MASTER NEGA TIVE NO. 91-80080 MiCROFILxMED 1991 COLUMBIA LTNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 'NEW YORK ii as part of the Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project ff Funded by ihe NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without pennission from Columbia University Libran,- COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material... Columbia University Library reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. A U THOR: LEHMANN, EDVARD 1862-1930 TITLE: MYSTICISM IN HEATHENDOM PLACE: LONDON DA TE : 1910 m m COLUJMBIA UNIVERSITY- LIBRARTF3 PRESE R VATION DE P A RTM E NT BIB LIQGRA PHIC MICROFOR M JARG ET Master Negative « Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibiiograpluc Record U9.S L52 Reslrlcllons on IS, i: Lehmann, Edvard fT-#r4ab*!me€ufi4v«wtl, 18iT2-l930. Mysticism in heathendom ari ( Lnstcnd ann ... u. bv il. Y CO., 1910. 3 p. 1, 293, iti p. 19"«. E. Lehmann ... u bv G. M. G iluat. London,' lS^ac& j^iront, G. M. O., tr. la xi\\j. LiLuiv uf Coi;.;icti MlCKOi-DKM DATA RIDUCTTON RATIO: _/_/£-. FILM SIZE:._,_Jil/£2.^ LMAGE PLACEMENT: TA If^ [B IlB DATE FILMED: ^..^^Mmt^ INITIALS El2^ FILMED BY: RESEAKCTiJZUBUCATIO NS. INC VVOODBKfnrFcT" ^ ^ * v^ Association for information and image iManagement 1100 Wayne Avenue, Suite 1100 Silver Spring, Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 123456789 10 Inches M^ 1.0 bÅ|2.8 |so " |» 112 ■ 63 ^ Lå ik lUUU 1.4 25 2.2 2.0 1 O LI 1.25 1.8 1.6 11 12 13 14 15 mm liiiiliiiiliiii *#!#] MRNUFflCTURED TO RUM STfiNDflRDS BY fiPPLIED IMRGE. INC. |c5]| fuij(ruDfiugffugffin]frugf^ i i i i i 1 I i i i THE LIBRARIES COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 1 i i General Library \b 1 1 i i 1 i Ei finJffugffinlfrugffOOnTjO^ c^^ MYSTICISM IN HEATHENDOM AND '' 'STENDOM MYSTICISM IN HEATHENDOM AND CHRISTENDOM BY Dr. E. LEHMANN PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN TRANSLATED BY G. M. G. HUNT LONDON: LUZAC & CO. 46 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C. 1910 '« CONTENTS -2,7- /I'E.C^ K L":< Introduction I. Primitive Mysticism II. Chinese Mysticism. III. Indian Mysticism . IV. Persian Mysticism. V. Greek Mysticism . VI. New Testament Christianity and Mysticism VII. The Mysticism of the Greek Church VIII. The Mysticism of the Roman Church IX. German Mysticism. X. Luther's Mysticism XI. QuiETisTic Mysticism XII. Outcrops and After-Effep-^s PAGE I 14 28 40 56 75 98 116 135 172 205 220 254 MYSTICISM IN HEATHENDOM AND CHRISTENDOM INTRODUCTION If all that is mystical were mysticism, who then could write a book about it ? If all that is hidden and mysterious, all that is obscure in human life, were to be included in the programme —the paper-mills would be kept busy, and many eyes grow dim before the book was read to the end. For how little of the things belonging to this life is really clear to us, how much is enveloped in vague uncertainty and doubtful twilight. What we are, and what will be the end of this world, whence we come and whither we go — all these ques- tions form part of that greatest, deepest mystery known only to Him " which seeth in secret." If all that is mystical were mysticism, who then could determine what we are to understand by mysticism? That indefinable something always and everywhere meets us, reminding us of the existence of that which is beyond all human com- MYSTICISM IN HEATHENDOM AND CHRISTENDOM INTRODUCTION If all that is mystical were mysticism, who then could write a book about it ? If aU that is hidden and mysterious, all that is obscure in human life, were to be included in the programme -the paper-mills would be kept busy, and many eyes grow dim before the book was read to the end. For how little of the things belonging to this hfe is reaUy clear to us, how much is enveloped m vague uncertainty and doubtful twilight. What we are, and what will be the end of this world, whence we come and whither we go— all these ques- tions form part of that greatest, deepest mystery known only to Him " which seeth in secret." If aU that is mystical were mysticism, who then could determine what we are to understand by mysticism ? That indefinable something always and everywhere meets us, reminding us of the existence of that which is beyond all human com- T it if 2 MYSIICISM prehension ; it is not a definite thing, not a fact about which one can argue, nor is it an historical phenomenon which can be traced step by step throughout the course of ages. Yet — we will venture to speak about mysticism, and endeavour to find out what it comprehends. We will attempt to show what has been its influ- ence for good and for evil in the world. Long, and possibly weary, the journey may be which we propose to undertake. We shall have to dis- entangle the twisted threads of mysticism as we trace them back into remote antiquity. Distant lands and vanished ages we shall visit — but also we shall discover how close mysticism is to us all, how it may be seen among us to-day or to-morrow, and appear Uke a new thing. Patience must be our armour if we would under- stand what mysticism says to us, for it is shy and slow of speech, and expresses itself with difficulty. And when it speaks to us we cannot always be sure that we understand the meaning, or rightly appre- hend the train of thought it follows. Down into the depths and up into the heights we shall be led. New-fashioned apparatus which might spare us the trembling and the awe, mysticism knows not, nor cares to know, for its doctrine — like Goethe's — is that " trembling and awe are man's best portion." We must also prepare ourselves to be very INTRODUCTION 3 indulgent and long-suffering if we would enter the society of mystics. Eccentric though they be, we must bear uith their foUies and their pride, their madness and their misery. Are they not men like we are ? Perhaps better men than we are ? Better in that they strive after the best. How often has not the best dwelt among them, and in them borne glorious fruit? When the world of thought was in progress of formation, often enough the deepest philosophic truths have come forth out of mysticism, and no matter to what height philosophy has risen, mysticism has always kept closely to its side. Where heart conquered mind, it was mysticism which led the way with singing and dancing, weeping and dream- ing ; happy as a child or in an agony of despair— birth-pains of a new life about to appear. In mysticism antiquity has perished; out of mysticism new times have been born. It has destroyed faith and brought forth a new belief ; it has bred tension, and a maimed thing is pro- duced ; it has kindled and scorched, refreshed and poisoned. It is like wine which invigorates, but also excites and degrades. Somewhat after this fashion has been the course of mysticism, and we will now trace it from the time of ancient heathendom up to the present day— or— who will dare to say that we have done \^ith mysticism because we are more enlightened ? 4 MYSTICISM What, then, is mysticism ; or rather, what is a mystic ? for it is easier to describe a person than to define a thing. What constitutes a mystic ? What does he do ? What has he to say to us ? As regards the latter, not much. For the true mystic is silent. Quietness is his delight, and silence is his treasure. The Pytha- gorean philosopher who tested his disciples in the art of silence before admitting them into his circle, wisely considered it more difficult to know how to be silent than to know how to speak. To the monk-mystic, silence is a sacred duty ; it is his pride and his power; it raises him above the babbling ciowd, and the vow of silence has kept many hps closed even in the last hour. Doubtless he is very practical, then, this silent man— a self-possessed person who does not talk because he has better things to do ? No doubt an energetic and thorough man of business, with purse and feehngs well under control ? Alas ! no. Worldly ways and means do not interest our mystic ; these do not induce him to silence. Little he carries about with him, and little he cares about practical things and deeds. For what is the good of them ? The only thing worthhaving is far above all human power, andallthe doings of the children of this world are far beneath his exalted ambition. No, let the hands lie idle in the lap, for the work of our hands availeth nothing. INTRODUCTION 5 Then is it by thinking that man is to work out his salvation, and is it depth of thought which makes our mystic dumb, like the man who was so engrossed in his circles and figures that he forgot to save his life ? Yes, indeed, it is thought which ties the mystic's tongue ; — only his thoughts are not like the thoughts the world thinks. He does not trouble about what one should do or not do, what ought to be and what not. He desires not, like most people, to understand worldly things in order to use them ; nor to understand human nature that he may serve it. Worldly wisdom has a practical purpose, or, if it be theoretical, its object is still by a gradual process to apprehend and recognise real facts. At this suggestion, therefore, our silent friend also shakes his head. One thing only occupies him, one thought, one desire fills his whole being,— to fathom what is beyond this world, to understand what is incomprehensible, the highest, that thought cannot reach, the deepest, that is below all things. He wants to understand God, life, the spirit above him and the spirit within him. Or rather : no, he does not want to understand, for understanding is a gradual, logical process, one thought leading up to another until the problem is solved ; but how could human understanding reach those highest, sublimest heights ? Therefore the mystic does not really want to understand. His object is to take a \ 6 MYSTICISM direct