongly marked, so objective, so ma- jestic, and so transcendent, that an approach to or a union with Jehovah would have been considered almost as an insult to Deity. There seein to be some reminiscences in the Old Testament of an earlier belief in a closer relationship between God and man, but they never point to a philosophical belief in the original oneness of the Divine and the human soul, nor could they possibly have led on to the concept of the Word as the Son of God. In the mythological religions of classical antiquity also there was little room for a union between human and divine nature. The character of the Greek and Roman gods is so intensely personal and dramatic that it excludes the possibility of a human soul becoming united with or absorbed in any one of them. The highest privilege that some specially favoured persons might have aspired to consisted in being admitted to the society of the Olympians. But here too we may catch some earlier reminiscences, for it is well known that some of the old poets and philosophers of Greece declared their belief that gods and men came from the same source, that the gods were immortal mortals, and men mortal immortals l.
1 Heraditi Reliquiae, ed. Bywater, No. LVIII, 'AGdvciTot 6vijrvi, Bvr/rol dOavaroi, favrts rov fKtivcov Oavarov, ruv 8t iictivajv Piov TtOvt tarts
THE LOGOS. 365
But though a belief in the eternal oneness of what we call human and divine breaks out here and there l, yet it is in the .Vedanta religion only that it has received its full recognition and development. It has been reasoned out there without any of those metaphorical disguises which we find in other re- ligions. One of the most familiar metaphors is that which expresses the essential oneness of the Divine and the human natures under the veil of fatherhood and sonship. Human language could hardly have supplied a better metaphor for expressing intrinsic oneness and extrinsic difference, yet we know to how much legend and mythology this metaphor has given rise. No metaphor can be perfect, but the weak point in our metaphor is that every human father is himself created, while we require a name for a power that begets, but is itself unbegotten. We must not suppose that whoever speaks of God as a Father or of men as the sons of God, expresses thereby a belief in the oneness of the Divine and human nature. That fatherhood of God may be found in almost every religion, and means no more than a belief in the fatherly goodness of God. Moses means no more than that when he says : ' Ye are the children of the Lord your God' (Deut. xiv. 1); or when he speaks of 'the Rock that begat thee, and God that formed thee' (Deut. xxxii. 18); or when he asks2, 'Is not he
1 The famous Chinese inscription of the year 133 A.D., discovered lately in the valley of the Orkhon, begins with the following words : ' 0 Heaven so blue ! there is nothing that is not sheltered by Thee. Heaven and men are united together, and the universe is one (homogeneous).' See G. Schlegel, La Stele Funeraire du Teghin Giogh, 1892.
2 I must remark once for all that when I quote Moses and other reputed authors of Old Testament Books, I simply follow custom,
366 LECTURE XII.
thy father that has bought thee ? hath he not made thee, and established thee1?' (Deut. xxxii. 6). These ideas are not the historical antecedents of that belief in the Fatherhood of God and the Divine Sonship of Christ as the Word of God which pervades the Fourth Gospel. Abraham, who in the Old Testament is simply called the Friend of God, is spoken of by later Jews such as Philo, as through his goodness an only son 1, while in one passage of the New Testament Adam is singled out as the son of God. But all this belongs to quite a different sphere of thought from that in which the Stoics moved, and after them Philo, and the author of the Fourth Gospel, and Christ Himself. With them the Son of God was the Word of God, and the Word of God as incarnate in Jesus.
The Oriental Influences in Early Christianity.
You cannot have listened to what the ancient Vedanta philosophers of India and the more recent Sufis of Persia had to say about the Deity and its true relation to humanity, without having been struck ]>y a number of similarities between these Oriental religions and the beliefs which we hold ourselves, or which were held by some of the most ancient and most eminent Fathers of the Church. So striking- are some of these similarities, particularly with regard to the relation of the transcendent Deity to the phe- nomenal world and to the individual soul, that for a time it was tnkcn almost for granted that Eastern
without expressing tiny opinion on the results of critical scholarship. Surely we may be allowed to speak of Homer, without committing ourselves to the opinion that he wrote all the books of the Iliad and Odyssey.
yj tiairotijTos avrai ftufos vius, Philo, De Sobriet., 11 (1,401).
THE LOGOS. 367
influences had told on the minds of the early Fathers of the Church. Even Daehne, in his Darstellung der Judisch-Alexandrinischen Religion sphilosophie, has not quite discarded that opinion. But though at present, after a more careful study of the Vedanta and Sufi philosophy, the number of similarities has become even larger than before, the idea of a direct influence of Indian or Persian thought on early Christian religion and philosophy, has been surrendered by most scholars.
Borrowing- of Religious Thoughts.
The difficulty of admitting any borrowing on the part of one religion from another is much greater than is commonly supposed, and if it has taken place, there seems to me only one way in which it can be satisfactorily established, namely by the actual occur- rence of foreign words, or possibly the translations of foreign terms which retain a certain unidiomatic appearance in the language to which they have been transferred. It seems impossible that any religious community should have adopted the fundamental principles of religion from another, unless their inter- course was intimate and continuous — in fact, unless they could freely exchange their thoughts in a com- mon language. And in that case the people who borrowed thought, could hardly have helped borrow- ing words also. We see this whenever less civilised nations are raised to a higher level of civilisation and converted to a higher religion ; and the same thing- happens, though in a lesser degree, when there has been a mutual exchange of religious thought between civilised races also. The language of Polynesian
368 LECTURE XII.
converts is full of English terms. The language even of a civilised country like China, after it had been converted to Buddhism, abounds with corrupt Sanskrit words. Even the religious language of Rome, after it had been brought for the first time under the influ- ence of Greece, shows clear traces of its indebtedness. We find no such traces in the language of the early Christians. All the elements of their religious and philosophical terminology are either Greek or Jewish. Even the Jews, who had such frequent intercourse with other nations, and during the Alexandrian period borrowed so largely from their Greek instructors, betray hardly any religious imports from other Ori- ental countries in their religious and philosophical dictionary. At an earlier time, also, the traces of borrowing on the part of the Jews, whether from Babylonians or Persians, are, as we saw, very few and faint in Hebrew. No doubt neighbouring nations may borrow many things from each other, but the idea that they steal, or borrow silently and dis- honestly, has little to support it in the history of the world. Least of all do they carry off the very corner- stones of their religion and philosophy from a foreign quarry. It would have been utterly impossible, for instance, for the early Christian Fathers to disguise or deny their indebtedness to the Old Testament or to Greek philosophy. No one has ever doubted it. But it is very different with Indian and Persian in- fluences. The possibility of some highly educated Persians or even Indians living at Alexandria at or even before the time of the rise of Christianity cannot be disproved, but that Philo or Clement should have been the ungrateful and dishonest pupils of Indian
THE LOGOS. 369
Pandits, Buddhist Bhikshus, of Persian Mobeds, is more than, in the present state of our knowledge, any serious student of the history of human thought could possibly admit.
Nor should we forget that most religions have a feeling of hostility towards other religions, and that they are not likely to borrow from others which in their most important and fundamental doctrines they consider erroneous. It has often been supposed that the early Christians borrowed many things from the Buddhists, and there are no doubt startling coin- cidences between the legendary life-stories of Buddha and Christ. But if we consider that Buddhism is without a belief in God, and that the most vital doctrine of Christianity is the fatherhood of God and the sonship of man, we shall find it difficult to believe that the Christians should have taken pride in transferring to the Son of God any details from the biography of an atheistical teacher, or in ac- cepting a few of his doctrines, while abhorring and rejecting the rest.
There is still another difficulty in accepting the opinion that certain religions borrowed from each other. A more careful, historical study of the re- ligions and philosophies of antiquity has enabled us to watch the natural and continuous growth of each of them. When we have learnt to understand how religions and philosophies which at first startled us by their similarities, have each had their own indepen- dent and uninterrupted development, we cease to look for foreign influences or intrusions, because we know that there is really no room for them. If, for instance, we take the Vedanta philosophy, we can
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370 LECTURE XII.
trace its growth step by step from the hymns to the Brahma nas, the Upanishads, the Sutras, and their commentaries, and no one who has once under- v stood that unbroken growth would dream of ad- mitting any extraneous influences. The conception of death as a mere change of habitat, the recognition of the substantial identity of the human and the Divine Spirit, and the admission of true immortality as based entirely on knowledge, and as possible even without the intervention of physical death — all these are intellectual articles of faith which, however different from the primitive religion of the Indian Aryas, are nevertheless the natural outcome of the Indian mind, left to itself to brood from generation to generation over the problems of life and eternity. If then we find traces of the same or very similar articles of faith in the latest phase of Judaism, as represented by Philo, and again in the earliest phases of Chris- tianity, as represented by St. Clement, and other Hellenistic converts to Christianity, we must first of all ask the question, Can we account for the philosophical opinions of Philo who was a Jew, and of Clement who was a Christian, as the .natural outcome of well-known historical antecedents, and, if so, is there any necessity, nay is there any possi- bility for admitting extraneous impulses, coming either from India or Persia, from Buddhism or Manicheism ?
Philo and his Allegorical Interpretation.
Let us begin with Philo, and ask the question whether we cannot fully account for his philosophy as the natural outcome of the circumstances of his
THE LOGOS. 371
life. It is going too far to call Philo a Father of the Church, but it is perfectly true that the Christi- anity of Clement and Origen and other Fathers of the Church owes much of its metaphysical ground- work and its philosophical phraseology to that Jewish school of Alexandria of which Philo is only one, though the best-known representative. Some of the early Fathers were no doubt under the more im- mediate influence of Greek philosophy, but others came under its sway after it had been filtered through the minds of Jewish philosophers, such as Philo, and of Jewish converts in Egypt and Palestine.
Philo was the true child of his time, and we must try to understand his religious philosophy as the natural outcome of the circumstances in which the old Jewish religion found itself, when placed face to face with Greek philosophy. Philo's mind was saturated with Greek philosophy, so that, as Suidas informs us, it had become a common saying that either Plato Philonizes or Philo Platonizes. It is curious to observe l that each party, the Greeks and the Jews, and later on, the Christians also, instead of being pleased with the fact that their owrn opinions had been adopted by others, complained of plagiarism and were most anxious to establish each their own claim to priority. Even so enlightened and learned a man as St. Clement of Alexandria writes : 'They have borrowed from our books the chief doctrines they hold on faith and knowledge and science, on hope and love and repentance, on temperance and the fear of God1 (Strom, ii. 1). These complaints, coming from Clement,
1 See Hatch, Hibbert Lectures, pp. 250 seq. Tertulliani Apolo- geticus, ed. Bindley, cap. xlvii, note 9.
B')2
372 LECTURE XII.
may be regarded as well founded. But it is different with men like Minucius Felix on one side and Celsus on the other. These are both eager partisans. When Minucius Felix says that the Greek philosophers imitated the shadow of half-truths from the divine preaching of the Jewish prophets, one wonders whether he thought that Aristotle had studied Isaiah. And when Celsus says that the Christian philosophers were simply weaving a web of misunderstandings of the old doctrine, and sounded them forth with a loud trumpet before men, like hierophants round those who are being initiated in mysteries, did he really wish us to believe that the Apostles, and more par- ticularly the author of the Fourth Gospel, had studied the principal writings of Plato and Aristotle ? One thing, however, is made quite clear by their squabbles, namely that Judaism, Christianity, and Greek philo- sophy were fighting against each other on terms of perfect equality, and that they had all three to appeal to the judgment of the world, and of a world brought up almost entirely in the schools of Stoics and Neo-Platonists. Thus it was said of Origen that in his manner of life he was a Christian, but in his opinions about God, a Greek (Euseb. H. E., vi. 19). Justin Martyr goes so far as to say in a somewhat offended and querulous tone : ' We teach the same as the Greeks, yet we alone are hated for what we teach ' (Apol. i. 20). The same Justin Martyr speaks almost like a Greek philosopher when he protests against anthropomorphic expressions. ' You are not to think,' he writes, ' that the unbegotten God came
down from anywhere or went up He who is
uncontained by space and by the whole world, does
THE LOGOS. 373
not move, seeing that he was born before the world was born.' In another place he says (Apol. ii. 13): ' The teachings of Plato are not alien to those of Christ, though not in all respects similar .... for all the writers (of antiquity) were able to have a dim vision of realities by means of the indwelling seed of the implanted word ' (the Logos).
Synesius, 379-431.
Even so late as the fourth century, and after the Council of Nicaea, we meet with a curious instance of this mixture of Christian faith with Greek philosophy in a bishop, whose name may be familiar to many from Kingsley's splendid novel, Hypatia. Bishop Synesius (born about 370 A. D.) had actually been an attendant on Hypatia's lectures. Bishop though he was, he represents himself in his writings as very fond of hounds and horses, of hunting and fighting. But he was likewise an ardent student of Greek philosophy, and it is very interesting to watch the struggles be- tween his religion and his philosophy, as he lays them bare in letters to his friends. He was evidently made a bishop, Bishop of Ptolemais, very much against his will, and he sees no reason why, even in his episcopal office, he should part with his horses and hounds. But hot only that, but he declares that he cannot part with his philosophical convictions either, even where they clashed with Christianity. He confesses that he was by education a heathen, by profession a philoso- pher, and that if his duty as a bishop should be any hindrance to his philosophy, he would relinquish his diocese, abjure his orders, and remove into Greece. He seems, however, to have quieted his scruples, and to
374 LECTURE XII.
have remained in office, keeping his Greek philosophy to himself, which, as he says, would do no good to the people at large, and suffering them to live in the pre- judices which they had imbibed, whatever that may mean.
If this wavering Christianity was possible in a bishop, and even after the Council of Nicaea, 325, we may imagine what it was in the first and the second centuries, when people who had been brought up on Greek philosophy persuaded themselves for the first time to join the Church of the Christians.
In trying to represent the important process which in the East, and more particularly at Alexandria, had brought the religious thoughts of the Semitic world face to face with the philosophical thoughts of Greece, I have allowed myself to anticipate what properly belongs to my next lectures. There can be no doubt, however, that this process of intellectual amalgama- tion between East and West, which we see still at work in the fourth century, took its origin much earlier, and chiefly in that school of Jewish thinkers who are represented to us in Philo. He must always remain to us the chief representative of a whole phase of Jewish thought, because though he himself appeals to former teachers, their works have not been preserved1. We should not attribute too much to Philo's personality, powerful though it was. On the contrary, we should try to understand the Philonic phase of Judaism as the natural result of the dispersion of the Jews over the whole civilised world, over ' Assyria, Egypt, Pathros, Cush, Elam, Shinar and the islands of the sea,' and of their contact with the best thoughts of these countries.
1 Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 6.
THE LOGOS. 375
Like most of his fellow-exiles, Philo remained a firm believer in the Old Testament. He is first a Jew, and then a philosopher, though the Jew has to make many concessions in learning to speak and think in the language of Greek philosophy. Philo's position, after his acquaintance with Greek philosophy, reminds one often of that of Rammohun Roy, who was a firm believer in the Veda, when suddenly brought face to face with the doctrines of Christianity. He could not, help being ashamed of many things that were found in the sacred books of India, just as, according to Celsus, Jews and Christians were really ashamed of their Bible *. He had therefore to surrender many of the effete traditions of his old faith, but he tried to interpret others in the light received from Christian literature, till at last he formulated to himself a new concept of the Deity and of man's relation to the Deity wKich seemed to be in harmony both with the intentions of Indian sages and with the aspirations of Christian teachers. The touchstone of truth whwh he adopted was much the same as that which Philo had adopted from Plato2, that nothing unworthy of the deity should be accepted as true, however sacred the authority on which it might rest. When this was once admitted everything else followed. Philo, with all his reverence for the Old Testament, nay, as he would say, on account of that very reverence, did not hesitate to call it 'great and incurable silliness' to suppose that God really planted fruit-trees in Para- dise. In another place Philo says that to speak of
1 Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 147.
2 Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 51. Philo, De Sacrificio Ab. et Caini, xxviii. p. 181. We find the same in Clement, Horn. II. 40, TTO.V \(x.&*v *i ~fpa
376 LECTURE XII.
God repenting, is impiety greater than any that was drowned in the Flood *. The interpretation which he put on these and similar passages is of much the same character as that which is now put by educated natives of India on the hideous worship of the goddess Durga (Anthropolog. Religion, p. 160). Yet, however implausible such interpretations may seem to us, they show at all events a respect for truth and a belief in divine holiness. Neither Philo, nor Clement, nor Origen could bring themselves to accept physical or moral impossibilities as simply miraculous2. Believing as they did in a Logos or Reason that ruled the world, everything irrational became ipso facto impossible, or had to be interpreted allegorically. When we con- sider how powerful a philosophical thinker Philo was, some of his allegorical interpretations seem almost incredible, as when he explains that Adam was really meant for the innate perceptive faculty of the mind, and Eve for the same in its operative character, which springs subsequently into being, as the helper and ally of the mind. In the same way Abel, according to Philo, stands for perishableness, Cain for self-conceit and arrogance, Seth for irrigation, Enos for hope, Henoch for improvement, Noah for justice, Abraham for instruction, Isaac for spiritual delight. In all this Philo is perfectly serious and firmly convinced of the truth of his interpretations. And why ? Because, as he says again and again, ' no one could believe such stories as that a woman was made out of a man's rib.' ' Clearly,' he says, ' rib stands for power, as when we say that a man has ribs instead
1 See Philo, Quod Deus immutabilis, 1. 275. 3 Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 137.
THE LOGOS. 377
of strength, or that a man is thick-ribbed. Adam
o '
then must represent the mind, Eve perception already acting through the senses, and the rib the permanent faculty still dormant in the mind.' Even thus we must admire in Philo the spirit that is willing, though the flesh is weak.
These allegorical interpretations had become in- evitable with Philo, as they had before with some of the more enlightened Greek philosophers, where we find them as early as Democritus, Anaxagoras, and as very popular with the Stoics, the immediate teachers of Philo. Whenever sacred traditions or sacred books have been invested by human beings with a superhuman authority, so that all they contain has to be accepted as the truth and nothing but the truth, what remains but either to call what is unworthy of the deity miraculous, or to resort to allegory1? Nor are Philo's allegories, though they are out of place, without their own profound meaning. I shall quote one only, which contains really an excellent abstract of his doctrine. When speaking of the Cherubim who were placed, with a flaming sword that turned every way, to guard the approaches of the tree of life, Philo, after quoting some other attempts at interpre- tation, proceeds to say : ' I once heard even a more solemn word from my soul, accustomed often to be possessed by God and prophesy about things which it knew not ; which, if I can, I will recall to the mind and mention. Now, it said to me, that in the one really existing God the supreme and primary powers are two, goodness and authority, and that by goodness he has generated the universe, and by authority he rules over what was generated ; and that
378 LECTURE XII.
a third thing in the midst, which brings these two together, is Reason (Logos), for that by Reason God is possessed both of rule and of good. (It said) that of rule, therefore, and of goodness, these two powers the Cherubim are symbols, and of Reason the flaming sword ; for Reason is a thing most swift in its motions and hot, and especially that of the Cause, because it anticipated and passed by everything, being both conceived before all things and appearing in all things V
So far we can follow. But when Philo proceeds to make an application of his interpretation of the Flaming Sword as the symbol of reason in the story of Abraham and Isaac, and explains that Abraham when he began to measure all things by God, and to leave nothing to that which is generated, took ' fire and knife ' as an imitation of the Flaming Sword, earnestly desiring to destroy and burn up the mortal from himself in order that with naked intellect he might soar aloft to God, we have to hold our breath in utter amazement at so much folly united in the same mind with so much wisdom !
What is important for us, however, is to see that Philo, who is generally represented as almost unin- telligible, becomes perfectly intelligible if we once know his antecedents and his surroundings. If, as some scholars supposed, Philo had really been under the immediate influence of Eastern teachers, whether Persian or Indian, we should be able to discover some traces of Persian or Indian thought. Nay, if Philo had commanded a larger view of the religions of the world, it is not improbable that his 1 Sec Dr. James Drummond, Philo Judaeus, vol. i. p. 21.
THE LOGOS. 379
eyes would have been opened, and that he might have learnt the same lesson which a comparative study of ancient religions has taught us, namely, that mytho- logical language is inevitable in the early stages of religious thought, and that, if we want to understand it, we must try to become children rather than philo- sophers. In one case Philo boldly declares that the story of the creation of Eve, as given in the Old Testament, is simply mythological l.
These preliminary remarks seemed to me necessary before approaching the problem with which we are more immediately concerned, namely, how the gulf that was fixed in the Jewish mind between heaven and earth, between God and man, could be bridged over. We saw that with Philo the concept of the Deity, though it often retained the name of Jehovah, had be- come quite as abstract and transcendent as that of the only true Being, TO OVTWS ov, of Greek philosophers. It would not seem likely therefore that the Greek philo- sophers, from whom Philo had learnt his thoughts and language, could have supplied him with a bond to unite the visible with the invisible world. And yet so it was 2. For after all, the Greek philosophers also had found that they had raised their Supreme Being or their First Cause so very high, and placed it so far beyond the limits of this visible world and the horizon of human thought, that unless some connecting links could be found, the world might as well be left with- out any cause and without any Supreme Being.
1 To prjrdv firi TOVTO nvOwSts kari (Legis allcgor. i. 70). a Bigg, I.e., p. 259 note ; Drummond, I.e., ii. p. 170.
380 LECTURE XII.
Log-os.
This connecting link, this bond between the world and its cause, between the soul and its God, was to Philo's mind the Logos.
Let us lay hold at once on this word. Logos is a Greek word embodying a Greek thought, a thought which has its antecedents in Aristotle, in Plato ; nay, the deepest roots of which have been traced back as far as the ancient philosophies of Anaxagoras and Heraclitus. This Greek word, whatever meaning was assigned to it by Christian thinkers, tells us in lan- guage that cannot be mistaken that it is a word and a thought of Greek workmanship. Whoever used it, and in whatever sense he used it, he had been under the influence of Greek thought, he was an intellectual descendant of Plato, Aristotle, or of the Stoics and Neo-Platonists, nay of Anaxagoras and Heraclitus. To imagine that either Jews or Christians could adopt a foreign terminology without adopting the thoughts imbedded in it, shows a strange misapprehension of the nature of language. If, as we are told, certain savage tribes have no numerals beyond four, and afterwards adopt the numerals of their neighbours, can they borrow a name for five without borrowing at the same time the concept of five1? Why do we use a foreign word if not because we feel that the word and the exact thought which it expresses are absent from our own intellectual armoury ?
Philo had not only borrowed the Greek language in which he wrote, he had borrowed Greek thought also that had been coined in the intellectual mint of Greece, and the metal of which had been extracted from Greek ore. No doubt he used his loan for his own purposes,
THE LOGOS. 381
still he could only transfer the Greek words to concepts that were more or less equivalent. If we see such names as Parliament or Upper and Lower House transferred to Japan, and used there either in a translated or in their original form to signify their own political assemblies, we know that however different the proceedings of the 'Japanese Parliament may be from those of the English Parliament, the very concept of a Parliament would never have been realised in Japan except for its prototype in England. Besides, we see at once that this word, Parliament, and what it signifies, has no historical antecedents in Japan, while in England it has grown from a small seed to a magnificent tree. It is the same with Logos. There may have been some vague and faint antecedents of the Logos in the Old Testament1, but the Logos which Philo adopted had its historical antecedents in Greece and in Greek philosophy only. This is very important to remember, and we shall have to return to it again.
It is often supposed that this Logos of Philo, and the 'Word which was in the beginning, are something very obscure, some kind of mystery which few, if any, are able to fathom, and which requires at all events a great amount of philosophical training before it can be fully apprehended. It seems to me to require nothing but a careful study of the history of the word in Greece.
Logos in Greek, before it was adopted for higher philosophical purposes, meant simply word, but word not as a mere sound, but as thought embodied in sound. The Greeks seem never to have forgotten that logos, word, has a double aspect, its sound and its meaning, and that, though we may distinguish the 1 Bigg, I.e., p. 18, note.
382 LECTURE XII.
two, as we can the outside and inside of many things, they can never have a separate existence. Philo was fully aware of this, as is shown by the following passage from his Life of Moses, iii. 113 (ii. 154) l : ' The Logos is double both in the universe and in the nature of man. In the universe there are both that which relates to the immaterial and pattern ideas, out of which the intelligible cosmos was established, and that which relates to the visible objects (which are accordingly imitations and copies of those ideas), out of which this perceptible cosmos was completed. But in man the one is inward and the other outward, and the one is, as it were, a fountain, but the other sonorous (yey&>z.'o?), flowing from the former.'
Nothing could supply a better simile for God think- ing and uttering the cosmos than the act of man in thinking and uttering his thought. It is only our complete misapprehension of the true nature of words which has led people to suppose that Philo's simile was merely fanciful. The idea that the world was thought and uttered or willed by God, so far from being a cobweb of abstruse philosophy, is one of the most natural and most accurate, nay most true con- ceptions of the creation of the world, and, let me add at once, of the true origin of species.
I was, I believe, one of the first who ventured to use the traditions of uncivilised races as parallel instances of classical myths, and as helps to the under- standing of their origin, and I may venture perhaps on a new experiment of utilising the philosophical thoughts of a so-called savage race as likely to throw light on the origin of what the Greeks meant by Logos.
1 Drummond, I.e., ii. p. 172.
THE LOGOS; 383
The Log-os among- the Klamaths.
The Klamaths, one of the Red Indian tribes, lately described by Mr. Gatchet and Mr. Horatio Hale, be- lieve, as we are told, in a Supreme God, whom they call ' The Most Ancient,' ' Our Old Father,' or ' The Old One on high.' He is believed to have created the world that is, to have made plants, animals, and men. But when asked how the Old Father created the world, the Klamath philosopher replied : ' By thinking and ivillirtg.' In this thinking and willing you have on that distant soil the germs of the same thought which on Greek soil became the Logos, and in the Fourth Gospel is called the Word.
It may be thought that such an idea is far too abstract and abstruse to arise in the minds of Red Indians of the present day or of thousands of years ago. It is quite true that in a more mythological atmosphere the same thought might have been ex- pressed by saying that the Old Father made the world with his hands, or called it forth by his word of com- mand, and that he breathed life into all living things. The world when created might in that case have been called the handiwork, or even the offspring and the son of God.
It didjiot. however, require much observation to see that there was order and regularity in nature, or thought and will, as the Klamaths called it. The regular rising of sun and moon would be sufficient to reveal that. If the whole of nature were mere lumber and litter, its author and ruler might have been a zero or a fool. But there is thought in a tree, and there is thought in a horse, and that thought is repeated again
384 LECTURE XII.
and again in every tree and in every horse. Is all this like the sand of the desert, whisked about by a sirocco, or is it thought and will, or what the Stoics called it, the result of a \oyos (nrep/xariKos "? As in our own scientific, so in the earliest age of human observa- tion and thought, the reason which underlies and per- vades nature could not escape detection. It answered readily to the reason of every thoughtful observer, so that Kepler, after discovering the laws of the planetary system, could truly say that he had thought again the thoughts of God.
I cannot possibly give you here the whole history of the Logos, and all the phases through which it passed in the philosophical atmosphere of Greece before it reached Philo, the Jewish philosopher, or Christian philosophers, such as the author of the Introduction to the Fourth Gospel, St. Clement, Origen, and many others. In order to do that, I should have to carry you from the latest Stoics whose schools were frequented by Philo at Alexandria, to the Stoa where Aristotle taught his realism, and to the Academy where Plato expounded his ideal philo- sophy, nay, even beyond, to the schools of Anaxagoras and Heraclitus. All this has been extremely well done by Dr. Drummond in his Philo Judaeus. A short survey must here suffice.
The Historical Antecedents of the Logos.
Before we attempt even a mere survey of these his- torical antecedents of the Logos, or the Word, let us try to reason out the same ideas by ourselves. Logos means word and thought. Word and thought, as I hope to have proved in my Science of Thought, are inseparable,
THE LOGOS. 385
they are but two aspects of the same intellectual act. If we mean by thought what it means as soon as it is expressed in a word, not a mere percept, not even what it is often mistaken for, a Vorstellung, or what used to be called a sensuous idea, but a concept, then it is clear that a word, taken as a mere sound, without a concept expressed by it, would be a non-entity, quite as much as the concept would be a non-entity without the word by which it is embodied. Hence it is that the Greek logos means both word and thought, the one inseparable from the other.
As soon as language had produced such names as horse, dog. man or woman, the mind was ipso facto in possession of what we call concepts or ideas. Every one of these words embodies an idea, not only a general more or less blurred image remaining in our memory like the combined photographs of Mr. Galton, but a concept — that is, a genuine thought under which every individual horse or dog can be conceived, compre- hended, classified and named. What is meant by the name horse, can never be presented to our senses, but only to our intellect, and it has been quite truly said that no human eye has ever seen a horse, but only this or that horse, grey, black, or brown, young or old, strong or weak. Such a name and such a concept as horse,. could not represent the memory of repeated sensuous impressions only. These impressions might leave in our memory a blurred photographic image, but never a concept, free from all that is individual, casual and temporary, and retaining only what is essential or what seemed to be essential to the framers of language in all parts of the world. It is quite true that each individual has to learn his concepts or ideas by means (4.) Co
386 LECTURE XII.
of sensuous perception, by discovering what general features are shared in common by a number of indi- viduals. It is equally true that we have to accept the traditional names handed down to us by parental tradition from time immemorial. But admitting all this, we should ask, Whence sprang the first idea of horse which we during our life on earth see realised in every single horse and repeated with every new genera- tion 1 What is that typical character of horse which can be named and can afterwards be scientifically defined? Was there no artist, no rational being that had to conceive the idea of horse, before there was a single horse? Could any artist produce the statue of a horse, if he had never seen a horse? Will material protoplasm, spontaneous evolution, the in- fluence of environment, the survival of the fittest, and all the rest — will any purely mechanical process ever lead to a horse, whether it be a horse, or as yet a hipparion only? Every name means a species, and one feels almost ashamed if one sees how much more profound is the theory of the Origin of Species as conceived by Plato than that of modern naturalists.
The Origin of Species.
