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Devoted to the Science of Religion, the Religion of Science, and 
the Extension of the Religious Parliament Idea. 

VOL. XIX. (No. 9.) SEPTEMBER, 100s. NO. 502. 

Copyright by The Open Court Publishing Company, 1905. 



ORKI’S work is the logical end of the literary and social move- 
ment of the nineteenth century in Russia, the natural and 
evolutive outcome of Gorgol’s Dead Souls, of Tourguéniev’s Tales 
of a Hunter, of Dostoievsky’s House of the Dead, of Tolstoi’s Popu- 
lar Tales. 

Russian criticisms are almost all laudatory, apologetic, breath- 
lessly enthusiastic. Whether from conviction or unconscious crowd- 
following impulse, the admirers give wild applause. Scarce are 
those who, while exclaiming “bravo!” stop to take breath and in- 
sinuate a few restrictions in their vivats. 

Gorki’s most incontestable merit is to have introduced into 
literature characteristic types of the most numerous class in Russia, 
the people. His glory is to have given us a lifelike picture of the 
new power on which Russia—advisedly or ill-advisedly—has been 
relying for a long time, on which all her hope, all her future de- 

* * * 

Maxime Gorki (Maxime the “Bitter’”) —a pseudonym for 
Alexei Maximovitch Pechkov—was born at Nijni-Novgorod, in 
1869. His father, an upholsterer, against his father’s will, married 
the daughter of a former bourlac, a Volga bargeman. He died in 
1873, during the cholera epidemic. The mother of the future 
novelist married again, and soon eight year old Alexei was sent 
out to a shoemaker as apprentice: 

* This articlé consists of portions selected from a chapter of Ossip- 
Lourie’s La Psychologie des romanciers russes du XIXe siécle, translated by 
Amélie Sérafon. Russian proper names have not been changed to the more 

familiar English forms but are left in the French transliteration as originally 
used by the author. 


. Gorki inherits a pensive sadness from his mother, and his vio- 
lent temper from his father. Of an uneasy nature and left to his 
own devices, he changed his trade several times and ended by en- 
listing in the army of vagabonds, composed in Russia of work 
haters, ex-government clerks, former students, and moujiks whom 
scarcity of land drives from their villages; in short, of the dregs 
of society, all great vodka-drinkers, without any determined trade; 
at times laborers, at times thieves, ready for anything, capable of 
anything. Henceforth Gorki knows nought but the highway; and 
has for companions only vagabonds whose lives contain no secret 
from him—and he has understanding for none but scamps. He 
explores the banks of the Volga, the waters of which stir his imagi- 
nation. Everywhere he observes, stores up visions, fills his memory 
with images, enriches it with models, with original types. Gorki’s 
condition is truly pitiable ; he becomes, by turns, cook on a steamer, 
vender of kvass (cider) and bargeman. The realm of ideas is 
absolutely foreign to him: some intermittent reading of Gogol, of 
the verses of the popular poet Kolsov here and there, of Stenko- 
Razine’s history, or episodes from Russian history, and that is all. 
At the age of seventeen, by some chance he finds himself at Kazan, 
a university town. Here he becomes acquainted with the students 
who undertake to educate him, and, while working at a baker’s 
Gorki reads the books they lend him. “The bakery was in a base- 
ment the windows of which were beneath the level of the street. 
There was little light, little air, but much dampness and flour-dust. 
An enormous stove occupied nearly a third of the kitchen. The 
smell of yeast pervaded the unwholesome atmosphere. The smoky 
ceiling, the gray day together with the fire of the oven produced 
a light fatiguing to the eyes.” 

But of what importance is it to Gorki? He makes friends with 
another journeyman-baker, a vagabond like himself, a true artist 
in his line. “You should have seen him handle a seven-pood block 
of dough! At first as I saw him dash the raw loaves into the oven 
faster than I could get them out of the trough, I always feared he 
would throw them on top of one another. But I felt real admira- 
tion for him, after he had taken out three ovens full, without one 
of the hundred and twenty crisp, beautiful loaves being damaged.” 
Konovalov loved his work, raved over it, was sad when the oven 
wouldn’t bake properly or when the dough wouldn’t rise. On the 
other hand, he was happy when the loaves came out of the oven 
all round and even, just brown enough, with a thin crisp crust. 

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He would take the finest loaf from the shovel and throw it from 
one palm on to the other, exclaiming: “What a beauty!” 

“After the work,” Gorki relates, “we would stretch out on our 
backs in the yard, and contemplate the abyss over our heads. By 
degrees, the blue sky drawing us to its depths would invest our 
souls....We lost the feeling of existence and were swimming in 
the secrets of the heavens. ...We were in a condition of half-sleep 
and contemplation....We would remain thus for whole hours to- 
gether, and when we went home this communion with nature had 
refreshed our hearts....In those days, the destinies of humanity 
occupied my thoughts. I strove to prepare in my own self an 
active and powerful force; I considered myself an important per- 
son, indispensable to the general life.” 

Gorki often read popular tales aloud to Konovalov. 

“How strange it is,” said the latter, “a man has written a book 
—it is but paper— and still it is a book! Those men live, and see 
life, and absorb all the pain of life. Their eyes must be extraordi- 
nary eyes! They look at life, a sorrow comes to them, and they 
pour their sorrow into their books! But that does not relieve them 
for their hearts are touched and you could not drive sorrow from 
them even with fire—So they drink. The author dies, his book re- 
mains and is read.” 

Konovalov thought that those who write books should be en- 
couraged “because they understood more than other people. I, for 
instance, who am I? A beggar, a drunkard. There is no reason 
why I should live. Why am I on earth, of what use am I to any 
one? I possess nothing: neither shelter, nor wife, nor child, and I 
feel no desire. I live and am lonesome. Why? I do not know. 
Something is lacking,—a spark.” 

Gorki began to read assiduously the books that the students 
lent him. The contact with the realm of ideas resulted in an at- 
tempt at suicide. Gorki was eighteen. His frail poet’s soul was 
not prepared for intellectual light and the shock was too severe. 
But his friend Konovalov, the incorrigible vagabond, was there 
and said to him: “It is very wrong for you to have this mania for 
cities. Life is rotten there. There is neither space nor light. You 
are an educated man, you know how to read, what need have you 
of other men? Leave the cities. Books? One is not in this world 
only to read books. All that is nonsense. Buy some, put them into 
your bag and tramp! Would you like to go to Tashkent, to Samar- 
kand? We shall go by the Amour river, don’t you want to? There 
is nothing better than to wander about the world. You walk and 


see new things and think of nothing. The wind blows in your face, 
and it seems as though it had lifted all the dust from your soul. 
You are free; nothing hinders you. If you are hungry you work 
for fifty kopeks. And you walk on. In this way we shall see many 

And Gorki heard the voice of the highway and understood 
that “his place was not in intellectual circles.” He left Kazan, 
revisited the banks of the Volga, visited the Caucasus, went as far 
as the Black Sea. Here, railroad official; there, laborer; he earned 
his living, talked to his fellow-travelers, observed much, saturated 
his mind with the beauties of nature. In 1892, he became acquainted 
with Vladimir Korolenko who revealed him to Russian literary men. 
Our vagabond began to write. His first tale “Makar Tchoudra” 
(1893) had some success. “It was night,” Gorki relates, “when I 
issued forth from the house where, to a private circle, I had read 
my first printed story. I had received a great many compliments 
and, pleasantly affected, I was walking slowly along the deserted 
street, feeling for the first time in my life with such intensity, the 
delight of living. It was in February; the night was clear and the 
sky cloudless, woven with a rich tissue of stars; a bracing wind 
was blowing on the earth covered with an abundant and vapory 
raiment of fresh-fallen snow. The boughs of the trees reaching over 
the walls, cast on my way intricate arabesques of shadow; the 
snow-flakes glittered, dazzling and soft under the blue and caress- 
ing light of the moon. Nowhere was there a living being to be 
seen, and the creaking of the snow under my tread was the only 
sound that disturbed the solemn silence of that night, so present to 
my memory....I was thinking: It is pleasant to be of some con- 
sequence on this earth among men.” 

Gorki writes much, produces tales and stories just as the apple- 
tree brings forth apples. His first volume of Narratives was pub- 
lished in 1896 in St. Petersburg. Criticism seemed rather doubtful, 
but the literary public gave this volume a warm welcome, and 
twenty-four thousand copies were sold in eight months. The life- 
like reality of the characters, the depth, energy, and picturesqueness 
of diction, very soon procured the author warm admirers.—Since 
Tourguéniev’s Tales of a Hunter no such thing had been seen. The 
characters, conjured up in a realistic vision, delighted the readers. 

And Gorki keeps on writing: he has published six volumes of 
short stories while continuing his vagabond life. The Kremlin 
at Moskow, the islands of the Neva, and editorial rooms, are un- 
congenial to him. He must have the highway with its tramp-philos- 



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ophers. Often, after an enthusiastic reception from students and 
literary people, Gorki says to all: “Good bye, brothers, I am off,” 
and again takes up his endless wanderings. 


Maxime Gorki is a prolific and creative writer; his gift for 
observation is very powerful, and with him, creative imagination 
gushes forth like a flowing spring; there are true sobs in his un- 
equal but always plastic, voluptuous, feverish and animated style. 
He knows how to conjure up in a few lines, a whole world of 
sombre or brilliant, gay or tragic images; how to bring forth the 
flow of ideas amid the tumult of metaphors. Though the form is 
of the romantic school, the thought is realistic ; he does not analyze, 
but only sketches, draws, depicts. Always remaining within the 
limits of reality, Gorki, with rare exceptions, keeps up to a truly 
poetical pitch; he possesses the emotive gift to a wonderful degree. 
His language is rough and violent but sonorous; his descriptions 
are vigorous and lively. He conjures up life with a remarkable 
intensity ; he sees life everywhere. Nature herself seems eloquent 
to him; he attributes to her a living force, and believes that she 
feels and understands. Nature plays the most important part in 
his narratives; all his thoughts, all his sentiments, refer to her, he 
uses her to make poetical and philosophical comparisons, he con- 
fides his griefs, his thoughts to her.... 

“ ...The wind was caressing the powerful salty bosom of the 
sea, the sunbeams were warming it, and it sighed, fatigued by their 
ardent caresses. ...Towards the misty horizon it extended perfectly 
calm and its transparent waves were breaking softly against the 
noisy and lively shore.—Radiant under the sunlight, it beamed, 
dazzling, great, strong, yet gentle, and its breath refreshed the work- 
ers on the shore who were striving to embank the liberty of its billows 
.... Lhe sea seemed to pity men; centuries of existence had made 
it understand that the real culprits are not those who build. It 
knew that they are but slaves and that the fight against elements 
whose vengeance is ever ready, is forced upon them.—They toil ; 
their blood and sweat is the cement of all that is done on earth. 
They, too, are an element, and that is why the sea looks kindly upon 
the work that they will not profit by. The little gray larve which 
exhaust the mountain are like the drops of the waves that first fall 
against the inaccessible rocks of the bank, urged on by the sea’s 
eternal desire to enlarge its dominion, and are first to die, breaking 
against them.” 


Whenever Gorki remains true to himself, whenever he conjures 
up the world which he knows out and out—the world of vagabonds 
—he is remarkable. He has lived their life, and lives it still. Often 
it is his own story he tells; he knows how to animate his heroes, 
and thanks to him, we know their thoughts, their language, gestures, 
and aspirations—we watch them live. However, some of Gorki’s 
narratives produce an almost weird impression. The setting is 
certainly always picturesque and the images are always lifelike; 
but all those highways, all those public houses and tramps finally 
overstimulate our nerves and sharpen our sensitiveness. The Rus- 
sian soul sighs out a sort of painful song which goes to our hearts. 

Most of Gorki’s characters are devoid of moral sense. Hatred, 
vengeance, and anger have possession of their hearts. One of the 
favorite pleasures of his heroes is to beat their wives. Sometimes, 
a sunbeam, a burst of kindness will light up those rough hearts, 
lighten and pacify the troubles of their grieving souls.— 

The characters in the “Orlov Family,” Grischka and Matrena, 
are both young, in love with and proud of one another. Grischka 
is strong, passionate, and handsome; Matrena is fair and plump 
with flashing gray eyes—a buxom girl. They love each other, but 
are so bored with life! They have hardly any impressions or 
interests which might have given them now and then the possibility 
of taking a rest from each other’s company, and have satisfied the 
craving of the human mind to torment itself, to think and to worry 
—in other words, to live. If the Orlovs had had any object in life, 
their life would have been easier. They had grown accustomed to 
each other, knew all each other’s words, all each other’s gestures. 
Day followed day and brought nothing into their existence that 
might have made a diversion. Sometimes, on holidays, they would 
go and call on other simple people, like themselves ; sometimes others 
visited them; they ate, drank, and often had fights. Then the dull 
days would begin to pass by slowly, one after the other, like links 
of an invisible chain, making life heavy for them with work, tedious- 
ness, and an absurd irritation towards each other. By way of di- 
version they would often fight, and the neighbors would furnish an 
interested audience. 

“You will kill me,” exclaims the wife, all out of breath. 

“That is nothing!” says the man soothingly, with concentrated 
anger, but quite sure of his right. The public lean out towards the 
Orloy window, seized with a frantic desire to witness the details 
of the struggle. 

“He is astride her back”....“her nose is all bloody”... .the 

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nearest cry out with delight. The yard is full of noise, laughter, and 

After the fight, Orlov remains silent in a corner, without looking 
at any one. No one comes near him, for they know that at that 
moment he is a wild beast. His wife is lying all bruised on the 
floor; she groans and he feels that she is a martyr. He knows it. 
He even knows that she is quite right and that he is wrong, and that 
increases his hatred; for together with this knowledge, a furious 
and obscure feeling is seething in his heart, stronger than this con- 
sciousness.—Everything is muddled and painful inside him, he sinks 
down beneath the heavy burden of his inmost sensations, knowing 
of nothing else but a half a bottle of brandy to relieve him. 