hold of, to grasp, to embrace, to live and to breathe m those things which pass all knowledge. And how can he do it ? Not, certainly, with his ordinary five senses. But what if there were a sixth ? What if in the deepest depth of the human soul there lay dormant a mysterious power, which could be quickened if only one went down deep enough to rouse it ? Thai is what the mystic believes. He believes in the existence of a power for apprehending the higher things, a power which not every one possesses, but which can be acquired and stimulated by extraordinary efforts — in short, he believes m a mystic organ, which enables the devout or elect person to grasp what the world cannot understand ; a power of flight which exceeds that of any bird, a capacity of soul which begins where reason and reasonable grounds end. That is why there is so much simplicity and so much pride in the mystic. With the wisdom of the world he cannot keep pace, but he knows better things. Hence also so much egotism among these pious men, for their own way they will go. Yet — with all his egotism — the mystic's one object is to get away from self, to be in such close touch with the highest, to be so filled with the thought of the Godhead that he loses himself in it ; and— he who is wholly filled with one idea, loses his identity. The highest point, and peculiarly characteristic INTRODUCTION 7 of mysticism, is reached, when the mystically moved person is so entirely filled with this highest ideal that he is absorbed by it. He feels that the God- head dwells in him, and declares himself to be God. This oneness of the human soul with the Divine Being is the conceit of mysticism, it is this that makes mystical things into mysticism. It reveals itself under many various forms, from the crude " being possessed " to the purest '* trance," from the curious religious ceremonies of savage peoples to the noblest systems of philosophy. What chiefly distinguishes mysticism is that the ordinary religious person principally contemplates the things which separate him from God, and com- pares his own nothingness with God's greatness, his finiteness with God's infinity, his sinfulness with God's holiness. In realising the immeasurable distance, man remains fully and clearly conscious of his own humanity, and looks upon his God as a definite being quite apart from himself. But the mystic does not believe in a definable God. To him God is as indefinite as He is incomprehensible ; invisible and infinite, therefore all - embracing. No one can put a distinct line of demarcation between the human and the divine ; therefore the boundary can be crossed, therefore man can attain to this unison with God. The mystic knows no personal God. Personality 8 MYSTICISM INTRODUCTION ill I has limitations, therefore away with personality, both in God and in man. With regard to God, personality implies barriers, boundaries which must be pulled down through meditation; with regard to man, it implies a burden which must be got rid of. Personalities stand opposite to one another, as / to thee. The true mystic refuses to think of himself as standing before his God as an / to a thou, but rather as an / to a higher /. Or better — he wants to be so absorbed, so made one with his God, that there exists no longer either / or thou. After this manner thinks the mystic ; but how about his character and behaviour ? These vary considerably, from venerable repose to wildest enthusiasm. Amongst them there are sorcerers and monks, poets and philosophers, respectable citizens and hysterical women ; but one thing they all have in common, namely, the desire to be in that condition in which the highest may be reached. Most of them are conscious of the hmitation of their actions, and concentrate all their efforts upon the development of the mystic organ, the sixth \^ sense. Their supreme desire is therefore to pass beyond the condition of soulish equilibrium which is kept together by the five senses. Away beyond the world of sense ; away, beyond, outside of self ; this is their ambition. This being outside of one's self, the Greeks call extasis, hence our word ecstasy. Ecstasy is excessive joy, but not a mere personal joy. It is that condition in which one stands out of, or is detached from, sensible things, in which the earth vanishes away, in which the doors of sense are closed and only the innermost soul is awake. Or, again, it is that wild, rapturous dehght in which everything around is forgotten, and only the yearning after the far-off, the unattainable, / remains. Whatever its symptoms it always indicates an unsound, feverish state of mind. Possibly it is a form of disease which reveals itself in our human nature not so much because we are so constituted that such excesses must find expression now and again, but rather even as trees need storms and shakings to bring them to further growth— so the human soul needs to be tugged and startled out of balance, and even taken out of itself some- times, when a step forward in growth is imminent. Ecstatic rapture is one of these tugs. And even when it partakes of frenzy, that is but the purchase money which has to be paid. Mysticism is a very important factor in the history of the development of the human soul. It is a kind of growing pain which attacks the young shoots, but which passes away when the fresh, vigorous Hfe has gained the upper hand. Where this is not the case, where human nature cannot extricate itself from the meshes of mysticism, there it maims il tli 10 MYSTICISM and weakens and bows to the ground, 'as is seen at the present moment everywhere in the East, and even sometimes among us in the enlightened West. Mvsticism can become a habit, because the ecstatic conditions which produce mysticism can obtain a habitual power over the senses. And especially where ecstasy is the result of drinking— as is so often the case in the East— man not only becomes addicted to drink, but also to those vain broodings which follow in the wake of intoxica- tion. There are other, more vigorous means, however, for bringing oneself into a state of rapture : thus in India hashish and opium—every people after its kind. We even hear of suffocating and sweating baths, of frantic dances. When the dervish has whirled round till he drops, when the Ashantee negro has performed his wild war-dance, wielding his club until he foams at the mouth with mad excitement, they have, each in their own way, gained that divine power which they sought. But there is yet another kind of intoxication which works admirably, although the process is slower, and to which the mystic resorts preferably when he wishes to get into a rapt condition. This is asceticism. Asceticism consists — as we know from the penances prescribed by the Roman Catholic Church — in penitential exercises and chastisements imposed upon the penitent or upon INTRODUCTION II oneself for correction or punishment ; mortifica- tions and hardships inflicted for the expiation of some sin, to gain the forgiveness of the Church or a heavenly reward. But this material object and direct benefit was not the original idea of penance. Let us take one of the commonest penances, fasting, and trace it back to its oldest form. We find that, although a chastisement to the flesh, its original object was to inflame the senses ; for the first phase of exhaustion is followed by violent agitation and light-headedness which produces visionary flights of the imagination. We know also that the scourging and laceration of their bodies, as practised by some ascetics, produces a kind of frenzy, an ecstatic madness, as, for instance, in the Cybele priests of Asia Minor or in the flagellants of the Middle Ages. Thus we see that at all times mystics have resorted to asceticism for producing ecstasy. Most often it is silent asceticism, which consists in resigned inactivity. The Greek Athos-monk, like the Indian Fakir, sits in his corner, fasting, dumb, deaf to the outer world, staring incessantly at his own body or at the tip of his nose, until his senses and his reason become confused, until all becomes inner vision and beatitude — until he is ^ consumed by self-hypnotism. It has often been proved that mystic asceticism is a kind of hypnotic stupefaction, and where mysticism does not come ta MYSTICISM under the influence of culture this method com- pletely gains the upper hand. The surest way for becoming one with the Godhead for these people is through artificial sleep. The lower the standpoint of mysticism, the more such artifices are resorted to ; and where we find mysticism among primitive peoples, it is always preferably ascetic. Mysticism, however, does not grow in perfection in the same proportion as it throws off asceticism and ecstasy, but rather in proportion as it gains in spirituality. Many a wise man goes about as a fool, and many deep thoughts can only find expression in clumsy out- ward customs. Little by little, however, as the internal light breaks through, these external forms are modified. The increase of intelligence and enlightenment, elevating human nature, clashes with the old, crude customs, and seeks to transform them. Thus ecstasy becomes enthusiasm, and intoxication spiritual transport. Asceticism be- comes moral renunciation and noble self-control. Self-absorption changes into calm contemplation, the giddy dance into flights of intellect, and mental confusion becomes harmony and poesy. Through all this mental activity, the personality of man asserts Itself, and claims its eternal right, by the very same means by which formerly it tried to ignore and nullify itself. Now, since mysticism gives vitality to forms INTRODUCTION 13 which originally opposed its progress, it practically drives itself away, as the day the dawn. For this is the true mission of mysticism, that it announces