I confess I have always been surprised that these old elementary teachings of Plato's philosophy have been so completely ignored when the discussion on the origin of species was taken up again in recent times. And yet we should never have spoken of the origin of species but for Plato and his predecessors in Greek philosophy. For species is but a translation of e?8os, and elbos is almost a synonym of i not perfectly unthinkable that living organic bodies,
THE LOGOS. 387
whether plants or animals, nay, that anything in this universe, could have come to be what it is by mere evolution, by natural selection, by survival of the fittest, and all the rest, unless its evolution meant the realisation of an idea ? Let us grant by all means that the present horse is the last term of a series of modifi- cations, brought about by natural causes, of a type which has existed ever since the Mesozoic epoch ; yet we cannot but ask Whence that type ? and What is meant by type ? Was it mere undifferentiated proto- plasm that by environment and other casual influences might have become either a horse or a dog ? or must we not admit a purpose, a thought, a Xo'yos, a o-Trep/xariKo? Ao'yos, in the first protoplastic germ which could end in one last term only, a horse or a dog, or whatever else was thought and willed by a rational Power, or by what the ancients called the Logos of God *? Professor Huxley himself speaks of the type of horse. What can he mean by that, if not the idea of horse1? It matters little how such a type or such an idea was realised, whether as a cell or as a germ, so long as we recognise that there was an idea or a purpose in it, or, to adopt the language of the Red Indians, so long as we believe that everything that exists was thought and willed by the 'Old One on high.' Is there reason in the world or not, and if there is, whose Reason is it "? That certain species were evolved from lower species, even during the short time of which we possess any certain knowledge, is no doubt a great discovery, but it does not touch the deeper question of the origin of all species. Whenever such transitions have been proved, we should simply have to change our language, and no longer call that a species which has been proved not
C C 2
388 LECTURE XII.
to be a species. We must use our words as we have defined them, and species means an idea or an etSos, that is an eternal thought of a rational Being. Such a thought must vary in every individual manifestation of it, but it can never change. Unless we admit the eternal existence of these ideas in a rational Mind or in the Primal Cause of all things, we cannot account for our seeing them realised in nature, discovered by human reason, and named by human language. This becomes still clearer if, instead of natural productions, we think of geometrical forms. Can we imagine that a perfect circle, nay, a single straight line, was ever formed by repeated experiments ? or have we not to admit, before a perfect sphere becomes real, if ever it does become real, the concept of a perfect sphere in a rational, that is, a divine Mind ? The broad ques- tion is whether the world, such as we know it and have named it, is rational or casual. The choice does not lie between a belief in evolution and special creation, whatever that may mean, but between a belief in Reason and a denial of Reason at the bottom of all things.
If we want to account for a rational world and foi the permanence of typical outlines in every species our mind has to admit, first of all, a creative thought, or what Professor Huxley calls a type. Do we not see how every horse is moulded, as it were, in a per- manent type, however much the Shetland pony may differ from the Arab1? It is of no use for Physical Science to shut its ears against such speculations or to call them metaphysical dreams. Physical Science indulges in much wilder dreams when it speaks of protoplasm, of sperms and germs, of heredity, and all
THE LOGOS. 389
the rest. What is heredity but the permanence of that invisible and yet most real type which Plato called the idea ? Human reason has always revolted against ascribing what is permanent to mere accident, even to the influence of environment, to natural selec- tion, survival of the fittest, and all the rest. It demands by right a real cause, sufficient for real effects ; a rational cause, sufficient for rational effects. That cause may be invisible, yet it is visible in its effects, nor are invisible things less real than visible ones. We must postulate invisible but real types, be- cause without them their visible effects would remain inexplicable. It is easy to say that like produces like, but whence the first type "? Whence the tree before there was a tree, whence man himself, before there was man, and whence that mould in which each individual seems cast, and which no individual can burst? The presence of these types or specific forms, the presence of order and law in the visible world, seems to have struck the human mind at a- much earlier period than is commonly supposed. The Klamaths, as we saw, said that the world was thought and willed, Anaxagoras declared that there was Nous or Mind in the world.
Heraclitns.
And even before Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, after claiming fire, in its most abstract form, as the primi- tive element of all things, postulated something beside the material element, some controlling power, some force and law ; and he too called it Logos, i. e. reason or word. Vague indications of the same idea may be dis- covered in the mythological tradition of a Moira or
390 LECTURE XII.
Heiinarmene, that is Destiny, and Heraclitus actually used Heimarmene, which Anaxagoras declared to be an empty name (KCVOV ovo^a, Alex. Aphrod. de Fato, 2) as a synonym of his Logos. This is confirmed by Stobaeus, saying (Eel. i. 5, p. 178) that Heraclitus taught that the essence of Destiny was the Logos which pervades the substance of the universe. Here the Logos is what we should call law or reason, and what the ancient poets of the Veda called Rita,, the Right *. When we ask, however, what seems to us a most natural question, whose that reason was, or who was the law-giver, always acting in the fiery process of the universe, so that in all the wars and conflicts of the elements right and reason prevail, we get no answer from Heraclitus. Some scholars hold that Heraclitus took the Logos to be identical with the Fire, but to judge from certain expressions, his Logos seems rather a mode according to which the Fire acts (Kara TVV Xoyov}. Nor does it seem quite clear to me that Heraclitus would have called the individual soul a part of the Logos, instead of saying that the in- dividual soul also, as an emanation (ava6vfj.io.fr is) of the universal fire, was under the control of the Logos. It is still more difficult to say what sense Logos possessed before Heraclitus adopted it, and applied it to express the order of the universe. There is nothing to show that like later philosophers he took it in the sense of word as the embodiment of thought and reason. It probably meant no more to Heraclitus, when he adopted it for a higher purpose, than reckon- ing, rule, proportion, relation, in which sense we see it used in such words as avaXoyov, what is ava Xoyov, or as
1 M. M.'s Hibbert Lectures, p. 245.
THE LOGOS. 391
Heraclitus said, Kara \6yov, according to law. It is quite clear that the Logos of Heraclitus had not yet assumed in his mind that definite meaning of a chain of ideas connecting the First Cause with the pheno- menal world, which it presented to the Stoics and to Philo. It was as yet no more than that general reason or reasonableness which struck the eyes and the mind of man even on the lowest stage of civilisation.
Anaxagoras.
When Anaxagoras substituted Nous, Mind, for Logos, he went a step beyond, and was the first to claim some- thing of a personal character for the law that governs the world, and was supposed to have changed its raw material into a cosmos. We may be able to conceive a law without a person behind it, but Nous, Mind, takes a thinker almost for granted. Yet Anaxagoras himself never fully personified his Nous, never grafted it on a God or any higher being. Nous was with him a something like everything else, a Xpjj/xa, a thing, as he called it, though the finest and purest of all material things. In some of his utter- ances Nous was really identified with the living soul, nay, he seems to have looked upon every individual soul as participating in the universal Nous and in this universal chrema.
Socrates and Plato.
On the problem which interests us more specially, namely the relation of the Logos or Nous to man on one side and to God on the other, we gain little till we come to Aristotle and the Stoics. So- crates, if we take our idea of him from Xenophon,
392 LECTURE XII. .
retained the mythological phraseology of Greece, he spoke of many Gods, yet he believed in One God1 who rules the whole world and by whom man was created 2. This God is omnipresent, though invisible, and when Socrates speaks of the thought in all ( m/o-i? tv irapri), he seems to express the same thought as Heraclitus when speaking of the Logos, who always is alfi €&v, or as Anaxagoras when speaking of the Nous which ordered all things (SieKoV/xrjo-e itavra xp^ara) (Diog. Laert. ii. 6).
Though we may recognise in all this more or less conscious attempts to account for the presence of something beside matter in the world, to discover an invisible, possibly a divine agent or agency in making, disposing, and ruling the world, and thus to connect the phenomenal with the noumenal, the finite with the infinite, the human with the divine, yet this last deliberate step was not taken either by Socrates, or by Plato. The simple question what the Logos was with respect to the Deity, received no definite answer from these philosophers.
It is well known that what we called before the permanent types of all things were called by Plato the ideas, by the Klamaths, the thoughts, willed by the Creator. These ideas, which taken together formed what Heraclitus meant by the eternal Logos, appear in Plato's philosophy as a system, built up archi- tectonically, as the plan of the architecture of the visible universe. Plato's ideas, which correspond to our natural species and genera, become more and more
1 Sympos. viii. 9, xal yap Ztvs 6 atiroy SOKUIV tlvai iroAAcis i
lx«.
2 Xon. Mem. i. 4, 6.
THE LOGOS. 393
general till they rise to the ideas of the Good, the Just, and the Beautiful. But instead of the many ideas Plato speaks also of one general and eternal pattern of the world which, like the idea of God, is not the Creator himself, nor yet separable from him. This pattern, though eternal, is yet a creation, though an eternal creation, a world of thought prior to the world of sense1. This comes very near to the Stoic Logos, as known to Philo.
In other places Plato admits a highest idea which allows of no higher one, the last that can be known, the idea of the Good, not simply in a moral, but like- wise in a physical and metaphysical sense, the Swm- mum Bonum. This highest idea of the Good is what in religious language would be called the Supreme Being or God. But Plato, as far as I can judge, is never quite explicit in telling us what he conceived this Good to be. It is true he speaks of it as the Lord of Light (Republ. vi. 508), and he speaks of the sun as the son of the Good, whom the Good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world in relation to sight and the things of sight, what the Good is in the intel- lectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind. . . . And the soul, he continues, ' is like the eye : when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence. . . . And that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what I would have you term the Idea of Good.'
Here Plato leaves us, nor is he more explicit as to what the relation of that Idea of Good is to the other ideas, and how it can fulfil all that the old idea of
1 Jowett, Introd. to the Timaeus, p. 568.
894 LECTURE XII.
God or the Gods was meant to fulfil. Whether it was the only efficient cause of the world, or whether each of the many ideas possessed its own efficient causality, independent of the Idea of Good, is a question difficult to answer out of Plato's own mouth. Plato speaks of God and Gods, but he never says in so many words ' This, my Idea of the Good, is what you mean by Zeus.' If we asked whether this Idea of the Good was personal or not, we should receive no answer from Plato. It is important, however, to keep in mind that Plato speaks of one general and eternal pattern of the world which, like the Idea of Good, is not the Creator him- self, nor yet separable from him. This pattern, though eternal, is created, a world of thought prior to the world of sense l.
What remains dark and doubtful in Plato's system is the relation of the visible to the invisible world, of the phenomena to their ideas. The expressions which he uses as to the phenomena participating in the ideal, or the visible being a copy of the invisible, are similes and no more. In the Timaeus he becomes somewhat more explicit, and introduces his theory of the creation of the universe as a living being, and like every living being, possessed of a soul, the soul being again possessed of mind 2. This universe or Cosmos or Uranos is there represented as the offspring of God, and what is important to remark, he is called Monogenes3, the only begotten, the unigenitus, or more correctly the unicus, the unique or single, the one of his kind. The imperfections that cannot be denied
1 See Jowett, Introd. to the Tiinaeus, p. 568. * Timaeus, 30 B, ruvSt rbv Koaftov {ciiov it^\f/v\ov tvvow rt. 3 Efs o5t povoyfvtis ovpavbs ftfovuis tan ^t Kal tr' tarcu, Tim. 31 B.
THE LOGOS. 395
to exist in the world and in man are explained as due either to the Apeiron, i. e. formless matter, which re- ceives form through the ideas, or in the case of men, to the fact that their creation was entrusted to the minor deities, and did not proceed direct from the Creator. Still the soul is everywhere represented as divine, and must have been to Plato's mind a connect- ing link between the Divine and the Human, between the invisible and the visible.
Aristotle.
Aristotle is far more explicit in defining what in his philosophy is to take the place of Zeus, for it is curious to observe how all these philosophers with all their sublime ideas about the Divine, always start from their old Zeus, and speak of their new ideas as taking the place of Zeus, or of the Godhead. It was the Zeus of his childhood or his dcos which was explained by Aristotle as being really TO -nptiTov KLVOVV, the Prime Mover, possibly TO TTP&TOV etSos, the Prime Form or idea, as distinguished from fj Trpwrrj v\r], the Prime Matter. He tells us also what he considers all .the necessary qualities of this Prime Mover to be. It must be one, immoveable, unchangeable, living, intelligent, nay it must be active, i. e. thinking intelligence, intelli- gence thinking itself (77 vorjcris z/o?]o-ea>9 vorfcns, Metaphys. xi. 9, 4). The question of personality does not seem to disturb the Greek thinkers as it does us. Aris- totle's transcendent Godhead represents the oneness of the thinker and thoughts, of the knower and the known. Its relation to matter (vA^) is that of the form (et8os) subduing matter, but also that of the mover moving matter. With all this, Aristotle has
396 LECTURE XIT.
not in the end elaborated more than a transcendent Godhead, a solitary being thinking himself, some- thing not very different from what the later Valen- tinians might have called the General Silence, or what Basilides meant by the non-existent God who made the non-existent world out of non-existent materials l. This could not give any satisfaction to the religious sentiment which requires a living God, and some explanation of the dependence of the world on a divine ruler, and of the relation of the soul to a Supreme Being.
Stoics.
We have thus far examined some of the materials which were carried down the stream of Greek philosophy till they reached the hands of Philo and other Semitic thinkers who tried to reconcile them with their ancient beliefs in their own personal yet transcendent God. Before, however, we proceed further to watch the process by which these two streams, the one of Aryan, the other of Semitic thought, became united, at first in the minds of Jewish philosophers, and afterwards in the minds of Christian believers also, we have still to follow the later de- velopment of the thoughts of Plato and Aristotle in the schools of their successors, the Stoics and Neo- Platonists. We need not dwell on any of their theories, whether logical, ethical, or metaphysical, ex- cept those that touch on the relation of the finite to the infinite, the human to the divine, the ^aivo^fva to the ovra.
1 OUTCUS OIIK utv Otos titoirjat Kuafnov OVK uvra if OVK ovrtuv. (Bigg, I.e., p. 28, 31.)
THE LOGOS. 397
The Stoics required a God in the old sense of the word. They were not satisfied with the supreme idea of Plato, nor with the Prime Mover of Aristotle. Like their predecessors, they also had discovered law, order, or necessity and causation in the visible world, and they postulated a cause sufficient to account for the existence of that law and order in the phenomenal cosmos. That cause, however, with the Stoics was not transcendent, but immanent. Reason or Logos was discovered by them as present in every part of the universe, as holding the universe together ; nay it was itself considered as corporeal, and so far as it represented deity, deity also was to the Stoics some- thing corporeal, though ethereal or igneous1. Yet they placed a difference between Hyle, matter, and the Logos or Supreme Reason or God which pervaded all matter. This Logos, according to them, was not only creative (TTOIOVV), but it continued to control all things in the world. Some Stoics distinguished indeed between the Logos and Zeus, the Supreme God, but the orthodox doctrine of the Stoic school is that God and the Divine Reason in the world are the same, though they might be called by different names. The Stoics, therefore, were true pantheists. With them, as with Heraclitus, everything was full of the Gods, and they were anxious to say that this divine presence applied even to the meanest and most vulgar things, to ditches and vermin.
The Stoics, however, spoke not only of one universal Logos pervading the whole cosmos, they likewise admitted, as if in remembrance of Plato's ideas, a number of logoi, though in accordance with Aristotle's
1 Hvtvua. votpuv Kai irvpwdts. Poseidon, in Stob. Eel. i. 58.
398 LECTURE XII.
teaching they held that these logoi dwelt within, and determined all individual things (Ao'yoi IzwAot, uni- versalia in re). These logoi were called o-Trep/xartKoi or seminal, being meant to account, like the sperms, for the permanence of the type in the phenomenal world, for what with less perfect metaphor we now call inherited specific qualities.
These Logoi, whether singly or comprehended as the one universal Logos, had to account for all that was permanent in the variety of the phenomenal world. They formed a system ascending from the lowest to the highest, which was reflected in what we should call the evolution of nature. A separate position, however, was assigned to man. The human soul was supposed to have received in a direct way a portion of the universal Logos, and this constituted the intelligence or reason which man shared in com- mon with the gods. Besides this divine gift, the human soul was supposed to be endowed with speech, the five senses, and the power of reproduction. And here we meet for the first time a definite statement that speech is really the external Logos (A. TTPO^O/HKO'S), without which the internal Logos (\. eyStatferos) would be as if it were not. The word is shown to be the manifestation of reason; both are Logos, only under different aspects. The animal soul was conceived as something material, composite, and therefore perish- able, to which the Logos was imparted. Like the Vedantists, the Stoics taught that the soul would live after death, but only to the end of the world (the Kalpa), when it would be merged into the uni- versal soul. Whence that universal soul took its origin, or what it was, if different both from the
THE LOGOS. 399
Logos and from matter (vA??), we are never distinctly told. What is clear, however, is that the Stoics looked upon the Logos as eternal. In one sense the Logos was with God, and, in another, it might be said to be God. It was the Logos, the thought of God, as pervading the world, which made the world what it is, viz. a rational and intelligible cosmos ; and it was the Logos again that made man what he is, a rational and intelligent soul.
Philo's Inheritance.
You see now what a large inheritance of philo- sophical thought and philosophical language was bequeathed to men like Philo, who, in the first century before our era, being themselves steeped in Semitic thought, were suddenly touched by the in- vigorating breezes of the Hellenic spirit. Alexandria was the meeting-place of these two ancient streams of thought, and it was in its Libraries and Museum that the Jewish religion experienced its last philo- sophical revival, and that the Christian religion for the first time asserted its youthful strength against the philosophies both of the East and of the West. You will now perceive the important representative character of Philo's writings which alone allow us an insight into the historical transition of the Jewish religion from its old legendary to a new philosophical and almost Christian stage. Whether Philo personally exercised a powerful influence on the thoughts of his contemporaries, we cannot tell. But he evidently represented a powerful religious and philosophical movement, a movement which later on must have extended to many of the earliest Christian converts
400 LECTUBE XII.
at Alexandria, whether Jews or Greeks by birth and education. Of Philo's private life the only thing which concerns us is that he was a student who found his highest happiness in the study of his own religion and of the philosophical systems of the great thinkers of Greece, both ancient and modern. Born probably about 20 B.C., he died about the middle of the first century A.D. He was therefore the con- temporary of Christ, though he never mentions him.
Philo's Philosophy.
What concerns us are the salient doctrines of Philo's philosophy. Philo never surrendered his belief in Jehovah, though his Jehovah had not only been completely freed from his anthropomorphic character, but raised so high above all earthly things that he differed but little from the Platonic Godhead. Philo did not, however, believe in a creation out of nothing, but like the Stoics he admitted a Hyle, mattery or sub- stance, by the side of God, nay as coeval with God, yet not divine in its origin. Like the Apeiron, the Infinite of Anaximander, this Hyle is empty, passive, formless, nay incapable of ever receiving the whole of what the Divine Eeing could confer upon it, though it is sometimes said that all things are filled or per- vaded by God 1, and nothing left empty 2.
And yet the same God in his own essence can never, according to Philo, be brought into actual contact with matter, but he employed intermediate, and un- embodied powers (bvvdpeis), or, as we may call them,
1 As Plato said, Laws, 899, Otlav ttvai ir\rjptj mivra.
2 Tlavra fap ittirKyptOKtv u 0tus, /cat 5«d iravrtuv 5if\rj\v6tt /cat Ktvbv ovoiv ovSf fprjpov dvo\f\onrfv. Leg. alleg. I. vol. i. p. 52, iii. p. 88.
THti LOGOS. 401
Ideas, in order that each genus might take its proper form 1.
The Log-os as a Bridge between God and the World.
Nothing therefore could be more welcome to Philo than this Stoic theory of the Logos or the Logoi for bringing the transcendent Cause of the World into relation with the phenomenal world. It helped him to account for the creation of the world, and for the presence of a controlling reason in the phenomenal cosmos, and he had only to apply to the Logoi the more familiar name of Angels in order to bring his old Jewish belief into harmony with his new philo- sophical convictions. As Milman has truly remarked, ' Wherever any approximation had been made to the truth of one First' Cause, either awful religious reverence (the Jews) or philosophical abstraction (the Greeks) had removed the primal Deity entirely be- yond the sphere of human sense, and supposed that the intercourse of the Deity with men, the moral government, and even the original creation, had been carried on by intermediate agency, either in Oriental language of an emanation, or in the Platonic of the wisdom, reason, or intelligence of One Supreme.'
Philo, who combines the awful reverence of the Semitic with the philosophical sobriety of the Greek mind, holds that God in the highest sense forms to himself, first pfjill, an ideal invisible world (KO'OTAOS s, aoparos) containing the ideas of all things,
1 'E£ (Kfivrjs "yap iravT effwrjcffv 6 9e6s, obit efpairrSfjievos avr6s' ov yap ty dtpis direipov KOI irfcpvpufvrjs u\7/s if/avew TOV iSpova Kal patcapiov, dAAa rats daca^drots Swd^fatv, Siv eTvpov ovofta al ifieai, Kartxp^ffaro irpos T^ ytvos (Kaffrov T^V apfj.oTTovffav \a/3tiv nop 13, p. 261.
(4) Dd
402 LECTURE xir.
sometimes called the world of ideas, KoV/uos Ibf&v, 01 even the idea of ideas, Ibea T&V ibt&v. These ideas are the patterns, ra TiapabeiyiJ.aTa, of all things, and the power by which God conceived them is frequently called the Wisdom of God (crofyia or 677ior?7|U7]). Nay, personification and mythology creep in even into the holy of holies of philosophy, so that this most abstract Wisdom is spoken of as the Wife of God1, the Mother or Nurse of all things sensible (^JTrjp *cu ri.Qi]vr] T&V oAcdv). Yet even thus, this Mother and Nurse is not allowed to bear or suckle her own children 2. The Divine Wisdom is not allowed to come into contact with gross matter as little as God himself. That contact is brought about through the Logos, as a bond which is to unite heavenly and earthly things :; and to transfer the intellectual creation from the divine mind upon matter. This Logos is supposed to possess certain predicates, but these predicates which may be called the eternal predicates of the Godhead, — for the Logos also was originally but a predicate of the Godhead. — are soon endowed with a certain inde- pendence and personality, the most important being goodness (f) ay adores] and power (rj efoim'a). This goodness is also called the creative power (rj TTOITJTIK?; ), the other is called the royal or ruling power 8wa/iis), and while in some passages these powers of God are spoken of as God, in others they assume if not a distinct personality, yet an
1 Drummond. 1. c., ii. p. 206.
2 In some places, however, Philo forgets the supermundane character of this Sophia or Episteme, and in Do ebriet. 8. i. 361 seq., he writes : ^ 5i irapa5t(afi(VT) rd rov 6eov airtpua, rf\ta 6pois ui5f rbv novov teal dyairrjT^v aiffOyrdv vibv dirticvTjat rovdf rdv Koffpov.
3 Philo, Vit. Mos. iii. 14 ; Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 259.
THE LOGOS. 403
independent activity l. Though in many places these powers (8wd/*eis) are used as synonymous with the Logos, yet originally they were conceived as the might of divine action, while the Logos was the mode of that action.
Logos as the Son of God.
It must always be remembered that Philo allows himself great freedom in the employment of his philosophical terminology, and is constantly carried away into mythological phraseology, which after- wards becomes hardened and almost unintelligible. Thus the intellectual creation in the Divine Mind is spoken of not only as a cosmos, but as the offspring, the son of God, the first-born, the only begotten (vtos TOV Oeov, fjiovoyevi'is, -putToyovos) ; yet in other places he is called the elder son (7rpe vio's) as compared with the visible world, which is then called the younger son of God (yecorepos vlbs TOV 6eov)f or even the other God (^eurepos 0eos).
All these terms, at first purely poetical, become after a time technical, not used once or casually, but handed down as the characteristic marks of a philo- sophical school. To us they are of the greatest impor- tance as sign-posts showing the road on which certain ideas have travelled from Athens to Alexandria, till they finally reached the mind of Philo, and not of Philo only, but also of his contemporaries and successors, whether Jews, or Greeks, or Christians. Wherever we meet with the word Logos, we know that we have to deal with a word of Greek extraction. When Philo adopted that word, it could have meant for him sub-
1 Bigg, Christian Platonists, p. 13, note. D da
404 LECTURE XTT.
stantially neither more nor less than what it had meant before in the schools of Greek philosophy. Thus, when the ideal creation or the Logos had been called by Philo the only begotten or unique son (vlos fj.ovoy(vris), the son of God (uto? deov), and when that name was after- wards transferred by the author of the Fourth Gospel to Christ, what was predicated of Him can only have been in substance what was contained before in these technical terms, as used at first at Athens and after- wards at Alexandria. To the author of the Gospel, Christ was not the Logos because he was Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Mary, but because he was be- lieved to be the incarnate Word of God, in the true sense of the term. This may seem at first very strange, but it shows how sublime the conception of the Son of God, the first-born, the only one, was in the minds of those who were the first to use it, and who did not hesitate to transfer it to Him in whom they believed that the Logos had become flesh ( in whom there dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead bodily l.
It is true that Christian writers of high authority prefer to derive the first idea of the Logos, not from pagan Greece, but from Palestine, recognising its first germ in the deutero-canonical Wisdom. That Philo is steeped in Jewish thought who would deny, or who would even assert1? That the Hebrew Prophets were familiar with the idea of a Divine Word and Spirit, existing in God and proceeding from God, is likewise admitted on all sides. Thus we read in Psalm xxxiii. 6, ' By the word of the Lord were the heavens made and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth ' 1 Col. ii. 9.
THE LOGOS. 405
(nvi and "9"!J). Again, cvii. 20: 'He sent his word and healeth them ; ' civ. 30, ' Thou sendest forth thy spirit, they are created, and thou renewest the face of the earth;' cxlvii. 18, 'He sendeth out his word and melteth them.' Still, in all these passages the word and the spirit do not mean much more than the command, or communication of Jehovah. And the same applies to passages where the Divine Presence or Manifestation is called his Angel, the Angel of Jehovah. Indeed it would be difficult to say what difference there is between the Angel of Jehovah, Jehovah himself, and God, for instance in the third chapter of Exodus ; and again in Gen. xxxii, between God, the Angel, and Man. And this Angel with whom Jacob wrestled is men- tioned by so ancient a prophet as Hosea xii. 4.
All these conceptions are purely Jewish, unin- fluenced as yet by any Greek thought. What I doubt is whether any of these germs, the theophany through Angels, the hypostasis of the Word of Jehovah ('"IjiT "tt"1!), or lastly the personification of Wisdom (•""???) could by themselves have grown into what the Greek philosophers and Philo meant by Logos. Wo must never forget that Logos, when adopted by Philo, was no longer a general and undefined word. It had its technical meaning quite as much as ov ovcria, crrrAcocri?, eVoxm, deuxris. All these terms are of Greek, not of Hebrew workmanship. The roots of the Logos were from the first intellectual, those of the Angels theological, and when the Angels, whether as ministers and messengers of God, or as beings intermediate between God and men, became quickened by the thoughts of Greek philosophy, the Angels and Archangels seem to become mere names and
406 LECTURE XII.
reminiscences, and what they are truly meant for, are the ideas of the Platonists, the Logoi of the Stoics, the archetypal thoughts of God, the heavenly models of all things, the eternal seals impriiited on matter *. None of these thoughts has been proved to be Semitic.
Philo speaks distinctly of the eternal Logoi, ' which,' he says, ' it is the fashion to call Angels -.'
Wisdom or Sophia.
And as little as the belief in Angels would ever have led to the theory of the Logos or the Logoi, as a bond between the visible and the invisible world, can it be supposed that such germinal ideas as that of the Shechinah or the Glory of God, or the Wisdom of God, would by themselves and without contact with Greek thought have grown into purely philosophical conceptions, such as we find in Philo and his successors. The Semitic Wisdom that says ' I was there when He prepared the Heaven,' might possibly have led on to Philo's Sophia or Episteme which is with God before the Logos. But the Wisdom of the Proverbs is certainly not the Logos, but, if anything, the mother of the Logos 3, an almost mythological being. We know how the Semitic mind was given to represent the active manifestations of the Godhead by corresponding feminine names. This
1 'I5«u, kuyot, Tvnot, a pa~fi8es, but also Si/cd/ms, ayy(\ot, and even
\dplT(S.
'2 Philo, De Somniis, i. 19, dQavdrois \6yois, ots KaXfiv «0oj 07- •ye'Aous : ibid. i. 22, ravras Sainovas fttv ol d\\ot oi, 6 8% ifpos \6yos dyff\ovs ttwOt Ka\(iv. Ibid. i. 23, ayyf Act \6yoi Otiot.
3 De Profug. 20, p. 562, Aiori *yovta}V a «Aa^«, narpus fttv dtov, . . . (H]Tpus 5J aotpias, 81' fjs ra o\a q
THE LOGOS. 407
is very different from representing the Intelligible World (the KOO-/XOS vor^ros) as the Logos, the Word of God, the whole Thought of God, or the Idea of Ideas. Yet the two ideas, the Semitic and the Greek, were somehow brought together, or rather forced together, as when we see how Philo represents Wisdom, the virgin daughter of God (Bethuel), as herself the Father, begetting intelligence and the soul 1. Nay, he goes on to say that though the name of Wisdom is feminine, its nature is masculine. All virtues have the titles of women, but the powers and actions of
men Hence Wisdom, the daughter of God, is
masculine and a father, generating in souls learning and instruction and science and prudence, beautiful and laudable actions 2. In this process of blending Jewish and Greek thought, the Greek elements in the end always prevailed over the Jewish, the Logos was stronger than the Sophia, and the Logos remained the First-born, the only begotten Son of God, though not yet in a Christian sense. Yet, when in later times we see Clement of Alexandria speak of the divine and royal Logos (Strom, v. 14), as the image of God, and of human reason as the image of that image, which dwells in man and unites man with God, can we doubt that all this is Greek thought, but thinly disguised under Jewish imagery? This Jewish imagery breaks forth once more when the Logos is represented as the High Priest, as a mediator standing between humanity and the Godhead. Thus Philo makes the High Priest say : ' I stand between the Lord and you, I who am neither uncreated like
1 Bigg, I.e., p. 16, note ; p. 213.
2 Philo, De Prof., 9. (1, 553).
408 LECTURE XII.
God, nor created like you, but a mean between two extremes, a hostage to either side l.
