of thine, O Ahura Mazda! that is the greatest, the best, the fairest, the most effective,' &c.

Ahura Mazda replied unto him: 'My name is the One of whom questions are asked, O Holy Zarathushtra!'

Now it is curious to observe that Dr. Haug translates the same passage freely, but not accurately, by: 'The first name is Ahmi, I am.'

The text is Frakhshtya nâma ahmi, and this means, 'One to be asked by name am I.' 'To ask' is the recognised term for asking for revealed truth, so that spento frasna, the holy question, including the answer, came to mean with the Parsis almost the same as revelation. Dr. Haug seems to have overlooked that word, and his translation has therefore been. wrongly quoted as showing that I am was a name of Ahura Mazda.

But when we come to the twentieth name we find that Haug's translation is more accurate than Darmesteter's. The text is vîsastemô ahmi yat ahmi Mazdau nâma. This means, the twentieth, I am what I am, Mazda by name.' Here Darmesteter translates: My twentieth name is Mazda (the allknowing one), Dr. Haug more accurately: The twentieth (name is) I am who I am, Mazda 1.'

Here then in this twentieth name of Ahura Mazda, 'I am that I am,' we have probably the source of the verse in Exodus iii. 14, unless we are prepared to

Another translation of the words vîsastemo ahmi yat ahmi Mazdau nama has been suggested by West. Ahmi in Zend, he writes, is not only the same as Sk. asmi, I am, but is used also as the locative of the first personal pronoun, corresponding to the Sk. mayi. It is possible, therefore, to translate the twentieth name for me is that I am Mazda,' though most scholars would prefer to take the two ahmi's for the same, and to translate, 'the twentieth is I am what I am, Mazda by name.'

admit a most extraordinary coincidence, and that under circumstances where a mutual influence, nay actual borrowing, was far from difficult, and where the character of the passage in Exodus seems to give clear indication on which side the borrowing must have taken place.

I hope I have thus made it clear in what the real value of the Sacred Books of the East consists with regard to a comparative study of religions. We must freely admit that many literary documents in which we might have hoped to find the traces of the earliest growth of a religion, are lost to us for ever. I have tried to show how, more particularly in the case of the Zoroastrian religion, our loss has been very great, and the recent publication of the Dînkard by Mr. E. W. West (S. B. E., vol. xxxvii) has made us realise more fully how much of the most valuable information is lost to us for ever. We read, for instance (Book ix. cap. 31, 13), that in the Varstmânsar Nask there was a chapter on the arising of the spiritual creation, the first thought of Aûharmazd; and, as to the creatures of Aûharmazd, first the spiritual achievement, and then the material formation and the mingling of spirit with matter; [the advancement of the creatures thereby, through his wisdom and the righteousness of Vohûman being lodged in the creatures,] and all the good creatures being goaded thereby into purity and joyfulness. This too, that a complete understanding of things arises through Vohûman having made a home in one's reason (vârôm).'

To have seen the full treatment of these questions in the Avesta would have been of the greatest value to the students of the history of religions, whether

they admit a direct influence of Persian on Jewish and Christian thought, or whether they look upon the Zoroastrian idea of a spiritual followed by a material creation as simply an instructive parallel to the Philonic concept of the Logos, its realisation in the material world, or the σáp, and on Vohûman as a parallel to the Holy Ghost. But there is now no hope of our ever recovering what has been lost so long. We must admit, therefore, that, with all the Sacred Books of the East, our knowledge of ancient religions will always remain very imperfect, and that we are often forced to depend on writings, the date of which as writings is very late, if compared with the times which they profess to describe. It does not follow that there may not be ancient relics imbedded in modern books, but it does follow that these modern books have to be used with great caution, also that their translation can never be too literal. There is a dangerous tendency in Oriental scholarship, namely an almost unconscious inclination to translate certain passages in the Veda, the Zend Avesta, or the Buddhist Canon into language taken from the Old or New Testament. In some respects this may be useful, as it brings the meaning of such passages nearer to us. But there is a danger also, for such translations are apt to produce an impression that the likeness is greater than it really is, so great in fact that it could be accounted for by actual borrowing only. It is right that we should try to bring Eastern thought and language as near as possible to our own thought and language, but we must be careful also not to obliterate the minute features peculiar to each, even though the English translation may sometimes sound strange and unidiomatic.

LECTURE III.

THE HISTORICAL RELATIONSHIP OF ANCIENT RELIGIONS

AND PHILOSOPHIES.

How to compare Ancient Religions and Ancient Philosophies.

WE

E saw in the case of the Avesta how absolutely necessary it is that we should have formed to ourselves a clear conception of the relation in which the religions and philosophies of the ancient world stand to each other before we venture to compare them.

In former days, when little was known of the more distant degrees of relationship by which the historical nations of the world were bound together, the temptation was great, whenever some similarity was pointed out between the beliefs of different nations, to suppose that one had borrowed from the other. The Greeks, as we saw, actually persuaded themselves that they had borrowed the names of some of their gods from Egypt, because they discovered a certain similarity between their own deities and those of that ancient country. But we know now that there was foundation whatever for such an opinion. Christian theologians, from the days of Clement of Alexandria to our own time, were convinced that any startling coin

no

cidences between the Bible and the Sacred Books of other religions could be due to one cause only, namely, to borrowing on the part of the Gentiles; while there were not wanting Greek philosophers who accused Christian teachers of having taken their best doctrines from Plato and Aristotle.

Common Humanity.

We must therefore, at the very outset, try to clear our mind on this subject. We may distinguish, I believe, between four different kinds of relationship. The most distant relationship is that which is simply due to our common humanity. Homines sumus, nihil humani a nobis alienum putamus. Much of what is possible in the Arctic regions is possible in the Antarctic regions also; and nothing can be more interesting than when we succeed in discovering coincidences between beliefs, superstitions, and customs, peculiar to nations entirely separated from each other, and sharing nothing but their common humanity. Such beliefs, superstitions, and customs possess a peculiar importance in the eye of the psychologist, because, unless we extend the chapter of accidents very far indeed, they can hardly be deprived of a claim of being founded in human nature, and, in that case, of being, if not true, at all events, humanly speaking, legitimate. It is true that it has been found very difficult to prove any belief or any custom to be quite universal. Speech, no doubt, and, in one sense, certain processes of grammar too, a conception of number and an acceptance of certain numerals, may be called universal; a belief in gods or supernatural powers is almost universal, and so is a sense of shame