the approach of dawn, and evil is the day which is not preceded by this dawn. The tragedy of mysticism — and it requires all human energy to prevent its taking place — is that it may just as easily degenerate into the dusk of evening, enveloping the soul in impenetrable twilight. We shall observe this transformation scene as we watch the course of mysticism through the ages. PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 15 I. PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM The goodman of the house, Mytchyl of Kolym, of the tribe of the Siberian Yakuts, is about to offer a sacrifice in honour of Ulgon Bai, the mightiest of the divinities, whom he wants to propitiate. A great feast it is to be, for during the last year the crops have been bad, many horses have died, and several of his people have suffered from an infectious disease. His eldest son has been at death's door, and two of his wives have remained childless. Besides, it is now a long time since he has celebrated a really good sacri- ficial feast. The old family priest, the Shaman Tusput, has warned him often enough, and told him that he would suffer for it in the end, but— a sacrifice is an expensive affair, and Tusput is greedy. Now, however, Mytchyl has made up his mind to do it in good form. Friends and relatives come from all sides and assemble round the " Yurte," i.e. the birchwood hut of their wealthy neighbour, for they know that the feasting will be plentiful, and they will get Ulgon Bai's blessing into the bargain. On the place selected for the sacrifice, the brand- new Yurte has been raised among the birch -trees. For these Siberian tribesmen have no temple to worship in. When they want to feast the gods they must build a hut for them, in every respect like the one they themselves inhabit — a hut like the oldest formerly found in the pagan North, with a smoke-hole in the middle of the loof . This hut is consecrated to serve as temple, by the planting of a young birch tree in the centre, the white stem of which represents the road to Ulgon's heaven. Steps are cut out in the stem, nine steps in all ; for there are nine heavens, vaulting one above another until Ulgon Bai's heaven is reached. Beyond that heaven there are still higher realms of light, to which the human mind cannot penetrate. High, high above, the Supreme Being, Tengere Kaira Kan, sits on his throne. From this Supreme Deity all the gods have pro- ceeded, Ulgon Bai among them. One of the first created beings was Erlik, the primeval creature, who sinned and was cast out of heaven. He descended and created the earth, and therefore there is so much evil in the world. Yet the children of men are not left fatherless in this wicked world. The spirit-fathers watch over them, those seventeen exalted Kans, who rule over the various districts of the earth and protect their descendants. Besides these, there are the i6 MYSTICISM PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 17 light-fathers, who inhabit the third heaven, and who also are friendly towards men. Only the Shaman, however, can communicate with these spirits, and, what is most important, only he who has intercourse with spirits can have access to the deities. As in the Catholic faith, the saints are the mediators between the believers and their God, so amongst these heathen the spirit-fathers bring the interests of humanity — and that only through the priest — before the higher deities. It requires more than human agencies to bring the priest outside of himself ; the fathers must enter into him and fill him with superhuman strength. Therefore not every one can become a Shaman. In certain privileged families the office is hereditary, not because these families are particularly deserving, or particularly gifted, but because nature has endowed them with one thing, the power of being seized with convulsions at the right moment, a hereditary disposition towards epilepsy. Physical affections of this kind, cramps, convulsions, madness, frenzy, have at all times filled the uncultured with a holy dread ; he sees in these not only—as in all diseases —devil's sport, but he beheves that higher, divine powers are mixed up with it and *' possess *' the madman. Natural tendency alone, however, is not suffi- cient to entitle one to become a priest. Many exorcisms, incantations, and magical dances are necessary before the scion of a thus encumbered family can become a duly installed Shaman. From his infancy he has to practise his tricks and keep them up to the mark, just like any other professional dancer. When once installed he is ready for action at any time, and the power may come upon him suddenly. The first symptom is exhaustion, then he begins to tremble, yawn and groan, as if suffering violent pains, when suddenly, with fierce yells and rolling his eyes, he whirls and leaps about, until he falls foaming and quiver- ing to the ground. His senses and his limbs are now quite numb, he can swallow knives, nails, needles, anything within reach, without receiving any harm, and afterwards throw them up again. One can prick a needle deep into his flesh and put a piece of red-hot iron in his mouth and he will not feel it. This condition shows clearly that the power of the fathers has entered into him. A Shaman of this description, Mytchyl had bespoken for his feast. Phantastic and imposing is the appearance of the Shaman, in his long, flowing robe with iron images and charms danghng from it. But the chief article of his get-up is a large, flat drum of reindeer skin, which he carries like a shield on his arm. This Shaman drum is the symbol of the universe ; it is adorned with MYSTICISM pictures representing the sun and the stars at the top, in the middle trees, and in the lower division men and animals. In this world in miniature the spirits are to take their places inside the drum. First the Shaman drums them together with the dull beat of his rough drumstick, after which he shuts them up inside the drum. The handle of the drum is in the shape of a human figure, bearing the disc of the drum between his extended arms and legs. This little drum-man is the spirits* " host." He welcomes them in the name of the universe, and appoints to them their places inside the drum. This is the first act of the ceremony ; the fathers, one after another, are drummed inside the drum. The Shaman is alone in the Yurte, and answers his own call with the voices of the spirits. At last he is filled with the power (or the gas) required for rising up into the heavens, but he must have a mount. For this purpose a horse is held ready waiting outside the Yurte. But the Shaman can only make use of the soul of the horse. This he fans or tickles out of him with a birch twig, and pretends to tie it with a horsehair strap to a pole in the Yurte. A terrible fate awaits the horse. Outside in the lonely forest he will be flayed alive, for he may not die either by blows or w^ounds. The skin has to be ripped off without being damaged or torn, and hung up in the wood as a PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM ^9 symbol of the sacrifice ; the bones must be buried unbroken, while the flesh is afterwards greedily consumed at the sacrificial feast, whereby the drum-man also receives his share. The partici- pators in the ceremony thereby represent the spirits who have come down to join in the feast. This flocking together of the spirits is symbolised by fluttering movements and rustling noises, to imitate the sound of flying wings. Clothes also are provided for the spirits, and an offering of juniper is made to them. When all this is done, the high Kan has to be called down, then the gods, and lastly Ulgon Bai himself with his family. The answer to each call comes with the words, a Kam at! (Shaman, I come!). The drum is now growing so heavy with all the spirits that have been drummed into it, that the Shaman can scarcely hold it. At this juncture it is important that the door of the Yurte should be securely locked, so that no good spirits can escape and no evil ones enter. Now the Shamanising, properly speaking, begins. The spirit-fathers inside the drum emit a salutary power which can be transmitted to men hke an electric or galvanic spark. The donor of the sacrifice, with his household, are put under the influence of this power. They are all rubbed over the back in order that all evil may disappear, and they are then each in turn filled with the power of 20 MYSTICISM the fathers, as the drum, with many wild gesticula- tions, is pressed against their ear or bare chest. The children and the timid have now to leave the hut, for already the Shaman is getting beyond himself. Furiously beating the drum, he leaps on to the first notch in the birch tree ; this signifies that he has entered the first heaven, and by striking with the drum on the ground he announces that the shell of this heaven has been broken through, expressing his infinite joy over this accomplish- ment by dancing round the birch tree and the fire. Then he mounts a saddle hanging on a rack in the hut ; — and thus 'seated on the horse's soul he rides towards the second, or storm-heaven. Every time he conquers a new heaven he has to perform some definite act. When in the third heaven, he foretells the wind and the weather ; in the moon - heaven he shoots a cuckoo ; from the creator 'sheaven — the fifth — he brings down strength for women and children. With every conquest of a new heaven his antics become more frantic. At last — if he be a strong Shaman — he arrives unhurt in the ninth heaven, where he calls upon Ulgon himself to inquire whether the sacrifice, the horse, has been accepted. Finally, after several more hours of wild dancing and gesticulating, the Shaman collapses. Black and blue in the face, foaming at the mouth, his limbs quite