Is it possible that the injunction that the High Priest should not rend his clothes which are the visible cosmos (De Profugis, § 20), suggested the idea that the coat of Christ which was without seam woven from the top throughout, should not be rent, so that both the Messianic and the Philonic pro- phecies were fulfilled at the same time and in the same manner 2 ?
To the educated among the Rabbis who argued with Christ or his disciples at Jerusalem, the Logos was probably as well known as to Philo ; nay, if Philo had lived at Jerusalem he would have found little difficulty in recognising a Oelos Ao'yos in Christ, as he had recognised it in Abraham and in Moses3. If Jews could bring themselves to recognise their Messiah in Jesus of Nazareth, why should not a Greek have discovered in Him the fulness of the Divine Logos, i.e. the realisation of the perfect idea of the Son of God ?
It may be quite true that all this applies to a small number only, and that the great bulk of the Jews were beyond the reach of such arguments. Still, enlightened Jews like Philo were not only tolerated, but were honoured by their co-religionists at Alexandria. It was recognised that to know God or Jehovah, as He was represented in the Old Testa- ment, was sufficient for a life of faith, hope, discipline
1 Bigg, I.e., p. 20.
2 The words used in the N. T. \ITUV vQavrbs St' o\ov remind one of Philo, De Monarch, ii. § 56, oAor Si' o\ov vaicivOivos.
3 Leg. Alleg. III. 77. (i. 180). Philo does not seem as yet to have identified the Logos with the Messiah.
THE LOGOS. 409
and effort ; but to know God in the soul, as Philo knew Him, was considered wisdom, vision, and peace. Philo, however vague and uncertain some of his thoughts may be, is quite distinct and definite when he speaks of the Logos as the Divine Thought which, like a seal, is stamped upon matter and likewise on the mortal soul. Nothing in the whole world is to him more Godlike than man, who was formed according to the image of God (/car' ei/co'ya deov, Gen. i. 27), for, as the Logos is an image of God, human reason is the image of the Logos. But we must distinguish here too between man as part of the intelligible, and man as part of the visible world. The former is the perfect seal, the^ perfect idea or ideal of manhood, the latter its more or less imperfect multiplication in each individual man. There is therefore no higher conception of manhood possible than that of the ideal son, or of the idea of the son, realised in the flesh. No doubt this was a bold step, yet it was not bolder on the part of the author of the Fourth Gospel, than when Philo recognised in Abraham and others sons adopted of the Father l. It was indeed that step which changed both the Jew and the Gentile into a Christian, and it was this very step which Celsus, from his point of view, declared to be impossible for any true philosopher, and which gave particular offence to those who, under Gnostic influences, had come to regard the flesh, the o-dp£, as the source of all evil.
Uonogengs, the Only Begotten.
We tried before to trace the word Logos back as far
1 Sobriet. 11 (1, 401), ytyovus (lanotijTos avry fj.6vos vlos.
410 LECTURE XII.
as Anaxagoras and Heraclitus ; we can trace the term povoyevris nearly as far. It occurs in a fragment of Parmenides, quoted above (p. 333), as an epithet of the Supreme Being, TO ov, where it was meant to show that this Supreme Being can be only one of its kind, and that it would cease to be what it is meant to be if there were another. Here the idea of -yevrjs, meaning begotten, is quite excluded. The same word is used again by Plato in the Timaeus, where he applies it to the visible world, which he calls a (uov opardv ra opera Trepie'xoy, an animate thing visible and comprehending all things visible, the image of its maker, a sensible God, the greatest and best, the fairest and most perfect, this one world (ouranos) Monogenes, unique of its kind l.
And why did Plato use that word monogenes 1 He tells us himself (Timaeus 31). 'Are we right in saying,' he writes, ' that there is one world (ouranos), or shall we rather say that there are many and infinite ? There is one, if the created universe accords with the original. For that which includes all other intelligible creatures cannot have a second for companion ; in that case there would be need of another living being which would include these two, and of which they would be parts, and the likeness would be more truly said to resemble not those two, but that other which includes them. In order then that the world may be like the perfect animate Being in unity, he who made the world (cosmos), made Him not two or infinite in number, but there is and ever will be one only, beotten and created.'
1 Tim. 02 C, o8f >'> «o Kwv rov noirjrov, Otos aiaOrjTvs, fieytoros xai aptaros KaAAtoTos T« «ai
THE LOGOS. 411
If applied to the begotten or visible world, mono- genes might have been and was translated the only begotten, unigenitus, but its true meaning was here also ' the one of its kind.' Here, then, in these abstruse Platonic speculations we have to discover the first germs of Monogenes, the only begotten of the Father, which the old Latin translations render more correctly by unicus than by unigenitus. Here, in this intel- lectual mint, the metal was melted and coined which both Philo and the author of the Fourth Gospel used for their own purposes. It is quite true that mono- genes occurs in the Greek translation of the Old Testa- ment also, but what does it mean there "? It is applied to Sarah, as the only daughter of her father, and to Tobit and Sarah, as the only children of their parents. There was no necessity in cases of that kind to lay any stress on the fact that the children were begotten. The word here means nothing but an only child, or the only children of their parents. In one passage however, in the Book of Wisdom (vii. 22), mono- genes has something of its peculiar philosophical meaning, when it is said that in Wisdom there is a spirit intelligent, holy, monogenes, manifold, subtle, and versatile. In the New Testament, also, when we read (Luke viii. 42) that a man had one only daughter, the meaning is clear and simple, and very different from its technical meaning in vios fj-ovoyevris as the recognised name of the Logos. So recognised was this name, that when Valentinus speaks of 'O Moyoyezn/s by himself we know that he can only mean the Logos, or Nous, the Mind, with him the offspring of the ineffable Depth or Silence (Bv66$), which alone embraced the greatness of the First Father, itself the father and
412 LECTURE XII.
beginning of all things. Even so late as the Synod of Antioch (269 A.D.) we can still perceive very clearly the echo of the philosophical language of the Judaeo- Alexandrian school. In their Confession of Faith they confess and proclaim the Son as ' begotten, an only Son (yfvvrjTov, viov fj-ovo-yfi 77), the image of the unseen God, the first-born of all creation, the Wisdom and Word and Power of God, who was before the ages, not by foreknowledge, but by essence and subsistence, God, son of God.'
Philo, of course, always uses the only begotten Son (utos /jioyoyeznjs) in its philosophical sense as the Thought of God, realised and rendered visible in the world, whether by an act of creation or by way of emanation. He clearly distinguishes the Supreme Being and the God, TO ov, from the Thought or Word of that Being, the Aoyos TOV OVTOS. This Logos comprehends a number of logoi'1 which Philo might equally well have called ideas in the Platonic sense. In fact he does so occa- sionally, as when he calls the Logos of God the idea of all ideas (idea T&V ibf&v, 6 6tov Ao'yos). Whether this Logos became ever personified with him, is difficult to say; I have found no passage which would prove this authoritatively. But the irresistible mytho- logical tendency of language shows itself everywhere. When Philo speaks of the Logos as the first-born (-rrpcoro'yoyos), or as the unique son (vibs jiovoyevTjy), this need be no more as yet than metaphorical language. But metaphor soon becomes hardened into myth. When we speak of our own thoughts, we may call them the offspring of our mind, but very soon they may be spoken of as flying away, as dwelling with our friends,
1 Drummoiid, I.e., ii. p. 217.
THE LOGOS. 413
as having wings like angels. The same happened to the Logoi and the Logos, as the thought of God. His activities became agents, and these agents, as we shall see, soon became angels.
What is more difficult to understand is what Philo means when he recognises the Logos in such men as Abraham, Melchizedek, or Moses. He cannot possibly mean that they represent the whole of the Logos, for the whole of the Logos, according to Philo's philosophy, is realised twice only, once in the noumenal, and again, less perfectly, in the phenomenal world. In the phe- nomenal world in which Abraham lived, he could be but one only of the many individuals representing the logos or the idea of man, and his being taken as repre- senting the Logos could mean no more than that he was a perfect realisation of what the logos of man was meant to be, or that the full measure of the logos as divine reason dwelt in him, as light and as the rebuking conscience J. Here too we must learn, what we have often to learn in studying the history of religion and philosophy, that when we have to deal with thoughts not fully elaborated and cleared, it is a mistake to try to represent them as clearer than they were when left to us by their authors.
Restricting ourselves, however, to the technical terms used by Philo and others, I think we may safely say that whosoever employs the phrase vlos povoyevi/is, the only begotten Son, be he Philo, or the author of the Fourth Gospel, or St. Clement, or Origen, uses ancient Greek language and thought, and means by them what they originally meant in Greek.
Philo was satisfied with having found in the
1 Drummond, I.e., ii. pp. 210 ; 225 seq.
414 LECTURE XTI.
Greek Logos what he and many with him were looking for, the bridge between the Human and the Divine, which had been broken in religion by the inapproachableness of Jehovah, and in philo- sophy by the incompatibility between the Absolute Being and the phenomenal world. He does not often dwell on ecstatic visions which are supposed to enable the soul to see and feel the presence of God. In a beautiful allegory of Jacob's dream, he says : ' This is an image of the soul starting up from the sleep of indifference, learning that the world is full of God, a temple of God. The soul has to rise,' he says, ' from the sensible world to the spiritual world of ideas, till it attains to knowledge of God, which is vision or communion of the soul with God, attainable only by the purest, and by them but rarely, that is in moments of ecstasy.'
It is clear that this current which carried Hellenic ideas into a Jewish stream of thought, was not confined to the Jews of Alexandria, but reached Jerusalem and other towns inhabited by educated Jews. Much has been written as to whether the author of the Fourth Gospel borrowed his doctrine of the incarnate Logos directly from Philo. It seems to me a question which it is almost impossible to answer either way. Dr. Westcott, whose authority is deservedly high, does not seem inclined to admit a direct influence. Even Professor Harnack (I.e. i. p. 85) thinks that the Logos of St. John has little more than its name in common with the Logos of Philo. But no one can doubt that the same general current through which the name of Logos and all that it implies, reached Philo and the Jews, must have reached the author of the Johannean
THE LOGOS. 415
Gospel also. Such words as Logos and Logos mono- genes are historical facts, and exist once and once only. Whoever wrote the beginning of that Gospel must have been in touch with Greek and Judaeo-Alex- andrian philosophy, and must have formed his view of God and the world under that inspiration. In the eyes of the historian, and still more of the student of language, this seems to be beyond the reach of doubt, quite as much as that whoever speaks of ' the cate- gorical imperative ' has been directly pr indirectly in contact with Kant.
The early Christians were quite aware that their pagan opponents charged them with having borrowed their philosophy from Plato and Aristotle l. Nor was there any reason why this should have been denied. Truth may safely be borrowed from all quarters, and it is not the less true because it has been borrowed. But the early Christians were very angry at this charge, and brought the same against their Greek critics. They called Plato an Attic Moses, and accused him of having stolen his wisdom from the Bible. Whoever was . right in these recrimina- tions, they show at all events the close relations which existed between the Greeks and Christians in the early days of the new Gospel, and this is the only thing important to us as historians.
We cannot speak with the same certainty with regard to other more or less technical terms applied to the Logos by Philo, such as TTpuToyovos, the first- born, etKO)i> deov, the likeness of God, avdpa-nos 6eov, the man of God, TrapdSetyjua, the pattern. a-Ktd, the shadow, and more particularly apx 1 Bigg, Christian Platonists, pp. 5 seq.
416 LECTURE XII.
priest, TrapdK\r]Tos, the intercessor1, &c. But the im- portant point is that all these names, more or less technical, were known to Philo, long before they were used by Christian writers, that the ideas contained in them were of ante-Christian origin, and if accepted by the followers of Christ, could at first have been accepted by them in their antecedent meaning only. Nay, may we now go a step further, and say that, unless these words had been used in their peculiar meaning by Philo and by his predecessors and contemporaries, we should never have heard of them in Christian literature? Is not this the strongest proof that nothing of the best thought of the Greek and of the Jewish world was entirely lost, and that Christianity came indeed in the fulness of time to blend the pure metal that had been brought to light by the toil of centuries in the East and in the West into a new and stronger metal, the religion of Christ 1 If we read the beginning of the Fourth Gospel, almost every other word and thought seems to be of Greek workmanship. I put the words most likely to be of Greek rather than Jewish origin in italics : — In the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God2. All things were made by him. In him was life, and the life was the light 3 of the world. It was the true light which lighteth every man. And the Word was made flesh — and we behold his glory 4 as of the only begotten of the Father. No one hath seen God at any time ; the only begotten
1 Hatch, Essays on Biblical Greek, p. 82.
s The same amphiboly exists in Philo, see before, p. 398.
3 The ws of Plato, Republ. vi. 508, and of Philo, De Somn. i. 18, p. 632, trpwrov piv 6 9(fa
4 The 56£ a of Philo.
THE LOGOS. 417
Son, which is in the bosom of the Fathei, he has declared him V
We have thus seen how the Jews, with whom the gulf between the invisible and the visible world had probably become wider than with any other people, succeeded nevertheless, nay possibly on that very account, in drawing the bonds between God and man as closely together as they can be drawn, and that they did so chiefly with the help of inspiration received from Greek philosophy. God before the creation was, according to Philo, sufficient for Himself, and even after the creation He remained the same (De mut. nom. 5, p. 585). When Philo calls Him the creator (KTIOTTJS), the Demiurgos, and the Father, he does this under certain well-understood limitations. God does not create directly, but only through the Logos and the Powers. The Logos, therefore, the thought of God, was the bond that united heaven and earth, and through it God could be addressed once more as the Father, in a truer sense than He had ever been before. The world and all that was within it was recognised as the true Son, sprung from the Father, yet inseparable from the Father. The world was once more full of God, and yet in His highest nature God was above the world, unspotted from the world, eternal and unchangeable.
The one point in Philo's philosophy which seems to me not clearly reasoned out is the exact relation of
1 "Ev apx'Q TJV 6 Xoyos, Kal 6 Aoyos TJV irpos TOV 0eov, Kai 6 ©tos TJV 6 Ao-yos. IldvTa 8u' aurov iyivtro' kv avry £0177 %v, teat r) £OJT) TJV TO tos TCJV dvOptoTrcov rfv TO s To1 dXtjOtvof, 8 (OTi£ei -iravTa av0pcoirov. Kal 6 \6yos s p.ovoY€voOs -rrapa -mrrpos. vtos, u &v els TOV x6\Ttov TOV waTpoy. txfivos (4) Ee
418 LECTURE XII.
the individual soul to God1. Here the thoughts of the Old Testament seem to clash in Philo's mind with the teachings of his Greek masters, and to confuse what may be called his psychology. That Philo looked upon human nature as twofold, as a mixture of body and soul (a-S>^a and ^/VXT/) is clear enough. The body made of the elements is the abode, the temple, but also the tomb of the soul. The body is generally conceived as an evil, it is even called a corpse which we have to carry about with us through life. It includes the senses and the passions arising from the pleasures of the senses, and is therefore considered as the source of all evil. We should have expected that Philo, the philosopher, would have treated man as part of the manifold Divine Logos, and that the imperfection of his nature would have been accounted for, like all imper- fections in nature, by the incomplete ascendancy of the Logos over matter. But here the Old Testament doc- trine comes in that God breathed into man's nostrils the breath of life and man became a living soul. On the strength of this, Philo recognises the eternal element of the soul in the divine spirit in man (TO Otlov Trvevp.a). while Soul (^ux??) nas generally with him a far wider meaning. It comprehends all conscious life, and therefore sensation also (aio-0j? would seem to be peculiar to the flesh ( The soul is often subdivided by Philo, according to Plato's division, into three parts, which may be rendered approximately by reason (vovs KOL Xo'yos), spirit (Ovpos), and appetite (e7ri0u/u'a). Sometimes perception (aio-^rjo-ts), language (A.o'yos), and mind
1 See an excellent paper by Dr. Hatch, ' Psychological Terms in Philo,' in Essays in Biblical Greek, pp. 109-130.
THE LOGOS. 419
ws) are said to be the three instruments, of know- ledge (De Congr. erud. gr. 18, p. 533). Then again each part is divided into two, making six, while the seventh, or he who divides them, is called the holy and divine Logos (6 lepos /cat 0eTos Xo'yos). In other places Philo adopts the Stoical division of the soul into seven parts, that is, the five senses, speech, and the reproductive power, but a separate place is reserved for the sovereign or thinking part (TO ^ye^oriKoV, i. e. 6 vovs), and it is said that God breathed His spirit into that only, but not into the soul as the assemblage of the senses, speech and generative power. Hence one part of the soul, the unintelligent (aXoyov), is ascribed to the blood (al/xa), the other to the divine spirit (TTZW/XO Oclov) ; one is perishable, the other immortal. The immortal part was the work of God Himself, the perishable (as in Plato), that of subordinate powers. What has been well brought out by Philo, is that the senses, which in man are always accompanied by thought, are by themselves passive and dull, and could present images of present things only, not of past (memory) or of future things (i>o£s). It is not the eye that sees, but the mind (vovs) sees through the eye, and without the mind nothing would remain of the impressions made on the senses. Philo also shows how the passions and desires are really the result of perception (cuo-tfrjo-is), and its accompanying pleasures and pains that war against the mind, and he speaks of the death of the soul, when overcome by the passions. This, however, can be metaphorical only, for the higher portion of the soul or the divine spirit breathed into man by God cannot perish. This divine spirit, a conception, it would seem, not of Greek origin,
E e a
420 LECTURE XII.
is sometimes spoken of by the Stoic term but Philo carefully guards against the supposition that any portion could ever be detached from the Supreme Divine Being. He explains it as an expansion from God, and calls the mind (i>ous) which it confers on the soul of man, the nearest image and likeness of the eternal and blessed Idea.
We must not however expect a strictly consistent terminology in Philo, nor allow ourselves to be misled when we sometimes find him using mind or nous in the more general sense of soul (^vxn)- What is important to us is that when it is necessary, he does distinguish between the two. But even then he hesitates between the philosophical opinion of the Stoics, that the mind after all is material, though not made of the four ordinary elements, but of a fifth, the heavenly ether, and the teaching of Moses that it was the image of the Divine and the Invisible 1.
But even if the soul is conceived as material, or at all events, as ethereal, it is declared to be of heavenly origin, and believed to return to the pure ether as to a father 2.
If, on the contrary, the mind is conceived as the breath (irvev^a) of God, then it returns to God, or rather it was never separated from God, but only dwelt in man. And here again the Biblical idea comes in, that some chosen men such as prophets are
1 De plantat. Noe, 5 (1, 332) : Of n\v a\\ot TTJS aiOfpiov (piiatei* TOV •fjntTfpov vow fiotpav (IrTofTfS tlvat, ffvyytvdav avOpunry irpbs aWtpa avfjif/av' o Si (ttyas Jilwvarjs ovSfvl ru/v •yt-yoi'oTojj' TTJJ \oyucijs fax*)* T" tlSos b^o'iais uv6na.otv, a\\' ilntv avTtjv rov Otiov Kal aopdrov (iKuva.
* Quis rer. divin. heres, 67 (1,614N : To 5« votpov KCU ovpaviov rijs iff vxvf "f*vos irpos aldfpa. rbv Ka.OapwTa.Tov ws irpbs irartp
THE LOGOS. 421
full of the divine spirit, and different so far from ordinary mortals.
Yet with all his admiration for the Logos as of divine origin, Philo seldom went so far as the Platonists. He never allowed that the soul even in its highest ecstasy could actually see God, as little, he says, as the soul can see itself (De Mut. nom. 2, p. 579). But in every other respect Reason was to him the supreme power in the world and in the human mind. If therefore an Alexandrian philosopher, familiar with Philo's philo- sophy and terminology, became a Christian, he really raised Christ to the highest position, short of primary Divinity, which he could conceive. He declared ipso facto his belief that the Divine Logos or the Word was made flesh in Christ, that is to say, he recognised in Christ the full realisation of the divine idea of man, and he claimed at the same time for himself and for all true Christians the power to become the sons of God. This was expressed in unmistakable language by Athanasius, when he said that the Logos, the Word of God, became man that we might be made God, and again by St. Augustine, Factus est Deus homo, ut homo fieret Deus1. Whatever we may think of these speculations, we may, I believe, as historians recognise in them a correct account of the religious and intellectual ferment in the minds of the earliest Greek and Jewish converts to Christianity, who, with- out breaking with their philosophical convictions, embraced with perfect honesty the religion of Christ. Three important points were gained by this combina- tion of their ancient philosophy with their new re-
1 See the remarks of Cusanus, in Diir's Nicolaus Cusanus, vol. ii. p. 347.
422 LECTURE XII.
ligion, the sense of the closest relationship between human and divine nature, the pre-eminent position of Christ as the Son of God, in the truest sense, and at the same time the potential brotherhood between Him and all mankind.
How far this interpretation- of the Logos, as we find it not only in Philo, but among the earliest converts to Christianity, may be called orthodox, is not a question that concerns the historian. The word orthodox does not exist in his dictionary. There is probably no term which has received so many inter- pretations at the hands of theologians as that of Logos, and no verse in the New Testament which conveys so little meaning to modern readers as the first in the Gospel of St. John. Theologians are at liberty to interpret it, each according to his own predilection, but the historical student has no choice ; he must take every word in the sense in which it was used at the time by those who used it.
Jupiter as Son of God.
That the intellectual process by which the Greek philosophy adapted itself to the teaching of Christi- anity was in accordance with the spirit of the time, is best shown by an analogous process which led Neo- Platonist philosophers to discover their philosophical theories in their own ancient mythology also. Thus Plotinus speaks of the Supreme God generating a beautiful son, and producing all things in his essence without any labour or fatigue. For this deity being delighted with his work, and loving his offspring, continues and connects all things with himself, pleased both with himself and with the splendours his off-
THE LOGOS. 423
spring exhibits. But since all these are beautiful, and those which remain are still more beautiful, Jupiter, the son of intellect, alone shines forth externally, proceeding from the splendid retreats of his father. From which last son we may behold as an image the greatness of his Sire, and of his brethren, those divine ideas that abide in occult union with their father l.
Here we see that Jupiter, originally the Father of Gods and men, has to yield his place to the Supreme Being, and as a phenomenal God to take the place of the son of God, or as the Logos. This is Greek philosophy trying to pervade and quicken the ancient Greek religion, as we saw it trying to be reconciled with the doctrines of Christianity by recognising the divine ideal of perfection and goodness as realised in Christ, and as to be realised in time by all who are to become the sons of God. The key-note of all these aspirations is the same, a growing belief that the human soul comes from God and returns to God, nay that in strict philosophical language it was never torn away (avocnrao pa) from God, that the bridge between man and God was never broken, but was only rendered invisible for a time by the darkness of passions and desires engendered by the senses and the flesh.
1 Plotinus, Enneads, II ; Taylor, Platonic Religion, p. 263.
LECTURE XIII.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. Stoics and Neo-Platonists.
T TRIED to show iii my last lecture how Philo, • as the representative of an important historical phase of Jewish thought, endeavoured with the help of Greek, and more particularly of Stoic philosophy, to throw a bridge from earth to heaven, and how he succeeded in discovering that like two countries, now separated by a shallow ocean, these two worlds formed originally but one undivided continent. When the original oneness of earth and heaven, of the human and the divine natures has once been dis- covered, the question of the return of the soul to God assumes a new character. It is no longer a question of an ascension to heaven, an approach to the throne of God, an ecstatic vision of God and a life in a heavenly Paradise. The vision of God is rather the knowledge of the divine element in the soul, and of the consubstantiality of the divine and human natures. Immortality has no longer to be asserted, because there can be no death for what is divine and therefore immortal in man. There is life eternal and peace eternal for all who feel the
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 425
divine Spirit as dwelling within them and have thus become the true children of God. Philo has not entirely freed himself from the popular eschato- logical terminology. He speaks of the city of God and of a mystical Jerusalem. But these need not be more than poetical expressions for that peace of God which passes all names and a'll understanding.
Anyhow the eschatological language of Philo is far more simple and sober than what we meet with even in Christian writings of the time, in which the spirit of the Neo-Platonist philosophy has been at work by the side of the more moderate traditions of the Jewish and the Stoic schools of thought. The chief difference between the Neo-Platonists and the Stoics is that the Neo-Platonists, whether Christian or pagan, trust more to sentiment than to reasoning. Hence they rely much more on ecstatic visions than Philo and his Stoic friends. On many other points, however, more particularly on the original relation between the soul and God, there is little difference between the two.
Plotinns.
Plotinus, the chief representative of Neo-Platonism at Alexandria, though separated by two centuries from Philo, may be called an indirect descendant of that Jewish philosopher. He is said to have had intercourse with Numenius, who followed in the steps of Philo1. But Plotinus went far beyond Philo. His idealism was carried to the furthest extreme. While the Stoics were satisfied with knowing that God is,
1 Porphyrius had to write a book to prove that Plotinus was not a mere borrower from Numenius.
426 LECTURE XIII.
and with discovering his image in the ideas of the invisible, and in the manifold species of the visible world, the Neo-Platonists looked upon the incom- prehensible and unmanifested Godhead as the highest goal of their aspirations, nay, as a possible object of their enraptured vision. When the Stoic keeps at a reverent distance, the Neo-Platonist rushes in with passionate love, and allows himself to indulge in dreams and fancies which in the end could only lead to self-deceit and imposture. The Stoics looking upon God as the cause of all that falls within the sensuous and intellectual experience of man, concluded that He could not be anything of what is effect, and that He could have no attributes (cnrotos) through which He might be known and named. God with them was simple, without qualities, inconceivable, unnameable. From an ethical point of view Philo admitted that the human soul should strive to become free from the body (^vyr; ex TOV o-oj/xaros) and like unto God (fj irpbs Ocov C^O/UOUOCTIS). He even speaks of CVOHTI?, union, but he never speaks of those more or less sensuous, ecstatic, and beatific visions of the Deity which form a chief topic of the Neo-Platonists. These so-called descendants of Plato had borrowed much from the Stoics, but with all that, the religious elements predominated so completely in their philo- sophy that at times the old metaphysical foundation almost disappeared. While reason and what is rational in the phenomenal world formed the chief subject of Stoic thought, the chief interest of the Neo-Platonists was centered in what is beyond reason. It may be said that to a certain extent Philo's Stoicism pointed already in that direction, for his God also was
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 427
conceived as above the Logos, and his essence remained unknown ; yet knowledge of the existence of God and likeness to Him were the highest goal, and refuge with Him was eternal life1. It has therefore been truly said that the Neo-Platonist differs from the Stoic by temperament rather than by argument.
The Neo-Platonist, like the Stoic, believes in a Primal Being, and in an ideal world (vovs, KOO-^OS vorjros), as the prototype of the phenomenal world (KOO-/XOS dparo's). The soul is to him also of divine origin. It is the image of the eternal Nous, an immaterial substance, stand- ing between the Nous and the visible world. The more the soul falls away from its source, the more it falls under the power of what we should call matter, the indefinite (cnreipoz;), and the unreal (TO //?) oA It is here that philosophy steps in to teach the soul its way back to its real home. This is achieved by the practice of virtues, from the lowest to the highest, sometimes by a very strict ascetic discipline. In the end, however, neither knowledge nor virtue avail. Complete self-forgetfulness only can lead the soul to the Godhead in whose embrace there is ineffable blessedness. Thus when speaking of the absorption of man in the Absolute, Plotinus said: 'Perhaps it cannot even be called an intuition 2 ; it is another kind of seeing, an ecstasy, a simplification, an exalta- tion, a striving for contact, and a rest. It is the highest yearning for union, in order to see, if possible, what there is in the holiest of the temple. But even if one could see, there would be nothing to sec. By such similitudes the wise prophets try to give a hint how the Deity might be perceived, and the wise
1 De Prof. 15 (1, 557). 2 Tholuck, Morgenlandische Mystik, p. 5.
428 LECTURE XIII.
priest, who understands the hint may really, if he reaches the holiest, obtain a true intuition.' These intuitions, in which nothing could be seen, were naturally treated as secrets, and the idea of mystery, so foreign to all true philosophy, became more and more prevalent. Thus Plotinus himself says that these are doctrines which should be considered as mysteries, and should not be brought before the un- initiated. Proclus also says, 'As the Mystae in the holiest of their initiations (reAe'rai) meet first with a multiform and manifold race of gods, but when entered into the sanctuary and surrounded by holy ceremonies, receive at once divine illumination in their bosom, and like lightly-armed warriors take quick possession of the Divine, the same thing happens at the intuition of the One and All. If the soul looks to what is behind, it sees the shadows and illusions only of what is. If it turns into its own essence and discovers its own relations, it sees itself only, but if penetrating more deeply into the know- ledge of itself, it discovers the spirit in itself and in all orders of things. And if it reaches into its inmost recess, as it were into the Adyton of the soul, it can see the race of gods and the unities of all things even with closed eyes.'
Plotinus and his school seem to have paid great attention to foreign, particularly to Eastern religions and superstitions, and endeavoured to discover in all of them remnants of divine wisdom. They even wished to preserve and to revive the religion of the Roman Empire. Claiming revelation for themselves, the Neo- Platonists were all the more ready to accept divine reve- lations from other religions also, and to unite them all
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 429
into a universal religion. But what we mean by an historical and critical study of other religions was impossible at that time. While Philo with his unwaver- ing adherence to the Jewish faith was satisfied with allegorising whatever in the Old Testament seemed to him incompatible with his philosophical convic- tions, the Neo-Platonists accepted everything that seemed compatible with their own mystic dreams, and opened the door wide to superstitions even of the lowest kind. It is strange, however, that Plotinus does not seem to have paid much attention to the Christian religion which was then rapidly gaining influence in Alexandria. But his pupils, Amelius and Porphyrius, both deal with it. Amelius dis- cussed the Fourth Gospel. Porphyrius wrote his work in fifteen books against the Christians, more particularly against their Sacred Books, which he calls the works of ignorant people and impostors. Yet no sect or school counted so many decepti decep- tores as that of the Neo-Platonists. Magic, thauma- turgy, levitation, faith-cures, thought-reading, spirit- ism, and every kind of pious fraud were practised by impostors who travelled about from place to place, some with large followings. Their influence was widely spread and most mischievous. Still we must not forget that the same Neo-Platonism counted among its teachers and believers such names also as the Emperor Julian (331-363), who thought Neo- Platonism strong enough to oust Christianity and to revive the ancient religion of Rome ; also, for a time at least, St. Augustine (35 i-430), Hypatia, the beautiful martyr of philosophy (d. 415), and Proclus (411-485), the connecting link between Greek philosophy and
430 LECTURE XTTT.
the scholastic philosophy of the middle ages, and with Dionysius one of the chief authorities of the mediaeval Mystics. Through Proclus the best thoughts of the Stoics, of Aristotle, Plato, nay, of the still more ancient philosophers of Greece, such as Anaxagoras and Hera- clitus, were handed on to the greatest scholastic and mystic Doctors in the mediaeval Church ; nay, there are currents in our own modern theology, which can be traced back through an uninterrupted channel to impulses springing from the brains of the earliest thinkers of Asia Minor and Greece.
