anti-sacerdotal had spread itself abroad in the cities of Europe, where various influences had contributed to make people think, and, therefore, unwilling to submit with that quiet resignation to the tyranny of the priest, which had been displayed in the earlier times. The cruel spirit of feudalism, too, was still active, and the miseries under which the "lower classes" groaned met with but little sympathy from the rich and powerful. Men perished of starvation by hundreds, and none heeded; the plague struck down its thousands, and none cared but to escape the contagion; leprosy pursued its fearful ravages among the poor and ill-fed, the Church excommunicated them, and the people cursed them. Poverty-stricken and diseased, the purlieus of the great cities were filled with these wretched multitudes, to whom life was a nightmare and death a relief, and no word of comfort, no sign of sympathy, reached them; while the priests of the Church fattened in their luxury, and the rich revelled in their wealth. A deep-seated hate of the hierarchy, finding its expression in the spread of heresies the main characteristic of which was an anti-sacerdotal spirit, and an equally deep-seated hate of the rich and powerful, afterwards to find expression in revolts of the peasantry, in the Jacquerie, and other ways, existed among the people. The Church sought to put this down with the strong hand, by Albigensian Crusades and the Inquisition, and partially succeeded. But Francis saw a deeper truth, and taught his age that Christianity demanded love and self-sacrifice; he and his companions went among the wretched and the outcast, and offered them sympathy and help. That he did this in the interests of the Church in no way detracts from his merit; nor is he, therefore, the less entitled to the name of a Reformer.

St. Francis taught the religion of self-sacrifice, and did for his age much the same thing as Wesley and Whitfield did for England a century ago— that is, he raised the down-trodden, brutalised portion of humanity to a sense of their position as human beings, taught the outcast and degraded that they had souls, and were men and brothers. But he did more than that, he taught thousands of the rich and powerful that it was their duty to help these their wretched fellow-men; and obtained the sanction of the Head of the Church to a movement which, but for that sanction, would have become a more widespread and dangerous heresy than any which preceded it. True, he for a time. strengthened the Papacy by this means; but is that a thing to be regretted ? We think not, considering what must have been the result of continuing a contest such as that which had saturated the fair plains of Languedoc with human blood. The Church was yet too powerful to be crushed; and St. Francis seems to us to have done good service to humanity in bringing within the pale of the Church a movement which was one of progress. His work was closely related to the Reformation; and if he served the Church, he served mankind also.

JAS. L. GOODING.

THE LIFE AND TEACHINGS OF SAKYA (BUDDHA).

§ 2. EARLY LIFE OF SAKYA.

THE Buddha of whom it is our present purpose to speak was born near Lucknow in the year 623 B.C., and was the son of the Rajah, or petty king, of Kapila. The Buddhists are profoundly convinced that this was not his first entrance upon life; on the contrary, they hold that he had previously moved upon the earth as a fly, a rat, a cock, a frog, a dog, a horse, and in other lowly

*

forms. They believe, also, that he had lived as a thief, an outcast, a beggar, an ascetic, and many times as a king. Through all these forms of being he had passed, because of his resolve to become the highest in the world of wisdom; but this birth as Buddha was to be the last before attaining to supreme blessedness (Nirvana).

The believers maintain that, of his own free will, he descended from heaven as a ray of light into the womb of his earthly mother Maya. Thus, although he was not the son of a virgin mother, he was supernaturally conceived. The narratives set forth that, instead of being born in the usual manner, he stepped from the side of his mother, and declared himself to be the greatest personage upon earth, besides doing many things not here describable, which caused all who were acquainted with the facts to believe what he said. There were many marvels to mark both his conception and birth.† All the solar system testified its joy, because of his conception, by becoming supernaturally illuminated, and, in consequence of this, thousands of sick persons were instantly healed; the blind received their sight, the deaf recovered their hearing, and all nature co-operated with man to testify its unbounded joy-even the storms were hushed, the big, angry waves lay placidly beneath the glorious light, and from the sky itself rich garlands came to decorate the jubilant earth.

It is not for us to repudiate these marvels; neither can a nation that believes so much of the marvellous refuse to examine the evidence upon which the Buddhists base their faith. Still, however, there is one little objection to rendering unlimited confidence to such wonders, which lies in the fact that his relatives and friends did not believe in them; or, at least, if they once believed, they soon forgot them, and in the manner of his education acted precisely the same as if nothing of a marvellous kind had occurred. They forgot how " 'greatly the heavens and "the earth trembled at the moment when he was born;" forgot how "the "Gods themselves, and even the demons, hurried toward the place to render "him services;" forgot how bountifully from the sky flowers were rained down, and the air was filled with perfume so rare that mortal senses had never previously known anything so rich and beautiful; they forgot how over and around where he was born meteors and falling stars were rained down in glorious profusion; they forgot the many pious hermits who came from afar to render their homage to the new-born child; they forgot, also, that “the "wise Narada, taking the child in his arms as in a cradle, wept when speaking how near was the hour of his own death, but rejoiced loudly when declaring the future greatness of him whom he held in his arms."§