rigid, he lies for some time gro'ming and moaning on the ground. A PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 21 deep, solemn silence reigns in the hut. Suddenly he rouses, leaps up, and now the merry part of the feast begins, for the consolation of the frightened spectators who have dutifully witnessed the whole performance to the end. This Shamanising is mysticism. Not because the Shaman, in his ecstatic wildness, ascends from heaven to heaven, for this he does only to gain access to the gods, not to become one with them. All these heavens and gods are promiscuously brought together, they do not belong to the original conception of Shamanism, and therefore the Shaman cannot become identified with them. They represent but the usual stages in the assembly of the gods. Gnostic speculations of early Greek times, primitive creatures, fallen angels, etc., have been mixed up with this conception, and even the name of Shaman is derived from the Indian Buddhist ascetics (Samano) ; the old Finnish name was Kam. The only genuine part of the performance is the exorcism, which endows the priest-sorcerer with magic power, converts the drum into a witch's cauldron, and the spirits into a kind of charmed brew with which he heals and exorcises. This is primitive mysticism, recognis- able in that it makes the priest into a spirit-god, solely by his ecstasy. So it has always been, and so it is now. Radloff has seen it all with his own eyes, and describes it in his work, A us Sibirien, 22 MYSTICISM We find similar things among other savage or half-civilised peoples. Always the same pompous ceremony, even where it is only a healing cure. In Africa, on the Loango coast, a black man lies sick on his mat. The sick man is not kept quiet as would be the case with us, but a fiendish noise of drums and rattles and bamboo guitars fills the hut. In the background crouches the holy ganga, the magician-doctor, who paints his skin with glaring colours. By the door of the hut burns a fire, and a flickering light in the distance announces the approach of a torchlight procession. A second ganga comes to the bed of the sick man. Like real surgeons the two priests open their cases, but the instruments they take out are tails of animals and aromatics, fetish images and such- like valuable matters. The aromatics are thrown on the fire, and with deafening shouts and singing the priests now commence their incantations and to work their spells. They whirl round, jump about, dance and stamp, fume and rage, among the furniture, without knocking anything over, without falling, until at last both rush out of the door and disappear in the darkness. In solemn state they return ; they have captured the spirits and are now themselves demons. One of them sits down on a low stool, twisting and turning himself and shaking his head as if he PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 23 would shake it off, until he becomes rigid ; deep silence reigns around. Suddenly one hears, coming as from a distance, a thin, piping voice ; that is the voice of the spirit in the ganga asking what they want of him. All answer in chorus, and the sufferer's complaint is fully described. Before the answer can come, more dances and antics have to be performed. The one ganga leaps about wildly, the other, the one who is sitting down, swinging his arms when the dancing one throws his legs about. A third arrives, who quicklj^ paints himself, jumps on to the fire, and whirls and dances round, as if he were a blazing flame, or the fire-god himself. The other dancing ganga ties charms all round his body, and whirls and twists until he looks like one huge fetish. Now at last all the gods are collected at the sick man's bedside, and give the important information that his illness is caused by his having broken a family fast, called quixilles — a diagnosis, however, which a closer analysis proves to be false. The same ceremonies have therefore again to be gone through on the next day, and only after the chief of the gangas is completely beyond himself, and has been decked with a feather cap of towering height, in which the god is supposed to be seated, he declares that the illness is not due to quixilles, but is caused by chimhinde. This is worse, for it means that the ghost of a factory 24 MYSTICISM man, lately dead, has got into the sick man's brain. Thus far Bastian, who was an eye-witness of the whole performance (Deutsche Expedition an der Loango Kuste, Jena, 1875). The same thing is found everywhere throughout the world where breeches are not worn, for, as is well known in our days, civilisation begins with the adoption of this most necessary article of clothing. Yet even among the decently clothed in China, Persia, and Turkey, these leaping and dancing performances for drawing near to the gods are exercised. They are the first step on the road of mysticism, and often, alas ! too often, its devotees fall back to this primitive stage, where they have learnt to climb up to more elevated heights. Stupefying with tobacco smoke is a sacred usage among the American Indians. When the Copenhagen University students sing in their smoking song : Graviter fumando vir Jovis fit sodalis, inter vasta nubila requiescit talis— they perhaps scarcely realise that there are people in this world to whom these words are solemn earnest, and who, through the blue tobacco clouds, com- mune with the gods. Of course the narcotic which the Indian draws from his pipe or his cigar is a good deal stronger than that inhaled by a modern smoker, and the Indian swallows the smoke until it makes him giddy, and the con- PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 25 sequences are as serious as if he had had opium instead of tobacco in his pipe. Intoxication by smoking is well known among many nations. The same negroes whose grotesque dancing feast we have just considered, smoke hemp leaves — which they call liamba — to prepare themselves for the ceremony. And the Turks and other Orientals find their highest state of ecstatic bhss in hemp poison, hashish. The Brazilian medicine- man treats his patients preferably with tobacco. He smokes the tobacco and envelops his patient in a cloud of smoke while he administers a kind of massage, kneading him so vigorously that his roars are heard all over the village — that is to say, the roars of the doctor, not of the sick man. For it is the doctor who is the suffering party at these operations. The narcotic has brought him into such a state of frenzy that he is like a wolf, bear, and jaguar in one— quite beyond himself. Moreover, from what we know of the primitive art of healing, it is quite natural that the doctor and not the patient should take the medicine. The remedy is only intended to convoke the supernatural forces, and the true medicine man studies medicine in a most remarkable manner, by taking poison— hke the Pontic Monarch— until no poison can do him any more harm. If he is to practise he must be able to swallow poison to an amount which would kill any ordinary 26 MYSTICISM human creature, in order to convey the impression that humanity in him is dead, and that in his intoxicated condition he can change into another existence and become either a god or a demon in human shape. (Examples of this are given in Th. AcheUs's book — Die Extase. BerUn, 1902.) And so mysticism always leads to the same end, as long as religion occupies an animistic standpoint, i.e. as long as it consists in regarding the spirits of the departed, or the lower air-spirits, as their gods. The method is as simple as the belief. All that is evil is " being possessed of evil spirits," and can only be cured by the casting out of the spirits. Evil must be destroyed by evil, and he who wants to fight with demons must first himself become a demon. And this can only be done by getting outside of self, by being beyond oneself, as in madness or frenzy. Therefore the question is to find means by which sense and reason can thus be lost, and these are not far to seek. The animistic person also never attains beyond this stage of ecstasy. It is his ladder of ascent into the heavenlies ; he knows no other, and only in so far as his ascent is fraught with pain and difficulty, be it for obtaining his dignity or in the exercise of his profession, only in so far can there be question of asceticism, or indeed of any approach to a moral action. When culture comes to such a people, these crude methods PRIMITIVE MYSTICISM 27 suffice no longer. What is sacred becomes more exalted ; the ghostly dances disappear, a circle of divinities is conceived, and he who desires to enter there, and himself become a god, is well aware that he can neither smoke, nor dance, nor sweat himself into it. II. CHINESE MYSTICISM Let us next consider mysticism on the ancient cultural soil of China. In this land, where the temperament of the people is absolutely opposed to anything of a mystical nature, in the midst of a practical, intelligent, industrious population, whose religion is morality, mysticism made its appearance, fully matured and self-conscious, about the same time that the apostle of morality, Kong-tse,^ systematised the Chinese code of moral law. The " obscure sage," as Laotse was called, understood the art of living in seclusion so thoroughly that we hardly know anything about him, except that he was archivist to one of the kings of the Choy dynasty, and at a very high age was sent into exile. Before quitting his fatherland, one of the governors on the western frontier is said to have persuaded the celebrated sage to write a book on the tenets of his philosophy. This book, called Tao-te-King, is very ambiguous. It may be said to be the first Chinese attempt at systematic writing, and moreover of a highly ^ Better known to us by the Latin name of Confucius. 