Before we leave Plotinus and the Neo-Platonists I should like to read you some extracts from a private letter which the philosopher wrote to Flaccus. Like most private letters it gives us a better insight into the innermost thoughts of the writer, and into what he considered the most important points of his philo- sophical system than any more elaborate book.
Letter from Flotiivns to Flaccus.
' External objects,' he writes, 'present us only with appearances,' that is to say, are phenomenal only. Concerning them, therefore, we may be said to possess opinion rather than knowledge. The distinctions in the actual world of appearance are of import only to ordinary and practical men. Our question lies with the ideal reality that exists behind appearance. How does the mind perceive these ideas ? Are they without us, and is the reason, like sensation, occupied with objects external to itself? What certainty could we then have, what assurance that our perception was infallible1? The object perceived would be a some- thing different from the mind perceiving it. We
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 431
should have then an image instead of reality. It would be monstrous to believe for a moment that the mind was unable to perceive ideal truth exactly as it is, and that we had no certainty and real know- ledge concerning the world of intelligence. It follows, therefore, that this region of truth is not to be investi- gated as a thing outward to us, and so only imperfectly known. It is within us. Here the objects we con- template and that which contemplates are identical — both are thought. The subject cannot surely know an object different from itself l.
The world of ideas lies within our intelligence. ^ Truth, therefore, is not the agreement of our appre- hension of an external object with the object itself. It is the agreement of the mind with itself. Con- sciousness, therefore, is the sole basis of certainty. The mind is its own witness. Reason sees in itself that which is above itself as its source ; and again, that which is below itself as still itself once more.
Knowledge has three degrees — opinion, science, illu- mination. The means or instrument of the first is sense ; of the second, reason or dialectics ; of the third, intuition. To the last I subordinate reason. It is abso- lute knowledge founded on the identity of the mind knowing with the object known. There is a raying out of all orders of existence, an external emanation from the ineffable One (irpoobos). There is again a returning impulse, drawing all upwards and inwards toward the centre from whence all came
1 Plotinus, Enneades, 1, 6, 9, TO fap opwv irpbs TO opd>/j.fvov xal O/J.OIGV •notrjaa.fj.tvov 5ef eTTi@d\\tiv rrj Ota. ov yap ar iruiroTf 6(f>9a\fjids ijKiov ^XioeiSris /M) f(y(vr)/j.(vos, ov8% TO KO.\OV fie 1001 Ka\rj ffvofitvr). yeveoOca 8r) Trpwrov 0fO(t8r)s Tra?, /mi «aAoj Tray, ft OtaaaaOai 6
432 LECTURE XIII.
Love, as Plato beautifully says in the Symposion, is the child of poverty and plenty. In the amorous quest of the soul after God, lies the painful sense of fall and deprivation. But that love is blessing, is salvation, is our guardian genius ; without it the centrifugal law would overpower us, and sweep our souls out far from their source toward the cold ex- tremities of the material and the manifold. The wise man recognises the idea of God within him. This he develops by withdrawal into the Holy Place of his own soul. He who does not understand how the soul contains the Beautiful within itself, seeks to realise the beauty without, by laborious production. His aim should rather be to concentrate and simplify, and so to expand his being ; instead of going out into the manifold, to forsake it for the One, and so to float upwards towards the divine fount of being whose stream flows within him.
You ask, how can we know the Infinite1? I answer, not by reason. It is the office of reason to distin- guish and define. The Infinite, therefore, cannot be ranked among its objects. You can only apprehend the Infinite by a faculty superior to reason, by entering into a state in which you are your finite self no longer, in which the Divine Essence is communi- cated to you. This is ecstasy. It is the liberation of your mind from its finite anxieties. Like only can apprehend like. When you thus cease to be finite, you become one with the Infinite. In the reduction of your soul to its simplest self (aTrAooms), its divine essence, you realise this Union, nay this Identity
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 433
Ecstatic Intuition.
Plotinus adds that this ecstatic state is not frequent, that he himself has realised it but three times in his life. There are different ways leading to it : — the love of beauty which exalts the poet; devotion to the One, and the ascent of science which makes the ambition of the philosopher ; and lastly love and prayers by which some devout and ardent soul tends in its moral purity towards perfection. We should call these three the Beautiful, the True, and the Divine, the three great highways conducting the soul to 'that height above the actual and the particular, where it stands in the immediate presence of the Infinite, which shines out as from the depth of the soul.'
We are told by Porphyrius, the pupil and bio- grapher of Plotinus, that Plotinus felt ashamed that his soul should ever have had to assume a human body, and when he died, his last words are reported to have been : ' As yet I have expected you, and now I consent that my divine part may return to that Divine Nature which flourishes throughout the universe.' He looked upon his soul as Empedocles had done long before him, when he called himself, 'Heaven's exile, straying from the orb of light, straying, but returning.'
Alexandrian Christianity. St. Clement.
It was necessary to give this analysis of the elements which formed the intellectual atmosphere of Alexandria in order to understand the influence which that atmosphere exercised on the early growth
(4) Ff
434 LECTURE XIII.
of Christianity in that city. Whatever progress Christianity made at Jerusalem among people who remained for a long time more Jewish than Christian, its influence on the world at large began with the conversion of men who then represented the world, who Btood in the front rank of philosophical thought, who had been educated in the schools of Greek philosophy, and who in adopting Christianity as their religion, showed to the world that they were able honestly to reconcile their own philosophical convic- tions with the religious and moral teaching of Jesus of Nazareth. Those who are truly called the Fathers and Founders of the Christian Church were not the simple-minded fishermen of Galilee, but men who had received the highest education which could be obtained at the time, that is Greek education. In Palestine Christianity might have remained a local sect by the side of man}' other sects. In Alexandria, at that time the very centre of the world, it had either to vanquish the world, or to vanish. Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Irenaeus, Athanasius, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Nazianzen, Chrysostom, or among the Latin Fathers, Tertullian, Cyprian, Arnbrosius, Hila- rius, Augustinus, Hieronymus, and Gregory, all were men of classical learning and philosophical culture, and quite able to hold their own against their pagan opponents. Christianity came no doubt from the small room in the house of Mary, where many were gathered together praying1, but as early as the second century it became a very different Christianity
1 St. Clement, when lie speaks of his own Christian teachers, speaks of them as having preserved the tme tradition of the blessed doctrine, straight from Peter and James, John and Paul.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 435
in the Catechetical School l of Alexandria. St. Paul had made a beginning as a philosophical apologete of Christianity and as a powerful antagonist of pagan beliefs and customs. But St. Clement was a very different champion of the new faith, far superior to him both in learning and in philosophical strength. The profession of Christianity by such a man was therefore a far more significant fact in the triumphant progress of the new religion than even the conversion of Saul. The events which happened at Jerusalem, the traditions and legends handed down in the earliest half Jewish and half Christian communities, and even the earliest written documents did not occupy the mind of St. Clement2 so much as the fundamental problems of religion and their solution as attempted by this new sect. He accepted the Apostolical tradi- tions, but he wished to show that they possessed to him a far deeper meaning than they could possibly have possessed among some of the immediate followers of Christ. There was nothing to tempt a man in Clement's position to accept this new creed. Nothing but the spirit of truth and sincere admiration for the character of Christ as conceived by him, could have induced a pagan Greek philosopher to brave the scoffs of his philosophical friends and to declare himself a follower of Christ, and a member of a sect, at that time still despised and threatened with persecution. He felt convinced, however, that this new religion, if properly understood, was worthy of being accepted by the most enlightened minds. This proper understanding was what Clement would have called yvGxns, in the best sense
1 Strom, i. 1, 11 ; Harnack, Dogmengeschichie, \. p. 301, note.
2 Harnack, Dogmengeschichte, i. p. 800.
Ff 2
436 LECTURE XIII.
of the word. The Catechetical School where Clement taught had been under the guidance of Greek philoso- phers converted to Christianity, such as Athenagoras (?) and Pantaenus. Pantaenus, of whom it is related that he discovered a Hebrew version of the Gospel of St. Matthew in India l, had been the master of Clement. His pupil, in openly declaring himself a Christian and an apologete of Christianity, surrendered nothing of his philosophical convictions. On one side Christian teachers were representing Greek philosophy as the work of the Devil, while others, such as the Ebionites. assigned the Old Testament to the same source. In the midst of these conflicting streams St. Clement stood firm. He openly expressed his belief in the Old Testament as revealed, and he accepted the Apostolical Dogma, so far as it had been settled at that time. He claimed, however, the most perfect freedom of interpretation and speculation. By applying the same allegorical interpretation which Philo had used in interpreting the Old Testament, to the New, Clement convinced himself and convinced others that there was no an- tagonism between philosophy and religion. What Clement had most at heart was not the letter but the spirit, not the historical events, but their deeper mean- ing in universal history.
The Trinity of St. Clement.
It can hardly be doubted -' that St. Clement knew the very ancient Baptismal Formula, ' In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost' from the Gospel of St. Matthew.
1 Bigg, I.e., p. 44.
* See, however, Harnack, Doffmtngetchichte, i. p. 802, not*.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 437
But whether that formula came to him with eccleaas- tical authority or not, it would not have clashed with his own convictions. He had accepted the First Person, the Father, not simply as the Jehovah of the Old Testament or as the Zeus of Plato, but as the highest and most abstract philosophical concept, and yet the most real of all realities. He would not have ascribed to God any qualities. To him also God was airoios, like the primal Godhead of the Stoics and Neo- Platonists. He was incomprehensible and unnameable. Yet though neither thought nor word could reach Him, beyond asserting that He is, Clement could revere and worship Him.
One might have thought that the Second Person, the Son, would have been a stumbling-block to Clement. But we find on the contrary that Clement, like all con- temporary Greek philosophers, required a bridge be- tween the world and the unapproachable and ineffable Godhead. That bridge was the Logos, the Word. Even before him, Athenagoras l, supposed to have been his predecessor at the Catechetical School of Alexandria, had declared that the Logos of the Father was the Son of God. Clement conceived this Logos in its old philo- sophical meaning, as the mind and consciousness of the Father. He speaks of it as ' divine, the likeness of the Lord of all things, the most manifest, true God 2.'
The Logos, though called the sum of all divine ideas 3, is distinguished from the actual logoi, though sometimes represented as standing at the head of them. This Logos is eternal, like the Father, for the Father
1 NoCs wot \6yos rov -narpos u vlos TOV Otov. See Drummond, I.e., i. p. 48.
2 ©etbs, 6
3 Bigg, I.e., p. 92.
438 LECTURE XIII.
would never have been the Father without the Son, nor the Son the Son without the Father. Such ideas were shared in common by the Christians and their pagan adversaries. Even Celsus, the great op- ponent of Christianity, says through the mouth of the Jew, ' If the Logos is to you a Son of God, we also agree with you V
The really critical step which Clement took, and which philosophers like Celsus declined to take, was to recognise this Logos in Jesus of Nazareth. It was the same process as that which led the Jewish con- verts to recognise the Messiah in Jesus. It is not quite certain whether the Logos had been identified with the Messiah by the Jews of Alexandria 2. But when at last this step was taken it meant that everything that was thought and expected of the Messiah had been fulfilled in Jesus. This to a Jew was quite as difficult as to recognise the Logos in Jesus was to a Greek philosopher. How then did St. Clement bring himself to say that in a Jewish Teacher whom he had never seen the Logos had become flesh 1 All the epithets, such as Logos, Son of God, the first-born, the only begotten, the second God, were familiar to the Greeks of Alexandria. If then they brought them- selves to say that He, Jesus of Nazareth, was all that, if they transferred all these well-known predicates to Him, what did they mean1? Unless we suppose that the concept of a perfect man is in itself impos- sible, it seems to me that they could only have meant that a perfect man might be called the realisation of the Logos, whether we take it in its collective form,
1 'fls tiyt 6 Ao-yoj ioTtv vfuv vios rov Otov, KCU i^utfs tmuvovpty. Harnack, I.e., i. p. 423, 609. a Bigg, I.e., p. 25, note.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 439
as it was in the beginning with God, or in its more special sense, as the logos or the original idea or the divine conception of man. If then all who knew Jesus of Nazareth, who had beheld His glory full of grace and truth, bore witness of Him as perfect, as free from all the taints of the material creation, why should not the Greek philosophers have accepted their testimony, and declared that He was to them the Divine Word, the Son of God, the first-born, the only-begotten, mani- fested in the flesh ? Human language then, and even now, has no higher predicates to bestow. It is the nearest approach to the Father, who is greater even than the Word, and I believe that the earliest Fathers of the Church and those who followed them, bestowed it honestly, not in the legendary sense of an Evange- lium infantiae, but in the deepest sense of their philosophical convictions. Here is the true historical solution of the Incarnation, and if the religion of the Incarnation is pre-eminently 'a religion of experi- ence,' here are the facts and the experience on which alone that religion can rest.
We saw that Philo, whose language St. Clement uses in all these discussions, had recognised his Logos as present in such prophets as Abraham and Moses ; and many have thought that St. Clement meant no more when he recognised the Word as incarnate in the Son of Mary (Strom, vii. 2). But it seems to me that Clement's mind soared far higher. To him the whole history of the world was a divine drama, a long preparation for the revelation of God in man. From the very beginning man had been a manifestation of the Divine Logos, and therefore divine in his nature. Why should not man have risen at last to his full
440 LECTURE XIII.
perfection, to be what he had been meant to be from the first in the counsel of the Father? We often speak of an ideal man or of the ideal of manhood, without thinking what we mean by this Platonic language. Ideal has come to mean not much more than very perfect. But it meant originally the idea in the mind of God, and to be the ideal man meant to be the man of God, the man as thought and willed by Divine Wisdom. That man was recognised in Christ by those who had no inducement to do violence to their philosophical convictions. And if they could do it honestly, why cannot we do it honestly too, and thus bring our philosophical convictions into perfect harmony with our historical faith ?
It is more difficult to determine the exact place which St. Clement would have assigned to the Third Pel-son, the Holy Ghost.
The first origin of that concept is still enveloped in much uncertainty. There seems to be something attractive in triads. We find them in many parts of the world, owing their origin to very different causes. The trinity of Plato is well known, and in it there is a place for the third person, namely, the World-spirit, of which the human soul was a part. Numenius1, from whom, as we saw, Plotinus was suspected to have borrowed his philosophy, proposed a triad or, as some call it, a trinity, consisting of the Supreme, the Logos (or Demiurge), and the World. With the Christian philosophers at Alexandria the concept of the Deity was at first biune rather than triune. The Supreme Being and the Logos together compre- hended the whole of Deity, and we saw that the 1 Bigg, ho., p. 251.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 441
Logos or the intellectual world was called not only the Son of God, but also the second God (5evre/>os Oeos). When this distinction between the Divine in its abso- lute essence, and the Divine as manifested by its own activity, had once been realised, there seemed to be no room for a third phase or person. Sometimes there- fore it looks as if the Third Person was only a repeti- tion of the Second. Thus the author of the Shepherd 1 and the author of the Acta Archelai both identify the Holy Ghost with the Son of God. How unsettled the minds of Christian people were with regard to the Holy Ghost, is shown by the fact that in the apocryphal gospel of the Hebrews Christ speaks of it as His Mother2. When, however, a third place was claimed for the Holy Spirit, as substantially existing by the side of the Father and the Son, it seems quite possible that this thought came, not from Greek, but from a Jewish source. It seems to be the Spirit which ' in the beginning moved upon the face of the waters,' or ' the breath of life which God breathed into the nostrils of man.' These manifestations of God, how- ever, would according to Greek philosophers have fallen rather to the share of the Logos. Again, if in the New Testament man is called the temple of God, God and the Spirit might have been conceived as one, though here also the name of Logos would from a Greek point of view have been more appropriate to any manifesta- tion of the Godhead in man. In His last discourse Christ speaks of the Holy Ghost as taking His place, and as in one sense even more powerful than the Son. We are told that the special work of the Spirit or the Holy Spirit is to produce holy life in man, that while God 1 Harnack, l.c., i. p. 623. 2 Renau, Les Evangiles, pp. 103, 185-
442 LECTURE XIII.
imparts existence, the Son reason (logos), the Holy Ghost imparts sanctification 1. Clement probably ac- cepted the Holy Ghost as a more direct emanation or radiation proceeding from the Father and the Son in their relation with the human soul. For while the Father and Son acted on the whole world, the influence of the Holy Ghost was restricted to the soul of man. It was in that sense that the prophets of the Old Testa- ment were said to have been filled with the Spirit of God ; nay, according to some early theologians Jesus also became the Christ after baptism only, that is, after the Holy Ghost in the shape of a dove had descended upon Him.
The difficulties become even greater when we re- member that St. Clement speaks of the Father and the Logos as substances (hypostaseis), sharing the same essence (ousia), and as personal, the Logos being subordinate to the Father as touching His manhood, though equal tu the Father as touching His godhead. We must remember that neither the Logos nor the Holy Ghost was taken by him as a mere power (bvva.fj.is) of God, but as subsisting personally 2. Now it is quite true that personality did not mean with St. Clement what it came to mean at a later time. With him a mythological individuality, such as later theologians clamoured for, would have been incompatible with the true concept of deity. Still self-conscious activity would certainly have been claimed by him for every one of the three Persons, and one wonders why he should not have more fully expressed which particular activity it was which seemed to him not compatible
1 Bigg, p. 174.
* Harnack, I.e., i. p. 581, 1. 17.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 443
either with the Father or with the Logos, but to require a separate Person, the Holy Ghost.
It afterwards was recognised as the principal func- tion of the Holy Ghost to bring the world, and more particularly the human soul, back to the consciousness of its divine origin, and it was a similar function which He was believed to have exercised even at the baptism of Christ1, at least by some of the leading author- ities in the fourth and fifth centuries, Theodore of Mopsuestia, Nestorius, and others.
The problem, however, which concerns us more imme- diately, the oneness of the human and divine natures, is not affected by these speculations. It forms the fundamental conviction in St. Clement's, as in Philo's mind. If, in order to bring about the recognition of this truth, a third power was wanted, St. Clement would find it in the Holy Ghost. If it was the Holy Ghost which gave to man the full conviction of his divine sonship, we must remember that this recon- ciliation between God and man was in the first instance the work of Christ, and that it had not merely a moral meaning, but a higher metaphysical purpose. If St. Clement had been quite consistent, he could only have meant that the human soul received the Holy Spirit through Christ, and that through the Holy Spirit only it became conscious of its true divine nature and mindful of its eternal home. We some- times wish that St. Clement had expressed himself more fully on these subjects, more particularly on his view of the relation of man to God, to the Logos, and to the Holy Spirit.
On his fundamental conviction, however, there can 1 Harnack, I.e., i. pp. 91, 639.
444 LECTURE XITI.
be no uncertainty. It was Clement who, before St. Augustine, declared boldly that God became man in Christ in order that man might become God. Clement is not a confused thinker, but he does not help the reader as much as he might, and there is a certain reticence in his conception of the Incarnation which leaves us in the dark on several points. Dr. Bigg1 thinks indeed that Clement's idea of the Saviour is larger and nobler than that of any other doctor of the Church. ' Clement's Christ,' he says, ' is the Light that broods over all history, and lighteth up every man that cometh into the world. All that there is upon earth of beauty, truth, goodness, all that distinguishes the civilised man from the savage, and the savage from the beast, is His gift.' All this is true, and gives to the Logos a much more historical and universal meaning than it had with Philo. Yet St. Clement never clearly explains how he thought that all this took place, and how more particularly this universal Logos became incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth, while it was at the same time pervading the whole world and every living soul ; also what was according to him the exact relation of the Logos to the Pneuma,
There are several other questions to which I can- not find an answer in St. Clement, but it is a subject which I may safely leave to other and more competent hands.
It may be said that such thoughts as we have dis- covered in St. Clement are too high for popular religion, and every religion, in order to be a religion, must be popular. Clement knew this perfectly well. But tho philosophical thoughts in which he lived were 1 L.C., p. 72.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 445
evidently more widely spread in his time than they are even with us ; and in the case of babes, Clement is quite satisfied that their Logos or Christ should be simply the Master, the Shepherd, the Physician, the Son of Mary who suffered for them on the cross. Besides, there was the Church which acted both as a guide and as a judge over all its members, particularly those who had not yet found the true liberty of the children of God. If Clement considers this as the Lower Life, still it leads on to the Higher Life, the life of knowledge and righteousness, the life of love, the life in Christ and in God. That purity of life is essential for reaching this higher life is fully understood by Clement. He knew that when true knowledge has been obtained, sin becomes impossible. 'Good works follow knowledge as shadow follows substance1.' Knowledge or Gnosis is defined as the apprehensive contemplation of God in the Logos. When Clement shows that this knowledge is at the same time love of God and life in God, he represents the same view which we met with in the Vedanta, in contradis- tinction from the doctrine of the Sufis. That love of God, he holds, must be free from all passion and desire (arrays) ; it is a contented self-appropriation which restores him who knows to oneness with Christ, and therefore with God. The Vedantist expressed the same conviction when he said that, He who knows Brahma, is Brahma (Brahmavid Brahma bhavati). That is the true, serene, intellectual ecstasis, not the feverish ecstatic visions of Plotinus and his followers. Clement has often been called a Gnostic and a Mystic, yet these names as applied to him have a very different 1 Strom, viii. 13, 82.
446 LECTURE XIII.
meaning from what they have when applied to Plo- tinus or Jamblichus. With all his boldness of thought St. Clement never loses his reverence before the real mysteries of life. He never indulges in minute de- scriptions of the visions of an enraptured soul during life, or of the rejoicings or the sufferings of the soul after death. All he asserts is that the soul will for ever dwell with Christ, beholding the Father. It will not lose its subjectivity, though freed from its terres- trial personality. It will obtain the vision of the Eternal and the Divine, and itself put on a divine form ( ledge and love of God.
Origen.
I cannot leave this Alexandrian period of Chris- tianity without saying a few words about Origen. To say a few words on such a man as Origen may seem a very useless undertaking; a whole course of lectures could hardly do justice to such a subject. Still in the natural course of our argument we cannot pass him over. What I wish to make quite clear to you is t^at there is in Christianity more theosophy than in any other religion, if we use that word in its right meaning, as comprehending whatever of wisdom has been vouchsafed to man touching things divine. We are so little accustomed to look for philosophy in the New Testamant that we have almost acquiesced in that most unholy divorce between religion and philosophy ; nay, there are those who regard it almost as a distinction that our religion should not be bur- dened with metaphysical speculations like other reli- gions. Still there is plenty of metaphysical speculation
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 447
underlying the Christian religion, if only we look for it as the early Fathers did. The true height and depth of Christianity cannot be measured unless we place it side by side with the other religions of the world. We are hardly aware till we have returned from abroad that England is richer in magnificent cathe- drals than any other country, nor shall we ever appreciate at its full value the theosophic wealth of the Christian religion, quite apart from its other ex- cellences, till we have weighed it against the other religions of the world. But in doing this we must treat it simply as one of the historical religions of the world. It is only if we treat it with the perfect impartiality of the historian that we shall discover its often unsuspected strength.
I hope I have made it clear to you that from the very first the principal object of the Christian religion has been to make the world comprehend the oneness of the objective Deity, call it Jehovah, or Zeus, or Theos, or the Supreme Being, TO ov, with the subjective Deity, call it self, or mind, or soul, or reason, or Logos. Another point which I was anxious to establish was that this religion, when it meets us for the first time at Alexandria as a complete theological system, repre- sents a combination of Greek, that is Aryan, with Jewish, that is Semitic thought, that these two primeval streams after meeting at Alexandria have ever since been flowing on with irresistible force through the history of the world.
Without these Aryan and Semitic antecedents Christianity would never have become the Religion of the world. It is necessary therefore to restore to Chris- tianity its historical character by trying to discover
448 LECTURE XTIT.
and to understand more fully its historical antecedents. It was Hegel, I believe, who used to say that the dis- tinguishing characteristic of the Christian religion was that it was non-historical, by which he meant that it was without historical antecedents, or, as others would say, miraculous. It seems to me on the contrary that what constitutes the essential character of Christian- ity is that it is so thoroughly historical, or coining, as others would say, in the very fulness of time. It is difficult to understand the supercilious treatment which Christianity so often receives from historians and philosophers, and the distrust with which it is re- garded by the ever-increasing number of the educated and more or less enlightened classes. I believe this is chiefly due to the absence of a. truly historical treat- ment, and more particularly to the neglect of that most important phase in its early development, with which we are now concerned. I still believe that by vindi- cating the true historical position of Christianity, and by showing the position which it holds by right among the historical and natural religions of the world, with- out reference to or reliance upon any supposed special, exceptional, or so-called miraculous revelation, I may have fulfilled the real intention of the founder of this lectureship better than I could have done in any other way.
Though I cannot give you a full account of Origen and his numerous writings, or tell you anything new about this remarkable man, still I should have been charged with wilful blindness if, considering what the highest object of these lectures is, I had passed over the man whose philosophical and theological speculations prove better than anything else what in
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 449
this, my final course of lectures, I am most anxious to prove, viz. that the be all and the end all of true religion is to reunite the bond between the Divine and the Human which had been severed by the false reli- gions of the world.
On several points Origen is more definite than St. Clement. He claims the same freedom of interpreta- tion, and yet he is far more deeply impressed with the authority of the Rule of Faith, and likewise with the authority of the Scriptures, known to him, than St. Clement *. Origen had been born and bred a Christian, and he was more disposed to reckon with facts, though always recognising a higher truth behind and beyond the mere facts. He evidently found great relief by openly recognising the dis- tinction between practical religion as required for the many (xpiortazno-juos crto/uan/co'?) and philosophical truth as required by the few (xpto-rtavto-^os 7n>eu/^ariKos).
After admitting that every religion cannot but assume in the minds of the many a more or less mythological form, he goes on to ask, ' but what other way could be found more helpful to the many, and better than what has been handed down to the people from Jesus ? ' Still even then, when he meets with anything in the sacred traditions that conflicts with morality, the law of nature or reason, he protests against it, and agrees with his Greek opponent that God cannot do anything against his own nature, the Logos, against his own thought and will, and that all miracles are therefore in a higher sense natural2. A mere miracle,
1 Harnack, 1. c., i.' p. 573.
a Contra Celsum, v. 23 ; Bigg, L c., p. 263 ; Harnack, i. p. 666, note ; Orig. in Joan. ii. 28.
(4) Gg
450 LECTURE XIII.
in the ordinary acceptation of the term, would from his point of view have been an insult to the Logos and indirectly to the Deity. That the tempter should have carried Christ bodily into a mountain Origen simply declared impossible. His great object was everywhere the same, the reconciliation of philosophy with religion, and of religion with philosophy. Thus he says that a Greek philosopher, on becoming ac- quainted with the Christian religion, might well, by means of his scientific acquirements, reduce it to a more perfect system, supply what seems deficient, and thus establish the truth of Christianity1. In another place he praises those who no longer want Christ simply as a physician, a shepherd, or a ransom, but as ' wisdom, Logos, and righteousness. Well might Porphyrius say of Origen that he lived like a Christian and according to the law, but that with regard to his views about things and hbout the Divine, he was like a Greek2. Still it was the Christian Doctrine which was to him the perfection of Greek philosophy 3, that is to say the Christian Doctrine in the light of Greek philosophy.
Origen was certainly more biblical in his perfect Monism than Philo. He does not admit matter by the side of God, but looks upon God as the author even of matter, and of all that constitutes the material world. God's very nature consists in His constant manifestation of Himself in the world by means of the Logos, whether we call it the thought, the will, or the word of God. According to Origen, this Logos
1 Contra Celsum, i. 2. * Eusebius, H. E., vi. 19.
3 Harnack, i. p. 562, note.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 451
in all its fulness was manifested in Christ as the perfect image of God. He is called the second God (bevrepos tfeo's), the Son, being of the same sub- stance as the Father (op-oovo-ios ro> narpi). He is also called the wisdom of God, but as subsisting substantially by itself (sapiemtia del substantialiter subsistens), and containing all the forms of the manifold creation, or standing between the One Uncreate on one side and the manifold created things on the other1. If then this Logos, essentially divine (6/xoovo-tos Tw flew), is predicated of Christ, we can clearly perceive that with Origen too this was really the only way in which he could assert the divinity of Christ. There was nothing higher he could have predicated of Christ. Origen was using the term Logos in the sense in which the word had been handed down to him from the author of the Fourth Gospel through Tatian, Athenagoras, Pantaenus. and Clement. Every one of them held the original unity of all spiritual essences with God. The Logos was the highest of them, but every human soul also was orginally of God and was eternal. According to Origen the interval between God and man is filled with an unbroken series of rational beings (naturae rationabiles), following each other according to their dignity. They all belong to the changeable world and are themselves capable of change, of progress, or deterioration. They take to some extent the place of the old Stoic logoi, but they assume a more popular form under the name of Angels. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost belong to the eternal and unchangeable world, then follow the Angels ac-
1 Harnack, i. p. 582-3. Gga
452 LECTURE XIII.
cording to their different ranks, and lastly the human soul.