Often Orlov will groan: 

“What a life! Continual work and then endless tiresomeness, 
tediousness, then again work. My mother brought me into this 
world by God’s will. There is nothing to say against that! I 
learned a trade, but what for? Are there not enough shoemakers 
without me? I remain in a cellar and I sew, then I shall die, and 
after that? What is the meaning of all that? And why must I live, 
sew and die?” 

“You had better not drink that nasty brandy; you would live 
happier and such thoughts would never enter your head,” Matrena 
humbly suggests. 

“With your wooden words you are nothing but a devil’s doll! 
Rack your brains a little: why may I not drink, since it is my pleas- 

Matrena was coming near him with caressing and loving look, 
trying to meet his eye, and nestling close up to his breast. 

“Now all we have to do is lick each other like calves, isn’t it?” 
said Grischka dully, pretending he wished to repulse her, but she 
nestled closer and closer to him. Then the shoemaker’s eye would 
light up; he would throw his work on the ground, and taking his 
wife on his knee, would kiss her long and repeatedly, sighing with 
all the power of his lungs, and, speaking in an undertone, as though 
he feared some one might hear his words: 

“Ah, Motria! We don’t live together as we ought to, we snap 
at each other like wild beasts, and why? Such is my fate. Man 
is born under a certain star, and that star is fate. How can I help 
my disposition? You are right and I am wrong....and the more 
you are in the right, the more I want to beat you... .” 

“Tf a child would come to us, we should be better off; we 
should have a diverson and something to think of.” 


“Well, what are you waiting for? Have one then.” 

“Yes, but with such blows as you give me I cannot... .you hit 
me too hard... .If only you wouldn’t kick me!” 

“Can any one pay any attention at such times where to strike, 
and with what? Besides I am not an executioner, I do not beat you 
for pleasure, but because of anger.....” 

“Where did this anger come from?” 

“Tt is my fate! Look, am I worse than others, than that fellow 
from Little Russia for instance? Still he does not have this anguish. 
He is all alone, hasn’t a wife, nor anybody. I should have burst 
without you. And he, nothing! That fellow smokes his pipe and 
smiles contentedly! I remain in this hole, and work all the time and 
I have nothing of anything. And even you—you are my wife— 
what is there of any interest about you? a woman like the rest.... 
I know everything about you....Such a life, I tell you! So I go 
to the saloon—” 

“Why did you marry ?” 

“Why? The devil knows why! I had much better have turned 

“Then go and give me my liberty,” declares Matrena ready to 

“Where would you go?” asks Grischka with an important air. 

“That’s my business.” 

“Where?” and his eyes flash fiercely. 

“Don’t make a row.” 

“Perhaps you have your eye on some fellow? Speak!” 

“Let me go!” 

He has her already by the hair; he is in a rage and beats her 
mercilessly. And half an hour after, “Come my deary dove, forgive 

And Matrena is ready to pay for these words with her bruised 
sides ; she is crying, but only for joy in the expectation of caresses. 

Now the cholera comes. The Orlovs get acquainted with a 
medical student who tends the sick people with remarkable dis- 
interestedness in spite of the ignorance and ill-will of the peasants. 
They both join in nursing the sick. 

One day the doctor tells Orlov that he is the man they need. 
That transforms the shoemaker completely....He does more and 
more to please the doctor. Under the influence of all the combined 
impressions this new form of his existence gives him, a strange and 
enthusiastic state of mind develops within him. He has a passion 
for doing something that will attract the attention of all to himself; 

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that every one, struck with astonishment, will be obliged to recog- 
nize the force of his individuality. It is an ambition which by de- 
grees becomes a craving for the accomplishment of generous deeds. 
Stimulated by this desire, Orlov executes all sorts of dangerous 
feats. For instance, he alone, without waiting for help from his 
comrades, drags with great difficulty some corpulent patient from 
his bed to the lazaret, or tends the dirtiest patients. But all that 
cannot satisfy him; he desires something grander; that yearning 
torments and exasperates him. Then he unburdens his soul to his 
wife because he has no one else: 

“My soul burns—It requires space that I might freely bring 
all my force into action.: Oh, I feel indomitable force within me! 
If, for instance, the cholera could assume the figure of a hero, of 
Ilia Mourometz* himself, I would attack him! ‘Come on for a 
deadly fight! Thou art a force and I, Grischka, am another; we 
shall see who gets the best of it!’ And I should strangle him, or 
fall myself. A cross on my grave and an inscription: ‘Grigory Orlov 
has delivered Russia from the cholera.’ I want nothing more. I 
would throw myself on a hundred knives, but I want it to be of use, 
some good for life must come of it. 

“You see people such as the doctor, the student, who work 
wonderfully. They ought to be dead long ago with fatigue. You 
think it is for money. Money has nothing to do with it; it is for 
love of humanity. They pity mankind, so they have no pity left for 
themselves. Everybody knows that Michka is a thief, yet they take 
care of him and are pleased and laugh when he can get up again 
....1 also wish to experience that joy....” 

When the hospital is closed, Orlov begins to drink and beat his 
wife again, and falls back to his old ways.... 

Many among these people are convinced that if they are what 
they are, it is because man is not allowed to do as he chooses. “What 
is necessary, is strength,” says one of the characters in “Thomas 
Gordieev,” “for it bends steel and steel is a resisting metal! In 
resistance alone resides the value of man....his resistance to the 
pressure with which life bears down upon him. If he comes out 
of the fight victorious, I congratulate him! If he does not succeed, 
he is a fallen creature!” 

“You perhaps think that man is free to act as he wishes? Mis- 
taken, little brother! Tell me what you will do to-morrow? Yon 
will never be able to! You cannot say whether you will go to the 
right or left. That’s how it is.” 

* A legendary hero of Russia. +“Jemelian Pilaie.” 


All these vagabonds are better than they seem, in spite of that 
instinct for crime and liquor-drinking, for they are all poisoned by 
alcohol, from father to son. To intoxicate themselves is the only 
liberty the czars graciously afford their millions of subjects. The 
latter indulge in it tremendously. Alcoholism is the chief cause of 
physical and moral decay in Gorki’s vagabonds. 

Old Tserguei* believes she understands the cause of the dull- 
ness of Russian life: “I see that men do not live, but simply put 
up with existence, and exhaust all their strength in it. And when 
they have cheated themselves, having spent their time uselessly, 
they begin to complain about fate. Fate has nothing to do with it. 
Each man makes his own fate. I see numbers of men, but no 
strong men. Where are they? Mere thought will never remove a 
stone from the road. To the one who does nothing, nothing will 
come. Why do we exhaust our strength with thinking and lament- 
ing? Arise! let us make straight for the forest and hew it down.” 

No one rises, no one moves, the black forest remains untouched. 
Here and there a cry of revolt, but a blow from the knout or nahaika, 
and all relapses into a morbid silence; gloom gathers and Russia 
becomes sadder and more sombre. 

But the charge of Cossacks, even deadly shooting, will not stop 
the run of historical events.— 

Gorki has shown in. what the new power on which Russia has 
been reckoning for such a long time consists. His task as a novelist 
is done: he closed the literary nineteenth century in a worthy man- 
ner. Others will now have the task of freeing that power of its 
morbid elements, of setting it in motion, of starting it in the right 
direction. That is no longer the novelist’s business. No more ara- 
besques, no more lessons nor pictures, no more teaching nor theo- 
retical ethics—but examples! action! “The way! show us the way!” 
shouts young Russia. 

Will Gorki point out that way? His name has almost a sym- 
bolic meaning. He is the incarnation of the sufferings, the misery, 
the aspirations of the people from whose ranks he rose.—Will he 
know how to avail himself of his fame to gather round his person- 
ality the crushed masses and lead them to the work of social justice, 
to liberation and, if need be, to revolt? 

*In the story of that title. 


“Le mime-comédien Trewey est un prestidigitateur 
merveilleux, créateur vraiment surprenant d’ombres 
chinoises avec I’unique secours de ses mains. On peut 
dire que Trewey est de ceux qui ont agrandi le cercle 
de la fantasmagorie et en ont fait un des astres les plus 
vagabonds de la fantaisie.” 

Dom Brastivus, L’Intransigeant. 


Y favorite character in French fiction is Alexander Dumas’s 
inimitable D‘Artagnan, le mousquetaire par excellence, who 
comes out of Gascony with nothing but a rusty suit of clothes on 
his back, an ancestral sword at his side, his father’s blessing, and 
a bony sorrel horse under him, to seek his fortune in the world. 
Aided by his good rapier, his wonderful sang froid, splendid audac- 
ity, and versatile talents, he elbows his way to the foot of a throne, 
to become Captain of the Grand Monarque’s body-guard, and even- 
tually a marshal of France. 

In the world of magic we have a similar character, not a mere 
figment, however, of a novelist’s imagination, but a living, breath- 
ing personality. I refer to Félicien Trewey, the eminent French 
fantaisiste, whose life reads like a romance. M. Trewey possesses 
all of the qualities of heart and mind of Dumas’s hero: audacity, 
versatility, tireless energy in the pursuit of his profession, bonhomie, 
and what not. Had he lived in the seventeenth century, he doubt- 
less would have been a soldier of fortune like D’Artagnan, fought 
duels, made love to duchesses, and outwitted a cardinal, but having 
been born in an age of steam and electricity, and fully realizing the 
fact that science has reduced the art of war to mere mechanics, he 
sought out a career that promised the most romance and adventure, 
and became a mousquetaire of magic, wielding the wand instead of 
the sword. It is a long, long way from the half-starved mounte- 


bank of a wandering caravan to an Officier de I’ Academie and landed 
proprietor living at ease in one’s old age. But Trewey has accom- 
plished all this. 


One evening when strolling along the Boulevard, I saw out- 
side of the Concert des Ambassadeurs a bill-board with the follow- 
ing announcement: “Le Grand Trewey! Equilibre, Jonglerie, Presti- 
digitation—Le Chapeau Multiforme ou 25 Tétes sous un Chapeau. 
—Mime.—Musique.—Silhouettes et Ombres des Mains, etc. Amuse- 
ments Scientifiques et Récréatifs.” 


My interest was at once aroused. Here was no ordinary artist, 
but a man of versatility. I bought a ticket, and was soon seated 
in the theatre. After the usual infliction of skirt-dancers, acrobats, 
and eccentric singers with raspy voices, the curtain rose on M. 
Trewey’s act. I sighed with relief. Ah, here was an oasis in the 
vast Sahara of vaudeville claptrap and mediocrity. I was not dis- 
appointed. The stage was elegantly set with gilt tables. The scene 
was boxed in with rich silk curtains @ Ja Pinetti. A burst of ap- 
plause (not confined to the claque either), and the great Trewey 
appeared. A long black cloak enveloped him. Throwing this off, 


he appeared in full court costume—a gentleman of the reign of 
Louis XVI. I felt like asking him, “When did you see last the 
Chevalier Pinetti?” After a very superior exhibition of juggling, 
and sleight-of-hand with cards and coins, he passed on to ombro- 
manie, or hand-made shadows, among them being portraits of 



Sa SY 

Dans ses créations. 
Ouverture. — Equilibres et Jonglerics. 


Fantaisies. — La Valse des Assiettes. — Les Cuvettes 
tapageuses. — Le Papier multiforme. — La Harpe 
éolienne. — Le Tabarin moderne. 







ire Série. — Le Lapin. — Les deux Oies. — Le Perroquet. 
— Le Poisson. — L’ Eléphant. — Le Tau- 
reau. — Le Cygne. — Le Prédicateur. 
— Le Chat. — Le Chien. 

2¢ Série. — Le Batelier. — Le Pécheur. — Le Jockey. 
La Danseuse de corde. 

3° Série. — Les Amours du Policeman, pantomime. 
4° Série. — Silhouettes et Profils illustrés. 
5¢ Série. — Le Clown et l'Ane savant. 

6° Série. — Le Buveur normand et le Rigolo. — 
Au Revoir..., galop final. 

Le piano sera tenu par M. Henri DEVIENNE. 

Tous les dimanches et jeudis, a 2 heures, 



Thiers, Gladstone, Czar Alexander III, Emile Zola, Gambetta, Bis- 
marck, Crispi, and Lord Salisbury. The art of casting silhouettes 
of animals, such as the dog, the cat, and the rabbit, upon an illumi- 
nated wall is very ancient. The Italian painter Campi was one of 
the first to add new types to the collection of figures. Trewey 


raised the art to the dignity of a stage performance and endowed 
it with movement and life. I shall quote as follows from an article 
on Trewey contributed by me to the Cosmopolitan Magazine some 
years ago: 

“He stands behind a screen, which is brilliantly illuminated by ~ 

an oxyhydrogen light, and with his hands projects the silhouettes 
—pictures of soldiers, peasants, abbés, etc., to say nothing of ani- 
mals. To form the headgear of his men and women, such as the 
grotesque bonnets of Norman bonnes, the képis of the little piou- 
pious, and the mortar-boards of the English scholastics, he has re- 
course to small pieces of cardboard cut to resemble the respective 
cranial coverings. Trewey is not content with the ‘cold profiles,’ 
as he calls them, of living creatures, but endows his shadows with 
animation. His old peasants, for example, smoke, imbibe liquor 
from large jugs, inhale snuff, roll their eyes, open their mouths, 
gesticulate; his animals are exceedingly mobile. Besides this, he 
makes his characters enact charming little pantomimic scenes. One 
he calls the ‘serenade.’ A piece of cardboard fashioned to represent 
the side of a house, constitutes the scenery. A gendarme (supposed 
to be violently in love with the servant girl) knocks at the door of 
the mansion, whereupon his fair inamorata appears at the upstairs 
window. After an exchange of compliments, she withdraws from 
the window and reappears at the door. She gives to her lover a 
drink from a suspicious bottle, and he, after wiping his beard, 
kisses her and retires. Then comes the strolling musician, playing 
a lugubrious melody on the clarinet. The owner of the house 
rushes to the bedroom window and motions the player away, but 
the musician derisively strikes up a lively tune. The irate pro- 
prietor now makes his appearance armed with a long broom, with 
which he thrashes the clarinettist. The musician still persisting, 
paterfamilias next produces the water-jug, and from the upstairs 
window pours the contents upon the head of the luckless serenader, 
who quickly makes his exit. 