Probably the greatest wonder of all lay in the possibility of forgetting so many marvels; but seeing that men generally believe both Joseph and Mary to have forgotten various remarkable occurrences, they will hardly object to believing this. Yet, although forgotten by them, they have been recorded in the Thibetian Sacred Books for the benefit of all ages. In the same books we read that, when the wonderful boy was but young, he had acquired all the knowledge the wisest were capable of conveying, and so far outstripped all his competitors that they had no chance of becoming as wise as he; in the world of knowledge he had become a master, as by birth he was made one in the world of power. Friends pressed him to marry, and the beautiful

+Foe-koue-ki. 220-228.

*Hardy, pp. 90-100. Upham's Sacred Books, vol. iii. p. 144; Cosma Korosi, Life of Sakya; Asiat, Researches, vol. xs, Asiatic Researches, vol. xx. pp. 235-419.

Gossa was chosen to be his bride. "She was all that could be wished for in a wife," and when children came to bless and make their union closer, people looked on and said, Behold the happy ones! They had all that Eastern life could hope for, all the bounty that it yields, and as, according to the course of nature, it seemed certain that in a few years Sakya would mount the throne of his father, his lot seemed to be the most blissful and prosperous it was possible for any human being to conceive.

Thus, then, this future teacher was educated, married, called a father; and, so far as Eastern life was concerned, was supplied with all that the eye could wander after, all that the heart could desire. Beauty and plenty smiled upon him, and, as we have said, it seemed to all outside that no condition of life, no prospect of the future, could be more desirable than his. But not so did it seem unto himself. The world was not unto him the mere hotel that it appeared unto others. He had been married some years, and neither found nor hinted of cause to complain of his beautiful Gossa; but, although it was unuttered, she found abundant cause for sorrow. Her lord was not well-yet who could say that he was ill? He was evidently ill within. His bosom's lord sat not lightly on its throne. All without was cheerful, but all within was dark and troublous. There was something preying upon his inner life, so that he could not be gay-to spend a few hours, as aforetime, in gaiety and gladness, seemed to have become utterly impossible to him; he could not enter with spirit into either the sports or general sensual delights of his equals. When opportunity offered, he stole away from the court and wandered alone, pondering upon the mysteries of Nature, with her ever-weaving, ever-consuming forces. Unto him the question came, Why are all things so beautiful, and peaceful, and good ?-then, looking unto himself, he asked wherein he was superior to his slaves-what he had done whereby to merit so much honour-wherein greater, that he should be set up by the heavens as the master of many superior to himself.

Such questions, when once they rise, must be well answered; for, if they remain unnoticed, then, indeed, nothing can prosper with the inquirer, who will sink back into animalism and nothingness. In a practical way, and assisted by the accidents of life, these queries were resolved. Upon one occasion, mounted in his chariot, drawn by four white steeds, the prince was coursing his way to the pleasure-gardens, where, as usual, he intended to pass a few meditative hours. This day, however, he was checked in his course, on perceiving an old, decrepid, grey-headed, and toothless man, tottering feebly along with a staff. That he had seen old men--worn-out old men, before, none can doubt; but never so closely with the mental eye as to realise the lesson they teach. The sight that day so impressed him that he stayed to converse with the wanderer, and was fully satisfied, ere the brief chat had closed, that "man must decay." This was the uppermost idea. However strong, hale, and lightsome, born into poverty or born into wealth, there is the one fate for all-decay is allotted unto us all, and from its power there is no escape. Why, then, care so much for the world, when we must fall into the sere and yellow leaf, and move as snails, where once we moved with the fleetness of the mountain roe? True, indeed, that such a matter is trite, but here is a man who will extract somewhat from it-who will go into its very heart, and try if there be any release, or any power, through the mind, of rising superior to the evil. Say there is none-say that to this we are all born; still, by mastering it in thought, this man will extract the sting from it in act, and will no longer fear its coming-will no more view it as an evil.

Unto him this evil becomes powerless directly he knows its true measure; for only upon the unprepared do these natural evils operate as calamities. Another day he goes out, and, behold! as he neared the pleasure-garden, his train came upon a poor and helpless one, who was nearly exhausted by the power of a burning fever. The man was lean and squalid; there was no sign of hope or comfort about him; and when the prince inquired about the cause of what he saw, he was answered and informed, by way of relieving him from painful emotion, that the sickness was common-was, in fact, nothing more than one of the calamities to which mortals, by their nature, are exposed. Such answers are commonly considered satisfactory by dull use-and-wont men, by all who look merely to the exterior, never into the heart of things. There were millions of men who saw their fellow-creatures disfigured and slain by means of the small-pox, without even dreaming of its being their duty to take up arms against it. The calamity had operated for ages, therefore it was still to operate; they had not created, wherefore should they seek to conquer it? Such were the thoughts of thousands, if ever they thought upon the subject. But eventually a Jenner looked upon the calamity, and resolved to become its master. He devoted himself to that particular field of battle, and gained his victory; leaving, however, thousands of fields whereon others may gain quite as glorious a triumph as he gained.