3a CHINESE MYSTICISM 29 speculative character. But, in spite of the heavi- ness of the form, one gets occasional glimpses of a far-reaching, idealistic, and spiritual depth, which has procured for the author the fame of a Chinese Plato, and the book moreover breathes a purity and gentleness of spirit which remind one of Christian doctrines. All the properties of true mysticism slumber in this ancient literary effusion. It would seem as if here, in the Far East, the groundwork had been laid for that which in the subsequent peregrina- tions of mysticism should receive more solid form. The three chords which mysticism always strikes, namely, alienation from the world, the doing aw^ay with personality and with self, reverberate here also, and they sound — and this is the remarkable part of it — perfectly Chinese, although constantly clashing with the normal system of Confucian doctrines, with all its practical and personal activity. Kong-tse did not like Laotse, and could not understand his teaching. He called him " a dragon soaring up to heaven," and for his noble principles he had only ridicule. Yet — both were China's sons, and both reverentlv lived up to their sonship. The object of both was the establishment of the truest form of state, the wisest form of government, and as regards the people to teach them their duty as subjects. But the way taken by Laotse is as widely different 30 MYSTICISM from that followed by Kong-tse as the flight of a pigeon differs from that of a fowl. Up into the highest heights he soars, and there cools his ardour before coming down again to eat from the same trough with the other inhabitants of the courtyard. By speculative methods he arrives in the end at the same moral conclusions for which Kong-tse, with practical common sen^e, made straightway ; but Laotse reaches the final goal a better man, and would have made his people a better people than it is now, if it had not been the fate of the Chinese that Kong-tse's shoes fitted them better than Laotse's buskins. The title alone, Tao-te-King, shows that in this book heaven is sought before the earth is considered. Tao, the first of the three words, means purely grammatically only " path " ; but this " path " designates the absolute, the highest wisdom, the Godhead, or by whatever name it be called — the highest, as conceived by the mystic, is not so easily adequately expressed. Perhaps it would be safest to say that Tao means the ideal fundamental principle, or the ideal fundamental object of exist- ence. The speculative, therefore, is number one. Second in importance is te, worldly morality, the course of life. King means book, and the book goes to prove how our life has been ordained by the divine Tao, and how we have to live it accord- ing to ideal and exalted principles. Religion is CHINESE MYSTICISM 31 not, as with Kong-tse, an appendix to morality, but an important stipulation for moral conduct. The only thing that is clearly and definitely stated about Tao is that it is altogether indefinable, indescribable, and inexpressible, a truly mystic conception. If " Godhead " be substituted for Tao, we have to bear in mind that it is never a personal God one has to think of. It is a principle, abstract and inscrutable. '* Something exists " — so it says in the Tao-te-King (chapter 25) — " which is incomprehensible, which is perfect, and which existed before heaven and earth were. It is silent, and without shape ; it is the only thing inviolable, without change or variableness. It pervades all places. One might call it the mother of all things. Its name I know not, but I call it Tao. Were I to give it yet another name, I should call it ' The Great,' The laws of men are from the earth, the laws of the earth are from heaven, the laws of heaven are from Tao." Is this God or is it nature ? If nature, then at all events a spiritualised nature, or the spirit of nature after the manner of pantheistic belief. Laotse is perfectly genuine in his mysticism, although in reality a pantheist, as good as any, in that he believes the deity to be a something which is in all things. And to the Chinese mind, ac- customed to worship " heaven " as the highest, all-controlling will, this thought would not seem 32 MYSTICISM unfamiliar. But Laotse emphatically rejects the naturalistic view here implied, and makes his Tao something more spiritual, therefore more exalted, than the heaven of the State religion. The manner in which Tao expresses itself varies also considerably from the ordinary Chinese methods. In this land of commanding and obey- ing, where the upper classes order and the lower cringingly submit, a sage appears, proclaiming a condition of things in which there is neither commanding nor obeying. He preaches a constitu- tion of the world based on free will, a God who will not be honoured for his own sake, a duty that is to be performed for its own sake only. Laotse seems to have come to this conclusion, this forward step, by creating his world after the pattern of nature. For the ruling force in the realm of nature does not govern from lust of power, but because all things of their own accord put themselves in subjection under it. Therefore it says in the Tao-te-King, chapter 51 : ''All things have come forth from Tao, and are nourished out of its abundance. All things receive their form in accordance with their nature, and are perfected according to their capacity. Therefore all things without exception are Tao, and praise its manifold workings. But not as by compulsion, but as a voluntary tribute. Tao then creates all things ; by Tao they live, grow, mature, are maintained and CHINESE MYSTICISM 33 protected. Tao creates all things, yet it does not claim possession. Tao leads all things through all the stages of development, but makes no boast of its doings. Tao brings all things to maturity, yet exercises no control over them. This is its mysterious activity/' The involuntariness of its energy, the mystery of the course of life as reflected in nature, and the protest of the natural institutions against the institutions of this world, with their exaction, their coercion, and their ostentation, Laotse expresses in these ambiguous words : '' Tao is inactive, yet nothing exists that Tao has not created,'* — which is as much as to say : All that happens is involuntary, and involuntary all things must be. Yet even this conclusion is merely pantheistic. The mysticism in the system only comes to light when the question is asked : In what relation does Tao stand to man ; or rather, in what relation does man stand to Tao. The answer is briefly : We must be like Tao ; we must make the law of Tao our law, but this we can only do by being imbued with Tao. Therefore morality, te, form.s the second portion of the system. And the idea is that where Tao is realised, te necessarily follows. Hence man's first duty is to put his soul in order, that there may be room in it for Tao ; to cleanse it from all egotism, and the lusts, passions, self-will, avarice, and love of power, resulting therefrom. When 34 MYSTICISM all these are banished, then Tao can take immediate possession. Then, morally, one has become part of Tao. " The wise man sets himself in the lowest place, and is raised to the highest. He treats his own personality as if it were a stranger to him, yet he does not lose sight of his purpose.*' Is it not so ? By pursuing neither a personal nor a private motive, the object is attained. Learn of the heavens and of the earth. Why is their existence so long ? Because they exist not for themselves. Learn of the water, which benefits all, yet claims nothing for itself. Learn of the woman, for she is quiet and gentle, and therefore easily rules man. Like them, Tao is a silent power, and all men can become Tao. However universally human this philosophy may appear, one feels oneself nevertheless on Chinese territory when one begins to consider the separate virtues which constitute te. There is no question of a fervid or visionary absorption into the divine power, nor, in the original code of Taoism — later it may have been otherwise — of ascetic self-restraint or ecstatic self-abandonment, for ridding oneself of one's own individuality. No, all the requirements bear the stamp of common sense. The three cardinal virtues are goodness, economy, and modesty. Kong-tse's demands are of a similar nature. Only these virtues have a deeper meaning when Laotse exacts them. For in his CHINESE MYSTICISM 35 doctrine about goodness the mystic goes so far that he — like Christ — makes goodness the indisputable standard for all our actions : evil must be overcome by good, good must be returned for evil. " To him who is good to me, I am good likewise ; to him who is angry with me, I also am good ; so all will be made good." That this moral reflection is not altogether Chinese, we see from Kong-tse's mocking comment : *' If I am to be good to the evil, where- with then shall I reward the good ? " His maxim is : " Goodness for the good, justice for the evil." Modesty also is in Laotse's doctrine more than a rule of wordly wisdom. What he teaches is true humihty, always with the consciousness that he who humbleth himself shall be exalted. He com- prehends under modesty also that quiet reserve by which one husbands one's strength and prolongs one's life in proportion as the friction of this mundane life is escaped from. Here we get in a compressed form a foretaste of the mystic's life and conduct as seen wherever it is found exempt from ecstasy and asceticism. This craving for a life of peace and purity is the lovable side of mysticism, and it is not by chance that it showed itself at an early stage among the peace- loving Chinese. Nor is it chance that yet another characteristic feature of the mystic stood out sharp and clear on Chinese ground, namely, the despising of outward forms ; this, in China, where 36 MYSTICISM form is sacred, and all life a ceremony ! Laotse knew of things more sacred than forms, and he searched after another and a better life ; " Not the life one lives, hut the life which lives.