“The little accessories used in this act, such as the helmet for 
the policeman, the broom, bottle, etc., are cut from pasteboard and, 
where necessary, attached to the fingers of the performer by means 
of india-rubber rings. The water-jug, however, is an actual little 
vessel, which is filled with sand. When this is poured out, it simu- 
lates a flow of water in the most natural manner. 

“*The pulpit orator’ is a clever silhouette. About the left arm 
of the performer is tied a small box, which represents the pulpit; 
the bent fingers make a canopy. Between the fingers of the right 

ee eet 

eancm aren . 
mc ee cr marae ee 


Beams ves tS GE ie see! 






cue ZOLA 



hand is held a bit of pasteboard, cut in the shape of a mortar-board 
cap. The paraphernalia is very simple. You see the learned divine 
ascend the pulpit, bend forward in prayer, then begin to exhort an 


imaginary congregation. He thumps the pulpit-rail vehemently, 
twists himself into all sorts of grotesque positions, and wipes his 


perspiring brow. After having blessed the people, he descends from 
his elevated perch.” 
I learned from him many interesting things about shadow- 



graphy and sleight-of-hand generally. To excell in the art of om- 
bromanie requires long practice. The fingers have to be exercised 
continuously in certain peculiar movements, such as are depicted 
in the accompanying illustration. Dexterity is largely dependent 
upon the formation of the hand, one of particular characteristics of 
skilfulness being “the faculty of reversing the metacarpal phalanges 
of the fingers, so that when the hand is extended it is convex.” 
Trewey possesses this faculty. Another peculiarity of his hands 
is the formation of the fingers; they differ very much in length. 
The middle finger exceeds the ring-finger by nearly an inch. 


I met Trewey some weeks later in London at the Empire 
Theatre, and we struck up a great friendship which has lasted to 
this day. The story of his life is full of interest, and is a typical 
example of the folly of setting any one to a vocation for which he 
has no particular taste. Intended at first for the priesthood by his 
parents and subsequently for a mechanical trade, Trewey followed 
his own inclinations—conjuring and juggling. I will quote again 
from my paper in the Cosmopolitan: 

“Like most artists who have risen to eminence on the French 
stage, Trewey has known hardships and bitter poverty. His youth 
was a struggle against adverse conditions. But he had in him, 
in its truest sense, the soul of old Gaul—that joyous insou- 
ciance, that sardonic humor, which laughs at fortune and snaps 
its finger at the world. Natural vivacity will often keep a French- 
man alive, though his body is clothed in rags and his stomach is 
empty. Trewey was born at Angouléme, France, during the Revo- 
lution of 1848. His father was an engineer in a paper-mill. Trewey 
pére was ambitious for his son to enter the Church, so he sent him 
to the Seminary of the Holy Trinity at Marseilles to study for the 
priesthood. But fate had willed otherwise. When quite a young 
boy, Trewey had been taken to see a circus at Marseilles. Among 
the mountebanks was a conjuror, who gave a very interesting ex- 
hibition. The feats of magic of this strolling Merlin so fascinated 
the little Trewey that he forthwith secretly vowed to become a 
professional prestidigitator, as soon as he grew up. The studies 
pursued at the Jesuit college did not cure the boy of his love for 
the stage. He divided his time between Latin verbs and juggling, 
mathematics and the art of palmistry. Soon he was able to give 
little exhibitions, private, of course, for the amusement of his com- 


rades. The good fathers must have thought him a very eccentriz 
youth, for he was continually trying to balance his slate on the tip 
of his nose. Many a well-deserved cat-o’-nine-tails he got for his 
improvised feats of equilibration. Lying awake at night in the 
silent dormitory, he invented tricks, then fell asleep to dream of 
the wild delights of the mountebank’s life—wandering like a gipsy 
over the country in a caravan, and performing at the little French 
villages and towns before crowds of rustics. He pictured himself 
dressed in gorgeous raiment, exhibiting magic tricks for the amuse- 
ment of gaping yokels—pulling rabbits from hats, turning omelets 
into doves and producing bowls of gold-fish from shawls. The boom, 
boom, of the bass drum, calling the spectators together, resounded 
in his ears. The boy had in him the spirit of adventure; the blood 
of some old strolling player of an ancestor ran in his veins. He 
longed to escape from under the watchful domination of the ‘black- 
robes,’ as he designated the good priests of the seminary. Three 
years passed. One day during the Christmas holidays, Trewey re- 
fused to return to his studies, so his father placed him in the engine- 
room of the paper-mill to learn machinery. Cog-wheels and oil- 
cans possessed no more fascination for him than Latin and Greek. 
One fine summer day he ran away from home in company with an 

“Trewey at this period of his career was not over fifteen years 
of age, and had but little experience of men and manners. The quiet 
cloisters of a Jesuit seminary are not conducive to knowledge of the 
world. Life now became hard for Trewey and his companion, the 
youthful tumbler. They exhibited in market-places, cafés, and in 
inn yards. The life they led was next door to starvation. Soon 
Trewey left the acrobat and obtained an engagement at one of the 
small music-halls of Marseilles. The munificent sum of six francs 
per week (one dollar and twenty cents) was the salary he received 
for his services. In addition to his juggling exhibition, given sev- 
eral times a day, he was obliged to appear in a pantomime perform- 
ance at night. In this troupe was the famous Plessis, who eventu- 
ally became one of the foremost comedians of France, rivaling even 
the great Coquelin. 

“In those days it was the custom for people to throw money 
on the stage to favorite performers. Applauding with the hands 
being monopolized by a paid claque, there was no better way for 
enthusiastic spectators, in French places of amusement, to show their 
appreciation of the talents of an artist, than by showering upon 
him gold, silver, or copper coins. The vaudeville artists did not 




consider it beneath their dignity to stoop and gather up these sub- 
stantial evidences of public favor. 

“Said Trewey to me: ‘I saved these coins until I was able to 
purchase two fine costumes. Then I secured an engagement at the 
Alcazar at Marseilles.’ 

“Other engagements followed this, and Trewey became the 
most popular performer in the south of France. The desire for a 
roving life led him to become the proprietor of a traveling panto- 
mime and vaudeville company. His versatility was shown here. 
He juggled, conjured, played Pierrot in the pantomime, danced in 
the clodoche, and managed the finances of the troupe. After two 
years of this life, he got an engagement at Bordeaux. It was here 
that he invented his ombromanie, and straightway became famous. 
From Bordeaux he migrated to Paris. His success was instan- 

The journalists rallied to his aid. He became the lion of the 
hour. L’Jilustration named his art Treweyism. His reputation was 


Trewey is a mimic par excellence. He is past master in the art 
of pantomime and facial expression. One of his particular acts 
which has given rise to numerous imitations is entitled “Tabarin, 
or Twenty-five Heads Under One Chapeau.” Thanks to a piece 
of black felt cloth, circular in shape, with a hole cut in the center, 
Trewey is able to manufacture in a few minutes all the varieties 
of head gear required for the Tabarin. For example: Napoleon— 
A couple of twists of the cloth, and lo! you have a representation of 
le chapeau de Marengo, the little cocked hat which Napoleon made 
famous, and about which so many legends cluster. With this hastily 
improvised hat on his head, Trewey assumes the Napoleonic atti- 
tude—one hand thrust into his vest, the other behind his back. His 
physiognomy is that of the great Emperor, as depicted by the 
painters of the Imperial régime. The likeness is perfect. And so 
with fat French priests, soldiers, bonnes, landladies, artists, dip- 
lomats, etc. It is a portrait gallery of French types; Gavarni lives 
for us again. And just here let me digress a moment to explain the 
origin of the curious word Tabarin, which, as all lovers of French 
comedy know, has passed into the repertory of the national theatre. 
Some two hundred and fifty years ago that bridge of memories, 
the old Pont Neuf of Paris, was the rendezvous of quacksalvers 
and mountebanks. Booths for the sale of various articles lined 


the sides of the bridge. People flocked there to see the sights, to 
laugh, chat, make love, and enjoy life as only Parisians can. Stu- 
dents and grisettes from the Quartier Latin elbowed ladies and 
gentlemen of fashion from the Faubourg St. Germain. Bourgeois 
families came to study the flippant manners of their superiors. 
Poodle-clippers plied their trade; jugglers amused the quid nuncs 
with feats of dexterity; traveling dentists pulled teeth and sold 
balsams ; clowns tumbled; and last, but not least, pickpockets lifted 
purses and silk mouchoirs with impunity. One of the principal 
venders of quack nostrums of the Pont Neuf was Montdor. He was 
aided by a buffoon named Tabarin who made facetious replies to 
questions asked by his master, accompanied with laughable grim- 
aces and grotesque gestures. The modern ringmaster and clown 
of the circus have similar scenes together, minus the selling of medi- 
cines. Tabarin was celebrated for his wit. Some of his bon mots 
have descended to our time. He performed the feat of making 
some ten different hats out of the brim of a felt hat, giving appro- 
priate facial portraits beneath each, and using wigs and beards to 
enhance the effect. Such, in brief, is the story of the famous Merry 
Andrew whose name has become a by-word in France for buffoon- 
ery and broad humor. The history of such men would make inter- 
esting reading for the student of sociology. But Dame Clio has 
eyes only for tremendous battles, diplomatic intrigues, the doings of 
royalty and great folk. The little world of every day life, that busy 
ant hill where the human comedy is so ardently played, is beneath 
her notice. The life and adventures of quacksalvers, minor poets, 
wandering jugglers, faugh!—that is asking too much of the Muse 
of History. Says Guizot: “History has no room for all those who 
throng about her gates without succeeding in getting in and leaving 
traces of their stay.” 

But occasionally a man or woman rises from the dregs of the 
people and compels recognition ; and sad to relate, nine times out of 
ten, through the commission of crimes. Have we not Cagliostro 
and Madame de la Motte, thorough paced scoundrels and charla- 
tans, but nevertheless very delightful folk, who have added a tinge 
of romance to history? I for one confess a weakness for the 
tittle-tattle of court gossip and backstairs diplomacy. Behind the 
scenes with Louis XV and XVI, Frederick the Great and Catherine 
II is far more entertaining than the battles of the period. Casanova 
gives one a better picture of eighteenth century morals and manners 
than any of the great historians of the time. History is the dry 


Sa i St 8 

eae Ree 




bones of an epoch; the memoir writers are the Ezekiels who behold 
the bones clothed with flesh and thrilling with life-blood. 
Wandering across the old Pont Neuf, gazing over the parapet 
at the sunshine rippling in the flowing waters of the Seine, all 
these thoughts came to my mind. Once again, as in the days of 
long ago, I saw in my imagination, the bridge crowded with people. 
There came to me the faint rustling of silk skirts, the clatter of 
high-heeled shoes upon the paving stones. Boom! boom! goes the 
drum., I hear the strident voice of Montdor shouting out his wares, 
and the unctuous notes of the comical Tabarin uttering a bon mot. 


Trewey is the inventor of many clever.card sleights and passes ; 
for example, a color change executed by taking cards from the back 
of the pack with the fork of the thumb and forefinger and placing 
them on the front. The origin of this clever sleight is not generally 
known. I have seen him throw cards from the stage of the Al- 
hambra Theatre, London, to the topmost gallery. This is a tre- 
mendous feat, as the Alhambra is one of the largest theatres in the 
world. He possesses the peculiar talent of writing in reverse, necessi- 
tating the use of a mirror in order to read it. The artistic sentiment 
was born in him. It seems to be a family characteristic. Rosa 
Bordas, the celebrated French chanteuse patriotique, is his cousin- 
german. A writer in L’Echo des Jeunes thus apostrophises- him 
in verse: 

“Dans le monde artistique ou son étoile brille, 
Trewey ne peut que resortir, 

Vraiment, cela tient le famille, 

Vu que bon sang ne peut mentir.” 

‘The most exclusive and aristocratic salons of Paris and Vienna 
have engaged his services for private séances. In Spain, Belgium, 
Austria, Russia, and England he was the sensation of the day. At 
the present time he is living in retirement at Asniéres, near Paris, 
where he has purchased a charming home known as the Villa Tra- 
versiére au clair de la lune. During the Exposition of 1900 he was 
the manager of the Theatre Phono-Cinéma. At his villa, he spends 
his time inventing and improving devices to be used in moving- 
picture apparatus ; corresponding with his friends; meditating upon 
the works of his favorite authors, Confucius and Epictetus; and 
writing songs, farces, and dramatic articles. In the year 1903 he 
was made an Officier de l’Academie by the French Government. He 
married Miss Ixa of Trocadero fame. 

Trewey relates many interesting anecdotes of contemporary 


French magicians whom he has met on his travels. He is literally 
a man without envy. His admiration for Buatier de Kolta was 
unbounded. They were close friends. 



He once toured the Continent with the Hungarian conjurer 
Velle, who was the first to give exhibitions within a marked circle 


where the audience could gather on all sides. Velle impersonated 
Mephisto to perfection. Trewey and August Lassaigne were once 
partners. Lassaigne was born in Toulouse, in 1819. Besides being 
a magician he was an ezronaut, having made 347 ascensions. He 
died in Montpellier in the year 1887. 

When Trewey first toured the United States, under the manage- 
ment of Alexander Herrmann, he was very much annoyed by im- 
postors, who advertised themselves as Drewey, but their perform- 
ances were only weak imitations of the original—the merest shadows 
of a shade. In the wake of the whale follow little fishes—“pikers” 
—who grab at the crumbs dropped by the monarch of the sea, being 
too lazy or indifferent to find hunting seas of their own. 

“Many amateurs are more skilful than professionals,” said 
Trewey to me. “I have in mind my friend Alexander Osso, who 
was born in Paris in the year 1828. While a student he once hap- 
pened to be present at a soirée where M. Comte was giving an ex- 
hibition. He was so fascinated that he afterwards took lessons in 
legerdemain from the professor. When he finished his schooling, 
he entered the service of the Count de Nigra, then Ambassador to 
Italy, and remained with him for forty years, visiting London, St. 
Petersburg, Vienna, and other great capitals. Osso often enter- 
tained the Count and his friends with conjuring séances. In this 
way he amused society at nearly all the Courts of Europe, besides 
giving many entertainments for the benefit of the poor. In spite 
of his advanced age he still keeps in practice as a conjurer, at his 
home in Paris, where he retired from an active life in 1903. 