But Sakya was not a Jenner; he could not grasp a fever, and slay it from the face of the earth; still he could not passively turn from the smitten one, content to say, "Such is the course of nature!" To his followers he said: "Let us return speedily, for what wise man can rejoice in his health, when he "has before him the spectre of coming disease?"* Probably Sakya may eventually discover that the wise man will, and should, "rejoice in his health;" and we cannot join the bilious theologians who select this passage as furnishing a proof that "he was fast becoming an Atheist." They have never asked such questions, and, consequently, they have no independent life. Other men have drawn up a map of the road upon which the inquirer is to travel when such difficulties come before him; and, by means of hedges of faith and guide-post articles, they have shown the way out of all such mazy questionings. The great evil, however, connected with their plan lies in the fact of every man losing his freedom who emerges according to their method. He comes out shorn of his locks, and not stronger, as he should do. Perhaps the best that can happen to a man under such circumstances is, that he shall have neither map nor guide, but just be left to find his own way out in the best trim and manner he can.

This seems to have been the fortune of Sakya, who could not yet solve the problem; who could only meditate upon it, and try to solve it, which is the next blessed condition to that of knowing all things. For, after all, this is not merely a world for eating and drinking, as so many imagine; neither is it a place in which, after certain mechanical methods, a man is to get the soul of him "saved." Rightly viewed, it is a sphere in which we are to have our eyes opened and our powers of working fairly brought out. And he who can look upon the trembling old, or the fever-smitten young, as being books to be read, enigmas to be solved, has, at least, become conscious of a certain dignity of life, which will preserve him from descending lower in the scale of existence. For the present, we shall leave Sakya busy trying to solve the mystery of sickness, and the folly of rejoicing in health.

* Bhilsa Topes.

P. W. P.

THEOLOGY AND RELIGIOUS PROGRESS.

THE least teachable of men are those who are the most profoundly convinced of their own exceeding wisdom. There is no hope of progress for those who have already arrived at the conclusion, that they have reached the goal after which other men are striving. Look where we will, whether into the great arena of history, or into the circle of our everyday acquaintance, it will be found that a conceited over-estimate of self is an ever-present accompaniment of ignorance, and its proximate cause. The nations which have estimated their own knowledge and power the highest have been those who have done the least for humanity. The men whom we all meet, who know everything, who have nothing to learn, are those whose opinions are the least worthy of attention, and who never do aught towards forwarding any great work in the world. Such nations have always the soonest declined; and such men are ever those who fall into contempt. Conceit never ends in aught but grief to the conceited; and the experience of all who know much of history, or of the world around them, furnishes a practical commentary on the saying, that he who exalteth himself shall be abased.

To perceive our ignorance, not to over-estimate our knowledge, is the highest wisdom, and the only possible road to truth. It is not until man sees his wants that he proceeds to make efforts to supply them. Not until he is fully alive to the fact, that there is much he knows not and yet may know, does he earnestly strive after a higher knowledge. "Know thy own ignorance," was the wise maxim of the philosopher of old, "for until then "wisdom is not for thee." And this, which is so great a necessity, is also one of the most difficult things for man to do. Man is naturally egotistic, and ready to believe he knows all. It is so easy to lay the flattering unction to one's soul, that truth is already ours, and that to lay out our strength in a further search would be a waste of labour. It often takes a man a lifetime to learn how great is his ignorance; and thousands pass away without ever learning this-content to accept at second-hand other mens' theories of life and of the universe, to be, in short, second editions-not revised and corrected even-of their fathers before them. Alas! for them, and alas! for those among whom they live. They never know what it is to truly live, and remain in the world dragchains on the wheels of progress, blots in creation, faithless to themselves, and stumbling blocks to other men.

What is true in this respect, of not perceiving their own ignorance, and consequently accepting error as truth, in the case of individuals, is no less true of the race. As it frequently takes a lifetime to learn the first step towards wisdom, so it took humanity thousands of years to learn, not truth and wisdom, but the only possible road to it. For thousands of years men went on assuming that their crude speculations, their imaginative theories, represented the facts of the Universe; that they knew all about the forces of Nature, and the modes of procedure by which the various phenomena in the world around them were produced; and, during all those thousands of years, no progress was made-none was possible. Down even to within three centuries of this present time men continued to repeat, and repeat as scientific truth, the mere imaginings of the men of old. The dicta of Aristotle were looked upon not as things to be questioned and to be proven, but things which must be accepted with unquestioning reverence. The truth had been discovered already, all possible wisdom belonged to men; and it was no less