With regard to the Third Person, Origen, like St. Clement, had never, as Prof. Harnack remarks (i. p. 583), achieved an impressive proof of the inner necessity of this hypostasis ; nay it was not settled yet in his time whether the Holy Ghost was create or uncreate, whether it should be taken for the Son of God or not. Nevertheless Origen accepted the Trinity, but with the Father as the full source of its divinity (-Trr/yr) rijs deorr^Tos) ; nay he speaks of it as the mystery of all mysteries, whatever this may mean.
All human souls were supposed by Origen to have fallen away, and as a punishment to have been clothed in flesh during their stay in the material world. But after the dominion of sin in the material world is over, the pure Logos was to appear, united with a pure human soul, to redeem every human soul, so that it should die to the flesh, live in the spirit, and share in the ultimate restoration of all things. Some of these speculations may be called fanciful, but the underlying thought represented at the time the true essence of Christianity. It was in the name of the Christian Logos that Origen was able to answer the Logos alethds of Celsus ; it was in that Sign that Christianity conquered and re- conciled Greek philosophy in the East, and Roman dogmatism in the West.
The Alogoi.
But though this philosophy based on the Logos, the antecedents of which we have traced back to the great philosophers of Greece, enabled men like St. Clement
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 453
and Origen to fight their good fight for the new faith, it must not be supposed that this philosophical defence met with universal approval. As Origen saw himself, it was too high and too deep for large numbers who had adopted the Christian religion for other excellences that appealed to their heart rather than to their understanding. Thus we hear in the middle of the second century l of an important sect in Asia Minor, called the Alogoi. This seems to have been a nick- name, meaning without a belief in the Logos 2, but also absurd. These Alogoi would have nothing to do with the Logos3 of God, as preached by St. John. This shows that their opposition was not against St. Clement and Origen, whose writings were probably later than the foundation of the sect of the Alogoi, but against the theory of the Logos as taught or fully implied in the Gospel ascribed to St. John. The Alogoi were not heretics ; on the contrary, they were conservative, and considered themselves thoroughly orthodox. They were opposed to the Montanists and Chiliasts ; they accepted the three Synoptic Gospels, but for that very reason rejected the Gospel ascribed to St. John, and likewise the Apocalypse. They denied even that this Gospel was written by St. John, because it did not agree with the other Apostles4, nay they went so far as to say that this Gospel ascribed to John
1 Harnack, 1. c., p. 617, note.
2 Thus St. John, the author of the Apocalypse, was called Theologos, because he maintained the divinity of the Logos. See Natural Religion, p. 46.
3 Epiphanius, 51. 3. 28 : Tov \6yov rov 9fov diro@a\\o>>Tai rbv 5»d
4 Epiph. 31. 4 : Qafficovoi on ov avyutyuvtl TO. /3
454 LECTURE XIII.
lied and was disordered l, as it did not say the same things as the other Apostles. Some ascribed the Fourth Gospel to the Judaising Gnostic Cerinthus, and de- clared that it should not be used in church 2.
This is an important page in the history of early Christianity. It shows that in the second half of the second century the four Gospels, the three Synoptic Gospels and that of St. John had all been recognised in the Church, but that at the same time it was still possible to question their authority without in- curring ecclesiastical censure, such as it was at the time. It shows also how thoroughly the doctrine of the Logos was identified with St. John, or at least with the author of the Fourth Gospel, and how it was his view of Christ, and the view defended by Barnabas, Justin, .the two Clements, Ignatius, Poly- carp3, and Origen, which in the end conquered the world. Still, if it was possible for a Pope to make St. Clement descend from his rightful place among the Saints of the Christian Church, what safety is there against another Pope unsainting St. John himself4?
Though the further development of the Logos theory in the East and the West is full of interest, we must not dwell on it any further. To us its interest is chiefly philosophical, while its later development becomes more and more theological and scholastic. What I wished to prove was that the Christian religion
1 Epiph. 51. 18 : Ti (va.'yyt\iov rti fls OVO\M, ^loAvvov if/ttStrai , . . \tyovai TO tcarcL 'Itaavvrjv fvayy(\iov, (irfiSr) /*$ roL avr& roa dvoffr6\oa t i], dSi&Otrov tlvai.
'J OVK a£ia avra affiv ttvat fv (KK\t]aia.
3 Harnack, i. pp. 162, note ; 422, note.
4 Bigg, I.e., p. 272.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 455
in its first struggle with the non-Christian thought of the world, owed its victory chiefly, if not entirely, to the recognition of what, as we saw, forms the essential element of all religion, the recognition of the closest connexion between the phenomenal and the noumenal worlds, between the human soul and God. The bond of union between the two, which had been discovered by slow degrees by pagan philosophers and had been made the pivot of Christian philosophy at Alexandria, was the Logos. By the recognition of the Logos in Christ, a dogma which gave the direst offence to Celsus and other pagan philosophers, the fatal divorce between religion and philosophy had been annulled, and the two had once more joined hands. It is curious however to observe how some of the early Apologetes looked upon the Logos as intended rather to separate God l from the world than to unite the two. It is true that Philo's mind was strongly impressed with the idea that the Divine Essence should never be brought into immediate contact with vile and corrupt matter, and to him therefore the intervening Logos might have been welcome as pre- venting such contact. But Christian philosophers looked upon matter as having been created by God, and though to them also the Logos was the intervening power by which Ood formed and ruled the world, they always looked upon their Logos as a con- necting link and not as a dividing screen. It is true that in later times the original purpose and nature of the Logos were completely forgotten and changed. Instead of being a bond of union between the human and the Divine, instead of being accepted in the sense
1 Haruack, i. p. 443.
456 LECTURE XIII.
which the early Fathers had imparted to it as consti- tuting the divine birthright of every man born into the world, it was used once more as a wall of partition between the Divine Logos, the Son of God (juovoycrrjs vibs TOV Oeov), and the rest of mankind ; so that not only the testimony of St. John, but the self-evident meaning of the teaching of Christ was made of no effect. No doubt St. Clement had then to be unsainted. but why not St. Augustine, who at one time was a great admirer of St. Clement and Origen, and who had translated and adopted the very words of St. Clement, that God became man in order that man might become God1. Not knowing the difference between deos and 6 Oeos, God and the God, later divines suspected some hidden heresy in this language of St. Clement and St. Augustine, and in order to guard against misapprehension introduced a terminology which made the difference between Christ and those whom He called His brothers, one of kind and not one of degree, thus challenging and defying the whole of Christ's teaching. Nothing can be more cautious yet more decided than the words of St. Clement2: ' Thus he who believes in the Lord and follows the prophecy delivered by Him is at last perfected accord- ing to the image of the Master, moving about as God in the flesh 3.' And still more decided is Origen's reply to Celsus iii. 28 : ' That human nature through its communion with the more Divine should become divine not only in Jesus, but in all who through faith
1 See before, p. 823.
9 See Bigg, 1. c., p. 76.
3 OVTOJS 6 rep Kvpiy irti66fjnvos KO.I TTI SoBtlar) 5i' avrov Ka.Ta.Ko\ov0r)aas irpotpijTtiq. rt\(cas iicTf\firai tear' tlxova TOV 8i5aana\ov tv aapxl irtpiiroKwv 0t6s. Clem. Strom, viii. 16, 95.
ALEXANDRIAN CHRISTIANITY. 457
take up the life which Jesus taught V It is clear that Origen, taking this view of human nature, had no need of any other argument in support of the true divinity of Christ. He might as well have tried to prove his humanity against the Docetae. With him both were one and could only be one. To Origen Christ's divinity was not miraculous, or requiring any proof from moral or physical miracles. It was in- volved in his very nature, in his being the Logos or the Son of God in all its fulness, whereas the Logos in man had suffered and had to be redeemed by the teaching by the life and death of Christ2. While Origen thus endeavoured to reconcile Greek philo- sophy, that is, his own honest convictions, with the teaching of the Church, he kept clear both of Gnosticism and Docetism. Origen was as honest as a Christian as he was as a philosopher, and it was this honesty which made Christianity victorious in the third century, and will make it victorious again whenever it finds supporters who are determined not to sacrifice their philosophical convictions to their religious faith or their religious faith to their philo- sophical convictions.
It is true that like St. Clement, Origen also was condemned by later ecclesiastics, who could not fathom the depth of his thoughts ; but he never in the whole history of Christianity was without admirers and followers. St. Augustine, St. Bernard, the author of De Imitatione, Master Eckhart, Tauler, and others, honoured his memory, and Dr. Bigg is no doubt right
1 Iv jy avOpcoirivr) TTJ irpos TO Oeiortpov KOivoivia yivr)Ta.i Oeia oiitc tv JJLOVW r£> 'Ir/aov d\\a nal Tract TO?S peTO. TOV irtaTfvtiv
fiiov ov 'Irjeovs (8i8a£tv.
2 Harnack, i. p. 594.
458 LECTURE XIII.
in saying 1 ' That there was no truly great man in the Church who did not love him a little.' And why ' a little only ' ? Was it because he was disloyal to the truth such as he had seen it both in philosophy and in religion? Was it because he inflicted on himself such suffering as many may disapprove, but few will imitate (juco^a-erai TIS jxaAAoy rj /xi/iTjo-erai) ? If we con- sider the time in which he lived, and study the testimony which his contemporaries bore of his character, we may well say of him as of others who have been misjudged by posterity :
' Derm wer den Besten seiner Zeit genug gethan, Der hat gelebt fur alle Zeiten.'
1 L. c., p. 279.
LECTURE XIV.
DIONYSIUS THE AEEOPAGITE. The Log-os in the Latin Church.
HAVING shown, as I hope, that in the earliest theological representation of Christianity which we find in the Alexandrian Fathers of the Church, the most prominent thought is the same as that of the Vedanta, how to find a way from earth to heaven, or still better how to find heaven on earth, to discover God in man and man in God, it only remains to show that this ancient form of Christianity, though it was either not understood at all or misunderstood in later ages, still maintained itself under varying forms in an uninterrupted current from the second to the nine- teenth century.
We can see the thoughts of St. Clement and Origen transplanted to the Western Church, though the very language in which they had to be clothed obscured their finer shades of meaning. There is no word in Latin to convey the whole of the meaning of Logos ; again the important distinction between ®eo's and 6 @eo's is difficult to render in a language which has no articles. The distinction between ousia and hypostasis was difficult to express, and yet an inaccurate rendering
460 LECTURE XIV.
might at once become heresy. St. Jerome l who had all his life used the expression ires personae, com- plained bitterly that because he would not use the expression ires substantiae, he was looked at with suspicion. ' Because we do not learn the (new) words, we are judged heretical.'
Tertnllian.
We have only to read what Latin Fathers — for in- stance, Tertullian — say 'about Christ as the Logos, in order to perceive at once how the genius of the Latin language modifies and cripples the old Greek thought. When Tertullian begins (Apolog. cap. xxi) to speak about Christ as God, he can only say De Christo ut Deo. This might be interpreted as if he took Christ to be 6 0eo's, and predicated of Him the hypostasis of the Father, which is impossible. What he means to pre- dicate is the ousia of the Godhead. Then he goes on : ' We have already said that God made this universe Verbo, et Ratione, et Virtute, that is by the Word, by Reason, by Power.' He has to use two words verbum and ratio to express Logos. Even then he seems to feel that he ought to make his meaning clearer, and he adds : 'It is well known that with you philosophers &\so Logos, that is Speech (sermo), and Reason (ratio), is con- sidered as the artist of the universe. For Zeno defines him as the maker who had formed everything in order, and says that he is also called Fate, God, and the mind of God, and the necessity of all things. Cleanthes comprehends all these as Spirit which, as he asserts, pervades the universe. We also ascribe to Speech, Reason, and Power (xermo, ratio, et virtus), through which, as we said, God made everything, a proper
1 Biographies of Words, p. 43.
DIONY8IUS THE AREOPAGITE. 461
substance, the Spirit1, who as Word issues the fiat (of creation), as Reason gives order to the universe, and as Power carries his work on to a complete perfection2. We have learnt that he was brought out from God, and generated by prolation, and was therefore called Son of God and God, from the unity of the substance. For God is Spirit, and when a ray is sent forth from the sun, it is a portion from the whole, but the sun will be in the ray, because the ray is the sun's ray; not separated from it in substance, but extended. Thus comes Spirit from Spirit, and God from God, like a light lit from a light.'
We see throughout that Tertullian (160-240) wishes to express what St. Clement and Origen had expressed before him. But not having the Greek tools to work with, his verbal picture often becomes blurred. The introduction of Spiritus, which may mean the divine nature, but is not sufficiently distinguished from pneuma, logos, the divine Word, and from the spiritus sanctus, the Holy Ghost, confuses the mind of the readers, particularly if they were Greek philosophers, accustomed to the delicately edged Greek terminology.
Dionysius the Areopagite.
It would no doubt be extremely interesting to follow the tradition of these Alexandrian doctrines, as they were handed down both in the West and in the East, and to mark the changes which they experienced in the minds of the leading theological authorities in both Churches. But this is a work far beyond my strength. All that I feel still called upon to do is
1 Kaye explains that spirit has here the meaning of Divine nature ; but, if so, the expression is very imperfect.
a TerMliani Apologeticus adversus Gentes, ed. Bindley, p. 74, note.
462 LECTURE XIV.
to attempt to point out how, during the centuries which separate us from the first five centuries of our era, this current of Christian thought was never en- tirely lost, but rose to the surface again and again at the most critical periods in the history of the Christian religion. Unchecked by the Council of Nicaea (325), that ancient stream of philosophical and religious thought flows on, and we can hear the distant echoes •of Alexandria in the writings of St. Basil (329-379), Gregory of Nyssa (332-395), Gregory of Nazianz (328-389), as well as in the Works of St. Augustine (364-430). In its original pagan form Neo-Platonism asserted itself once more through the powerful advo- cacy of Proclus (411-485), while in its Christian form it received about the same time (500 A. D. ?) a most powerful renewed impulse from a pseudonymous writer, Dionysius the Areopagite. I must devote some part of my lecture to this writer on account of the extraordinary influence which his works acquired in the history of the mediaeval Church. He has often been called the father of Mystic Christianity, which is only a new name for Alexandrian Christianity in one of its various aspects, and he has served for cen- turies as the connecting link between the ancient and the mediaeval Church. No one could understand the systems of St. Bernard (1091-1153) and Thomas Aquinas (1224-1274) without a knowledge of Diony- sius. No one could account for the thoughts and the very language of Master Eckhart (1260-1329) without a previous acquaintance with the speculations of that last of the Christian Neo-Platonists. Nay, Gerson (1363-1429), St. Theresa (1515-1582), Molinos (1640- 1687), Mad. de Guy on (1648-1717), all have been
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAQITE. 463
touched by his magic wand. Few men have achieved so wide and so lasting .a celebrity as this anonymous writer, and, we must add, with so little to deserve it. Though Dionysius the Areopagite is often represented as the founder of Christian mysticism, 'I must con- fess that after reading Philo, St. Clement, and Origen, I find very little in his writings that can be called original.
Writings of Dionysius.
It is well known that this Dionysius the Areo- pagite is not the real Dionysius who with Damaris and others clave unto St. Paul after his sermon on Areopagus. Of him we know nothing more than what we find in the Acts. But there was a Christian Neo- Platonist who, as Tholuck has been the first to show, wrote about 500 A. D. The story of his book is very curious. It has often been told ; for the last time by the present Bishop of Durham, Dr. Westcott. in his thoughtful Essays on the History of Religious Thought in the West, published in 1891. I chiefly follow him and Tholuck in giving you the following facts. The writings of Dionysius were referred to for the first time at the Conference held at Constantinople in 533 A. D., and even at that early time they were rejected by the orthodox as of doubtful authenticity. Naturally enough, for who had ever heard before of Dionysius, the pupil of St. Paul, as an author? Even St. Cyril and Athanasius knew nothing yet about any writings of his, and no one of the ancients had ever quoted them. But in spite of all this, there was evidently something fascinating about these writings of Diony- sius the Areopagite. In the seventh century they were commented on by Maximius (died 662) ; and
464 LECTURE XIV.
Photius in his Bibliotheca (c. 845) mentions an essay by Theodoras, a presbyter, written in order to defend the genuineness of the volume of St. Dionysius. We need not enter into these arguments for and against the genuineness of these books, if what is meant by genuineness is their being written by Dionysius the Areopagite in the first century of our era. I even doubt whether the author himself ever meant to commit anything like a fraud or a forgery *. He was evidently a Neo-Platonist Christian, and his book was a fiction, not uncommon in those days, just as in a certain sense the dialogues of Plato are fictions, and the speeches of Thucydides are fictions, though never intended to deceive anybody. A man at the present day might write under the name of Dean Swift, if he wished to state what Dean Swift would have said if he had lived at the present moment. Why should not a Neo-Platonist philosopher have spoken behind the mask of Dionysius the Areopagite, if he wished to state what a Greek philosopher would naturally have felt about Christianity. It is true there are some few touches in the writings ascribed to Dionysius which were meant to give some local colouring and historical reality to this philosophical fiction ; but even such literary artifices must not be put down at once as intentional fraud. There is, for instance, a treatise De Vita Contemplativa, which is ascribed to Philo. But considering that it contains a panegyric on asceticism as practised by the Thera- peutai in Egypt, it is quite clear that it could never have been written by Philo Judaeus. It was probably written by a Christian towards the end of the third
1 See the remarks of Kenan, in Les Evangiles, p. 169.
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAGITE. 465
or the beginning of the fourth century. If for some unknown reason the author wrote under the name of Philo, this literary artifice could hardly have taken in any of his contemporaries, if indeed it was ever meant to do so l.
But whatever the object of the writer may have been, whether honest or dishonest, certain it is that he found a large public willing to believe in the actual authorship of Dionysius the Areopagite. The greatest writers of the Greek Church accepted these books as the real works of the Areopagite. Still greater was their success in the West. They were referred to by Gregory the Great (c. 600), and quoted by Pope Adrian I in a letter to Charles the Great.
The first copy of the Dionysian writings reached the West in the year 827, when Michael, the stam- merer, sent a copy to Louis I, the son of Charles. And here a new mystification sprang up. They were received in the abbey of St. Denis, near Paris, by the Abbot Hilcluin. They arrived on the very vigil of the feast of St. Dionysius, and, absurd as it may sound, Dionysius the Areopagite was identified with St. Denis, the Apostle of France, the patron saint of the Abbaye of St. Denis ; and thus national pride combined with theological ignorance to add still greater weight and greater sanctity to these Diony- sian writings in France.
Translation by Scotus Erigena.
The only difficulty was how to read and translate
1 Lucius, Die Therapeuten, Strassburg, 1880. Kuenen, Hibbert Lec- tures, p. 201.
W Hh
466 LECTURE XIV.
them. France at that time was not rich in Greek scholars, and the language of Dionysius is by no means easy to understand. Hilduin, the abbot of St. Denis, attempted a translation, but failed. The son of Louis, Charles the Bald, was equally anxious to have a Latin translation of the writings of St. Denis, the patron saint of France, and he found at last a competent translator in the famous Scotus Erigena, who lived at his court. Scotus Erigena was a kindred spirit, and felt strongly attracted by the mystic speculations of Dionysius. His* translation must have been made before the year 861, for in that year Pope Nicholas I complained in a letter to Charles the Bald that the Latin translation of Dionysius had never been sent to him for approval. A copy was probably sent to Rome at once, and in 865 we find Anastasius, the Librarian of the Roman See, addressing a letter to Charles, commending the wonderful trans- lation made by one whom he calls the barbarian living at the end of the world, that is to say, Scotus Erigena, whether Irishman or Scotchman. Scotus was fully convinced that Dionysius was the contem- porary of St. Paul, and admired him both for his antiquity and for the sublimity of the heavenly graces which had been bestowed upon him.
As soon as the Greek text and the Latin transla- tion had become accessible, Dionysius became the object of numerous learned treatises. Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas were both devoted students of his works, and never doubted their claims to an apostolic date. It was not till the revival of learning that these claims were re-examined and rejected, and re- jected with such irresistible evidence that people
DTONYBTUS THE AREOPAOUTE. 467
wondered how these compositions could ever have been accepted as apostolic. We need not enter into these arguments. It is no longer heresy to doubt their apostolical authorship or date. No one doubts at present that the writer was a Neo-Platonist Chris- tian, as Tholuck suggested long ago, and that he lived towards the end of the fifth century, probably at Edessa in Syria. But though deprived of their fictitious age and authorship, these writings retain their importance as having swayed the whole of mediaeval Christianity more than any other book, except the New Testament itself. They consist of treatises (1) on the Heavenly Hierarchy, (2) on the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, (3) on the Divine Names, (4) on Mystical Theology. There are other books mentioned as his, but now lost l. They are most easily accessible now in the Abbe' Migne's edition (Paris, 1857).
The Influence of the Dionysian Writing's.
If we ask how it was that these books exercised so extraordinary a fascination on the minds of the most eminent theologians during the Middle Ages, the prin- cipal reason seems to have been that they satisfied a want which exists in every human heart, the want of knowing that there is a real relation between the human soul and God. That want was not satisfied by the Jewish religion. It has been shown but lately by an eminent Scotch theologian, what an impassable gulf the Old Testament leaves between the soul and God. And though it was the highest object of the teaching of Christ, if properly understood, to bridge
1 See Harnack, 1. c., vol. ii. p. 426, note. Hha
468 LECTURE XIV.
that gulf, it was not so understood by the Jewish Christians who formed some of the first and in some re- spects most important Christian communities. Diony- sius set boldly to work to construct, if not a bridge, at least a kind of Jacob's ladder between heaven and earth ; and it was this ladder, as we shall see, that appealed so strongly to the sympathy of his numerous followers.
No doubt the idea that he was the contemporary of St. Paul added to his authority. There are several things in his works which would hardly have been tolerated by the orthodox, except as coming from the mouth of an apostolic teacher. Thus Dionysius affirms that the Hebrews were in no sense a chosen people before the rest, that the lot of all men is equal, and that God has a like care for all mankind. It is a still bolder statement of Dionysius that Christ before His resurrection was simply a mortal man, even in- ferior, as it were, to the angels, and that only after the resurrection did He become at once immortal man and God of all. There are other views of at all events doubtful orthodoxy which seem to have been tolerated in DiQiiysius, but would have provoked ecclesiastical censure if coming from any other source.
Sources of Dionysius.
It must not be supposed, however, that Dionysius was original in his teaching, or that he was the first who discovered Greek, more particularly Neo-Pla- tonist ideas, behind the veil of Christian doctrines. Dionysius, like the early Eleatic philosophers, starts from the belief in God, as the absolute Being, TO ov, the conscious God as absolutely transcendent, as the
DIONYSIUS THE ABEOPAGITE. 469
cause which is outside its effects, and yet multiplies itself so as to be dynamically present in every one of them. This multiplication or this streaming forth of the Deity is ascribed to Love (e/acos-) within God, and is supposed to be carried out according to certain designs or types (Tr/aoopioyxoi, 77apa§eiyjuara), that is to say, not at random, but according to law or reason. In this we can recognise the Stoic logoi and the Platonic ideas, and we shall see that in their intermediary character they appear once more in the system of Dionysius under the name of the Hierarchies of angels. The soul which finds itself separated from God by this manifold creation has but one object, namely to return from out the manifoldness of created things to a state of likeness and oneness with God (d$o|uouo Deity and the visible world is filled by a number of beings which vary in name, but are always the same in essence. Dionysius calls them a Hierarchy. St. Clement had already used the same term :, when he describes ' the graduated hierarchy like a chain of iron rings, each sustaining and sustained, each saving and saved, and all held together by the Holy Spirit, which is Faith.' Origen is familiar with the same idea, and Philo tells us plainly that what people call angels are really the Stoic logoi 2.
The Daimones.
We can trace the same idea still further back. In Hesiod, as we saw, and in Plato's Timaeus, the chasm between' the two worlds was filled with the Daimones. In the later Platonist teaching these Daimones became
1 Bigg, 1. c., p. 68. 3 See pp. 406, 473, 478.
470 LECTURE XIV.
more and more systematised. They were supposed to perform all the work which is beneath the dignity of the impassive Godhead. They create, they will, and rule everything. Some of them are almost divine, others nearly human, others again are demons in the modern sense of the word, spirits of evil. Many of the ancient mythological gods had to accept a final resting- place among these Daimones. This theory of Daimones supplied in fact the old want of a bridge between God and man, and the more abstract the idea of God be- came in the philosophy of the Platonists, the stronger became their belief in the Daimones. The description given of them by Maximus Tyrius, by Plutarch and others, is often most touching, and shows deep religious feeling.
Thus Apuleius, De Deo Socratico, 674, writes : ' Plato and his followers are blameless if, conceiving that the purely spiritual and emotionless nature of God pre- cluded Him from direct action upon this world of matter, they imagined a hierarchy of beneficent beings, called Daimones, partaking of the divine nature by reason of their immortality, and of human nature by reason of their subjection to emotions, and fitted therefore to act as intermediaries between earth and heaven, between God and man.'
Maximus, the Tyrian (Diss. xiv. 5), describes these Daimones as a link between human weakness and divine beauty, as bridging over the gulf between mortal and immortal, and as acting between gods and men as interpreters acted between Greeks and bar- barians. He calls them secondary gods (6eol bevrepoi), and speaks of them as the departed souls of virtuous men, appointed by God to overrule every part of
DIONYSIUS THE AEEOPAGITE. 471
human life, by helping the good, avenging the injured, and punishing the unjust. They are messengers of unseen things, ayyeXot T£>V afyav&v ; and Plutarch, too, calls them messengers or angels between gods and men, describing them as the spies of the former, wan- dering at their commands, punishing wrong-doers, and guarding- the course of the virtuous (Cessation of oracles, 1 3 ; Face in the orb of the moon, 30).
Origen points out that the angels were sometimes spoken of as gods in the Psalms (c. Gels. v. 4), but when challenged by Celsus why Christians do not worship the Daimones, and particularly the heavenly luminaries, he answers that the sun himself and the moon and the stars pray to the Supreme God through His only-begotten Son, and that therefore they think it improper to pray to those beings who themselves offer prayers to God (vfj-vov^v ye 6ebv KOI rbv Movo-yevrj avrov, c. Gels. v. 11 ; viii. 67).
Celsus, who doubts everything that does not admit of a philosophical justification, is nevertheless so con- vinced of the reality and of the divine goodness of the Daimones that he cannot understand why the Chris- tians should be so ungrateful as not to worship them.
There is an honest ring in an often-quoted passage of his in which he exhorts the Christians not to despise their old Daimones :
' Every good citizen,' he says, ' ought to respect the worship of his fathers. And God gave to the Dai- mones the honour which they claimed. Why then should the Christians refuse to eat at the table of the Daimones ? They give us corn and wine and the very air we breathe ; we must either submit to their benefits or quit the world altogether. All that is really im-
472 LECTURE XIV.
portant in Christianity is the belief in the immortality of the soul, and in the future blessedness of the good, the eternal punishment of the wicked. But why not swear by the Emperor, the dispenser of all temporal blessings, as God of all spiritual'? Why not sing a paean to the bright Sun or Athene, and at any rate kiss the hand to those lower deities who can do us harm if 'neglected? It cannot be supposed that the great Roman Empire will abandon its tried and an- cient faith for a barbarous novelty (l i. e. Christianity).'
Plutarch expresses the same strong faith in the Daimones, when he says :
' He who denies the Daimones, denies providence and breaks the chain that unites the world with the throne of God.'
We can well understand, therefore, that those among the Platonists who had become Christians, required something to fill the empty niches in their hearts, which had formerly been occupied by the Greek Daimones. In order to bring the Supreme Godhead into contact with the world, they invented their own Daimones, or rather gave new names to the old. St. Clement speaks glibly of the gods, but he declares that all the host of angels and gods are placed in sub- jection to the Son of God 2.
Even St. Augustine does not hesitate to speak of the gods who dwell in the holy and heavenly habita- tion, but he means by them, as he says, angels and rational creatures, whether thrones or dominations or principalities or powers.
1 Bigg, p. 266.
2 Strom, vii. 2, 8 : 0«oi TT)»' irpoffrjyopiav Kln\T)VTat ol avvOpovoi TUV &\\ui> Otuiv vnb raJ "SMTrjpi irpunov TfTayntvuv
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAGITE. 473
We saw that when the logoi had been conceived as one, the Logos was called the Son of God, the first begotten or even the only begotten. When conceived as many, the same logoi had been spoken of as Angels by Philo, and as Aeons by the Gnostics l. They were now represented as a hierarchy by Dionysius. This hierarchy, however, has assumed a very different cha- racter from that of the Aristotelian logoi. The Stoics saw in their logoi an explanation of created things, of trees, animals, and fishes, or of universal elements, not only water, earth, fire, and air, but heat and cold, sweetness and bitterness, light and darkness, etc. The Platonists, and more particularly the Neo-Platonist Christians, had ceased to care for these things. It was not the origin and descent of species, but the ascent of the human soul that principally occupied their thoughts. The names which were given to these intermediate creations which had come forth from God, which had assumed a substantial existence by the side of God, nay after a time had become like personal beings, were taken from the Bible, though it is difficult to understand on what principle, if on any. Origen already had spoken of Angels, and Thrones, and Dominions, Princedoms, Virtues, and Powers, and of an infinite stairway of worlds, on which the souls were perpetually descending and ascending till they reached final union with God.
1 These Aeons of Valentinian were, as Dr. Bigg, p. 27, truly re- marks, the ideas of Plato, seen through the fog of an Egyptian or Syrian mind. Aeon was probably taken originally in the sense of age, generation, then world. Our own word world meant originally 'age of men,' saeculum.
474 LECTURE XIV.
Influence of Dioiiysius during the Middle Ages.
What puzzles the historian is why Dionysius, who simply arranges these ancient thoughts without adding much, if anything, of his own, should have become the great authority for Theosophy or Mystic Christianity during the whole of the Middle Ages. He is quoted alike by the most orthodox of schoolmen, and by the most speculative philosophers who had almost ceased to be Christians. His first translator, Scotus Eri- gena, used him as a trusted shield against his own antagonists. Thomas Aquinas appeals to him on every opportunity, and even when he differs from him treats him as an authority, second only to the Apostles, if second even to them.
The System of Dioiiysius.