“Then we have M. Pitau, a wine merchant, who studied leger- 
demain to amuse his friends and increase his custom. He was a 
capital guest at the hotel table. People loved to be seated near him, 
for he was not only skilful at hanky panky with glasses, plates, 
napkins, knives, corks, coins, etc., but he was a brilliant raconteur 
and a mimic. His most amusing trick was the following: He would 
place his hat over his plate which held perhaps a chop and potatoes. 
Passing his hand under the hat he would bring forth several five 
franc pieces. Then he would pass it a second time beneath the 
chapeau and bring out five or six gold one-hundred franc pieces. 
Now he would exclaim: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I will give what is 
left on the plate for ten centimes.’ Lifting the hat, a child’s sock 
or an old shoe would be seen, the chop and potatoes having vanished. 
This feat was always greeted with shouts of laughter. Pitau often 
gave entire performances for charitable purposes.” 

Behind the scenes, in an Egyptian temple would doubtless have 


revealed many curious secrets of natural magic to the uninitiated. 
Like all so-called sorcerers, the priests evidently compiled works 
on the subject of their art for the benefit of their successors. But 
none of these have come down to us. Hermes Trismegistus is said 
to have written two myriads of books on the occult sciences. He 
was the Alexander Dumas of the Egyptian pantheon. 

Trewey, an apt descendant of the ancient magi of the land of 
Mizraim, has compiled a ponderous folio of illusions, and feats of 

Yen, hf. 

wi? me ; 
4X - 4 
tee aa| 2 . 


juggling and legerdemain; a great manuscript volume of mysteries, 
the text of which is illustrated by pen-and-ink sketches by himself. 
Over two thousand magical experiments are described and ex- 
plained in this tome of thaumaturgy, gathered from all sources, 
many of them being his own inventions, perhaps the majority of 
them. I know that this volume exists, for I have seen it and glanced 
over it. I have urged Trewey to publish the work. Perhaps he 
will some day, now that he has the leisure for literary labors. 


R. Albert J. Edmunds of Philadelphia, who has contributed 
frequently to the columns of The Open Court on the paral- 
lelism between the Buddhist and Christian Gospels, published in 1904 
the second edition of a pamphlet in which he brings out a general 
synopsis of his labors. In the Preface he expresses his impatience 
with the publishers on account of their reluctance in bringing out 
his lucubrations, and he adds thereto the hearty endorsement of his 
work by Prof. T. W. Rhys-Davids of London. We wish to state 
here that we deem the results of Mr. Edmunds’s investigations im- 
portant in a high degree and think that he is especially fitted for 
his task ; because, on the one hand, he is a Christian and an accom- 
plished New Testament scholar, and, on the other hand, he sym- 
pathizes strongly with Buddhist doctrines. There is perhaps no 
one in the world so well acquainted with the sources of both re- 
ligions as he. If any one can with approximate certainty point 
out the date of a Pali text, it is Mr. Edmunds, and few indeed are the 
scholars that are posted on the subject as well as he is. He is per- 
fectly familiar with the maturest results of New Testament criticism, 
and in the province of Pali scriptures he is himself one of the lead- 
ing higher critics. 
ok * * 

From this pamphlet we select for publication some of the salient 
points which may serve as samples of Mr. Edmunds’s work.’ 

* Buddhist and Christian Gospels. Now first compared from the originals. 
Being Gospel parallels from Pali texts, reprinted with additions by Albert J. 
Edmunds, Honorary Member and American Representative of the Inter- 
national Buddhist Society of Rangiin, Translator of the Dhammapada, “The 
Buddhist Genesis,” etc., Member of the Oriental Society of Philadelphia. Sec- 
ond edition with a notice by T. W. Rhys-Davids. Philadelphia: Sold by the 
Author, 3231 Sansom St., and by Maurice Brix, 129 South Fifteenth St. 
Postal Orders payable at Middle City Station, Philadelphia. 1904. Price, 
25 cents; Cloth, 50 cents. 

uRgertae pe cers 


Some parallels between the Buddhist and Christian Gospels are 
very remarkable but perhaps natural. So for instance: Christ is 
called “the Lion that is of the tribe of Judah,” (Rev. v. 5) and 
Buddha is called “the lion of the tribe of Shakya” or briefly “Shakya- 
simha.” We read in the Numerical Collection, v. 99: 

“Lion, O monks: this is the appellation of the Tathagato, the 
Holy One, the fully Enlightened One. Because, monks, when the 
Tathagato proclaims the Doctrine to a company he does so with a 
lion-voice. If he proclaim it unto monks or nuns, he proclaims it 
comprehensively, with nothing omitted; and likewise unto lay-dis- 
ciples, whether men or women. And if, monks, the Tathagato pro- 
claim the Doctrine to the common people even, who merely care for 
food and maintenance and wealth, he proclaims it comprehensively, 
with naught omitted. What is the reason? The Tathagato, monks, 
is weighty in religion, an authority in religion.” 

The literal agreement of a very unique phrase is extraordinary 
and will go far to prove that there must have been a connection of 
some kind. We read in John xii. 34: “The multitude therefore 
answered him, We have heard out of the law, that Christ abideth 
forever.” If we consider that the Greek New Testament texts are 
written without accents, the verb “abideth’”? might as well be the 
future and could in that case be translated “will abide” or “shall 
abide.” The term “forever”? is an incorrect rendering. It means 
in Greek “for the zon,” and the word “zon” corresponds exactly 
to the Buddhist term kappa or in Sanskrit kalpa. 

Mr. Edmunds quotes passages from Enunciations vi. 1, and 
Long Collection, Dialogue 16 (Book of the.Great Decease. Trans- 
lated in Sacred Books of the East, Vol. XI, p. 40.) and translates 
as follows: 

“Anando, any one who has practised the four principles of 
psychical power—developed them, made them active and practical, 
pursued them, accumulated and striven to the height thereof—can, 
if he so should wish, remain [on earth] for the zon or the rest of 
the zon. 

“Now, Anando, the Tathagato has practised and perfected 
these; and if he so should wish, the Tathagato could remain [on 
earth] for the zon or the rest of the zon.” 

Mr. Edmunds makes the following comments on the passage: 

“As our text occurs also in the Sanskrit of the Divyavadana 
(which has an independent transmission) its antiquity is certain. 

1névee means “abideth,” and pevei, “will abide.” 
2 cic Tov aidva. 


Moreover, the Book of the Great Decease and that of Enunciations 
are two of the oldest in the Pali, Enunciations being also one of the 
Nine Divisions of a lost arrangement of the Canon. 

“The ascription of the saying in John to ‘the multitude,’ shows 
it to have been a current belief at the time of Christ. It is not a 
New Testament doctrine, though the physical Second Coming has 
been assimilated to it. Commentators have been at a loss to identify 
the Old Testament passage (‘out of the Law’) which is supposed 
to be quoted. The Twentieth Century New Testament proposes the 
Aramaic version of Isaiah ix. 7 as the source. The learned August 
Wiinsch, in his work on the Gospels and the Talmud, says that the 
source is unknown. Be that as it may, we have here a verbal Pali 
parallel : 

‘* ‘6 Xprorod¢ ever ei¢ Tov aidva: Tathagato kappam tittheyya.’” 

The beautiful passage in John xiv, which promises that Christ 
will manifest himself unto him who keeps his commands, can be 
matched by passages in the Buddhist text which bear a close re- 
semblance to it. We read in St. John xiv: 

“He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is 
that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, 
and I will love him, and will manifest myself unto him [i. e., appear 
before him.]” 

Mr. Edmunds quotes the following text from the Logia Book, 
g2 (Partly translated into French by the translator of Minayeff: 
Recherches sur le Bouddhisme: Paris, 1894, p. 218): 

“O monks, even if a monk should gather up the folds of his 
robe and follow behind me, treading in my footsteps, yet if he be 
covetous, on lusts intent, bad-hearted, corrupt in his mind’s aspira- 
tion, heedless, mindless, ill-conducted, with heart confused and un- 
ripe faculties, then is he far from me, and I from him. 

“And why? Because, O monks, that monk sees not the Doc- 
trine ; and he who sees not the Doctrine sees not me. 

“But if that monk should dwell an hundred leagues away, O 
monks, and be not covetous, nor intent on lusts, not bad-hearted nor 
corrupt in his mind’s aspiration, but heedful, mindful, well-con- 
ducted, with concentrated heart and faculties restrained, then is he 
near to me, and I to him. 

“And why? Because, O monks, that monk sees the Doctrine ; 
and he who sees the Doctrine sees me. 

[The word “Doctrine” is the ubiquitous Dhammo, Sanskrit 
Dharma; and can be equally translated “truth” or “religion.”] 


ia a 


er — 



(Translated by Fausbdll: S. B. E., X, part 2, p. 212.) 

“From Him I am never absent, 

O Brahmin, for a moment— 

[Never absent] from Gotamo, the great of intellect, 
From Gotamo, in wisdom great. 

“Twas he who taught me the Doctrine 
Of instantaneous, immediate peace, 
And destruction of Thirst,— 

Whose likeness is nowhere. 

“Him do I see in my mind, as with an eye, 
Vigilant, O Brahmin, night and day: 
Worshiping I pass the night; 

Therefore, I ween, am I never absent. 

“Faith and joy, mind and memory, 

Bend me unto Gotamo’s religion. 

What way soever goeth the Great Intellect, 
That way, and that only, am I bent. 

“Of me who am aged and tottering 

The body therefore fareth not thither, 

But in imagination I go ever; 

For, O Brahmin! my mind is yoked with him. 

“Shivering in the mire, 

From island unto island did I leap, 
Until I saw the fully Enlightened, 
The Flood-crossed, the Unsullied.” 

Fausboll adds: “The commentary here states that Gotamo, 
knowing from afar the mental state of this monk and his companion, 
sent forth a golden light, and stood before them in apparition. A 
similar Christophany is related in the Introductory Story to Jataka 
No. 4. But in Jataka No. 2, personal devotion to the Master is 
placed on a lower level than solitary thought.” 

The idea that Christ is the king of truth finds a literal parallei 
in Buddhist scriptures. We read in St. John xviii, 37: 

“Pilate therefore said unto him, Art thou a king then? Jesus 
answered, Thou sayest that I am a king. To this end have I been 
born, and to this end am I come into the world, that I should bear 
witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my 

In the Sela-Sutta, Buddha makes the same claim. He says: 



“T am a King, O Selo! 
An incomparable King of religion ;? 
By religion I set rolling a wheel, 

An irresistible wheel. 
x * * 

“What ought to be supremely known I know, 
What ought to be perfected I perfect, 

What ought to be renounced I renounce: 
Therefore, O Brahmin! am I Buddha. 

“Discipline thy doubt of me, 
Surrender thyself, O Brahmin! 

Hard to obtain is the appearing 

Of fully Enlightened Ones repeatedly. 

“He who indeed is hard in the world to obtain, 
In manifestation repeatedly, 
That fully Enlightened One, O Brahmin, am I— 
Physician incomparable. 

“Godlike, beyond measure, 
A crusher of the Devil’s army, 
Having subjugated all enemies, 

I rejoice as one who hath nowhere a fear. 
* * * 

“Thou art Buddha, thou art the Master, 
Thou art the Sage who overcomest the Devil, 
Thou hast cast off all inclinations: 
And having crossed over thyself, hast ferried this 
[human] race across.” 

As the disciples of Christ are not of the world, even as he is 
not of the world (John xvii. 16), so Buddha desires his followers 
to live in the world without being soiled by it. He says (Classified 
Collection XXII, 94): 

“Monks, even as the blue lotus, a water-rose or a white lotus is 
born in the water, grows up in the water, and stands lifted above it, 
by the water undefiled: even so, monks, does the Tathagato grow 
up in the world, and abide in the mastery of the world, by the world 

We read in Mark ii. 21: 

“No man seweth a piece of new cloth on an old garment, else 
the new piece that filled it up, taketh away from the old and the rent 
is made worse.” 

The passage appears without any connection with the preceding 
statements and is followed by a similar passage concerning the new 

*Or Truth (as in John:) Dhammo, which we generally translate “Doc- 


peta PENS 


wine in old bottles. Both the sentiments, concerning the old cloth 
and the old bottles, are contradictory to the sentiment of Jesus 
uttered in the Sermon on the Mount where he declares that “till 
heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from 
the law.” The clause “till all be fulfilled” is not contained in the 
best codices, and is moreover contradictory to the other determina- 
tion of time “till heaven and earth pass away.” But whatever Jesus 
may have said, it is remarkable that we find a passage in the Bud- 
dhist scriptures which also. speaks of the old cloth that has to be 
cut away. We read [Middling Collection, Dialogue 22. Partly 
translated by Copleston: Buddhism, 1892, p. 30]: 

“Thus, O monks, is the Doctrine well taught by me—plain, 
patent, clear, and with the old cloth cut away. Seeing, O monks, 
that the Doctrine is thus well taught by me—plain, patent, clear, and 
with the old cloth cut away,—all those who have merely faith and 
love toward me are sure of Paradise hereafter.” 

The following note on the grotesque in Buddhism deserves 
special attention: 

“The comparison of Buddha to an elephant excites in some a 
smile. But the elephant is just as gentle as the lamb and far more 
majestic, yet we are not shocked by the Apocalyptic Lamb upon the 
throne of the Godhead. I am told that certain items in the Bud- 
dhist scriptures are trivial or grotesque. Are the Gospels free from 
the like? Joseph’s perplexity at the pregnancy of Mary, till a dream 
assures him it is supernatural; the food and raiment of the Baptist ; 
the fantastic scenes of the Temptation; the baptismal Dove; the 
transmuted water; the extemporized creation of fishes; the Devils 
who know the Son of God; the clay and the spittle; the Gadarene 
swine (so humorously depicted by Carlyle) ; the coin in the fish’s 
mouth; the Matthzan parallel between Jonah’s three nights and 
Christ’s; the rivers that flow from a believer’s belly; the blasted 
fig tree; the Matthzan mistake about the two asses; the anointed 
feet wiped with a woman’s hair; the whipping of the hucksters ; the 
Matthzan apparitions of the corpses; the hand in the resurrected 
side; the risen Lord eating broiled fish; the vision of the sheet-full 
of animals; the Elect collected by a trumpet; the adulterers cast 
into a bed: are not all these New Testament incidents and saws 
grotesque except to us who are powerfully psychologized by the 
Christian ideals? No philosopher will make objection for a moment 
to the Buddhist books on the score of the grotesque.” 