** Therefore he broke with all outward show, and did away with formality. But this, in the eyes of good Chinamen, is shocking profanity, a sign of want of morals ! So it is that always the old shells must break if a new shoot is to spring up ; but nowhere the break- ing through has been done more boldly than here in China, because the old shell was so very old, so hard, so beautiful, and so graceful. Nevertheless, true Chinaman as Laotse was, he did not follow up his theories to the inevitable consequence to which a self-absorbing and con- templative life must lead, namely, that this life must be lived individually. That thought is not attractive to the Mongol mind, for the Mongols are sociably inclined, and the Chinese in particular. They are only members of the body of the State, only children of one large family. Therefore Laotse's moral teaching as well as Kong-tse's results in political ideals. Unity and the public welfare is their final aim ; but it is not attained, as in the theories of rationalism, by a voluntary co-operation of enlightened men, or by fraternisa- tion in the common pursuits of life. No, if Tao is to come to full realisation among men, one must stand at the head, one who knows the " way " CHINESE MYSTICISM 37 and can lead the people. Laotse imagines this wise man to be a great sovereign, who knows how to rule because he knows that he is in unison with Tao. This sovereign is to rule with generosity and without thought of self, like Tao ; of their own free will his subjects shall serve him, because he lets the influence of Tao pass over them. For where Tao is effectively present, all fit into their proper places; even the animals then become willingly submissive to the peace-loving ruler. All things in this State are done without coercion, war and sentence of death are done awav with, pure and generous customs will be seen among the people, the ruler's wisdom and example will educate them up to these. But if his people are to trust him implicitly, if they are to be satisfied with their lot, then, says Laotse, they must not be too much enlightened in worldly matters. And in this statement the mystic again betrays himself. It is not the absolutist but the obscurant who speaks. The gospel of ignorance has often enough been preached by mystic lips. One thing only is necessary, and that is the inner light, which in China shines forth from above, radiates from the person of the Emperor, in so far as he is the son of heaven, and interprets the will of heaven to the people— an old doctrine. Only what in the State religion was a myth, and in astrology a cult, becomes in the occult science of 3« MYSTICISM Taoism an inner worth, philosophic piety and morality. The highest comes from above but at the same time from within, and the law which all must obey is written in the heart. This is Taoism. Nothing more beautiful has ever been conceived on ancient heathen soil, and therefore nothing is so sad as the fate of Taoism. Still— in its peculiar, sad way. Tao has prevailed. It permeates the whole nation, it is practically the vital strength of its existence. We see this from the fact that Confucianism has during all the past ages been tinged with Taoism. The divine will moves like a mystic power among the worldly institutions of State philosophy, and the inter- cessors between heaven and earth which are found in heathen mythology as well as in Christian worship are the means by which the transition from the ideal to the real is effected. Side by side with true Taoism there runs a stream of lower order, which in China meets us at every end and turn. Favoured or disfavoured by time. Tao has degenerated into witchcraft, into a magic power which is practised by pro- fessional, wandering priests. From them one can buy Tao for a trifle, and be filled with strength which drives away toothache, ghosts, vermin, and creditors. For this is the reverse side of all mysticism, that it makes God into a power, and CHINESE MYSTICISM 39 lile in God into an absorption of divine pov/er. Thus it practically becomes mesmerism. And the inner life, the chief object to be attained, becomes an outward show, quite as prominent as the external life one is trying to subdue. Liberty of thought thus degenerates into thought- lessness, and unrestrained morality into wanton- ness.-— How often has this not been seen where the motions of the human heart have been allowed free course ?— and this has been the fate of Chinese mysticism. No garden gave it sheltering care, therefore it now grows like a weed in the field. INDIAN MYSTICISM 4^ III. INDIAN MYSTICISM In India, where all things grow luxuriantly and vigorously, the growth of mysticism has also been most luxuriant and lasting. As far back as research can reach, the germs of mysticism are found everywhere ; and up to the present day it still flourishes there, so much so that the people returning home from India carry the seeds of it back with them in their clothes. But as are the people of India so also is their mysticism : a mysticism of meditation and of renunciation. For the Hindus, although our kinsmen in descent, language, and disposition, have become a meditative, passive, and resigned race. There have been times when they were heroes ; there have been times when they subjected the earth, and drew from it the wealth of India. But there has also come a time when these cultivators of the rich soil, in the midst of their tropical wealth, sank into inactivity, and — where the hand refused its service, specula- tion became rife and mysticism flourished. The mysticism of the Hindus did not originate in philosophy, any more than their religion from 40 the first was a philosophical religion. The be- ginning was adoration, worship, and therein the earliest elements of mysticism are to be found. In his description of Brahman sacrifices. Oldenberg (Rel. of the Veda, p. 326) goes fully into the matter of the mystical virtues supposed to be contained therein. The more important Hindu sacrifices have at all times included the participation of the food offered. This custom, which also prevails among the Semitic races, has for these latter been explained by Robertson Smith, as expressive of a longing for union with the divinity, a kind of fellowship, and eating and drinking together in consolidation of the compact. This view and these practices greatly furthered mysti- cism among them, but this was not the train of thought followed by the Hindus. The offerings made to the old Hindu deities were solely for the purpose of purchasing the good things of this life, and only the crumbs falling from the table of the god were the portion of man. But these crumbs are of extraordinary weight, and possess mysterious power. For that of which the deity has partaken has, by reason of the divine proximity, become filled with divine potency, and the remnants of the feast are thus converted into elements of a higher order. That these rest are unsafe even to touch is a widespread belief, and only the initiated or those ritually •ii 4^ MYSTICISM qualified thereto can without risk partake thereof ; for them indeed they possess great medicinal virtue. Worthy to eat and drink of the offering are the officiating priest and the *' Sacrificer " or donor of the sacrifice, the person who pays for it, together with his household. His wife partakes of the sacrifice offered to the departed ancestors in order that she may be blest with male issue, and any of the family suffering from any lingering disease also receive a morsel. When a candidate for the priesthood is admitted into the house of a Brahman, a small portion of the sacrificial food is given to him, with the w^ords : *' May Agni " (the god of fire and of the priesthood) " give thee wisdom.'* Very telling also are the marriage customs. When the bridegroom enters his house he divides the sacrificial food with his bride, saying these words : "With this food, the bond of life, the bright and varied thread, the knots of which are truth, I bind thy heart and thy spirit. Thy heart shall be my heart and my heart shall be thy heart. Food is the bond of life, with it I bind thee." This is sorcery, but it is also mysticism. The union]of the young couple is symbolised by the joint- participation of the mystical, i.e. the sacrificial food, filled with the divine substance. The same mystical efficacy must be attributed to the libation, the drink-offering. Soma. This also was a powerful curative, a life-elixir, and no INDIAN MYSTICISM 43 doubt, originally, a draught of immortality, the same as it has always been for the Persians. In the Hindu sacrifice it served primarily as a bait for the gods. But a glimmering of the original idea of the Soma-offering is found in the fact that the Brahman himself drinks of the Soma, doubt- less in order that he may thereby be filled with divine power. This power, however, could scarcely be attributed to the Soma in its character as the dregs of the cup of the gods, but must rather be looked upon as a survival of its primitive magic charm, which is beUeved to lift the Brahman by intoxication into those divine realms whence he draws his sanctity. Here we have then, in the very midst of the highly developed Hindu ritual, a bit of Shamanism, and we realise that the refined Hindu is not too refined to indulge in some of the crude negro or old Indian customs expressive of the lowest form of mysticism, even if in their sacrificial rites these occupy but a subordinate place. Thus there is in Hindu mysticism a background —if