One explanation is that he saw that all religion, and certainly the Christian, must fulfil the desire of the soul for God, must in fact open a return to God. Creation, even if conceived as emanation only, is a separation from God ; salvation therefore, such as Christianity promises to supply, must be a return to God, who is all in all. the only true existence in all things. Dionysius tries to explain how a bright and spiritual light goes forth and spreads throughout all creation from the Father of light. That light, he says, is one and entirely the same through all things, and although there is diversity of objects, the light remains one and undivided in different objects, so that, without confusion, variety may be assigned to the objects, identity to the light.
All rational creatures who have a capacity for the divine nature are rarefied by the marvellous shining
DIONYSIU8 THE AREOPAGITE. 475
of the heavenly light, lightened and lifted up closely to it, nay made one with it. In this great happiness are all those spiritual natures which we call angels, on whom the light is shed forth in its untempered purity.
But as for men, who are clogged by the heavy mass of the body, they can only receive a kind of tempered light through the ministry of the angels, till at last they find truth, conquer the flesh, strive after the spirit, and rest in spiritual truth. Thus the all-mer- ciful God recalls degraded men and restores them to truth and light itself.
But Dionysius is not satisfied with these broad out- lines, he delights in elaborating the minute and to our mind often very fantastic details of the emanation of the divine light.
He tells us how there are three triads, or nine divisions in the celestial hierarchy. Possibly these three Triads may have been suggested by the three triads of Plato which we discussed in a former Lecture. In the first triad there are first of all the Seraphim, illumined by God Himself, and possessing the property of perfection. Then follow the Cherubim, as illumined and taught by the Seraphim, and pos- sessing the property of illumination. The third place in the first triad is assigned to the Thrones, or stead- fast natures who are enlightened by the second order, and distinguished by purification.
Then follow in succession the Dominations, the Virtues, and the Powers, and after that, the Princi- palities, the Archangels, and Angels. These nine stations are all minutely described, but in the end their main object is to hand down and filter, as it were, the divine light till it can be made fit for human beings.
476 'LECTURE XIV.
Human beings are below the angels, but if properly enlightened they may become like angels, nay like gods. Partial light was communicated by Moses, purer light by Christ, though His full light will shine forth in heaven only. There the true Son is with the Father. The Father is the beginning from which are all things. The Son is the means through which all things are beautifully ordered, the Holy Ghost IB the end by which all things are completed and per- fected. The Father created all things because He is good — this is the old Platonic idea — and because He is good, He also recalls to Himself all things according to their capacity.
However much we may agree with the general drift of this Dionysian theology, some of these details seem extremely childish. And yet it is these very details which seem to have taken the fancy of generation after generation of Christian teachers and preachers and their audiences. To the present day the belief of the Church in a hierarchy of angels and their functions is chiefly derived from Dionysius.
Milman on Dionysins.
The. existence of this regular celestial hierarchy became, as Milman (vi. 405) remarks, an admitted fact in the higher and more learned theology. The schoolmen reason upon it as on the Godhead itself: in its more distinct and material outline it became the vulgar belief and the subject of frequent artistic representation. Milman writes :
' The separate and occasionally discernible being and nature of seraphim and cherubim, of archangel and angel, in that dim confusion of what was thought
DTONYSIUS THE AREOPAQITE. 477
revealed in the Scripture, and what was sanctioned by the Church — of image and reality, this Oriental, half-Magian, half-Talmudic, but now Christianised theory, took its place, if with less positive authority, with hardly less unquestioned credibility, amid the rest of the faith.'
Dr. Milman- suggests with a certain irony that what made this celestial hierarchy so acceptable to the mediaeval clergy, may have been the corresponding ecclesiastical hierarchy. Dionysius in his Ecclesiastical Hierarchy proceeded to show that there was another hierarchy, reflecting the celestial, a human and ma- terial hierarchy, communicating divine light, purity, and knowledge to corporeal beings. The earthly sacerdotal order had its type in heaven, the celestial orders their antitype on earth. As there was light, purity, and knowledge, so there were three orders of the earthly hierarchy, Bishops, Priests, and Deacons ; three Sacraments, Baptism, the Eucharist, the Holy Chrism ; three classes, the Baptised, the Communi- cants, the Monks. The ecclesiastical hierarchies themselves were formed and organised after the pattern of the great orders in heaven. The whole worship of man, which they administered, was an echo of that above; it represented, as in a mirror, the angelic or superangelic worship in the empyrean. All its splendour, its lights, its incense, were but the material symbols, adumbration of the immaterial, condescending to human thought, embodying in things cognisable to the senses of man the adoration of beings close to the throne of God.
There may be some truth in Milman's idea that human or rather priestly vanity was flattered by all
478 LECTURE XIV.
this * ; still we can hardly account in that way for the enormous success of the Dionysian doctrine in the mediaeval Church.
Steal Attraction of Dionysius.
The real fascination lay, I believe, deeper. It consisted in the satisfaction which Dionysius gave to those innate cravings of the human soul for union with God, cravings all the stronger the more the mere externals of religion and worship occupied at the time the minds of priesthood and laity. Not that this satisfaction could not have been found in the Gospels, if only they had been properly searched, and if the laity had been allowed even to read them. But it was dogma and ceremonial that then preoccupied the Church.
The Fifth Century.
As Dr. Westcott says, the ecclesiastical and civil disorders of the fifth century had obscured the highest glories of the Church and the Empire. Hence the chords touched on by Dionysius found a ready re- sponse in all truly religious minds, that is, in minds longing for the real presence of God, or for a loving union with God. This is what Dionysius promised to them. To him everything finite was a help towards the apprehension of the Infinite ; and though human knowledge could never rise to a knowledge of the absolute, it might show the way to a fellowship with it. The highest scope with Dionysius was
1 Even on this point Dionysius is not original. He had been anticipated by St. Clement, who writes ^Strom. vi. 13), 'Since, according to my opinion, the grades here in the Church of bishops, presbyters, and deacons are imitations of the angelic glory.'
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAQITE. 479
assimilation to, or union with God1. In order to reach this union the truly initiated have to be released from the objects and the powers of sight before they can penetrate into the darkness of unknowledge (dyy&xri'a). The initiated is then absorbed in the intangible and invisible, wholly given up to that which is beyond all things, and belonging no longer to himself nor to any other finite being, but in virtue of some nobler faculty united with that which is wholly unknowable, by the absolute inoperation of all limited knowledge, and known in a manner beyond mind by knowing nothing (Westcott, I.e., p. 185). This is called the 'mystic union when the soul is united with God, not by knowledge, but by the devotion of love. Here was the real attraction of the Dionysian writings, at least with many Christians who wanted more from religion than arid dogma, more than vain symbols and ceremonies from the Church.
It is difficult for us to imagine what the religious state of the laity must have been at that time. . It is true they were baptised and confirmed, they were married and buried by the Church. They were also taught their Creeds and prayers, and they were invited to attend the spectacular services in the ancient cathedrals. But if they asked why all this was so, whence it came and what it meant, they would not easily have found an answer. We must remember that the Bible was at that time an almost inaccessible book, and that laymen were not encouraged to study it. The laity had to be satisfied with what had been filtered through the brain of the clergy, and what was considered by the Church the best food for babes.
1 Westcott, 1. c., pp. 157, 159, 161.
480 LECTURE XIV,
Any attempt to test and verify this clerical teaching would have been considered sinful. The clergy again were often without literary cultivation, and certainly without that historical and philosophical training that would have enabled them to explain the theo- logical teaching of St. John in its true sense, or to explain in what sense Christ was called the Son of God, and mankind believed capable of Divine sonship. Christianity became altogether legendary, and instead of striving after a pure conception of Christ, as the Son of God, Popes and Cardinals invented immaculate conceptions of a very different character. And that which is the source of all religion in the human heart, the perception of the Infinite, and the yearning of the soul after God, found no response, no satisfaction anywhere. How Christianity survived the fearful centuries from the fifth to the ninth, is indeed a marvel. Both clergy and laity seem to have led God-forsaken lives, but it was to these very centuries that the old German proverb applied, —
'When pangs are highest Then God is nighest.'
Nearness to God, union with God, was what many souls were then striving for, and it was as satisfying that desire that the teaching of Dionysius was welcome to the clergy and indirectly to the laity.
Five Stages of Mystic Union.
The mystic union of which Dionysius treats, was not anything to be kept secret, it was simply what the Neo-Platonists had taught as the last and highest point of their philosophy and their religion. They
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAGITE. 481
recognised a number of preliminary stages, such as purification (Ka0apo-is), illumination ( xo's), and initiation (p.vrjcns), which in the end led to unification with God (cvbMTts) and deification (0e'oooris), a change into God. Sometimes a distinction was made between oneness (eycoo-i?) and likeness (dfiofoxn?), but in the case of likeness with God, it would be difficult to explain any difference between likeness and oneness, between what is god-like, and what is godly.
Mysteries.
If there was an initiation (/iwjo-ts), it must not be supposed that there was anything secret or mysterious in this preparation for the highest goal. The Henosis or union with the One and All was no more of a secret than was the teaching of St. Paul that we live and move and have our being in God. All that was meant by initiation was preparation, fitness to receive the Higher Knowledge. Still, many of the Fathers of the Church who had been brought up in the schools of Neo-Platonist philosophers, spoke of the union of the soul with God as a mystical union, and as a mystery. Thus Origen (c. Celsurn, 1. 1, c. 7) says that though Christianity was more widely spread than any other philosophy, it possesses certain things behind the exoteric teaching which are not readily communicated to the many. St. Basil distinguishes in Christianity between Krjpvy^ara, what is openly proclaimed, and Soy^ara, which are kept secret. Those who had been baptised were sometimes spoken of as /^vo-rcu or oi, enlightened, as distinguished from the catechumens, just as in the Greek mysteries a distinction was made between the initiated and the
(4) Ii
482 LECTURE XIV.
exoterics. The Lord's Supper more particularly, was often spoken of as a great mystery, but though it was called a mystery, it was not a secret in the ordinary sense. Clement denies expressly that the Church possesses any secret doctrines (bLbayas a\\as anop- pTjTovs1), though, no doubt, he too would have held that what is sacred must not be given to dogs. What may be called the highest mystery is at the same time the highest truth, whether in Christianity or in Neo-Platonism, namely the cycoo-i? or a-TrXcoo-ts, the perfect union with God. Thus Macarius (c. 330) says in his Homilies (xiv. 3) : ' If a man surrender his hidden being, that is his spirit and his thoughts, to God, occupied with nothing else, and moved by nothing else, but restraining himself, then the Lord holds him worthy of the mysteries in much holiness and purity, nay, He offers Himself to him as divine bread and spiritual drink.'
It is this so-called mystery which forms the highest object of the teaching of Dionysius the Areopagite. He also admits certain stages, as preliminary to the highest mystery. They are the same as those of the Neo-Platonists, beginning with Kadapvis, purification, and ending with 0 union with God, or change into God^. We shall now understand better why he calls that union mystic and his theology mystic theology.
Mystic and Scholastic Theology.
It seems to me that it was the satisfaction which Dionysius gave to this yearning of the human heart
1 Bigg, pp. 57, 140.
2 We want a word like the German Vergottung, which is as different from Vergbitmtng as Otwats is from u-no6((aai
DIONTSIUS THE AREOPAGITE. 483
after union with God, far more than the satisfaction which he may have given to ecclesiastical vanity, which explains the extraordinary influence which he acquired both among the laity and the clergy. After his time the whole stream of theological knowledge may be said to have rolled on in two parallel channels, one the Scholastic, occupied with the definition of Christian doctrines and their defence, the other the Mystic, devoted to the divine element in man; or with what was called the birth of Christ within the soul. The Christian mystics, so far as their funda- mental position was concerned, argued very much like the Vedantists and Eleatic philosophers. If we believe in the One Being, they said, which causes and deter- mines all things, then that One Being must be the cause and determination of the human soul also, and it would be mere illusion to imagine that our being could in its essence be different from that of God. If, on the contrary, man is in his essence different from the One fundamental and Supreme Being, self-deter- mined and entirely free, then there can be no infinite God, but we should have to admit a number of Gods, or divine beings, all independent of the One Being, yet limited one by the other. The Christian Mystics embraced the former alternative, and in this respect differed but little from the Neo-Platonists. though they looked for and found strong support for their doctrines in the New Testament, more particularly in the Gospel ascribed to St. John and in some of the Epistles of St. Paul. The Christian mystic theo- logians were most anxious to establish their claim to be considered orthodox, and we see that for a long time Dionysius continued to be recognised as an
lit
484 LECTURE XIV.
authority by the most orthodox of Divines. Thomas Aquinas, the angelic doctor, to quote the words of his editor, drew almost the whole of his theology from Dionysius, so that his Summa is but the hive, as he says, in whose varied cells he stored the honey which he gathered from the writings of Dionysius (Westcott, 1. c., p. 144).
Mysticism, and Christian Mysticism.
In our days I doubt whether the mysticism of Dionysius would be considered as quite orthodox. Dr. Tholuck, a most orthodox theologian and a great admirer of the mystic poetry of the East and the West, draws a broad distinction between a mystic and a Christian mystic. He defines a mystic ' as a man, who, conscious of his affinity with all that exists from the Pleiades to the grain of dust, merged in the divine stream of life that pours through the universe, but perceiving also that the purest spring of God bursts forth in his own heart, moves onward across the world which is turned towards what is limited and finite, turning his eye in the centre of his own soul to the mysterious abyss, where the infinite flows into the finite, satisfied in nameless intuition of the sanctuary opened within himself, and lighted up and embraced by a blissful love of the secret source of his own being' (p. 20). ' In his moral aspect,' Dr. Tholuck adds, ' the life of such a mystic is like a mirror of water, moved by an all-powerful love within, and disquieted by desire, yet restraining the motion of its waves, in order to let the face of the sun reflect itself on a motionless surface. The restless conflicts of self- hood are quieted and restrained by love, so that the
DIONYS1U8 THE ABEOPAQITB. 485
Eternal may move freely in the motionless soul, and the life of the soul may be absorbed in the law of God.' Even this language sounds to our ears some- what extravagant and unreal. Nor would Dr. Tholuck himself accept it without considerable qualification, as applicable to the Christian mystic. ' TLe Christian mystic,' he says (p. 24), 'need not fear such speculations. He knows no more and wants to know no more than what is given him by the revelation of God; all deductions that go beyond, are cut short by him. He warms himself at the one ray that has descended from eternity into this finiteness, unconcerned about all the fireworks of purely human workmanship, unconcerned also about the objection that the ray which warms him more than any earthly light, may itself also be of the earth only. A Christian knows that to the end of time there can be no philosophy which could shake his faith by its syllogisms. He does not care for what follows from syllogisms, he simply waits for what is to follow on his faith, namely sight.'
Still, with all this determined striving after ortho- doxy, Dr. Tholuck admits that mystic religion is* the richest and profoundest production of the human mind, the most living and the most exalted revelation of God from the realm of nature, nay that after what he calls evangelic grace, it occupies the highest and noblest place.
There are Christian mystics, however, who would not place internal revelation, or the voice of God within the heart, so far below external revelation. To those who know the presence of God within the heart, this revelation is far more real than any other call possibly be. They hold with St. Paul (1 Cor. iii.
486 LECTURE XIV.
16) that 'man is in the full sense of the word the temple of God and that the spirit of God dwelleth within him,' nay they go even further and both as Christians and as mystics they cling to the belief that all men are one in the Father and the Son, as the Father is in the Son, and the Son in the Father. There is no conflict in their minds between Christian doctrine and mystic doctrine. They are one and the same in character, the one imparted through Christ on earth, the other imparted through the indwelling spirit of God, which again is Christ, as born within us. The Gospel of St. John is full of passages to which the Christian mystic clings, and by which he justifies his belief in the indwelling spirit of God, or as he also calls it, the birth of Christ in the human soul.
Objections to Mystic Religion reconsidered.
The dangers which have so often been pointed out as arising from this mystic belief which makes God all in all, and therefore would render Him responsible for the evil also which exists in this world, or would altogether eliminate the distinction between evil and good, exist in every religion, in every philosophy. They are not peculiar to this mystic religion. The mystic's chief aim is not to account for the origin of evil, as no human understanding can — but to teach how to overcome evil by good. The dangers to morality are much exaggerated. It is mere pharisaism to say that they exist in mystic religion only. It is to falsify history to charge mystics with ignoring the laws of morality. Are those laws observed by all who are not mystics? Did the majority of criminals in the world ever consist of mystics, of men such, as St. Bernard
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAG1TE. 487
and Tauler? Has orthodoxy always proved a shield against temptation and sin"? A man may be lenient in his judgment of publicans and sinners without losing his sense of right and wrong. There may have been cases where the liberty of the spirit has been used as a veil for licentiousness, though I know of few only ; but in that case it is clear that true mystic union had not been effected. When the soul has once reached this true union with God, nay when it lives in the constant presence of God, evil becomes almost impossible. We know that most of the evil deeds to which human nature is prone, are possible in the dark only. Before the eyes of another human being, more particularly of a beloved being, they be- come at once impossible. How much more in the real presence of a real and really beloved God, as felt by the true mystic, not merely as a phrase, but as a fact! We are told how the Russian peasant covers the face of his Eikon with his handkerchief that it may not see his wickedness. The mystic feels the same ; as long as there is no veil between him and God, evil thoughts, evil words, and evil deeds are simply im- possible to one who feels the actual presence of God. Nor is he troubled any longer by questions, such as how the world was created, how evil came into the world. He is satisfied with the Divine Love that embraces his soul ; he has all that he can desire, his whole life is hid through Christ in God, death is swallowed up in victory, the mortal has become im- mortal, neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor princi- palities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, is able to separate his soul from the love of God. This
488 LECTURE XIV. '
is the language used by St. Paul ; this is the language re-echoed by the noble army of Christian mystics, and more or less by all those who, whether in India or Persia or Arabia, nay in Europe also, hunger and thirst after God, nay who feel themselves children of God in the very fullest and deepest sense of that word.
It has been said that the times in which we live are not congenial to mystic Christianity, that we want a stronger and sterner faith to carry us through the gales and the conflicting currents of the day. That may be so, and if the Church can supply us with stronger and safer vessels for our passage, let her do so. But let her never forget that the mediaeval Church, though glorying in her scholastic defenders, though warning against the dangers of Platonic and mystic Christianity, though even unsainting St. Clement and denouncing the no less saintly Origen, never ceased to look upon men as St. Bernard (1090- 1152), Hugo (died 1141), and Richard (died 1173) of St. Victor, as her brightest ornaments and her best guides.
St. Bernard.
While the great scholastic theologians were laying down definitions of dogmas, most of them far beyond the reach of the great mass of the people, the great mass of men, women, and children were attracted by the sermons of monks and priests, who, brought up in the doctrines of mystic Christianity, and filled with respect for its supposed founder, Dionysius the Areo- pagite, preached the love of God, a life in and for God, as the only true Christian life. Christ, they held, had
DIONYSIU8 THE AREOPAGITE. 489
but rarely taught how to believe, but had constantly taught how to live. His fundamental doctrine had been His own life, and the chief lesson of that life had been that Christ was the Son of God, not in a mytho- logical sense, but in its deepest philosophical meaning, namely as the thought and will of God incarnate in a perfect man, as the ideal of manhood realised in all its fulness, as the Logos, the true Son of God. St. Bernard of Clairvaux also preached that a Christian life was the best proof of Christian faith. ' The reason,' he writes, ' why we should love God, is God Himself ; the measure of that love is that we should love Him beyond all measure1.' ' Even mere reason,' he continues, ' obliges us to do this ; the natural law, implanted within us, calls aloud that we should love God. We owe all to Him, whatever we are ; all goods of the body and the soul which we enjoy, are His work ; how then should we not be bound to love Him for His own sake ? This duty applies also to Non-Christians ; for even the heathen, though he does not know Christ, knows at least himself, and must know therefore that he owes all that is within him to God. In a still higher degree the Christian is bound to love God, for he enjoys not only the good things of creation, but of salvation also.'
Love of God.
This love of God, St. Bernard continues, must be such that it does not love God for the sake of any rewards to be obtained for it. This would be mer- cenary love. True love is satisfied in itself. It is
1 De diligendo Deo, col. 1 : Causa diligendi Deum Deus est, modus, sine modo diligere.
490 LECTURE XIV.
true our love is not without its reward, it is true also that the reward is He Himself who is loved, namely God, the object of our love. But to look for another reward beside Him, is contrary to the nature of love. God gives us a reward for our love, but we must not seek for it. Nor is this love perfect at once. It has to pass through several stages. On the first stage, according to St. Bernard, we love ourselves for our own sake. That is not yet love of God, but it is a preparation for it. On the second stage, we love God for our own sake. That is the first stage toward the real love of God. On the third stage, we love God for His own sake. We then enter into the true essence of the love of God. Lastly, on the fourth stage, we not only love God for His own sake, but we also love ourselves and everything else for the sake of God only. That is the highest perfection of the love of God.
This highest degree of love, however, is reached in all its fulness in the next life only. Only rarely, in a moment of mystic ecstasis may we rise even in this life to that highest stage.
o o
Ecstasis, according' to St. Bernard.
St. Bernard then proceeds in his own systematic way to explain what this ecstasis is, and how it can be reached. The fundamental condition is humility, the only way by which we can hope to reach truth. There are twelve degrees of humility which St. Bernard describes. But besides humility, perfect love is re- quired, and then only may we hope to enter into the mystic world. Hence the first stage is consideration of truth, based on examination and still carried on by discursive thought. Then follows contemplation of
DIONYSIUS THE ABEOPAGITB. 491
truth, without discursive examination. This con- templation is followed at last by what St. Bernard calls the admiratio majestatis, the admiration of the majesty of truth. This requires a purged heart, free from vice, and delivered from sins, a heart that may rise on high, nay may for some moments hold the admiring soul in a kind of stupefaction and ecstasis (De grad. humil., c. 8, 22 seq.).
It is in a state such as this that the soul will enter into the next life. Our will will soften and will melt away into the divine will, and pour itself into it. And here we often find St. Bernard using the same similes as to the relation of the soul to God which we found in the Upanishads and in the Neo-Platonists. As a small drop of water, he says, when it falls into much wine, seems to fail from itself, while it assumes the colour and taste of wine ; as the ignited and glowing iron becomes as like as possible to fire, deprived of its own original nature ; as the air when permeated by the light of the sun is changed into the brightness of light, so that it does not seem so much lighted up, as to be light itself, so will it be necessary that every human affection should in some ineffable way melt away and become entirely transformed into the will of God. For otherwise, how should God be all in all, if something of man remained in man? Nay the very caution which was used in the Vedanta, is used by St. Bernard also. The soul, though lost in God, is not annihilated in this ecstasis. The substance, as St. Bernard says, will remain, only in another form, in another glory, in another power. To be in that glory is to become God, eat dei/icarL
492 LECTURE XIV.
St. Bernard's Position in the Church and State.
To modern ears these ideas, quite familiar in the Middle Ages, sound strange, some might look upon them as almost blasphemous. But St. Bernard was never considered as a blasphemer, even his orthodoxy was never suspected. He was the great champion of orthodoxy, the only man who could successfully cope with Abelard at the Synod of Sens (1140).
St. Bernard's theology and his whole life supply indeed the best answer to the superficial objections that have often been raised against mystic Christianity. It has often been said that true Christianity does not teach that man should spend his life in ecstatic con- templation of the Divine, but expects him to show his love of God by his active love of his neighbours, by an active God-fearing life. In our time particu- larly religious quietism, and a monastic retirement from the world are condemned without mercy. But St. Bernard has shown that the contemplative state of mind is by no means incompatible with love of our neighbours, nay with a goodly hatred of our enemies, and with a vigorous participation in the affairs of the world. This monk, we should remember, who at the age of twenty-three had retired from the world to the monastery of Cisteaux, and after three years had become Abbot of Clairvaux, was the same Bernard who fought the battle of Pope Innocent II against the Antipope Anaclet II, who with his own weapons subdued Arnold of Brescia, and who at last roused the whole of Christendom, by his fiery harangues, to the second Crusade in 1 147. This shows that beneath the stormiest surface the deepest ground of the soul
DIONYSIUS THE ABEOPAGITE. 493
may remain tranquil and undisturbed. It shows, as even the Vedantists knew, that man need not go into the forest to be an anchorite, but that there is a forest in every man's heart where he may dwell alone with the Alone.
Hugo of St. Victor, Knowledge more certain than Faith.
Another charge often brought against so-called mystics and quietists, that they are narrow-minded and intolerant of intellectual freedom, is best refuted by the intimate friend of St. Bernard, the famous Hugo of St. Victor, the founder of the Victorines. When defining faith in its subjective sense as the act by which we receive and hold truth, Hugo of St. Victor, like many of the schoolmen, distinguishes between opinion, faith, and science, and he places faith above opinion, but below knowledge due to science. Opinion, he says, does not exclude the possibility of a contradictory opposite ; faith excludes such possibility, but does not yet know what is believed as present, resting only on the authority of another through whose teaching what is to be believed is conveyed by means of hearing ($ruti). Science on the contrary knows its object as actually present; the object of knowledge is present to the mind's eye and is known owing to this presence. Knowledge by science there- fore represents a higher degree of certainty than faith, because it is more perfect to know an object in itself by means of its immediate presence than to arrive at its knowledge by hearing the teaching of another only. The lowest degree of faith is that when the believer accepts what is to be believed from mere piety, without understanding by his reason that and why he should
494 LECTURE XIV.
believe what he has accepted. The next higher stage of faith is when faith is joined to rational insight, and reason approves what faith accepts as true, so that faith is joined with the knowledge of science. The highest degree is when faith, founded in a pure heart and an unstained conscience, begins to taste inwardly what has been embraced and held in faith. Here faith is perfected to higher mystic contemplation.
How manypeople who now kneel before the images of St. Bernard and Hugo of St. Victor, would be horrified at the doctrine that the higher faith must be founded on reason, and that faith has less certainty than the knowledge of science.
Thomas Aquinas.
Thomas Aquinas thought it necessary to guard against this doctrine, but he also admits that from a subjective point of view, faith stands half way between opinion and scientific knowledge, that is to say, below scientific knowledge, though above mere opinion. He argues, however, that faith has more certainty than scientific knowledge, because Christian faith has the authority of divine revelation, and we believe what is revealed to us, because it has been revealed by God as the highest truth. (Non enim fides, de qua loquimur, assentit alicui, nisi quia a Deo est revelatum.) He does not tell us how we can know that it was revealed by God except by means of reason. Thomas Aquinas, however, though on this point he differs from St. Hugo, and though he cannot be called a mystic even in the sense in which St. Bernard was, nevertheless is most tolerant toward his mystic friends, nay on certain points the stern
DIONY8IU8 THE AREOPAGITE. 495
scholastic is almost a mystic himself. He speaks of a state of blessedness produced by a vision of the Divine (visio divinae essentiae), he only doubts whether we can ever attain to a knowledge of the essence of the Divine in this life, and he appeals to Dionysius the Areopagite, who likewise says that man can only be joined to God as to something altogether unknown, that is, that man in this life cannot gain a quidditative knowledge of God, and hence his blessedness cannot be perfect on earth. In support of this Dionysius quotes St. John (Ep. I. iii. 2) : ' But we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is.'
Thomas Aquinas differs on other points also from the mystics who believe in 'an ecstatic union with God even in this life. According to him the highest end of man can only be likeness with God (Omnia igitur appetunt, quasi ultimum finem, Deo assimi- lari). Only of the soul of Christ does Thomas Aquinas admit that it saw the Word of God by that vision by which the Blessed see it, so that His soul was blessed, and His body also perfect1. Likeness with God is to him the summum bonum, and it is the highest beatitude which man. can reach. This highest beatitude is at the same time, as Thomas Aquinas tries to show, the highest perfection of human nature ; because what distinguishes man from all other creatures is his intellect, and it follows, there- fore, that the highest perfection of his intellect in its speculative and contemplative activity is likewise his
1 Summa, iii. 14, 1 : Anima Christi videbat Verbum Dei ea visione qua Beati vident, et in animo Christi erat beata, sed in beatitudine animae glorifieatur corpus.
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highest beatitude. (Beatitudo igitur vel felicitas in actu intellectus con&istit substantialiter et principaliter magis quam in actu voluntatis (C. G. xiii. c. 26).) The highest object of this speculative and contemplative activity of the intellect can only be God. And here again Thomas Aquinas shows an extraordinary freedom from theological prejudice. Granted, he says, that the highest end and the real beatitude of man consists in the knowledge of God, we must still distinguish between (1) a natural knowledge of God, which is common to all human beings ; (2) a demon- strative knowledge of God, (3) a knowledge of God by faith, and (4) a knowledge of God by vision (visio Dei per essentiam).
If the question be asked which of these is the most perfect knowledge of God, Thomas Aquinas answers without the least hesitation, the last. It cannot be the first, because he held that a knowledge of God, as supplied by nature, by what we should call Natural Keligion, is imperfect on account of its many errors. It cannot be the second, because demonstrative know- ledge is imperfect in being accessible to the few only who can follow logical demonstrations, also in being uncertain in its results. It cannot be the third, or knowledge of God by faith, which most theologians would consider as the safest, because it has no inter- nal evidence of truth, and is a matter of the will rather than of the intellect. But the will, according to Thomas, stands lower than the intellect. The only perfect knowledge of God is therefore, according to this highest authority of scholastic theology, the immediate vision of God by means of the intellect, and this can be given us as a supernatural gift only.
DIONYSIUS THE AREOPAGITE. 497
So far as immediate vision is concerned, Thomas agrees therefore with the mystics ; he even admits, going in this respect beyond Dionysius, the possibility of a quidditative knowledge of God, only, it would seem, not in this life.
And while he admits the possibility of this intel- lectual vision, he holds that mere loving devotion to God can never be the highest beatitude. His reasons for this are strange. We love the good, he says, not only when we have it, but also when we have it not yet, and from this love there arises desire, and desire is clearly incompatible with perfect beatitude.