Mr. Edmunds now proposes to bring out a more comprehensive 
work under the title Buddhist and Christian Gospels Now First Com- 
pared from the Originals. The book will compare the texts of the 
two religions. It is to be edited by Mr. M. Anesaki, Professor of 
Religious Science at,the Imperial University of Japan, and he will 
add many other parallels between Buddhist and Christian writings 
derived from Chinese sources, printed in the original Chinese char- 

The book is to appear in Japan and The Open Court Publishing 
Company will act as its agent in the United States and Canada. 

Mr. Edmunds trusts that the parallels between Buddhist and 
Christian texts will, in many instances, throw new light on the text 
of the Gospels, and after having completed the manuscript, which 
is now being set in Japan, he has discovered one more very impor- 
tant parallel which he publishes in a little pamphlet entitled, Can 
the Pali Pitakas Aid Us in Fixing the Text of the Gospels? Mr. 
Edmunds answers this question in the affirmative, and he has pro- 
posed in his book three important parallels which will be a help 
in determining the text of the Gospel. These are: First, The phrase, 
“An zxon-lasting sin” (Mark iii. 29; Cullavaggo vii. 3). Second, 
The declaration that Christ remains on earth for an zon (John xii. 
34; Enunciations vi. i, and Decease Book iii. 3). Third, Christ’s 
word “I have overcome the world” (John xvi. 33; Numerical Col- 
lection i. 15). Mr. Edmunds has discovered a fourth one which has 
not been incorporated into his forthcoming book, but which was so 
important to him that he was anxious not to have it overlooked. 

We will here recapitulate the contents of his pamphlet mostly 
in his own words. 

When the Buddha was born, we are told Asito, the hermit, saw 
the god 

“Sakko the leader and angels white-stoled, 
Seizing their robes, and praising exceedingly.” 

He asks the angels why they rejoice, and they answer: 

“The Buddha-to-be,* the best and matchless Jewel, 
Is born for weal and welfare in the world of men, 

* This term, in Pali Bodhisatto, is the word whose Sanskrit form Bodhi- 
sattva, through the Arabic Yudasatf, has been transformed into the Christian 
Josaphat. He (i. e. Buddha) is a saint of the Catholic Church (both Greek 
and Roman) and has a church at Palermo. See the Autobiography of Andrew 
D. White, who visited it in 1895 (Vol. II, p. 455. For a photograph of the 
saint’s statue on the altar and further explanations see The Open Court, Vol. 
XV, p. 284). The Buddhist-Christian romance of Barlaam and Joasaph, 
after being rendered into most of the languages of Christendom from Armenia 
to Iceland, was finally translated into Tagalog (Manila, 1712 and 1837). 

TERNS peas 


In the town of the Sakyas, in the region of Lumbini: 
Therefore are we joyful and exceeding glad.” 
This passage agrees in some of its phraseology literally with 
the message of the angels to the shepherds as we read in Luke: 

“And the angel said unto them, Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you 
good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people: for there is born 
to you this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 
And this is the sign unto you; Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling 
clothes, and lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a 
multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the 
highest, and on earth peace, divine favor among men.” 

The parallel is further carried out in the narrative. The hermit, 
like the shepherds, goes to pay his reverence to the newborn Saviour. 
Considering that, between the Greek of Luke and the Pali of the 
Sutta Nipato, there lies a lost Aramaic version, many of the words 
in the two accounts are practically identical. The Pali words hita- 
sukhataya (‘for blessing and happiness”) are a conventional phrase, 
often recurring in the texts. They are here translated “weal and 
welfare,” for the sake of poetic effect, but they mean much the 

same as the English phrase, “peace and prosperity.” Now if Luke, ° 

or rather his Aramaic intermediary, did actually use the Pali poem, 
it is evident that (omitting jato, “born’’) we find a very good equiv- 
alent of the line 
Manussaloke hitasukhataya jato, 
literally : 
“In the world of men for weal and welfare born,” 

in the line 

émi tis yns eipyvyn év dvOpdras eddoxia. 
literally : 

“Upon earth peace, among men good will.” 

It is thrown into the form of a Hebrew parallelism, in which 
peace on earth and divine favor among men are interchangeable 
terms. But it is well known that the oldest manuscripts of the New 
Testament are at variance here over the word “good will.”? Some 
read the genitive,’ and then we must render: 

“among men of good will” (i. e., men of the 
divine favor, i. e., the elect, as Alford says). 

This is the reading of the Vulgate and of the English and Amer- 
ican Revised Versions. It is because “good will” in the Septuagint 
2 evdoxia. 
3 eidoxiac. 


means so often the Divine good pleasure that the Revised Version 
has “men in whom he is well pleased.” But the old King James 
reading (following the textus receptus afterwards fixed by the Dutch 
printers Elzevir) is borne out by the analogy of all Hebrew paral- 
lelisms. This is therefore a passage wherein the Pali Pitakas can 
probably aid us in fixing the text of the New Testament. 

The same can be said of the Marcan phrase, “zon-lasting sin,”* 
which, as Dean Alford long since pointed out, was so unusual that 
the copyists altered it to “eternal judgment” (or damnation). But 
the idea was a Hindu one, and as Buddhism in the time of the 
apostles was the most powerful religion on the planet, and actually 
sending missionaries into China, it is now coming to be admitted 
by scholars that it was not unknown in Palestine. As Van Eysinga,® 
in his recent work on the subject, has said, we know that Christians 
borrowed stories of Buddhists from the third century onward, and 
the same channels of intercourse were open in the first. 

Luke, the most learned of the Evangelists, was a physician of 
Antioch (according to a second-century tradition®), and it was pre- 

_ cisely in the metropolitan centers Rome, Antioch, and Alexandria, 

that interchanges of religious ideas and the study of comparative 
theology then flourished. The lost work of the Egyptian Asclepia- 
des, Theologoumena’ (i. e., what we should call Comparative Theol- 
ogy) must have been one out of many such. For further informa- 
tion about intercourse between Palestine and India we refer the 
reader to Van Eysinga and to Mr. Edmunds’s forthcoming book. 

4 aidviov dudprnua. 
°Indische Einfliisse auf evangelische Erzahlungen. Gottingen, 1904. 

*The Muratorian Fragment. Rendel Harris says that the information 
about Luke probably rests upon the lost work of Papias. 

* Referred to by Suetonius, Aug., 94. 

SR SSPE Rn he aeres 




(With Illustrations by Chinese Artists.) 


COPY of the T‘ai-Shang Kan Ying P‘ten had been handed 
down in the family of Wan Teh-Hsii from one of his ances- 
tors as a very precious heirloom. Four successive generations had 
reverently read and recited it, and now when it came into the pos- 
session of Wan Teh-Hsii, he kept it in a place of honor in the 
Middle Hall; and he, and all the members of his family, had many 
merits recorded in their favor, for they vied with one another in 
living up to the moral principles laid down in the sacred document. 
One day a Taoist priest visited the home of the pious man and 
was cordially received. Wan Teh-Hsii presented his guest with 
gifts and requested him to discourse on the mystery of religion, 
whereupon the stranger expounded the Tao, that divine rationality 
which pervades all things. 

“The soul,” he said, “is Tao, and the Tao is soul. The soul and 
the Tao are not different in essence. If the Tao is separated from 
the soul, you will transmigrate through the six domains and keep 
on the three paths,} but if the soul and the Tao are united, you will 
finally reach paradise and the land of immortals. Hell and heaven 
are in your own heart. Unless heaven reside within you, the mere 
reading or reciting of sacred books profiteth nothing.” Then looking 
around in the Middle Hall he added: “You have a rare gem in your 

* These little stories have been translated in part directly from the Chinese 
originals by Mr. Teitaro Suzuki, and partly through the French version of 
Stanislas Julien. 

+ The six domains are those of (1) the gods, (2) human beings, (3) 
animals, (4) asuras or fighting demons, (5) hungry ghosts, and (6) deni- 
zens of hell. The three paths are lust, wrath, and greed. The three paths 
and the six domains constitute the wheel of Samsara. 



house ; for when I entered I saw the radiance of a holy light. Where 
do you keep your treasure?” 

The host answered: “In this poor dwelling there is nothing 
worthy the name of a treasure.” 

The priest then took Wan Teh-Hsii by the hand and led him 
to the place where the Kan Ying P‘ten lay, saying: “This holy book 

is the treasure. All the holy men of the three religions selected and 
compiled it to point out the way of virtue on which every one should 
walk. Ifa man disciplines himself according to its instructions, the 
truth will shine forth in all its glory, and every letter in the sacred 
writing will emit rays of divine light. But if you recite the sacred 

ee ee 



text with a secret desire for profit or reward, selfishness will darken 
its native glory, and the writing will show no illumination. To my 
vision the glorification of the holy book is perfect. Its saintly at- 
mosphere has ascended to heaven, resulting in an harmonious blend- 
ing of your heart with the will of the Lord on High. Your immor- 
tality is assured and I bless you. But keeping in sight the heavenly 
station that awaits you, you must continue to exercise still more 
self-control in your dealings with your fellow men. Be diligent 
and fail not to fulfil the work so auspiciously begun.” 

In accordance with the words of the Taoist priest, Teh-Hsii 
practised the teachings of the Kan Ying P‘ien with even greater 
zeal. For thirty more years, he did everything in his power to 
benefit others and to promote the general welfare. One day his 
neighbors heard heavenly music resound from above, and saw the 
entire family of Wan ascend to heaven in broad daylight, surrounded 
by a host of celestial beings. 

Later the villagers built a monument to Wan on his own home- 
stead, where they paid him homage and offered prayers which were 
answered and granted. 

[Our illustration shows Ti Chiin (the Taoist Good Lord) accompanied 
by two attendants, welcoming the good man and his family as they are car- 
ried up to heaven. Below we see the neighbors, some of them on their knees, 
witnessing the scene. ] 


Shang Shih-Ying of the Ming dynasty was a scholar and good 
caligrapher. Though poor, he was diligent in doing good. Once 
he saw a man asking for aid to print and distribute the Kan Ying 
P‘ien. He wanted to help the man, and having no means, pawned 
his clothing. With the cash thus realized he gratified his pious 
desire, but on this account had to go without warm clothing in 
winter. Even when he was thirty years of age, he was as poor as 
ever. He went to the capital to try his fortune, but nobody seemed 
to recognize his abilities. To gain a living he was obliged to compose 
and copy for other people, poems which were to be dedicated to 
Kwang Ti, 

New Year’s Eve was approaching and the chief mandarin had 
some official business to attend to at the shrine of Kwang Ti. He 
sent one of his clerks who was a man of good judgment, and he 
greatly admired the work of Shang, hung up in the shrine, and 
asked the poor scholar to accompany him home as a guest of honor. 



On the night of the fifteenth of January, the festival of lanterns, 
the chief mandarin, according to custom, decorated his garden and 
tested the poetical and caligraphic skill of his invited friends in com- 
petitive games, the best compositions to be attached to the lanterns. 
Since the result was not very satisfactory, the clerk recommended the 





poor scholar who stayed at his house. Shang was at once summoned 
and his unusual talents were admired by the whole company. 

It happened that evening that the Emperor came to.inspect the 
illumination, and he was greatly impressed by the beautiful hand- 
writing of the inscriptions. He had their author presented to him, 


and recognizing his worth, conferred a high literary degree upon 

From that time, Shang’s promotion was rapid till he was hon- 
ored with the highest literary title and occupied the very important 
position of secretary to the Emperor. 

One day after his regular work at the Court, he went to the 
shrine of Kwang Ti to give thanks for his prosperity. The priest 
received him very cordially, and when the ceremony was over, let 
him take a rest in the temple when lo, Kwang Ti appeared to him 
in his ethereal form and said: “The prosperity you are enjoying 
to-day is the result of your meritorious work in helping others print 
and distribute the Kan Ying P‘ien. Keep on cultivating piety in 
your heart as before, be loyal arid faithful to your superiors as well 
as to the state, and never think of abusing the power which is yours 
at present.” 

Coming to know the reason of his unparalleled success in life, 
he advised others to follow his example and made many converts. 

[The reader of this story should know that Kwang Ti, the war god, is 
not merely the Chinese Mars but presides generally over the affairs of mortals. 
He may be compared to St. Peter or the Archangel Michael. 

In the illustration, the inscription over the entrance of the temple reads 
literally: “All the heavens together are filled with glory,” reminding us of the 
beginning of the nineteenth Psalm: “The heavens declare the glory of God.” 
The inscription reading downwards on the column, is a loose quotation from 
the Kan Ying P‘ien: “Lucky stars follow the good man.” ] 


The people in the province of Chiang-Hsi had an objection to 
raising daughters, and on that account there were a great many 
bachelors there. The governor wanted to put a stop to the inhuman 
custom of drowning infants, and so he summoned some of his old 
councilors to see what measure could best be taken to effect this. 
Old state documents were consulted and it appeared that many of 
the preceding governors had attempted the same reform but had 
signally failed. So the task seemed to be beset with insurmountable 

After a meeting with his councilors the governor retired, still 
thinking that there must be some method which would effectively 
put an end to the barbarous practice, and he thought, what could 
cause people to suppress parental love but the expense and trouble 
they must undergo at the time of giving their daughters in marriage. 
If there were built a sort ot public nursery where all the female 





children could be provided for by the state, the cruelty of drowning 
girls would naturally cease. 

While going over the old records, the governor had found that 
there were deserted temples and shrines to which a regular annual 
revenue was still attached. He thought these revenues might be 
used with great benefit to the public. In the morning he would go 

to the temple of the Heavenly Mother and ask her gracious assist- 
ance for this scheme. } 

That same night the priest of the temple was informed in a 
dream by the Heavenly Mother concerning the governor’s humane 
project and his impending visit in the morning. She added that 


Raa x 

SRE era 


though his philanthropic scheme had not yet been executed, the 
very thought of lovingkindness that prompted it, had caused a 
commotion in heaven and he was attended by a host of angels. 