not an immediately influential one— of sacra- mental mysticism in the sacrifice, and of ritualistic mysticism in the priesthood, but its real develop- ment is found where ritual is superseded by speculation. The Ufe of the Hindu priest was divided into two periods : from the completion of his studies as scholar, to his service at the altar 4 i \ ^ i 44 MYSTICISM INDIAN MYSTICISM 45 as priest ; and from there to a life of seclusion and religious meditation. What Rudyard Kipling tells us of these hermit-priests living in forests, coin- cides exactly with what Kalidasa describes in his Sakuntala. Sometimes they live in companies, but more often in absolute solitude, the latter years of their life being spent in strict self-denial and heavy penances. Originally this was a device for getting lid of the old people, but the decree very soon passed into a link of the priestly Ordo Salutis, and the old folks were not so weakened with age that they did not take advantage of the situation, and converted the compulsory period of old age meditation into the recognised road to salvation. Two roads were open to attain salvation : the road of action (Karmamarga), which they had walked during their time of ministry at the altar, and the road of knowledge {jnanamarga) which they would now follow. And it was easy to see that this latter was the higher one. Their whole life long they had been the slaves of the gods. For twenty years they had learned Veda-hymns by heart, and for another thirty years they had recited them. A thousand times thev had brewed the sacred drink and poured it on the altar flames, had killed goats and antelopes, had chanted and muttered and exorcised spirits ; and yet — as concerns their spiritual welfare — they were no further than at the beginning of their career. After all, can these gods save me ? Indra, the chief of the gods, who is always thirsty, always quarrelsome, who is always doing foolish things, and is, moreover, henpecked ? Varuna, the king of justice, who is always on the watch, and punishes us for sins we have never committed ? Usha, the virgin queen of the morning, who goes about half- naked in search of a lover ; and Rudra, the black- blue devil, who pierces us with the arrow of death ? East and west, gods everywhere, and all want to be supreme. Always the one to whom the sac- rifice is made has to be assured that he alone is the mighty One, that he is the only One. Who is the mighty One ; who is the only One ? There can be but one. Or, more correctly, one only can be the One : the spiritual element which animates all the gods, that divine power which makes them into gods, that magic power which gives them their potency, the breath which has given them life. That magic power is called Brahma ; it was the name given to the mysterious power of prayer which all the gods must yield to. Breath is called Atman, and these two words, Brahma and Atman, now became the name for the divine principle. The way leading to this divinity, however, was different to the one whereby the old gods were approached. Since it was by thought alone that he could be apprehended, it is clear that by thought alone one can get access to him. Having ii 46 MYSTICISM formed a conception of him in one's own mind, one possesses him for oneself alone ; and they only who can so conceive or grasp him can hold com- munion with him. Therefore the road of know- ledge alone is of any avail. Every theologian has learned to distinguish between theosophy and mysticism : the theosophist, it is said, loses himself in the conception of God, the mystic in his relation towards God. How little this supposed difference holds good we see in Hindu mysticism. For Hindu mysticism recognises no other way for entering into relation with God than that of losing oneself in the conception of God ; as soon as God is fully apprehended, the relation with God is also established. And with what spiritual energy these old Hindu priests have penetrated into the mystery of the Godhead, how deep has become their conception of God since first they began to meditate upon it ! *' Deep *' is the Hindu meaning for spiritual ; and spiritual is in the first place uncorporeal. Not an atom of what we call material may be left in the Brahman ; even his spirit must be active without the help of bodily organs; " he sees without eyes and hears without ears, he speaks not in words, he even thinks without thoughts and breathes without drawing breath." Notwithstanding this latter subtle accomplishment, the Hindus call their god Atman (which means breath), not only because this INDIAN MYSTICISM 47 is the most uncorporeal designation they can find for him, but also because, hke the breath which is the sign of hfe, or, according to the Hindu belief, life itself, he animates all that lives and breathes, even dead nature. Being uncorporeal he is also free from all bodily emotions, impressions, and conditions. " He feels neither sorrow, nor hunger, nor thirst, he can neither change nor die, he is exempt from all evil." But as he so divests himself of his body he also puts aside that of which the body should be the expres- sion, his personality. "Personality" is, to the Hindu mind, limitation, and in God there can be no limitation. Further still, this diving into the abstract is carried. In God there may not even be consciousness, for he who is conscious of any- thing, stands with his consciousness opposite to this thing, but outside of the Godhead there is nothing that can be placed over against it. It stands to reason that no qualities can be attributed to this God, for qualities necessarily imply parts of a being, and the Deity has no parts. Therefore also this being cannot be defined any closer ; one cannot say it is so or so, the only thing one can say is that it is neither so nor so (na iti na iti). But by taking thus everything away from Brahma, does he not himself become nothing ? No, on the contrary, says the Hindu, he becomes all in all. Just because in the widest sense of the 48 MYSTICISM word he is everything, therefore nothing can be said of him in detail. Because he is infinite we cannot clothe him with any finite attributes. The corporeal also is comprehended in him, although he himself has nothing in common with corporeal things. All things flow from him and all things return to him ; he is the beginning and the end. Nay, what is more, he is the only reality, the only eternal existence. All that is material is perish- able, he alone, the pure spirit, is imperishable ; what we see with our eyes is vain and changeable, he alone is unchangeable. And so on and on the Hindu argues until we become dizzy. What we call the realities of life, he calls shadows, vanity, and deception (maya) ; what we are often tempted to call an illusion, an ideal, is for the Hindu the only reality. And things only become real when they are meditated upon as emanating from and resting on their ideal. Emanating from it not as by creation by a personal god, but coming forth out of Brahma, immediately, as the spark springs from the flame, as vapour rises up from the sea, or as the rain drops down from the cloud. Now, if all things emanate from Brahma, you and I are also out of him ; if he is all, he is also you and me ; if he is the breath of the universe, he is also that which breathes and lives in you and in me. This is the last thought in this chain of medita- tion, and upon which all depends. This is the saving .rm INDIAN MYSTICISM 49 power. Canst thou think of thyself as a spark springing from the celestial fire and sinking back again into it ? Canst thou feel thyself as a drop rising out of the heavenly ocean and falling back again into its bosom ? Canst thou apply to thyself the potent word, tat tvam asi, '* this is thou," or brahmo 'mi, *' I am Brahma," then thou art blessed, then thou art saved, freed from all finiteness, from birth and death and new birth, for then thou hast realised that thine own being is like Atman's : sat- cit-ananda, pure existence, thought, infinity. That this solution can only be attained by the way of meditation is clear enough. Insight is what is needed, and Brahma, thus thought out, is medita- tion. " Even as a lump of salt is only a condensed mass of savour, so this divine being is a condensed mass of meditation." Hence the philosophical pride of the Hindu recluses. Crude knowledge, of which ordinary people boast, is only a knowledge of external things which at bottom is ignorance, lack of knowledge. It is only like playing with the outer shell, but the immortal kernel has never been reached. With all one's knowledge one remains subject to birth and death. Therefore it is said : — "Joyless indeed are these dim worlds. Covered with darkness ; There all are going to Death Who are not enlightened by knowledge. 