Hugo of St. Victor, on the other hand, accepted that vision as a simple fact. Man, he said, is endowed with a threefold eye, the eye of the flesh, the eye of reason, and the eye of contemplation. By the eye of the flesh man sees the external world ; by the eye of reason he sees the spiritual or ideal world ; by the eye of contemplation he sees the Divine within him in the soul, and above him in God. Passing through the stages of cogitation and meditation, the soul arrives at last at contemplation, and derives its fullest happiness from an immediate intuition of the Infinite.
Hugo saw that the inmost and the highest, the soul within and God above, are identical, and that there- fore the pure in heart can see God.
Hugo is rich in poetical illustration. He com- pares, for instance, this spiritual process to the application of fire to green wood. It kindles with difficulty, he says ; clouds of smoke arise at first, a flame is seen at intervals, flashing out here and
(*) Kk
498 LECTURE XIV.
there ; as the fire gains strength, it surrounds, it pierces the fuel ; presently it leaps and roves in triumph — the nature of the wood is being transformed into the nature of fire. Then, the struggle over, the crackling ceases, the smoke is gone, there is left a tranquil friendly brightness, for the master-element has subdued all into itself. So, says Hugo, do sin and grace contend ; and the smoke and trouble and anguish hang over the strife. But when grace grows stronger, and the soul's eye clearer, and truth pervades and swallows up the kindling, aspiring nature, then comes holy calm, and love is all in all. Save God in the heart, nothing of self is left1.
1 This passage, quoted by Vaughan in his Hours with the Mystics, vol. i. p. 156 (3rd ed.), seems to have suggested what Master Eckhart writes, p. 431, 1. 19, ed. Pfeiffer.
LECTURE XV.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHT. Mystic Christianity.
stream of mystic Christianity which we have JL watched from its distant springs flows on in an ever deepening and widening channel through the whole of the Middle Ages. In Germany more particularly there came a time when what is called, mystic Chris- tianity formed almost the only spiritual food of the people. Scholasticism, no doubt, held its own among the higher ecclesiastics, but the lower clergy and the laity at large, lived on the teaching which, as we saw, flowed originally from Dionysius, and inter- penetrated even the dry scholasticism of Thomas Aquinas (1224-1274), of Bonaventura (1221-1274), and others. It then came to the surface once more in the labours of the German Mystics, and it became in their hands a very important moral and political power.
The German Mystics.
First of all, these German Mystics boldly adopted the language of the people, they spoke in the vulgar tongue to the vulgar people l, they spoke in the lan-
1 The earliest trace of Sermons in German is found in a list of books of the tenth century from St. Emmeram at Augsburg, Eka
500 LECTURE XV.
guage of the heart to the heart of the people. Secondly, they adapted themselves in other respects also to the wants and to the understanding of their flocks. Their religion was a religion of the heart and of love rather than of the head and of logical deduction. It arose at the very time when scholastic Christianity had outlived itself, and when, owing to misfortunes of every kind, the people stood most in need of reli- gious support and consolation.
The Fourteenth Century in Germany.
The fourteenth century, during which the German mystics were most active and most powerful, was a time not only of political and ecclesiastical unrest, but a time of intense suffering. In many respects it reminds us of the fifth century which gave rise to mystic Neo-Platonism in the Christian Church. The glorious period of the Hohenstaufen emperors bad come to a miserable end. The poetical enthusiasm of the nation had passed away. The struggle between the Empire and the Pope seemed to tear up the very roots of religion and loyalty, and the spectacle of an ex- travagant, nay even an openly profligate life, led by many members of the higher clergy had destroyed nearly all reverence for the Church. Like the Church, the Empire also was torn to pieces ; no one knew who was Emperor and who was Pope. The Interdict fell like a blight on the fairest portions of Germany, every
Sennones ad populum teutonics ; cf. Naumann's Serapeum, 1841, p. 2G1. An edict of Charlemagne, in which he commands the Bishops to preach in the language understood by the people, goes back to the year 818. It was repeated in 847 at the Synod of Mayencc under Rhabanus Maurus.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 501
kind of pestilence broke out, ending at last in the fearful visitation of the Black Death (1348-1349).
The Interdict.
This Interdict meant far more than we have any idea of. The churches were closed, no bells were allowed to be rung. The priests left their parishes ; in many places there were no clergy to baptise children, to perform marriages, or to bury the dead. In few places only some priests were brave enough to defy the Papal Interdict, and to remain with their flocks, and this they did at the peril of their body and their soul. The people became thoroughly scared. They saw the finger of God in all the punishments inflicted on their country, but they did not know how to avert His anger. Many people banded together and travelled from village to village, singing psalms and scourging themselves in public in the most hor- rible manner. Others gave themselves up to drink and every kind of indulgence. But many retired from the world altogether, and devoted their lives to contemplation, looking forward to the speedy approach of the end of the world.
The People and the Priesthood.
It was during those times of outward trouble and inward despair that some of those who are generally called the German Mystics, chiefly Dominican and Franciscan monks, devoted themselves to the service of the people. They felt that not even the Papal Inter- dict could absolve them from the duty which they owed to God and to their flocks. They preached wherever they could find a congregation, in the streets,
502 LECTURE XV.
in the meadows, wherever two or three were gathered together, and what they preached was the simple Gospel, interpreted in its true or, as it was called, its mystic meaning. The monastic orders of the Fran- ciscans and Dominicans were most active at the time, and sent out travelling preachers all over the country. Their sermons were meant for the hour, and in few cases only have they been preserved in Latin or in German. Such were the sermons of David of Augs- burg (died 1271) and Berchtold of Regensburg (died 1272). The effect of their preaching must have been very powerful. We have descriptions of large gather- ings which took place wherever they came. The churches were not large enough to hold the multi- tudes, and the sermons had often to be delivered outside the walls of the towns. We hear of meetings of 40,000, 100,000, nay, of 200,000 people, though we ought to remember how easily such numbers are exag- gerated by friendly reporters. The effect of these sermons seems to have been instantaneous. Thus we are told that a nobleman who had appropriated a castle and lands belonging to the cloister of Pfaefers, at once restored them after hearing Berchtold 's sermon. When taken captive Berchtold preached to his captor, and not only converted his household, but persuaded him to join his order. He was even believed to possess the power of working miracles and of prophesying. One year before his own death and while he was preaching at Ratisbon, he suddenly had a vision of his friend and teacher, David of Augsburg, and he prophesied his death, which, we are told, had taken place at that very moment. A woman while listening to his sermon fell on her knees and confessed her sins
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 503
before the whole congregation. Berchtolcl accepted her confession and asked who would marry the woman, promising to give her a dowry. A man came forward, and Berchtold at once collected among the people the exact sum which he had promised for her dowry. We know, of course, how easily such rumours spring up, and how rapidly they grow. Still we may accept all these legends as symptoms of the feverish movement which these popular preachers were then producing all over Germany. No wonder that these German mystics and the Friends of God, as they were called, were dis- liked by the regular clergy. Even when they belonged to such orthodox orders as the Dominicans and Francis- cans they were occasionally carried away into saying things which were not approved of by the higher clergy. They naturally sided with the people in their protests against the social sins of the higher classes. The luxurious life of the clergy, particularly if of foreign nationality, began to stir up a national antagonism against Rome. Nor was this unfriendly feeling against Rome the only heresy of which the German people and the German mystic preachers were suspected. They were suspected of an inclination towards Wal- densian, Albigensian, and in general towards what were then called Pantheistic heresies. There is no doubt that the influence of the Waldensians extended to Germany, and that some of them had been active in spreading a knowledge of the Bible among the people in Germany by means of vernacular transla- tions. We read in an account of the Synod of Trier, A.D. 1231, that many of the people were found to be instructed in the sacred writings which they pos- sessed in German translations (Multi eorum instruct!
504 LECTURE XV.
erant inScripturis sanctis quas habebant intheutonicum translatas). Complaint is made that even little girls were taught the Gospels and Epistles, and that people learnt passages of the Bible by heart in the vulgar tongue (Puellas parvulas docent evangelia et epistolas — dociles inter aliquos complices et facundos docent verba evangelii et dicta apostolorum et sanctorum aliorum in vulgari lingua corde firmare) l. The Albi- genses seem to have adopted the name of Kathari, the pure, possibly in recollection of the Katharsis which was a preliminary to the Henosis. This name of Kathari became in German Ketzer, with the sense of heretic. The inquisition for heresy was very active, but unable to quell the religious movement in Germany. The very orders, Dominicans and Franciscans, which were meant to counteract it, were not altogether safe against heretical infection. Among the earliest Domi- nicans who were celebrated as popular preachers, that is to say, who were able to preach in German, we find the name of the notorious inquisitor Konrad of Mar- burg, who was slain by the people in 1234 for his cruelties. The mystic sermons of Albertus Magnus were written in Latin and afterwards translated into German. The people naturally sided with those who sided with them. To them what is called mystic Christianity was the only Christianity they under- stood and cared for. They had at that time very little to occupy their thoughts, and their longing for religious comfort became all the stronger the less there was to distract their thoughts or to satisfy their ambition in the political events of the times.
1 Wackernagel und Weinhold, Altdeutsche Predigten, p. 347.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 505
Dominicans and Franciscans.
It may truly be said that the great bulk of the German people were then for the first time brought into living contact with their religion by these Dominican and Franciscan friars. However much we may admire the learning and the logical subtlety of the school- men, it is easy -to see that the questions which they discussed were not questions that could possibly influence the religious thoughts or conduct of the masses. It had long been felt that something else and something more was wanted, and this something else and something more seemed best to be supplied by what was called mystic Christianity, by what Dionysius had called the Stulta Sapientia excedens laudantes1, 'the simple-minded Wisdom exceeding all praise.'
This simple religion was supposed to spring from the love which God Himself has poured into the human soul, while the human soul in loving God does but return the love of God. This religion does not require much learning, it is meant for the poor and pure in spirit. It was meant to lead man from the stormy sea of his desires and passions to the safe haven of the eternal, to remain there firmly anchored in the love of God, while it was admitted that the scholastic or as it was called the literary religion could give no rest, but could only produce a never-ceasing appetite for truth and for victory.
There was, however, no necessity for separating learning from mystic religion, as we see in the case of St. Augustine, in Bonaventura, St. Bernard,
1 Stockl, Geschichte der Philosophic des Miltelalters, vol. i. p. 1030.
506 LEOTUBE XV.
and once more in Master Eckhart and many of the German mystics. These men had two faces, one for the doctors of divinity, their learned rivals, the other for the men, women, and children, who came to hear such sermons as Master Eckhart could preach, whether in Latin or in the vulgar tongue. At first, these popular preachers were not learned theolo- gians, but simply eloquent preachers, who travelled from village to village, and tried to appeal to the conscience of the peasants, to men and women, in their native tongue. But they prepared the way for the German mystics of the next generation, who were no longer mere kind-hearted travelling friars, but learned men, doctors of theology, and some of them even high dignitaries of the Church, The best- known names among these are Master Eckhart, Tauler, Suso, Ruysbrook, Gerson, and Cardinal Cusanus.
Eckhart and Tanler.
Every one of ihese men deserves a study by him- self. The best-known and most attractive is no doubt Tauler. His sermons have been frequently published ; they were translated into Latin, into modern German, some also into English. They are still read in Germany as useful for instruction and edification, and they have escaped the suspicion of heresy which has so often been raised, and, it may be, not without some reason, against Master Eckhart. Still Master Eckhart is a much more powerful, and more original thinker, and whatever there is of real
O y
philosophy in Tauler seems borrowed from him. In Eckhart's German writings, which were edited for
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 507
the first time by Pfeiffer (1857), mystic Christianity, or as it might more truly be called, the Christianity as conceived by St. John, finds its highest expression. It is difficult to say whether he is more of a scholastic philosopher or of a mystic theologian. The unholy divorce between religion and philosophy did not exist for him. A hundred years later so holy and orthodox a writer as Gerson had to warn the clergy that if they separated religion from philosophy, they would destroy both1. Master Eckhart, though he constantly refers to and relies on the Bible, never appeals simply to its authority in order to establish the truth of his teaching. His teaching agrees with the teaching of St. John and of St. Paul, but it was meant to convince by itself. He thought he could show that Christianity, if only rightly understood, could satisfy all the wants both of the human heart and of human reason. Every doctrine of the New Testament is accepted by him, but it is thought through by himself, and only after it has passed through the fire of his own mind, is it preached by him as eternal truth. He quotes the pagan masters as well as the Fathers of the Church, and he sometimes appeals to the former as possessing a truer insight into certain mysteries than even Christian teachers.
He is most emphatic in the assertion of truth. ' I speak to you,' he says, ' in the name of eternal truth.' 'It is as true as that God liveth.' 'Bi gote, bi gote,' ' By God, by God,' occurs so often that one feels almost inclined to accept the derivation of 'bigot'
1 Dum a religione secernere putant philosophiam, utrumque perdimt. Gterson, Serm. I.
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as having meant originally a man who on every occasion appeals to God, then a hypocrite, then a fanatic. Eckhart's attitude, however, is not that of many less straightforward Christian philosophers who try to force their philosophy into harmony with the Bible. It is rather that of an independent thinker, who rejoices whenever he finds the results of his own speculations anticipated by, and as it were hidden, in the Bible. Nor does he ever, so far as I remember, appeal to miracles in support of the truth of Christianity or of the true divinity of Christ. When he touches on miracles, he generally sees an allegory in them, and he treats them much as the Stoics treated Homer or as Philo treated the Old Testament. Otherwise, miracles had no interest for him. In a world in which, as he firmly believed, not one sparrow could fall on the ground without your Father (Matt. x. 29), where was there room for a miracle1? No doubt, and he often says so him- self, his interpretation of the Bible was not always in accordance with that of the great doctors of the Church. Some of his speculations are so bold that one does not wonder at his having incurred the suspicion of heresy. Even in our more enlightened days some of his theories about the Godhead would no doubt sound very startling. He sometimes seems bent on startling his congregation, as when he says, ' He who says that God is good, offends Him as much as if he were to say that white is black.' And yet he always remained a most obedient son of the Church, only in his own way. Like other independent thinkers of that time, he always declared himself ready to revoke at once anything and everything heretical
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHT. 509
in his writings, but he called on his adversaries to prove first of all that it was heretical. The result was that though he was accused of heresy by the Archbishop of Cologne in 1326, nothing very serious happened to him during his lifetime. But after his death, out of twenty-eight statements of his which had been selected as heretical for Papal condemnation, the first fifteen and the two last were actually con- demned, while the remaining eleven were declared to be suspicious. It was then too late for Master Eckhart to prove that they were not heretical.
Eckhart was evidently a learned theologian, and his detractors were afraid of him. He knew his Plato and his Aristotle. How he admired Plato is best shown by his calling him Der groze Pfaffe, the great priest (p. 261, 1. 21). Aristotle is to him simply the Master. He had studied Proclus, or Proculus, as he calls him, and he often refers to Cicero, Seneca, and even to the Arabic philosopher, Avicenna. He frequently appeals to St. Chrysostom, Dionysius, St. Augustine, and other Fathers of the Church, and has evidently studied Thomas Aquinas, who may almost be called his contemporary. He had received in fact a thorough scholastic training l, and was a match for the best among the advocates of the Church. Eckhart had studied and afterwards taught at the University of Paris, and had received his Degree of Doctor of Divinity from Pope Boniface VIII. In 1304 he became the Provincial of the Order of the Dominicans in Saxony, though his residence remained
1 How much Eckhart owed to his scholastic training has been well brought out by H. Denifle in his learned article, Meister Eckeharfs Lateinische Schriften und die Orundanschauung seiner Lehre, im Archivfur Litterutur und KirchengewhichU, vol. ii. fase. 8, 4.
510 LECTURE XV.
at Cologne. He was also appointed Vicar-General of Bohemia, and travelled much in Germany, visiting the monasteries of his order and trying to reform them. But he always returned to the Rhine, and he died at Cologne, probably in the year 1327.
Eckhart has been very differently judged by differ- ent people. By those who could not understand him, he has been called a dreamer and almost a madman ; by others who were his intellectual peers, he has been called the wisest Doctor, the friend of God, the best interpreter of the thoughts of Christ, of St. John, and St. Paul, the forerunner of the Reformation. He was a vir sanctus, even according to the testi- mony of his bitterest enemies. Many people think they have disposed of him by calling him a mystic. He was a mystic in the sense in which St. John was, to mention no greater name. Luther, the German Reformer, was not a man given to dreams or senti- mentalism. No one would call him a mystic, in the vulgar sense of the word. But he was a great admirer of Eckhart, if we may take him to have been the author of the Theologia Germanica. I con- fess I doubt his authorship, but the book is certainly pervaded by his spirit, particularly as regards the practical life of a true Christian1. This is what Luther writes of the book : ' From no book, except the Bible, and the works of St. Augustine, have I learnt more what God, what Christ, what man and other things are, than from this (Luther's Werke, 1883, vol. i. p. 378). A very different thinker, but
1 It has been translated into English by Miss Winkworth, and was much prized by my departed friends, Frederick Maurice, Charles Kingsley, and Baron Bunsen,
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 511
likewise no dreamer or sentimentalist, Schopenhauer, says of Eckhart that his teaching stands to the New Testament as essence of wine to wine.
Henry More, the Cambridge Platonist, another ardent admirer of the Theologia Germanica, speaks of it as ' that golden little book.'
Eckhart 's Mysticism.
It is a great mistake to suppose that Eckhart's so-called mysticism was a matter of vague sentiment. On the contrary, it was built up on the solid basis of scholastic philosophy, and it defied in turn the on- slaughts of the most ingenious scholastic disputants. How thoroughly his mind was steeped in scholastic philosophy, has lately been proved in some learned papers by Dr. Denifle'. I admit his writings are not always easy. First of all, they are written in Middle High German, a language which is separated by only about a century from the German of the Nibelunge. And his language is so entirely his own that it is sometimes very difficult to catch his exact meaning, still more to convey it in English. It is the same as in the Upanishads. The words them- selves are easy enough, but their drift is often very hard to follow.
It seems to me that a study of the Upanishads is often the very best preparation for a proper under- standing of Eckhart's Tracts and Sermons. The intellectual atmosphere is just the same, and he who has learnt to breathe in the one, will soon feel at home in the other.
I regret that it would be quite impossible to give
512 LECTURE XV.
you even the shortest abstract of the whole of Eckhart's psychological and metaphysical system. It deserves to be studied for its own sake, quite as much as the metaphysical systems of Aristotle or Descartes, and it would well repay the labours of some future Gifford Lecturer to bring together all the wealth of thought that lies scattered about in Eckhart's writings. I can here touch on a few points only, such as bear on our own special subject, the nature of God and of the Soul, and the relation between the two.
Eckhart's Definition of the Deity.
Eckhart defines the Godhead as simple esse, as actus purus. This is purely scholastic, and even Thomas Aquinas himself would probably not have objected to Eckhart's repeated statement that Esse est Deus. According to him there is and can be nothing higher than to be1. He naturally appeals to the Old Testament in order to show that / am is the only possible name of Deity. In this he does not differ much from St. Thomas Aquinas and other scholastic philosophers. St. Thomas says : Ipsum esse est perfectissimum omnium, compara- tur enim ad omnia ut actus . . . unde ipsum esse est actualitas omnium rerum et etiam ipsarum formarum2. Being without qualities God is to us unknowable and incomprehensible, hidden and dark, till the Godhead is lighted up by its own light, the light of self-know- ledge, by which it becomes subjective and objective, Thinker and Thought, or, as the Christian mystics express it, Father and Son. The bond between the
1 Cf. Denifl(5,l.c.,p. 436.
' See Denifle, Meisttr Ecktharft Lafeinische Schrtfien, p. 436.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 513
two is the Holy Ghost. Thus the Godhead, the Divine Essence or Ousia, becomes God in three Per- sons. In thinking Himself, the Father thinks every- thing that is within Him, that is, the ideas, the logoi of the unseen world. Here Master Eckhart stands completely on the old Platonic and Stoic platform. He is convinced that there is thought and reason in the world, and he concludes in consequence that the world of thought, the KOODOOS vorjros, can only be the thought of God. Granted this, and everything else follows. ' The eternal Thought or the Word of the Father, is the only begotten Son, and,' he adds, ' he is our Lord Jesus Christ1.'
We see here how Eckhart uses the old Alexandrian language, and conceives the eternal ideas not only as many, but also as one, as the Logos, in which all things, as conceived by the Father, are one before they become many in the phenomenal world. But Master Eckhart is very anxious to show that though all things are dynamically in God, God is not actually in all things. Like the Vedantist, he speaks of God as the universal Cause, and yet claims for Him an extra-mundane existence. ' God,' he writes, ' is outside all nature, He is not Himself Nature, He is above it V
1 Daz sol man als6 verstan, Daz fiwige wort ist daz wort des vater und ist sin einborn sun, unser herre Jesus Kristus. Eckhart, ed. Pfeiffer, p. 76, 1. 25.
2 Daz got etwaz ist, daz von n6t iiber wesen sin muoz, Was wesen hat, zit oder stat, das hOret ze gota niht, er ist iiber daz selbe ; daz er ist in alien creaturen, daz ist er doch dar iiber ; was da in vil dingen ein ist, daz muoz von not iiber diu dine sin. Pfeiffer, 1. c., p. 268, 1. 10. See also Eckhart's Latin version : Deus sic totus est in quolibet, quod totus est extra quodlibet, et propter hoc ea quae sunt cujuslibet, ipsi non conveniunt, puta variari, senescere aut corrumpi. . . Hinc est quod anima non variatur nee
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514 LECTURE XV.
And yet Master Eckhart is called a pantheist by men who hardly seem to know the meaning of pan- theism or of Christianity. And when he further on ventures to say, that the worlds, both the ideal and the phenomenal, were thought and created by God on account of His divine love, and therefore by necessity, and from all eternity, this again is branded as heresy, as if there could be any variance in the Divine Counsel, nay, as if there could be in God any difference between what we call necessity and liberty 1. If human language can reach at all to these dizzy heights of speculation, nothing seems more in accordance with Christian doctrine than to say what Eckhart says: ' God is always working, and His working is to beget His Son.'
Creation is Emanation.
What is generally called Creation is conceived by Eckhart as Emanation. On this point he is at one with Thomas Aquinas and many of the most orthodox theologians. I do not appeal to Dionysius or Scotus Erigena, for their orthodoxy has often been questioned. But Thomas Aquinas, in his Surtima, p. 1, qu. 19, a. 4, without any hesitation explains creation as emanatio totius entis ab uno, emanation of all that is from One. Nay, he goes further, and maintains that God is in all things, potentially, essentially, and present : per poten- tiam. essentiam et praesentiam ; per essentiam, nam omne ens est participatio divini esse ; per potentiam,
senoscit nee desinit extracto oculo aut pede, quia ipsa se tota est extra oculum et pedem, in manu tota et in qualibet parte alia tota. Dcnifle, 1. c., p. 430. Pfeiffer, 1. c., p. 612, 1. 28.
1 The condemned sentence was : Quam cito Deus fuit, tarn cito mundum creavit. Concedi ergo potest quod mundus ab aeterno fuerit.
CH1USTTAN THFOROPHT. 515
in quantum omnia in virtute ejus agunt; per prae- sentiam, in quantum ipse omnia immediate ordinat et disponit 1. Such ideas would be stigmatised as pan- theistic by many living theologians, and so would consequently many passages even from the New Testa- ment, where God is represented as the All in All. But Eckhart argued quite consistently that unless the soul of man is accepted as an efflux from God, there can be no reflux of the soul to God, and this according to Eckhart is the vital point of true Christianity. A clock cannot return to the clockmaker, but a drop of rain can return to the ocean from whence it was lifted, and a ray of light is always light.
' All creatures/ he writes, ' are in God as uncreated, but not by themselves.' This would seem to mean that the ideas of all things were in God, before the things themselves were created or were made mani- fest. ' All creatures,' he continues, ' are more noble in God than they are by themselves. God is there- fore by no means confounded with the world, as He has been by Amalrich and by all pantheists. The world is not God, nor God the world. The being of the world is from God, but it is different from the being of God.' Eckhart really admits two processes, one the eternal creation in God, the other the creation in time and space. This latter creation differs, as he says, from the former, as a work of art differs from the idea of it in the mind of the artist.
The Human Soul.
Eckhart looks upon the human soul as upon every- thing else, as thoughts spoken by God through creation. But though the soul and all the powers of
1 StOckl, Gesch. der Philos. des Mittelalters, vol. ii. p. 519. LI 2
516 LECTUBE XV.
the soul, such as perception, memory, understanding and will, are created, he holds that there is something in the soul uncreated, something divine, nay the God- head itself. This was again one of the theses which were declared heretical after his death l.
In the same way then as the Godhead or the Divine Ground is without any knowable qualities and cannot be known except as being, the Divine Element in the soul also is without qualities and cannot be known except as being. This Divine Spark, though it may be covered and hidden for a time by ignorance, passion, or sin, is imperishable. It gives us being, oneness, personality, and subjectivity, and being subjective, like God, it can only be a knower, it can never be known, as anything else is known objectively.
It is through this Divine element in the human soul that we are and become one with God. Man cannot know God objectively, but in what Eckhart calls mystic contemplation, he can feel his oneness with the Divine. Thus Eckhart writes : ' What is seen with the eye wherewith I see God, that is the same eye wherewith God sees me. My eye and God's eye are one eye and one vision, one knowing, and one loving. It is the same to know God and to be known by God, to see God and to be seen by God. And as the air illumined is nothing but that ft illumines, for it illumines because it is illumined, in the same manner we know because we are known and that He makes us to know Him2.' This knowing and to be known is what Eckhart calls the Birth of the Son in the soul.
1 Aliquid est in anima quod est increatum et increabile ; si tota anima esset talis, esset increata et increabilis, et hoc est intellectus. a Pfeifter, 1. c., p. 38, 1. 10.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 517
'If His knowing is mine, and His substance, His very nature and essence, is knowing, it follows that His essence and substance and nature are mine. And if His nature and essence and substance are mine, I am the son of God.' ' Behold,' he exclaims, ' what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God ' — and be the sons of God.
This second birth and this being born as the son of God is with Eckhart synonymous with the Son of God being born in the soul. He admits no difference be- tween man, when born again, and the Son of God, at least no more than there is between God the Father and God the Son. Man becomes by grace what Christ is by nature, and only if born again as the son of God can men receive the Holy Ghost.
What Eckhart calls the Divine Ground in the soul and in the Godhead may be, I think, justly compared with the neutral Brahman of the Upanishads, as dis- covered in the world and in the soul. And as in the Upanishads the masculine Brahman is distinguished, though not separated, from the neutral Brahman, so, according to Eckhart, the three Persons may be distin- guished from the Divine Ground, though they cannot be separated from it.
All this sounds very bold, but if we translate it into ordinary language it does not seem to mean more than that the three Divine Persons share this under- lying Godhead as their common essence or Ousia, that they are in fact homoousioi, which is the orthodox doctrine for which Eckhart, like St. Clement, tries to supply an honest philosophical explanation.
If we want to understand Eckhart, we must never forget that, like Dionysius, he is completely under the
518 LECTURE XV.
sway of Neo-Platonist, in one sense even of Platonist philosophy. When we say that God created the world, Eckhart would say that the Father spoke the Word, the Logos, or that He begat the Son. Both expressions mean exactly the same with him.
All these are really echoes of very ancient thought. We must remember that the ideas, according to Plato, constituted the eternal or changeless world, of which the phenomenal world is but a shadow. With Plato, the ideas or the et'Srj alone can be said to be real, and they alone can form the subject of true knowledge. Much as the Stoics protested against the independent existence of these ideas, the Neo-Platonists took them up again, and some of the Fathers of the Church represented them as the pure forms or the perfect types according to which the world was created, and all things in it. It was here that the ancient philo- sophers discovered what we call the Origin of Species. We saw how the whole of this ideal creation, or rather manifestation, was also spoken of as the Logos or the manifested Word of God by which He created the world, and this Logos again was represented, as we saw, long before the rise of Christianity, as the off- spring or the only begotten Son of God. Eckhart, like some of the earliest Fathers of the Church, started with the concept of the Logos or the Word as the Son of God, the other God (Sevre/aos 0eo's), and he predicated this Logos of Christ who was to him the human reali- sation of the ideal Son of God, of Divine Reason and Divine Love.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 519
The Messiah and the Logos.
What the Jews did with the name of the Messiah, the Greeks had to do with the name of the Logos. The idea of the Messiah was there for ages, and though it must have required an immense effort, the Jews who embraced Christianity brought themselves to say that this ideal Messiah, this Son of David, this King of Glory was Jesus, the Crucified. In the same manner and with the same effort, and, as I believe, with the same honesty, the Greek philosophers, who embraced Christianity, had to bring themselves to say that this Logos, this Thought of God, this Son of God, this Monogenes or Only begotten, known to Plato as well as to Philo, appeared in Jesus of Nazareth, and that in Him alone the divine idea of manhood had ever been fully realised. Hence Christ was often called the First Man, not Adam. The Greek converts who became the real conquerors of the Greek world, raised their Logos to a much higher meaning than it had in the minds of the Stoics, just as the Jewish converts imparted to the name of Messiah a much more sublime import than what it had in the minds of the Scribes and Pharisees. Yet the best among these Greek converts, in joining the Christian Church, never forswore their philosophical convictions, least of all did they commit themselves to the legendary traditions which from very early times had gathered round the cradle of the Son of Joseph and Mary. To the real believer in Christ as the Word and the Son of God these tradi- tions seemed hardly to exist ; they were neither denied nor affirmed. It is in the same spirit that Master Eckhart conceives the true meaning of the Son of God as the Word, and of God the Father as the speaker
520 LECTURE XV.
and thinker and worker of the Word, freely using these Galilean legends as beautiful allegories, but never appealing to them as proofs of the truth of Christ's teaching. Eckhart, to quote his ipsissima verba, repre- sents the Father as speaking His word into the soul, and when the Son is born, every soul becomes Maria. He expresses the same thought by saying that the Divine Ground, that is the Godhead, admits of no distinction or predicate. It is oneness, darkness, but the light of the Father pierces into that darkness, and the Father, knowing His own essence, begets in the knowledge of Himself, the Son. And in the love which the Father has for the Son, the Father with the Son breathes the Spirit. By this process the eternal dark ground becomes lighted up, the Godhead becomes God, and God in three Persons. When the Father by thus knowing Himself, speaks the eternal Word, or what is the same, begets His Son, He speaks in that Word all things. His divine Word is the one idea of all things (that is the Logos), and this eternal Word of the Father is His only Son, and the Lord Jesus Christ in whom He has spoken all creatures without beginning and without end. And this speak- ing does not take place once only. According to Eckhart 'God is always working1, in a now, in an eternity, and His working is begetting His Son. In this birth all things have flown out, and such delight has God in this birth, that He spends all His power in it. God begets Himself altogether in His Son, he speaks all things in Him.' Though such language may sound strange to us, and though it has been con- demned by those who did not know its purport, as 1 Pfeiffer, 1. c., p. 264.