According to the divine command, every preparation was made 
in the temple to receive the governor. After due salutation, the 
priest inquired whether his mission was about the establishment of 
a nursery. The governor was greatly surprised to find him well 
informed in regard to the secret plan which had not been divulged 
to anybody. The priest then told him all about the previous night’s 
communication from the Heavenly Mother. 

The benevolent plan was successfully put into execution and 
general prosperity began to reign in the district. The governor 
was promoted by the Emperor and died at an advanced age, sur- 
rounded by his children who were all prosperous and respected. 


King Tsing, while on his way to a large gathering, passed 
through a district called Chun-Hoa, where there lived a young girl 
who was possessed of evil spirits. When King passed the night at 
her home the demons did not dare to enter, but they returned as 
soon as he left the house. The young girl asked them the reason 
and they answered, “We are afraid of King.” She then told her 
father who ran after King Tsing to call him back. But the good 
man simply wrote these four words on a slip of paper: King Tsing 
tsai tzu (“King Tsing is here’), and advised him to paste it on the 
door. The demons never dared to return. 

This true story goes to prove that the presence of a good man 
can put evil spirits to flight. 

[This story encourages the use of charms and incantations, but it reveals 
to us the logic of exorcism. -If the presence of a good man keeps demons 
away, the same result might be effected in his absence, if the demons can be 
made to believe that the good man whom they fear is actually present. 

It is a common belief that the mere name of a person or god is as 
efficient as its owner, and hence is to be kept sacred. In this way, according 
to the faith of the early Christians, miracles are performed in the name of 
Jesus. ] 


Wu Chien-Chiu of Shan-Yu had wonderful muscular strength, 
and nobody in his town could beat him at boxing or fencing. He be- 
came so overbearing that any person who dared affront him was 
sure to pay a penalty for it. He borrowed the property of others 

SEE oa 


without ever returning it, and he compelled people to do things for 
him under threats of severe punishment. 

One summer evening he went up to the tower to cool off in the 
breeze. When the people who had gathered there saw the ruffian 

come they ran away, except one old man who seemed quite in- 
different to his presence. 

“Why do you alone dare defy my power?” cried Wu, intending 
to intimidate the old gentleman, but the latter replied: 

“How profound your ignorance is! Your mother’s womb shel- 
tered you for ten long months, and your mother’s arms took tender 
care of you for three more years. Your parents wanted you to grow 


is Sindh ser 


iia a EE ETS ee 


and mature into a good, serviceable citizen of the Empire. When 
you would achieve something for the State, your family name would 
become known and glorified. You have undoubtedly some unusual 
talents. Why, then, degrade yourself thus and become the useless 
fellow you are now? The State loses in you a serviceable citizen, 
and the spirits of your parents feel disgusted with you. This is 
greatly to be deplored.” 

Wu felt so much ashamed that he had a chill of cold perspira- 
tion, and he said: “The people have marked me as a desperate 
character, and I have acted accordingly; but by your words I 
realize my predicament; pray tell me how to retrieve my good 

The old gentleman replied : “You know the story of the butcher 
who became a saintly Buddhist at the instant when he repented and 
dropped the knife. Follow his example. If you repent and start 
on a righteous march onward, you will certainly become a just man 
and command the respect of others.” 

Wu was serious in his reform and having joined the army was 
finally promoted to the rank of general. 


Ho Kwan of Kuang Nan was a kind-hearted man and never 
killed any living thing. He had a jar containing one thousand pieces 
of silver which he kept in a casket. The white ants, of which there 
were so many in his district, invaded the casket and ate part of the 
silver. When his family found what had happened, they traced the 
ants to a hollow cave where millions of them were living. They 
thought if they put all of these ants in a crucible, perhaps they could 
recover a part of the lost silver. But Ho objected to the scheme, 
saying: “I cannot bear to see all these many creatures killed on 
account of a small sum of silver.” 

So they let the matter drop. That night he dreamed that scores 
of soldiers in white armor came to him, asking him to enter a car- 
riage which they had with them and to come to the palace of their 
king. Ho Kwan proceeded with the soldiers to a town where the 
people looked prosperous and the buildings were all magnificent. 
Numerous officers came out to meet him and took him to a splendid 
palace. The king, clad in royal fashion, descended from the throne, 
and, cordially saluting Ho Kwan, said: “By your benevolent acts 
we have been saved from our enemy. While not forgetting your 
kindness, the lack of strict discipline among my people caused you 
some trouble recently, but by your mercy they have again been 


saved from calamity. How could I let your kindness go unrequited 
this time? There is a certain tree near your residence readily identi- 
fied, under which in olden times a certain person buried a jar full 
of silver. Just dig that out and keep it for yourself. You are the 
unicorn of mankind (the emblem of perfect goodness) that will 

never hurt any living soul. It is a pity that you are now too old to 
enjoy the fruits of your kindliness yourself, but your descendents 
will reap what you have sown.” 

After this Ho Kwan was escorted back to his own house as 
before, by armed soldiers. When he awoke he. meditated on the 
dream and found it to be the work of the ants. So he dug up the 


place as told by their king and recovered a jar buried therein these 
many years. His son became an eminent scholar. 


In the county of Hsiang-Tan in Hu-Kuang there was an old 
and much respected gentleman. He had three sons who did not care 
for culture and refinement but spent every day in sports and roam- 
ing through the mountains. 

One day the three went out hunting with a large company of 
young people and they met unexpectedly an old man in white gar- 
ments who knelt and thus addressed them: “To refrain from in- 
juring all growing things and from killing whatever is awakening 
into life is the part of universal lovingkindness as observed by saints 
and sages. It is now springtime when everything in nature is start- 
ing to life again. If you pay no attention to the tenderness of heart 
as practised by holy men, and, by unchecking the wild passions 
lurking in men’s hearts, if you set the woods afire and exterminate 
the animals and insects that inhabit them, you will surely incur 
heavenly displeasure and suffer the consequences thereof. I, poor 
old creature, have seven young children in my family, and there 
is not time to remove them to a place of safety ; but if you, gentlemen, 
have pity on us, we will never forget your mercy and will reward 
you later.” 

The three leaders of the party did not exactly understand what 
the old man wanted but without further thought promised to do 
as he had requested. 

When the old man was gone some of the party began to wonder 
who he could have been and whence he might have come into this 
wilderness ; and they argued that his appeal to their sympathy did 
not sound human. Possibly he was the spirit of some old wild 
animal living around in the mountains. 

Upon this suggestion they pursued him, and, seeing him enter 
a cave, spread a net before it and started a fire in the entrance. 
Suddenly a white stag darted forth from the hole, and breaking 
through the besiegers, climbed up to a near rock, and then assuming 
the form of an old man, turned back to the hunting party, exclaim- 
ing: “You have killed my seven young daughters. You shall have 
to pay a penalty for this heartless act. A calamity ten times greater 
than I have suffered, will befall your family.” 

The three young men tried to shoot him, but he caught up the 
arrows in his hands and breaking them to pieces disappeared. 


Later, there came to their house a Taoist monk who predicted 
for them an imperial career and great prosperity for the future. 
Incited by this prophecy, they organized a rebellion in which many 
of their friends joined, for the purpose of overthrowing the reign- 
ing dynasty and establishing a new government under their own 




4\ oO. fl 

leadership. While the preparations were going on secretly, somebody 
betrayed their conspiracy to the authorities. Soldiers were im- 
mediately dispatched to their home, and, surrounding the house, 
put every one of the family under arrest. On examination they 
were found guilty of treason. Seventy members of their families 
and associates were executed according to law; but nobody ever 




knew what became of the Taoist monk who had been the real leader 
of the scheme. He as well as the man who had betrayed them dis- 

[This curious story, especially the figure of the mountain spirit who acts 
as a protector of wild animals, reminds us of Schiller’s poem, Der Alpenjager, 
which we quote entire from Bulwer-Lytton’s translation, slightly modified: 


“*Wilt thou not be lambkins heeding? 
Innocent and gentle, they 
Meekly on sweet herbs are feeding, 
And beside the brook they play.’ 
‘Mother, keep me not at home, 
Let me as a hunter roam!’ 

“Wilt thou not, thy herds assembling, 
Lure with lively horn along ?— 
Sweet their clear bells tinkle trembling, 
Sweet the echoing woods among!’ 
‘Mother, mother, let me go, 
O’er the wilds to chase the roe.’ 

“Wilt thou nurture not the flowers, 
Tend them like my own dear child? 
Dark and drear the mountain lowers, 
Wild is nature on the wild!’ 

‘Leave the flowers in peace to blow. 
Mother, mother, let me go!’ 

“Forth the hunter bounds unheeding, 
On his hardy footsteps press; 

Hot and eager, blindly speeding 

To the mountain’s last recess. 

Swift before him, as the wind, 
Panting, trembling, flies the hind. 

“Up the ribbéd crag-tops driven, 
Up she clambers, steep on steep; 
O’er the rocks asunder riven 
Springs her dizzy, daring leap: 
Still unwearied, with the bow 
Of death, behind her flies the foe. 

“On the peak that rudely, drearly 
Jags the summit, bleak and hoar, 
Where the rocks, descending sheerly, 
Leave to flight no path before; 
There she halts at last, to find 
Chasms beneath—the foe behind! 

“To the hard man—dumb-lamenting, 
Turns her look of pleading woe; 
Turns in vain—the Unrelenting 
Meets the look—and bends the bow,— 
Yawn’d the rock; from his abode 
Th’ Ancient of the mountain strode; 

“And his godlike hand extending, 
To protect her from the foe, 
‘Wherefore death and slaughter sending, 

Bringst thou to my realm this woe? 

Shall my herds before thee fall? 

Room there is on earth for all!’ ”] 



A temple in the district of Wu-Kung-Hien contained a library 
which students from the district school often consulted. One winter 
day, four of them used some of the sacred books for fuel to heat 
the room, while another burned one book to warm some water for 
his toilet. Only one of their number, Kang Tui-Shan by name, 
was indignant at their conduct, but he dared not offer a word of 

The next night Kang Tui-Shan had a dream in which he and 
his fellow-students were led before the tribunal of the three divine 
Lord-Superior Magistrates.* The six prostrated themselves and 
one of the gods said: “Buddha is a great saint, why have you dared 
burn his sacred books to warm yourselves?” 

The four students struck their foreheads against the ground 
and besought pardon for their crime, but were condemned to death. 
The one who warmed water for his toilet was doomed never to 
receive any advancement during his life. Finally the god asked 
Kang Tui-Shan why he had not remonstrated with his companions. 

“I knew that they were doing wrong,” answered Kang, “but 
as.they are my elders, I was afraid my reproaches would offend 

“T will pardon you,” said the god, “but when you have risen 
to a prominent position do not fail to give your support and protec- 
tion to the religion of Buddha.” 

When he awoke Kang wrote down his dream. He obtained the 
‘ degree of Chwang-Yiien} when the four other students failed in 

7 The first rank in the list of doctors. ; 
their examinations and were excluded from the contest. Six months 

later the plague spread in their country and all four perished with 
their families, while the student who burned the sacred book to heat 
water was still, in his old age, merely a poor schoolmaster. He died 
from starvation in the seventh year of the reign of Shih-Tsung of 
the Ming dynasty (A. D. 1529). 

Now it is a greater sin to waste sacred books than to mock and 
slander sages and saints. Paper, whether written or printed, often 
contains maxims that wise men have bequeathed to us. If we use 


*The name of this divine tribunal is Shen San-Kuan Ti-Chiin, which, 
literally translated, means the Divine Trinity of Official Lord Superiors. They 
are the gods of heaven, of earth, and of water. Their birthdays are cele- 
brated on the fifteenth of the first, seventh, and tenth months, respectively. 
The first distributes blessings, the second forgives sins, and the third saves 
from fire. 



it for unclean purposes, if we trample it underfoot, instead of 
carefully preserving it, we are committing a crime as serious as if 
we slandered them, 


In the garden of the city of Sieu-Shui-Siuen, there once lived 
a man by the name of Fan Ki, who led a wicked life. He induced 
men to stir up quarrels and lawsuits with each other, to seize by 
violence what did not belong to them, and to dishonor other men’s 
wives and daughters. When he could not succeed easily in carrying 
out his evil purposes, he made use of the most odious strategems. 

One day he died suddenly, but came back to life twenty-four 
hours afterward and bade his wife gather together their relatives 
and neighbors. When all were assembled he told them that he had 
seen the king of the dark realm who said to him, “Here the dead 
receive punishment for their deeds of evil. The living know not 
the lot that is reserved for them. They must be thrown into a bed 
of coals whose heat is in proportion to the extent of their crimes 
and to the harm they have done their fellows.” 

The assembled company listened to this report as to the words 
of a feverish patient ; they were incredulous and refused to believe 
the story. But Fan Ki had filled the measure of crime, and Yama, 
the king of hell, had decided to make an example of him so as to 
frighten men from their evil ways. At Yama’s command Fan Ki 
took a knife and mutilated himself, saying, “This is my punishment 
for inciting men to dissolute lives.” He put out both his eyes, 
saying, “This is my punishment for having looked with anger at 
my parents, and at the wives and daughters of other men with 
guilt in my heart.” He cut off his right hand, saying, “This is my 
punishment for having killed a great number of animals.” He cut 
open his body and plucked out his heart, saying, “This is my punish- 
ment for causing others to die under tortures.” And last of all he 
cut out his tongue to punish himself for lying and slandering. 

The rumor of these occurrences spread afar, and people came 
from every direction to see the mangled body of the unhappy man. 
His wife and children were overcome with grief and shame, and 
closed the door to keep out the curious crowd. But Fan Ki, still 
living by the ordeal of Yama, said in inarticulate sounds, “I have 
but.executed the commands of the king of hell, who wants my pun- 
ishment to serve as a warning to others. What right have you to 
prevent them from seeing me?” 


For six days the wicked man rolled upon the ground in the 
most horrible agonies, and at the end of that time he died. 
This story teaches us what punishments are in store for evil- 



doers. How dare men act contrary to what they know to be just 
and right! 