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHT. 521
fanciful, if not as heretical, we should remember that St. Augustine also uses exactly the same language : ' The speaking of God,' he says, ' is His begetting, and His begetting is His speaking ' (p. 100, 1. 27), and Eckhart continues (p. 100, 1. 29): 'If God were to cease from this speaking of the Word, even for one moment, Heaven and Earth would vanish.'
With us, word has so completely lost its full mean- ing, as being the unity of thought and sound, the one inseparable from the other, that we cannot be reminded too often that in all these philosophical speculations Logos or Word does not mean the word as mere sound or as we find it in a dictionary, but word as the living embodiment, as the very incarnation of thought.
What has seemed so strange to some modern philo- sophers, namely, this inseparableness of thought and word, or, as I sometimes expressed it, the identity of reason and language, was perfectly familiar to these ancient thinkers and theologians, and I am glad to see that my critics have ceased at last to call my Science of Thought a linguistic paradox, and begin to see that what I contended for in that book was known long ago, and that no one ever doubted it. The Logos, the Word, as the thought of God, as the whole body of divine or eternal ideas, which Plato had prophe- sied, which Aristotle had criticised in vain, which the Neo-Platonists re-established, is a truth that forms, or ought to form, the foundation of all phi- losophy. And unless we have fully grasped it, as it was grasped by some of the greatest Fathers of the Church, we shall never be able to understand the Fourth Gospel, we shall never be able to call ourselves true Christians. For it is, as built upon the Logos,
522 LECTURE XV.
that Christianity holds its own unique position among all the religions of the world. Of course, a religion is not a philosophy. It has a different purpose, and it must speak a different language. Nothing is more difficult than to express the results of the deepest thought in language that should be intelligible to all, and yet not misleading. Unless a religion can do that, it is not a religion ; at all events, it cannot live ; for every generation that is born into the world requires a popular, a childlike translation of the sublimest truths which have been discovered and stored up by the sages and prophets of old. If no child could grow up a Christian, unless it understood the true meaning of Logos, as elaborated by Platonic. Stoic, and Neo-Platonic philosophers, and then adopted and adapted by the Fathers of the Church, how many Christians should we have? By using the words Father and Son, the Fathers of the Church felt that they used expressions which contain nothing that is not true, and which admit of a satisfactory interpre- tation as soon as such interpretation is wanted. And the most satisfactory explanation, the best solution of all our religious difficulties seems to me here as else- where supplied by the historical school. Let us only try to discover how words and thoughts arose, how thoughts came to be what they are, and we shall generally find that there is some reason, whether human or Divine, in them.
To me, I confess, nothing seems more delightful than to be able to discover how by an unbroken chain our thoughts and words carry us back from century to century, how the roots and feeders of our mind pierce through stratum after stratum, and still
CHRISTIAN THE08OPHT. 523
draw their life and nourishment from the deepest foundations, from the hearts of the oldest thinkers of mankind. That is what gives us confidence in our- selves, and often helps to impart new life to what threatens to become hard and petrified, mythological and unmeaning, in our intellectual and, more particu- larly, in our religious life. To many people, I feel sure, the beginning of the Gospel of St. John, ' In the beginning was the Word,' and again, ' The Word was made flesh,' can only be a mere tradition. But as soon as we can trace back the Word that in the beginning was with God, and through which (81* O.VTOV) all things were made, to the Monogenes, as pos- tulated by Plato, elaborated by the Stoics, and handed on by the Neo-Platonists, whether pagan, Jewish, or Christian, to the early Fathers of the Church, a contact seems established, and an electric current seems to run in a continuous stream from Plato to St. John, and from St. John to our own mind, and give light and life to some of the hardest and darkest sayings of the New Testament. Let us reverence by all means what is called childlike faith, but let us never forget that to think also is to worship God.
Now let us return to Master Eckhart, and remember that according to him the soul is founded on the same Divine Ground as God, that it shares in fact in the same nature, that it would be nothing without it. Yet in its created form it is separated from God. It feels that separation or its own incompleteness, and in feeling this, it becomes religious. How is that yearning for completion to be satisfied ? How is that divine home-sickness to be healed1? Most mystic philosophers would say, by the soul being drawn near
524 LECTURE XV.
to God in love, or by an approach to God, just as we saw in the Upanishads the soul approaching the throne of Brahman, as a masculine deity.
The Approach to God.
Eckhart, however, like the higher Vedantlsts, denies that there can be such an approach, or at all events he considers it only a lower form of religion. Thus he says, p. 80 : ' While we are approaching God, we never come to Him,' — almost the very words of the Vedanta.
Eckhart, while recognising this desire for God or this love of God as a preparatory step, takes a much higher view of the true relation between soul and God. That ray of the Godhead, which he calls the spirit of the soul and many other names, such as spark (Fiinklein), root, spring, also o-wrrj/arjo-is, in fact, the real Self of man, is the common ground of God and the soul. In it God and the soul are always one potentially, and they become one actually when the Son is born in the soul of man, that is when the soul has discovered its eternal oneness with God. In order that God may enter the soul, everything else must first be thrown out of it, everything sinful, but also every kind of attachment to the things of this world. Lastly, there must be a complete surrender of our own self. In order to live in God, man must die to him- self, till his will is swallowed up in God's will. There must be perfect stillness in the soul before God can whisper His word into it, before the light of God can shine in the soul and transform the soul into God.
Birth of the Son.
When man has thus become the son of God, it is said that the Son of God is born in him, and his soul
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 625
is at rest. You will have observed in all this the fundamental idea of the Vedanta, that by removal of nescience the individual soul recovers its true nature, as identical with the Divine soul ; nor can it have escaped you on the other side how many expressions are used by Eckhart which are perfectly familiar to us from the Neo-Platonists, and from the Gospel of St. John, which can convey their true meaning to those only who know their origin and their history.
Passages from the Fourth Gospel.
The passages on which Eckhart relies and to which he often appeals are: 'He that hath seen me hath seen the Father ' (xiv. 9) ; ' I am in the Father, and the Father in me' (xiv. 10); 'No man cometh unto the Father, but by me ' (xiv. 6) ; ' This is life eternal, that they might know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent ' (xvii. 3). And again : ' And now, 0 Father, glorify Thou me with Thine own Self with the glory which I had with Thee before the world was ; that they all may be one, as Thou, Father, art in me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in us ' (xvii. 5, 21).
These are the deepest notes that vibrate through the whole of Eckhart's Christianity, and though their true meaning had been explained long before Eckhart's time, by the great scholastic thinkers, such as Thomas Aquinas himself, the two St. Victors, Bonaventura, and others, seldom had their deepest purport been so powerfully brought out as by Master Eckhart, in his teaching of true spiritual Christianity. Dr. Denifle' is no doubt quite right in showing how much of this spiritual Christianity may be found in the writings of
526 LECTURE XV.
those whom it is the fashion to call rather con- temptuously, mere schoolmen. But he hardly does fulljusticeto Eckhart' s personality. Not every school- man was a vir sanctus, not every Dominican preacher was so unworldly, so full of love and compassion for his fellow-creatures as Eckhart was. And though his Latin terminology may be called more accurate and vigorous than his German utterances, there is a warmth and homeliness in his German sermons which, to my mind at least, the colder Latin seems to destroy. Dr. Denifle' is no doubt quite right in claiming Eckhart as a scholastic and as a Roman Catholic, bu* he would probably allow his heresies at least to be those of the German mystic.
Objections to Mystic Religion.
We have observed already a number of striking analogies between the spirit of mystic Christianity of the fourteenth century and that of the Vedanta- philosophy in India. It is curious that the attacks also to which both systems have been exposed, and the dangers which have been pointed out as inherent in them, are almost identical in India and in Ger- many.
Excessive Asceticism.
It is well known that a very severe asceticism was strongly advocated and widely practised by the fol- lowers of both systems. Here again there can, of course, be no idea of borrowing or even of any indirect influence. If we can understand that asceticism was natural to the believers in the Upanishads in India, we shall be equally able to understand the motives
CHRISTIAN THEO8OPHY. 527
which led Master Eckhart and his friends to mortify the flesh, and to live as much as possible a life of solitude and retirement from the world.
That body and soul are antagonistic can hardly be doubted. Plato and other Greek philosophers were well aware that the body may become too much for the soul, obscuring the rational and quickening the animal desires. Even when the passions of the flesh do not degenerate into actual excess, they are apt to dissipate and weaken the powers of the mind. Hence we find from very early times and in almost all parts of the world a tendency on the part of profound thinkers to subdue the flesh in order to free the spirit. Nor can we doubt the concurrent testimony of so many authorities that by abstinence from food, drink, and other sensual enjoyments, the energies of the spirit are- strengthened1. This is particularly the case with that spiritual energy which is occupied with religion. Of course, like everything else, this as- ceticism, though excellent in itself, is liable to mis- chievous exaggeration, and has led in fact to terrible excesses. I am not inclined to doubt the testimony of trustworthy witnesses that by fasting and by even a more painful chastening of the body, the mind may be raised to more intense activity. Nor can I resist the evidence that by certain exercises, such as peculiar modes of regulating the breathing, keeping the body in certain postures, and fixing the sight on certain objects, a violent exaltation of our nervous system may be produced which quickens our imaginations, and enables us to see and conceive objects which are
1 The Sanskrit term urdhvaretas, applied to ascetics, is very significant.
528 LECTURE XV.
beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. I believe that the best physiologists are quite aware of all this, and perfectly able to account for it; and it would bei carrying scepticism too far, were we to decline to accept the accounts given us by the persons themselves of their beatific visions, or by trustworthy witnesses. On the other hand, it is perfectly well known that when these ascetic tendencies once break out, they are soon by mere emulation carried to such extremes that they produce a diseased state both of body and of mind, so that we have to deal no longer with inspired or ecstatic saints, but with hysterical and half-de- lirious patients.
Another danger is an almost irresistible temptation to imposition and fraud on the part of religious ascetics, so that it requires the most discriminating judgment before we are able to distinguish between real, though abnormal, visions, and intentional or half- intentional falsehood.
The penances which Indian ascetics inflict on them- selves have often been described by eye-witnesses whose bona fides cannot be doubted, and I must say that the straightforward way in which they are treated in some of the ancient text-books, makes one feel inclined to believe almost anything that these ancient martyrs are said to have suffered and to have done, not excluding their power of levitation. But we also see, both in India and in Germany, a strong revulsion of feeling, and protests are not wanting, emanating from high authorities, against an excessive mortification of the flesh. One case is most interesting. We are told that Buddha, before he became Buddha, went through the most terrible penances, living with
CHRISTIAN THE08OPHY. 629
the Brahmanic hermits in the forest. But after a time he became convinced of the uselessness, nay of the mischievousness of this system, and it is one of the characteristic features of his teaching that he declared these extreme self-inflicted tortures useless for the attainment of true knowledge, and advised a Via media between extreme asceticism on one side and worldliness on the other, as the true way to enlighten- ment and beatitude.
Much the same protest was made by Eckhart and Tauler in trying to restrain their enthusiastic pupils. They both recommended a complete sur- render of all the goods of this world; poverty and suffering were in their eyes the greatest help to a truly spiritual life ; not to be attached to this world was the primary condition for enabling God to appear again in the soul of man, or, as they expressed it, for facilitating the birth of the Son of God in man. But with all that, they wished most strongly to see the love of God manifested in life by acts of loving- kindness to our fellow-creatures. They believed that it was quite possible to take part in the practical work of life, and yet to maintain a perfect tranquillity and stillness of the soul within. Both Eckhart and Tauler took a prominent and active share in the affairs of Church and State, both tried to introduce muph- needed reforms in the life of the clergy and the laity. Stillness and silence were recommended, because it is only when all passions are stilled and all worldly desires silenced that the Word of God can be heard in the soul. A certain discipline of the body was there- fore encouraged, but only as a means toward an end. Extreme penances, even when they were supposed to
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530 LECTURE XV.
lead to beatific visions of the Godhead, were strongly discouraged. The original oneness of the human soul with God is accepted by all German mystics as the fundamental article of the Christian faith, but they differ as to the means by which that oneness may be restored. The speculative school depends on know- ledge only. They hold that what we know ourselves to be, we are ipso facto, and they therefore lay the chief stress on the acquisition of knowledge. The ascetic school depends on penances and mortifications, by which the soul is to gain complete freedom from the body, till it rises in the end to a vision of God, to a return of the soul to God, to a reunion with God.
' What is penance in reality and truth 1 ' Tauler asks. ' It is nothing,' he answers, ' but a real and true turning away from all that is not God, and a real and true turning towards the pure and true good, which is called God and is God. He who has that and does that, does more than penance.' And again : ' Let those who torture the poor flesh learn this. What has the poor flesh done to thee ? Kill sin, but do not kill the flesh ! '
Tauler discourages even confession and other merely outward acts of religion. ' It is of no use,' he says, ' to run to the Father Confessor after having com- mitted a sin.' Confess to God, he says, with real repentance. Unless you do this and flee from sin, even the Pope with all his Cardinals cannot absolve you, for the Father Confessor has no power over sin. Here we can clearly hear the distant rumblings of the Reformation.
But, though these excessive penances could do no good, they are nevertheless interesting to us as
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 581
showing at all events what terrible earnestness there was among the followers of the Vedanta as well as among the disciples of Eckhart and Tauler. We read of Suso, one of the most sweet- minded of German mystics, that during thirty years he never spoke a word during dinner. During six- teen years he walked about and slept in a shirt studded with 150 sharp nails, and wore gloves with sharp blades inside. He slept on a wooden cross, his arms extended and the back pierced with thirty nails. His bedstead was an old door, his covering a thin mat of reeds, while his cloak left the feet exposed to the frost. He ate but once a day, and he avoided fish and eggs when fasting. He allowed himself so little drink that his tongue became dry and hard, and he tried to soften it with a drop from the Holy Water in Church. His friend Tauler strongly disapproved of these violent measures, and at last Suso yielded, but not before he had utterly ruined his health. He then began to write, and nothing can be sweeter and more subdued, more pure and loving than his writings. That men in such a state should see visions, is not to be wondered at. They constantly speak of them as matters perfectly well known. Even Tauler, though he warns against them, does not doubt their possibility or reality. He relates some in his own sermons, but he is fully aware of the danger of self-deceit. ' Those who have to do with images and visions,' he says *, ' are much deceived, for they come often from the devil, and in our time more than ever. For truth has been revealed and discovered to us in Holy Writ, and it is not necessary
1 Carl Schmidt, Johannes Tauler von Strassburg, p. 138. M m a
582 LECTURE XV.
therefore that truth should be revealed to us in any other way ; and he who takes truth elsewhere but from Holy Writ, is straying from the holy faith, and his life is not worth much.'
SinlessneM.
Another even greater danger was discovered by the adversaries both of the Vedanta and of Master Eckhart's philosophy. It is not difficult to under- stand that human beings who had completely over- come their passions and who had no desires but to remain united with the Divine Spirit, should have been declared incapable of sin. In one sense they were. But this superiority to all temptation was soon interpreted in a new sense, namely that no sin could really touch such beings, and that even if they should break any human laws, their soul would not be affected by it. One sees well enough what was intended, namely that many of the distinctions between good and evil were distinctions for this world only, and that in a higher life these distinctions would vanish.
We read in the Br^h. Up. IV. 4, 23 : ' This eternal greatness of Brahman does not grow larger by works, nor does it grow smaller. Let man try to find the trace of Brahman, for having found it, he is not sullied by any evil deed.' The Bhagavadgita also is full of this sentiment, as, for instance, V. 7 : ' He who is possessed of devotion, whose self is pure, who has restrained his self, and who has controlled his senses, and who identifies his self with every being, that is, who 'loves his neighbour as himself, is not tainted, though he per- forms acts.' And then again : ' The man of devotion who knows the truth, thinks be does nothing at all
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 538
when he sees, hears, touches, smells, eats, moves, sleeps, breathes, talks, takes, opens or closes the eyelids ; he holds that the senses only deal with the objects of the senses. He who, casting off all attachment, performs actions, dedicating them to Brahman, is not tainted by sin, as the lotus leaf is not soiled by water.'
Tauler's utterances go often quite as far, though he tries in other places to qualify them and to render them innocuous. ' Having obtained union with God,' he says, ' a man is not only preserved from sin, and beyond the reach of temptation, but all sins which he has committed without his will, cannot pollute him ; on the contrary, they help him to purify himself.' Now it is quite true that Tauler himself often in- veighs against those who called themselves the Brothers of the Free Spirit, and who maintained that no sin which they committed could touch them, yet it must be admitted that his own teaching gave a certain countenance to their extravagances.
You may remember that the Vedantists too allowed the possibility of men even in this life obtaining per- fect freedom and union with Brahman (guvanmukti), just as some of the mystics allowed that there was a possibility of a really poor soul, that is a soul freed from all attachments, and without anything that he could call his own, obtaining union with God even while in this mortal body. Still this ecstatic state of union with God was looked upon as an exception, and lasted for short moments only, while real beati- tude could only begin in the next life, and after a complete release from the body. Hence so long as the soul is imprisoned in the body, its sinlessness could be considered as problematical only, and both
584 LECTUBE XV.
in Germany and in India saintly hypocrisy had to be reproved and was reproved in the strongest terms.
Want of Reverence for God.
There is one more charge that has been brought against all mystics, but against the mediaeval far more than against the Indian mystics. They were accused of lowering the deity by bringing it down to the level of humanity, and even identifying the human and divine natures. Here, however, we must hear both sides, and see that they use the same language and really understand what they say. No word has so many meanings as God. If people con- ceive God as a kind of Jupiter, or even as a Jehovah, then the idea of a Son of God can only be considered blasphemous, as it was by the Jews, or can only be rendered palatable to the human understanding in the form of characters such as Herakles or Dionysus. So long as such ideas of the Godhead and its relation to humanity are entertained, and we know that they were entertained even by Christian theologians, it was but natural that a claim on the part of humanity to participate in the nature of the divine should have excited horror and disgust. But after the Deity had been freed from its mythological character, after the human mind, whether in India or elsewhere, had once realised the fact, that God was all in all, that there could be nothing beside God, that there could be one Infinite only, not two, the conclusion that the human soul also belonged to God was inevitable. It was for religion to define the true relation between God and manj and you may remember from my first course of Lectures, how some high authorities have defined all religion to be the perception of this very
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 535
relation between God and man. Nothing can be said against this definition, if only we clearly see that this recognition of a relation between the Divine and the Human must be preceded by what I called the perception of the infinite in nature and of the infinite in man, and the final recognition of their oneness. I wish indeed that our etymological con- science allowed us to derive religio with Lactantius and others from religare, to re-bind or re-unite, for in that case religio would from the first have meant what it means at last, a re-uniting of the soul with God.
This re-union can take place in two ways only ; either as a restoration of that original oneness which for a time was forgotten through darkness or nescience, or as an approach and surrender of the soul to God in love, without any attempt at explaining the separation of the soul from God, or its indepen- dent subsistence for a time, or its final approach to and union with God. And here it seems to me that Christianity, if properly understood, has discovered the best possible expression. Every expression in human language can of course be metaphorical only, and so is the expression of divine sonship, yet it clearly conveys what is wanted, identity of substance and difference of form. The identity of substance is clearly expressed by St. Paul when he says (Acts xvii. 28) that we live and move and have our being in God, and it is very significant that it was exactly for this, the fundamental doctrine of Christianity, that St. Paul appealed to the testimony of non-Christian prophets also, for he adds, as if to mark his own deep regard for Natural and Universal Religion, ' as certain also of your own poets have said.'
536 LECTURE XV.
The difference in form is expressed by the very name of Son. Though the concept of Father is impossible without that of Son, and the concept of Son impossible without that of Father, yet Christ Himself, after saying, 'I and My Father are one' (St. John x. 30), adds (xiv. 28), ' My Father is greater than I.' Thus the pre-eminence of the Father is secured, whether we adopt the simple language of St. John, or the philosophical terminology of Diony- sius and his followers.
A much greater difficulty has been felt by some Christian theologians in fixing the oneness and yet difference between the Son of God and humanity at large. It was not thought robbery that the Son should be equal with the Father (Phil. ii. 6), but it was thought robbery to make human nature equal with that of the Son. Many were frightened by the thought that the Son of God should thus be degraded to a mere man. Is there not a blasphemy against humanity also, and is it not blasphemous to speak of a mere 'man. What can be the meaning of a mere tnan, if we once have recognised the divine essence in him, if we once believe that unless we are of God, we are nothing. If we once allow ourselves to speak of a mere man, others will soon speak of a mere God.
Surely no one was more humble than Master Eckhart and Tauler. no one showed more reverence for the Son than they who had looked so deeply into the true nature of divine sonship. But they would not allow the clear statements of the New Testament to be argued away by hair-splitting theologians. They would not accept the words of Christ except in their literal and natural sense? They quoted the
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verses : { That they all may be one ; as Thou, Father, art in Me. and I in Thee, that they also may be one in us ' (St. John xvii. 21). And again, ' The glory which Thou gavest Me I have given them ; that they may be one, even as we are one ' (St. John xvii. 22 ; see also St. John xiv. 2, 3). These words, they maintain, can have one meaning only. Nor will they allow any liberties to be taken with the clear words of St. Paul (Rom. viii. 16), 'The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God : and if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with Him, that we may be also glorified together.' They protest against wrenching the sayings of St. John from their natural and manifest purpose, when he says : ' Beloved, we are the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is.'
Many more passages to the same effect might be quoted and have been quoted. Every one of them has been deeply pondered by Eckhart and his friends, and if it was a mere question of reverence for Christ, nowhere was greater reverence shown to Him than in the preaching of these Friends of God. But if they had surrendered their belief in the true brotherhood of Christ and man, they would have sacrificed what seemed to them the very heart of Christianity. We may make the fullest allowance for those who, from reverence for God and for Christ and from the purest motives, protest against claiming for man the full brotherhood of Christ. But when they say that the difference between Christ and mankind is one of kind, and not of degree, they know not what they do, they
588 LECTURE XV.
nullify the whole of Christ's teaching, and they deny the Incarnation which they pretend to teach. Let the difference of degree be as large as ever it can be be- tween those who belong to the same kind, but to look for one or two passages in the New Testament which may possibly point to a difference in kind is surely useless against the overwhelming weight of the evi- dence that appeals to us from the very words of Christ. We have lately been told, for instance, that Christ never speaks of Our Father when including Himself, and that when He taught His disciples to pray, Our Father which art in heaven, He intentionally excluded Himself. This might sound plausible in a court of law, but what is it when confronted with the words of Christ : ' Go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father ; and to my God, and your God.' Was that also meant to imply that His Father was not the same as their Father, and their God not the same as His God ?
Religion, the Bridge between the Finite and the Infinite.
It was the chief object of these four courses of Lec- tures to prove that the yearning for union or unity with God, which we saw as the highest goal in other religions, finds its fullest recognition in Christianity, if but properly understood, that is, if but treated his- torically, and that it is inseparable from our belief in man's full brotherhood with Christ. However imper- fect the forms may be in which that human yearning for God has found expression in different religions, it has always been the deepest spring of all religion, and the highest summit reached by Natural Religion. The different bridges that have been thrown across the
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 589
gulf that seems to separate earth from heaven and man from God, whether we call them Bifrost or Kinvat or Es Sirat or any other name, may be more or less crude and faulty, yet we may trust that many a faithful soul has been carried across by them to a better home. You may remember how in the Upani- shads the Self had been recognised as the true bridge, the best connecting link between the soul and God, and the same idea meets us again and again in the religions and philosophies of later times. It is quite true that to speak of a bridge between man and God, even if that bridge is called the Self, is but a meta- phor. But how can we speak of these things except in metaphors ? To return to God is a metaphor, to stand before the throne of God is a metaphor, to be in paradise with Christ is a metaphor.
Even those who object to the metaphor of a bridge between earth and heaven, between man and God, and who consider the highest lesson of Theosophy to be the perception of the eternal oneness of human and divine nature, must have recourse to metaphor to make their meaning clear. The metaphor which is almost universal, which we find in the Vedanta, among the Sufis, among the German Mystics, nay, even as late as the Cambridge Platonists in the seventeenth century, is that of the sun and its rays.
The sun, as they all say, is not the sun, unless it shines forth ; and God is not God, unless He shines forth, unless He manifests Himself.
All the rays of the sun are of the sun, they can never be separated from it, though their oneness with the source of light may for a time be obscured by inter- vening darkness. All the rays of God, every soul,
540 LECTURE XV.
every son of God, is of God ; they cannot be separated from God, though their oneness with the Divine Source may for a time be obscured by selfhood, passion, and sin.
Every ray is different from the other rays ; yet there cannot be any substantial difference between them. Each soul is different from the other souls ; yet there cannot be any substantial difference between them.
As soon as the intervening darkness is removed, each ray is seen to be a part of the sun, and yet apart from it and from the other rays. As soon as the intervening ignorance is removed, each soul knows itself to be a part of God, and yet apart from God and from the other souls.
No ray is lost, and though it seems to be a ray by itself, it remains for ever what it has always been, not separated from the light, nor lost in the light, but ever present in the sun. No soul is lost, and though it seems to be a soul by itself, it remains for ever what it always has been, not separated from God, not lost in God, but ever present in God.
And lastly, as from the sun there flows forth not only light, but also warmth, so from God there pro- ceeds not only the light of knowledge, but also the warmth of love, love of the Father and love of the Son, nay love of all the sons of the eternal Father.
But is there no difference at all between the sun and the rays "? Yes, there is. The sun alone sends out its rays, and God alone sends out His souls. Causality, call it creation or emanation, belongs to God alone, not to His rays or to His souls.
These are world-old metaphors, yet they remain
CHRISTIAN THEO8OPHY. 541
ever new and true, and we meet with them once more in the speculations of the Cambridge Platonists. Thus Henry More says :
'I came from God, am an immortal ray Of God ; O joy ! and back to God shall go.'
Again :
'Hence the- soul's nature we may plainly see, A beam it is of th' Intellectual Sun,
A ray indeed of that Aeternity ; But such a ray as when it first outshone, From a free light its shining date begun.'
I hope I have thus carried out the simple plan of my Lectures, as I laid it down from the first. My first course was meant as an introduction, fixing the historical standpoint from which religions should be studied, and giving certain definitions on which there ought to be no misunderstanding between teachers and hearers. Then taking a survey of the enormous mass of religious thought that lies before the eyes of the historian in chaotic confusion, I tried to show that there were in it two principal currents, one repre- senting the search after something more than finite or phenomenal in nature, which I called Physical Religion, the other representing the search after something more than finite or phenomenal in the soul of man, Anthropological Religion. In this my last course, it has been my chief endeavour to show how these two currents always strive to meet and do meet in the end in what has been called Theosophy or Psychological Religion, helping us to the perception of the essential unity of the soul with God. Both this striving to meet and the final union have found, I think, their most perfect expression in Christianity. The striving of the soul to meet God is expressed in
542 LECTURE X7.
the Love of God, on which hang all the Laws and the Prophets ; the final union is expressed in our being, in the true sense of the word, the sons of God. That sonship may be obtained by different ways, by none so truly as what Master Eckhart called the surrender of our will to the Will of God. You may remember how this was the very definition which your own revered Principal has given of the true meaning of religion; and if the true meaning of religion is the highest purpose of religion, you will see how, after a toilsome journey, the historian of religion arrives in the end at the same summit which the philosopher of religion has chosen from the first as his own.
In conclusion I must once more thank the Principal and the Senate of this University for the honour they have done me in electing me twice to this important office of Gifford Lecturer, and for having given me an opportunity of putting together the last results of my life-long studies in the religions and philosophies of the world. I know full well that some of these results have given pain to some learned theologians. Still I believe it would have given them far greater pain if they had suspected me of any want of sincerity, whether in keeping back any of the facts which a study of the Sacred Books of the World has brought to light, or in hiding the convictions to which these facts have irresistibly led me.
There are different ways in which we can show true faith and real reverence for religion. What would you say, if you saw a strong and powerful oak-tree, enclosed by tiny props to keep it from falling, made hideous by scarecrows to drive away the birds, or
CHRISTIAN THEOSOPHY. 543
shielded by flimsy screens to protect it from the air and the light of heaven ? Would you not feel that it was an indignity to the giant of the forest? Would you not feel called upon to pull out the tiny props, and let the oak face the gales, and after every gale cling more strongly to the earth, and send its roots more deeply into the rock beneath ? Would you not throw away the scarecrows and let the birds build their nests on its strong branches ? Would you not feel moved to tear off the screens, and let the wind of heaven shake its branches, and the light from heaven warm and brighten its dark foliage"? This is what I feel about religion, yea about the Christian religion, if but properly understood. It does not want these tiny props or those hideous scarecrows or useless apolo- gies. If they ever were wanted, they are not wanted now, whether you call them physical miracles, or literal inspiration, or Papal infallibility ; they are now an affront, a dishonour to the majesty of truth. I do not believe in human infallibility, least of all, in Papal infallibility. I do not believe in professorial infallibility, least of all in that of your Gifford lecturer. We are all fallible, and we are fallible either in our facts, or in the deductions which we draw from them. If therefore any of my learned critics will tell me which of my facts are wrong, or which of my conclusions faulty, let me assure them, that though I am now a very old Professor, I shall always count those among my best friends who will not mind the trouble of supplying me with new facts, or of pointing out where facts have been wrongly stated by me, or who will correct any arguments that may seem to them to offend against the sacred laws of logic.
544
STATIONS OF THE JOURNEY AFTER
BHh. lr. Up.