[This story is taken from Julien’s French version, but the Chinese edition 
at our command contains a similar, though less detailed, story of self-muti- 
lation, for the illustration of which the accompanying picture was originally 
used. ] 




HAD been reading Buddhist texts to a friend, and the solemn 
proclamation of the three characteristics still lingered in my ear: 
“Whether Buddhas arise, O priests, or whether Buddhas do 
not arise, it remains a fact and the fixed and necessary constitution 
of being, that all conformations are transitory. This fact a Buddha 
discovers and masters, and when he has discovered and mastered 
| it, he announces, teaches, publishes, proclaims, discloses, minutely 
explains, and makes it clear, that all conformations are transitory. 
“Whether Buddhas arise, O priests, or whether Buddhas do not 
arise, it remains a fact and the fixed and necessary constitution of 
being, that all conformations are suffering. This fact a Buddha 
discovers and masters, and when he has discovered and mastered 
it, he announces, teaches, publishes, proclaims, discloses, minutely 
explains, and makes it clear, that all conformations are suffering. 
“Whether Buddhas arise, O priests, or whether Buddhas do not 
arise, it remains a fact and the fixed and necessary constitution of 
being, that all conformations are lacking a self. This fact a Buddha 
discovers and masters, and when he has discovered and mastered it, 
he announces, teaches, publishes, proclaims, discloses, minutely ex- 
plains, and makes it clear, that all conformations are lacking a self.” 
| This formula which constitutes a significant feature of Bud- 
dhism is called tilakkhanam, i. e., “three characteristics,” and it 
reads in its briefest form in the original Pali: 

| “sabbe sankhara anicca, 
sabbe sankhara dukkha, 
sabbe sankhara anatta.” 

The word sankhara is an important Buddhist term. It is com- 
monly translated by “compound,” or “conformation.” Other trans- 
lations, such as “component things,” “elements of being,” “constit- 


uents of being,” or “factors of being,” are not quite accurate. The 
word is derived from a root which means to adorn, to arrange, and 
denotes any arrangement, or composition, or configuration. It is a 
synonym of dharma (Pali dhamma) which is etymologically con- 
sidered as the same word as the Latin forma and has two meanings: 
first, any material or bodily form; and secondly, the norm or law 
that governs the formation of bodily forms. In the second sense 
dharma has acquired the meaning of religion or truth. In the former 
sense it frequently replaces the word sankhara or conformation, in 
the official quotation of the tilakkhanam. 

The idea is that all compounds are transitory because subject 
to change; are harassed by suffering, because they are liable to be 
joined to things unpleasant and disjoined from things pleasant ; and 
that their construction is a mere combination, the unity being pro- 
duced through composition. A compound does not form a thing- 
in-itself, called in the nomenclature of ancient Brahmanism atman, 
“self” (Pali atta). The contrast to this declaration of the im- 
permanence of bodily compounds is found in the declaration of the 
permanence of things immaterial (called arupa in PaliY and these 
immaterial things are the ideals of Buddhist ethics, the treasures of 
the religion, such as insight into the impermanence of bodily exist- 
ence, enlightenment, righteousness, the path if salvation and its aim, 
nirvana. These things are discovered by the Buddha, and we read in 
the Jataka the declaration that they are eternal and immutable, and 
that recognition of these truths constitutes the nature of a Buddha. 
We read for instance the following exposition of Gautama Sid- 
dhartha while he was still a Bodhisattva, a seeker of the Bodhi, and 
before he had attained to Buddhahood, when witnessing the words 
of his predecessor, the Buddha Dipankara: 

“The Buddhas speak not doubtful words, the conquerors speak 

not vain words, 

There is no falsehood in the Buddhas,—verily I shall become 
a Buddha. 

As a clod cast into the air shall surely fall to the ground, 

So the word of the glorious Buddhas is sure and everlasting. 

As the death of all mortals is sure and constant, 

So the word of the glorious Buddhas is sure and everlasting. 

As the rising of the sun is certain when night has faded, 

So the word of the glorious Buddhas is sure and everlasting. 

As the roaring of a lion who has left his den is certain, 

So the word of the glorious Buddhas is sure and everlasting. 


As the delivery of women with child is certain, 
So the word of the glorious Buddhas is sure and everlasting.” 

The doctrine of the Buddha was preached by his disciples who 
formed a great brotherhood called the sangha, which is the official 
name of the Buddhist order or church. Converts took their refuge 
in the trinity of the Buddha, the Sangha, and the Dharma. Of this 
trinity the Dharma was truth itself; the Buddha, the revealer of 
truth; and the Sangha, his church as the instrument of setting the 
example of a holy life and pointing out the way of salvation. This 
was condensed in the words of the refuge formula which reads: 

“In the Buddha I take my refuge, 
In the Sangha I take my refuge, and 
In the Dharma I take my refuge.” 

The original Pali formula is repeated in Buddhist temples all 
over the world as follows: 

“Buddham saranam gacchami, 
Dhammam saranam gacchami, 
Sangham saranam gacchami.” 

This refuge formula has been amplified into the following con- 
fession of faith, which we quote from the Samyuttaka Nikaya (IIT): 

“To the BuppHa will I look in faith. He, the exalted one, is the 
holy supreme Buddha, the all-wise, the great sage, the blessed one, 
who knows the worlds; the supreme one who yoketh men like oxen; 
the teacher of gods and men; the exalted Buddha. 

“To.the DoctrinE will I look in faith. Well-preached is the doc- 
trine by the exalted one. It has been made manifest; it needs no 
time; it says ‘Come and see’; it leads to welfare; it is realized by 
the wise in their own hearts. 

“To the Orper will I look in faith. In right behaviour lives the 
order of the disciples of the exalted one; in proper behaviour lives 
the order of the disciples of the exalted one; in honest behaviour 
lives the order of the disciples of the exalted one; in just behaviour 
lives the order of the disciples of the exalted one: the four couples, 
the eight degrees of saintship, the order of the disciples of the exalted 
one, worthy of offerings, worthy of gifts, worthy of alms, worthy 
to have men lift their hands before them in reverence, the highest 
place in the world in which to do good. 

“In the precepts of righteousness will I walk, which are beloved 
by the holy, uninfringed, unviolated, unmixed, uncolored, liberating, 
praised by the wise, unpolluted, and leading to emancipation.” 

Symphony. The master exhibited here 

three times in order to give emphasis 

' stress on that one motive which was t 


It was under these impressions that I listened in the evening 
to the powerful strains of the Andante from Beethoven’s Seventh 

the full power of his genius 

and was preaching a religion. He emphasized his precepts with 
a serious conviction and vigorous earnestness, repeating the motive 
three times just as old Buddhist monks repeated their formulas 

to a truth and to inculcate 

its moral applications. The melody was almost a monotone, repeat- 
ing the same measure again and again, without any attempt at 
embellishment ; and the harmony consisted of a few changes in the 
accompaniment, apparently serving no other purpose than to lay 

he main theme and the sole 

burden of the composer’s thought. Without shaping my thoughts 
into definite words, I felt that Beethoven was a prophet who re- 
vealed the selfsame truths that had been explained by the Buddha. 
There was the same stern attitude, the same simplicity in propound- 

ing the doctrine and the same accentuat 
unconsciously the melody of the master 

ing repetition, so that almost 
’s melodramatic theme spoke 

to me in words expressive of the Buddhist Dharma. 
As in a dream I saw a Buddhist congregation, and a choir sang 

sotto voce the following formula three 

times successively : 

“All conformations: 
Always are transient, 
Harassed by sorrow, 

Lacking a self.” 

A solo rendered in firm notes expressive of conviction sounded 

the answer in threefold repetition as follows: 

“This is the doctrine 

Taught by all Buddhas; 
This is a fact and 
Always proves true.” 

Finally the chorus of the whole congregation repeated the mel- 

ody with the following words: 

“Words of the Buddha “Words of the Sangha 

Never can perish; 
They will remain for 
Ever and aye. 

Set up a standard, 
Point out salvation, 
Teach us the way. 

“Words of the Dharma— 
Truths are immortal, 
Errors and passions 
Will they allay.” 





1 4 

mH | —* 1 : 
3S 5 fais == iS == Ss 
et mp 



~ nee vee ma-tions Al - ways are tran-sient, Harassed by sor - row, 
a. =, is the doc-trine Taught by all Buddhas; This is a fact and 
3. Wordsof the Bud-dha Nev-er can per-ish; They will re-main for 

ep fatten te tt EE 

if 7 om | 

fn) —! er 

ais m i i“ La! i i 4 Ry. eee } email -" | J i | 

yi > 7 7 - TT ° lier) = 
Lack-ing a self. All con-for- ma-tions Al- ways are tran - sient, 

Al - ways provestrue. This is the doc-trine Taught by all Bud - dhas; 
Ev - er and aye. Words of the San- gha Set up a stan- dard, 

etd tpt ti as a 

it 1 t it it j 4 
ee ig} = 8 8 a tt j 
i = i | 1 i J 
ry¥ i 
G J = | i i aT * <-S= 
| Ps lt ee i lb 
Harassed by sor- row, Lack-ing a self. All con-for- ma - tions 

This is a fact and Al-waysprovestrue. This is the doc- trine 
Point out sai - va - tion, Teach us the Way. Words of the Dhar - ma 

Al - ways are tran-sient, Harassed by sor - row, Lack- ing a_ self. 
Taught by all Bud-dhas;This is a fact and Al -waysprovestrue. 
Truths are im - mor- tal, Er - rors and pas- sions, Will they al - lay. 

pe RABE AEE ie 



HENCE came we Aryans? In what remotest mother country 

did the first men of our blood and of our speech reside? 

What was their culture, what their religion in the prehistoric years 

prior to their differentiation into the great Indo-European peoples? 

From what center did they march forth, horde after horde, until 

the left wing of their ever-broadening array rested by the mouth 

of the Ganges and the right wing covered the Hebrides ?—These are 

questions of perennial interest not only to us of Aryan stock, but 
also to all enlightened minds in other races. 

During the second half of the nineteenth century a flood of 
light was thrown upon the thought and life of the primeval, as yet 
undispersed Aryas by studying, in the comparative method, the 
languages of the peoples known to have descended from them. 
Proceeding upon the sound principle that when one and the same 
word is used to express a particular idea in each member of this 
family of languages, it is safe to regard that word as having come 
down from the time when the ancestors of all the Indo-European 
peoples were as yet living together and of one speech, such scholars 
as Pott, and Burnouf, and Pictet, ascertained that those far-off an- 
cestors were far from being in the conditions of savage life. They 
could count beyond a hundred. They built houses that had roofs, 
and windows, and doors. They navigated rivers and lakes in boats 
with oars. They used yokes and wheels, they spun and wove. They 
were acquainted with metals and could work them. They made 
swords and spears, and to the sound of the trumpet rode into battle 
in chariots. Family life was of a high type, with no sign of polyg- 
amy. There were family altars and social worship. Pictet even 
claimed that their philosophic insight had already reached a point 


99 66 

so high that for “conscience,” “will,” and “memory” they had words 
that are not traceable to material objects.’ 

As to the land in which the Aryans dwelt the learned were for 
quite a period of one opinion, all agreeing that it was in Central 
Asia. More precisely it was on the great Plateau of Pamir, where 
modern Bokara and Tibet are found. Great interest was felt in its 
early exploration. Here are the words of Renan: 

“When the Aryan race shall have become master of the planet, 
its first’ duty will be to explore the mysterious depths of Bokara and 
Little Tibet, where so much that is of intmense value to science prob- 
ably lies concealed. How much ligth must be thrown upon the 
origin of language when we shall find ourselves in the presence of 
the localities where those sounds were first uttered which we still 
employ, and where those intellectual categories were first formed 
which guide the movement of our faculties !’” 

If instead of speaking of “sounds” and “categories,” Renan had 
suggested the possibility of unearthing a few Proto-Aryan coins or 
crania in that first home-land of our race, his appeal would have 
seemed more promising. 

This mid-Asian solution of the question as to the starting- 
point of the Indo-European migrations was not destined to be final. 
In the last quarter of the last century many philologists and eth- 
nologists openly abandoned it.? The majority of these located the 
starting-point in Scandinavia, or in other northerly portions of 
Europe. Some thought the data pointed rather to Siberia. At the 
close of the century not one leading authority remained to champion 
Tibet as the cradle-land in question. The weight of expert opinion 
inclined perhaps to Scandinavia, but in any case to some location 
much farther to the north than the Plateau of Pamir. 

Just now a new and remarkable work, produced in India, is 
attracting the attention of European and American scholars. Its 
author is a native of the Orient, a man possessed of scholarly famil- 
iarity with the Sanskrit texts, yet well acquainted with Occidental 
science and learning. He writes English with a correctness and 
force which many an Englishman might covet. His training as a 

*Les Aryas primitifs, II, 539-546.—Our best compendium for this informa- 
tion in the English language is Dr. Schrader’s Prehistoric Antiquities of the 
Aryan Peoples. Translated from the German by Jevons. 

* De Vorigine du langage, p. 232. 

*So Latham, Spiegel, Schrader, Benfey, Poesche, Penka, Rendell, Isaac 
Taylor, Van den Gheyn, etc. Taylor declared, “There is no more curious 
chapter in the whole history of scientific delusion.” 



lawyer has given him lucidity of style and a proper appreciation of 
the principles of evidence. If, like other scholars, he needed ex- 
perience in practical affairs to check speculative tendencies, he has 
had it in his habitual work as an editor, and as an official councilor 
in connection with the government of Bombay. In a former work, 
entitled Orion, or Researches into the Antiquity of the Vedas, he 
surprised his countrymen by showing that certain till then unnoticed 
astronomical allusions in the Vedic hymns gave evidence that these 
compositions must have been written at a period far more remote 
than commonly supposed ; in fact, at a date about 4500 years before 
Christ. Naturally this claim was at first received by scholars in a 
very skeptical spirit, but soon after, without knowing of the re- 
searches of his Indian predecessor, Professor Jacobi of Bonn, one 
of the best Sanskritists in Europe, independently arrived at a con- 
clusion substantially the same; since which time Professor Bloom- 
field,t M. Barth, Professor Bithler, and others, have more or less 
freely conceded the force of the new arguments. A writer of these 
qualifications and antecedents is certain to have a respectful hear- 
ing. His name is Bal Gangadhar Tilak. 

The title of his new and striking work is The Arctic Home in 
the Vedas: A New Key to the Interpretation of many Vedic Texts 
and Legends.’ He finds the cradle-land of the Aryans “at or near 
the North Pole,” In his Preface he speaks of his ten years of 
search for evidence that would reveal the long vista of primitive 
Aryan antiquity, and adds: “How I first worked on the lines followed 
up in the Orion, how in the light of latest researches in geology 
and archeology bearing on the primitive history of man, I was 
gradually led to a different line of search, and finally how the con- 
clusion that the ancestors of the Vedic Rishis lived in an Arctic 
home, in inter-glacial times, was forced on me by the slowly accumu- 
lating evidence, is fully narrated in the book.” 

The volume is an octavo of five hundred and twenty-four pages. 
Its first chapter treats of “Prehistoric Times” in general ; the second 
of “The Glacial Age” ; the remaining eleven of the following topics 
in due succession: “The Arctic Regions” ; “The Night of the Gods” 
(a very ancient designation of the polar night of six months) ; “The 
Vedic Dawns”; “The Long Day and Long Night” in the Vedic 
hymns ; “Months and Seasons” ; “The Cow’s Waik” (a ceremony in 
the ancient sacrificial system) ; “Vedic Myths—the Captive Waters” ; 

*See Professor Bloomfield’s address at eighteenth anniversary of Johns 
Hopkins University. 

* Published by Messrs. Ramchandra Govind & Son, Bombay. 


“Vedic Myths—the Matutinal Deities”; “The Avestic Evidence” ; 
“Comparative Mythology”; “The Bearing of our results on the 
History of Aryan Culture and Religion.” Two excellent indexes, 
one “General,” and one “Index of Vedic and Avestic Passages,” 
greatly increase the value of the work to all scholars. 

Within the limits of this article no summary of the author’s 
argument can be given. Suffice it here to say that in the judgment 
of the present writer the array of evidences set forth is far more 
conclusive than any ever attempted by an Indo-Iranian scholar in 
the interest of any earlier hypothesis. Absolute candor and respect 
for the strictest methods of historic and scientific investigation char- 
acterize the discussion throughout. This results in part no doubt 
from the fact that the author’s own attitude of mind was at the out- 
set highly skeptical. He says: “I did not start with any preconceived 
notion in favor of the Arctic theory; nay, I regarded it as highly 
improbable at first; but the accumulating evidence in its support 
eventually forced me to accept it.” It is hard to see how any other 
candid mind can master the proof produced without being mastered 
by it in turn. 

One criticism must not be suppressed. Both titles given by 
Mr. Tilak to his book are altogether too narrow. They prepare one 
to expect nothing beyond a discussion of evidences found in the 
Vedic hymns. In reality he deals with a far wider range of data. 
He draws almost as often upon Avestic texts as upon the Vedic, and 
in more than one instance finds the former more convincing than the 
latter. Probably the fact that he was writing in India and primarily 
for the heirs of Vedic literature, accounts for this undue restriction 
of the title. 

Twenty years ago, in preparing my work on the broader prob- 
lem of the cradle-land of the whole human race, I went through all 
the Vedic and Avestic texts so far as existing translations would 
then permit, reaching at the end the same conclusion that Mr. Tilak 
has now reached.® Incidentally, in my argument a new light was 
thrown upon various points in the mythical geography and cosmog- 
raphy of the ancient Iranians,—light which the foremost Iranist of 
his time, Professor Spiegel, generously acknowledged. Incidentally, 
I also arrived at a new interpretation of the Vedic myth of the cap- 
tive waters, and of other Vedic myths, Especially gratifying, there- 
fore, is it to me to find in Mr. Tilak a man in no degree dependent 

* Paradise Found: the Cradle of the Human Race at the North Pole. 
Boston. 11th edition. 1904. 


me cee 






on translations, yet arriving not only at my main conclusion, but 
also at a number of minor ones of which I had never made public 
mention. I desire publicly to thank this far-off fellow-worker for 
the generosity of his frequent references to my pioneer work in the 
common field, and for the solidity and charm of his own, in certain 
respects, more authoritative contribution. Whoever will master 
this new work, and that of the late Mr. John O’Neill on The Night 
of the Gods, will not be likely ever again to ask, Where was the ear- 
liest home of the Aryans? 



Father Hyacinthe Loyson lectured of late (June 12) in the great Hall of 
the Reformation at Geneva, to a large audience of Protestants and liberal 
Catholics on “The Religious Crisis in France.” The orator was by no means 
onesided, for he placed the blame for many misunderstandings between the 
religious and irreligious upon both parties, the leaders of scientific and liberal 
progress and the representatives of the Church. The latter he considers too 
narrow and blind to the significance of science, and the former, especially the 
Comtean positivists, would fairly limit man’s life to the narrow span of the 
few experiences which the individual gathers between the cradle and the 
grave, while deifying that same limited humanity. 

When the orator had finished the critical part of his lecture he was inter- 
rupted by the acclamations of his audience, and after a short pause proposed 
his remedy for the ills of to-day. He expressed his belief in a universal 
Christianity based upon the successive and progressive revelations of God, 
made according to the degree of man’s intelligence. He stated his faith in u 
holy and eternal God, and explained that morality was based upon the respect 
of humanity as found in oneself and one’s fellows. This is the gist of the 
saying of Jesus which bids man “love the Lord thy God....and thy neighbor 
as thyself.” 

Father Hyacinthe is not a Calvinist, but on the contrary is still a Catholic. 
He has cut loose from the domination of Rome and represents the liberal 
religionists of France who would continue in the forms and ceremonies of 
the Church without submitting to the hierarchy. The faction of those in sym- 
pathy with him will probably gain a new significance after the separation of 
Church and State in France. 

Our own differences with Father Hyacinthe Loyson have been expressed 
in a discussion concerning the conception of God which appeared some time 
ago in The Open Court (XI, 618) ; and we must add that after the pleasure 
of having met him personally in Paris during the Exposition of 1900 the dis- 
crepancies of belief appeared greatly minimized; fot we are perfectly willing 
to allow him the right of using terms in the sense to which he is accustomed, 
while he gave a much more philosophical and less dogmatic interpretation to 
his thoughts than might be anticipated by those who read his expositions or 
listen to his sermons. He is decidedly a man of deep thought who, though he. 
loves the religious forms to which he has been accustomed from childhood, 
is broad enough to see that his mode of worshiping God and even his inter- 



pretation of the nature of God are but one possibility among many, and he 
respects the scientific and philosophical conception above others for its exact- 
ness, provided it be not negative and destructive, while he would sanction 
the poetry of religious language and ceremonies according to the needs of 
the devotional heart. 


An appeal comes to our readers from the Countess Evelyn Asinelli of 
Geneva, Switzerland, in her attempt to arouse the interest of Americans in 
the deplorable condition of the Boers. Besides making many thousand or- 
phans the war has ruined nearly every home; and England’s small indemnity 
does not go as far as it should towards adequate relief because of mismanage- 
ment in the distribution. 

Miss Emily Hobhouse verified some very painful reports she had heard 
by spending two months in careful investigations, visiting the northern dis- 
tricts so difficult of access, and the desolated villages from which no word 
had come since the signing of the peace. In an open letter she has told of 
the miserable condition of the half-starved people and their ruined homes. 
She said, “Sad indeed it is to see the people on farms situated often twenty, 
thirty, or fifty miles from any town. The man has probably tramped away to 
seek work for cash; the women and children sit silent at home. No word of 
complaint is ever heard. There is nothing to do: no clothes to make, no food 
to cook, no garden to till, and neither seeds nor water. They sit in a row 

Countess Asinelli writes us the following account of this enterprising 
woman’s brave endeavors towards the alleviation of the pitiful state of affairs: 

“Miss Hobhouse who has devoted her life to those who suffer, is a very 
practical woman. She understood after having lived with the ruined Boers, 
that one thing alone could do them a permanent good, and that was to give 
them the means of gaining their living. She therefore settled at Philippolis. 
a small town in the Orange River Colony, where with the help of two ex- 
perienced teachers, she opened a large work-room; young girls from sixteen 
to twenty-two years are taught to spin, to weave, and to knit by machinery; 
we hope by and by to be able to add a fourth branch of activity, namely 
lacemaking, for which there is good market in South Africa. As these in- 
dustries were totally unknown in the country, they have a chance of success 
which might be doubtful elsewhere. The progress of the whole undertaking 
is most encouraging. 

“Unfortunately, the current expenses are very high; life is expensive over 
there and moreover wood being costly and very scarce, our Boers can not 
reproduce the looms and the spinning-wheels to the degree required for all 
our new pupils and for the home use of our now very able first workers. 
This last point is a serious hindrance, as we shall be obliged to send the ne- 
cessary material from our posts, which means an increase of expense.” 

As yet there are only one hundred subscribers to the undertaking, and any 
help from new friends who may see this appeal will be welcomed by Countess 
Evelyn Asinelli, 8 Grand Pré, Geneva, Switzerland, and wisely administered. 



It Papato. Sua origine, sue lotte e vicende, suo avvenire. Studio storico- 
scientifico di Baldassare Labanca. Turin: Fratelli Bocca. 1905. Pp. 
XXViii, 514. 

The author of this book which purports to be a historico-scientific study 
of The Papacy, its Origin, its Struggles and Vicissitudes, and its Future, is 
the professor of the history of Christianity at the University of Rome. Some- 
what more than a year ago, he published a book on Jesus Christ in Contem- 
poraneous Italian and Foreign Literature, which was favorably received in 
Italy and is being translated into French and Spanish. The present work 
does not pretend to be a compendium of the history of the popes, for there 
are already enough of those, both valuable and worthless; nor has the author 
undertaken to write a thorough papal history on scientific lines, for the reason 
that too many necessary documents are impossible of access. But since it 
is not possible to write a long history of the popes, he proposes “to give a 
scientific history of the papacy, in the same way that Max Miller and Tiele 
wrote the history of religion, when not possessing all the material necessary 
for a scientific history of religions.” 

The first half of the book is devoted to the philological and historical 
study of the origin of the titles “pope,” “bishop,” and “pontiff,” including the 
controversy on the subject of the papacy between the churches of the East 
and West, and the reasons why its influence has always been so much stronger 
in the West than in the East. The second half of the book has to do with the 
history of the papacy as divided into four periods, while the last chapter treats 
of prophecies for its future. 

The Buddhistischer Verlag of Leipsic has issued together in one copy, 
the first two numbers of a new monthly called Der Buddhist which, as its 
’ name indicates, is devoted entirely to Buddhist literature. In the back, under 
the same cover, are added a few leaves containing news items in relation to 
Buddhist missions and propaganda, together with reviews of books of Bud- 
dhistic. trend. These leaves in the back of the magazine are entitled “Die 
Buddhistische Welt” and can be had separately. 

The motto of Der Buddhist is the verse from the Dhammapada which 
may be thus rendered in English verse: 

“Commit no wrong, but good deeds do, 
And let thy heart be pure. 
All Buddhas teach this doctrine true 
Which will for aye endure.” 

In the editor’s announcement the raison d’étre of the new periodical is 
expressed as follows: 

“Der Buddhist does not wish to deprive any one of his religious con- 
viction; our heartfelt wish for all people is that they may be at peace with 

*See The Open Court, Vol. XVIII, p. 625. “Three Buddhist Stanzas” 
done into English verse and set to music, by Paul Carus. 


themselves, and we sincerely rejoice when we see that a man has found re- 
pose and comfort in his religious convictions. On the other hand we know 
very well that hundreds of thousands, yes many millions in Germany have 
withdrawn from the established religion; a very large percentage of these 
millions are yearning for some compensating faith; to these unbelieving 
hearts, estranged from God and yet thirsting for religion, our journal will 

offer the teaching of an undogmatic religion, and a rational world-concep-— 


This same Buddhist press of Leipsic has published a simple and attrac- 
tive yearbook, called Buddhistische Vergissmeinnicht. The well-chosen col- 
lection of helpful quotations is made by Bruno Freydank. The little volume 
contains a detailed index, which is followed by a summary of Buddhist rules 
for the conduct of life. 

K. B. Seidenstiicker, the editor of Der Buddhist, has provided the German 
public with a German edition of a number of Buddhist works. One of these, 
from the English-Japanese original of S. Kuroda, Mahayana, die Haupt- 
lehren des nordlichen Buddhismus, is a German translation of the Outlines 
of the Mahayana as Taught by Buddha. This book was originally written 
for the instruction of non-Buddhists at the Parliament of Religions in Chi- 
cago. Das Licht des Buddha, also by S. Kuroda, purports to be an impartial 
summary of the main points of the Buddhist doctrine, but it is in fact of the 
greater interest because of its Mahayana or north-Buddhist point of view. 
The others, Dhamma, oder die Moralphilosophie des Buddha Gotama, and 
Sangha, oder der buddhistische Ménchs-Orden, are translated portions of 
Professor H. Tilbe’s Pali-Buddhism, and the editor’s purpose is thus expressed 
in the Preface to Dhamma: “May this little book, which was originally in- 
tended to arm Christian missionaries in their battles against Buddhism, serve 
an almost contradictory purpose in this present translation: namely, to make 
known the teaching of Buddha Gotama in more or less Christian Germany.” 

Our frontispiece represents the Buddha preaching his farewell address 
to the mallas, the inhabitants of the district where he happened to be staying. 
It closes the series of scenes from Buddha’s life made by Eduard Biedermann 
to illustrate The Gospel of Buddha, which have been furnishing the frontis- 
piece to The Open Court from time to time. This series is to be included 
with a number of representations of typical, historical Buddhistic art products 
of both statuary and painting, in a Portfolio of Buddhist Art which The 
Open Court Publishing Company hopes to offer the public in a short time. 

aluaiiateceenaais 1. aceee 


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Ne * v3 
et eee 



Frontispiece to The Open Court. 

Copyright by The Open Court Publishing Company, 1905.