50 MYSTICISM But who has grasped the Atman Being conscious : * I am He 1 ' ■ Why should he cUng to his body ? What will he desire ? Whose favour win ? " And therefore the Brahman says to his pupil :— "Nay, widely different and opposite Is what is called ' Knowing '— ' Not Knowing ' Look Naciketas striving hard for knowledge 1 The crowd cf sinful lusts cannot confound him. But in Not Knowing's gloomy depths are groping Those fancying themselves wise men, great scholars; Thus always to and fro the fools are running Like blind men led by leaders bhnd." Soon, however, it was realised that it could not be done by means of ordinary meditation alone. For that which has no attributes and cannot be defined, how can it be comprehended by meditation ; where has thought to start from ? And again, if Atman is that which thinks in me, how then can the thinking in me ever obtain a sight of him ? No, it was now said, one cannot think oneself into him, only by inspiration from himself, by gracious revelation, can he be apprehended. *' Not by reason can Atman be laid hold of. Not by intellect and much knowledge of Scripture ; Only they whom he elects can comprehend him, To them Atman reveals himself." Or if not by direct revelation of Atman himself, then by a sudden inspiration, dis- INDIAN MYSTICISM 51 closing his being without any gradual process of thought : — "Not by talking, not by thought, Not by sight can he be grasped ; * He is,' by this word alone. And in no other wise can he be reached." This new view threw the old " meditation " methods into disrepute : — •* Blind are they who go about in ignorance. But blinder still are they whose knowledge satisfies them." Thus Indian logic, austere, inexorable, proved its fallacy, and we see that what underlies it is, after all, pure mysticism, whose object is to grasp the incomprehensible, and believes that man's highest attainment is to become one with the incomprehensible. Knowledge ends with the realisation that more than simple meditation is required to bring about this union, namely, a special grace, a special organ, a special state of mind. Where knowledge failed, art stepped in : the art above all arts to which the Hindu applies him- self most assiduously, the art of raising himself above the life of this world by rapture, forgetting himself in ecstasy, and producing this ecstasy by penances,— the art which in India is known as Yoga. In the word itself— from the same root 52 MYSTICISM as the Latin word jungo, " to unite "-the mystical union is expressed. He who practises Yoga binds himself to the supernatural, he binds his thoughts into that one collective sense which will take him out of the finite. Yoga is still practised by Hindu fakirs and by them brought to a state of perfection which only too often degenerates into jugglery, and leads us to believe that, after all, the old self-restraining methods merely aspired at a purely external control over the body, its needs and desires. To the true Yogin (he who practises Yoga), however, it was not merely a question of subduing the body, but rather of helping the spirit to triumph ; of raising the human Atman into union with the divine Atman. Fasting is an excellent means to this end, for fasting chastens the body and inflames the' spirit. Celibacy follows as a natural out- come, and strict solitude is a necessary stipulation, for the perfect repose of the soul. The Yoga practiser then preferably squats, huddled to- gether, remaining immovable in the same posture, staring at his own body, his navel or the tip of his nose, until sense and reason become confused, until the external sight becomes dim, until through this self-hypnotism the internal light is produced. " Breathing " is also a favourite practice of these ascetics : a very slow and well-controlled inhaling and exhaling of the breath, by which-whether INDIAN MYSTICISM 53 from carbonic acid poisoning of the blood or from other causes — a particularly speculative state of mind is produced. So, for instance, at the commencement of the play, The Toy-Cart, we see the Brahmans sitting— "Cross-legged, with breath drawn in. With snakes coiled round their knees. Their senses subdued, freed from worldly thoughts, Their eyes fixed, thinking only Brahma Inself-forgettingworship; Sambhoo theGood guard thee." And in the same manner this highest state of absorption is described at length in the Bhagavad- Gita (vi. line ii and foil. Max Miiller's transla- tion) : — ; "A devotee should constantly devote his self to abstraction, remaining in a secret place, alone, with his mind and self restrained, without ex- pectations and without belongings. Fixing his seat firmly in a clean place, not too high nor too low, and covered over with a sheet of cloth, a deerskin, and blades of Kusho-grass— and there seated on that seat, fixing his mind exclusively on one point, with the workings of the mind and senses restrained, he should practise devotion for purity and self. Holding his body, head, and neck even and unmoved, remaining steady looking at the tip of his own nose, and not looking about in all directions, with a tranquil self, devoid of 54 MYSTICISM fear and adhering to the rules of Brahma pupils, \i% should restrain his mind and concentrate it on me, and sit down engaged in devotion regarding me as his final goal. Thus, constantly devoting his self to abstraction, a devotee whose mind is restrained attains that tranquillity which cul- minates in final emancipation and assimilation with me." So it was formerly and so it is still. This is bliss ; this is salvation ; the Hindu knows no other. Religions change and vanish in India. Brahmanism gives way to Buddhism, Buddhism in its turn is supplanted by the various Hindu sects. Pantheism becomes Atheism, and Atheism, Theism— yet in spite of all these changes Nirvana always crops up as highest aim. Yoga always as the only way to it. The deity is a concep- tion which has to be apprehended : human life is a barrier which has to be broken down : union with God is highest rapture : penance, a holy joy. Foreign religions have free entrance in India, but before they have taken proper root they become enervated. Even harsh Islam grows weak and mystical on Indian soil, and Christianity is for the Hindu contained in the words which in the Gospel according to St. John are put into the mouth of Jesus, with that mystic touch so INDIAN MYSTICISM 55 peculiar to its author : "I and the Father are one " ! Here the Hindu's heart beats faster, for is not this the old truth, which for thousands of years has been claimed by all the religions of his native land ? " Yes, truly," the Saviour had to say those words, we all must say the same if we would be saved : " God and I, we are one ! " IV. PERSIAN MYSTICISM While the Hindu mortified his flesh and spun the thread of his Hfe in incessant meditation, his nearest of kin on the other side of the Hindu- kush moved in quite a different world of thought, with quite a different view of hfe. The history of the mighty Persian Empire gives most eloquent proofs of the courage and the determination of its people, of their mihtary prowess, their practical common sense, their social stability. Avesta, the sacred book of the Persians, speaks moreover of their clear intellect, their earnestness in dis- tinguishing between good and evil, between purity and impurity, their unrelenting zeal in subduing the evil and helping the good to conquer. One would hardly suppose that among these practical, intelligent people, with their clear power of discernment, mysticism could ever have found a fruitful soil. And yet the elements of Shamanism can be detected in the old sacrificial rites of the Parsee priests, and in their intoxicating beverage, drunk in honour of the gods. The Indian Soma is by the Magi called haoma, and the 56 PERSIAN MYSTICISM 57 hymn of praise, sung in its honour, sufficiently proves its marvellous efficacy. Haoma 's virtue increases as one sings its praises, and he who lauds it is certain of victory. Haoma brings health and prosperity in home and city. Other inebriation comes with anger and heavily armed, but inebriation through haoma brings light- heartedness. And he who caresses haoma as a little child will feel its exhilarating power. " I come to thee, haoma ; as thy friend and singer I come, for Ormuz himself calls thy friends and singers greater than the angels." Thus the priests drank salvation to themselves, nor did the supreme ruler neglect the holy duties of the cup, when on New Year's Day, in royal state and with the crown on his head, he pledged his people in the cup, which on that occasion was filled with wine. The people did not lag behind in this matter either, for there was yet another cup, called the Yima-cup, the same that the old King Yima, the god of the golden age, had drunk in the garden of the gods. This cup had gradually become the people's drink, and its dregs were found to possess the same magic efficacy, which has always been attributed, before as well as after, to the sparkling juice of the grape. Whether the holy delirium they thus imbibed was of a mystical nature, — as this highly excited condition is generally supposed to be, — is difficult 58 MYSTICISM PERSIAN MYSTICISM 59 to ascertain, but the popularity of this sacramental and festive beverage certainly enables us better to realise that even on Persian soil a mysticism could be cultivated which centred in the cup, and the adherents of which— like the old haoma priests— approached their god as friends and singers. Out of this singing and drinking mysti- cism has come forth the beautiful Persian poetry which to this day is sung by Eastern people, and, what is more, re-echoes in our Western poetry from the time that Goethe wrote his West-Eastern Divan, and Riickert, with more learning and in stricter imitation, put Persian songs on German lips. Out of Indian mysticism evolved philosophy, out of Persian mysticism, poetry. Such widely different results were produced by the same force in two so widely different nations. Both, however, have brought their art to an equally high degree of perfection. The floods of fate had to sweep mightily over the Persian people ere, from the height of their political greatness and fearless, open fight for the good things of this Ufe, they could sink down into dreaming and poetical mysticism. Their national independence, their ancestral faith, even their language, had to be destroyed before their minds had become receptive enough to be im- pregnated with mysticism. For mysticism, with its fermentative nature and claire-obscure thinking, cannot flourish in the world of freedom and in the fresh air of active vitality. A certain amount of dull depression must weigh down the soul before this timid thing can manifest itself. Islam, strong, severe, re- lentless, invaded the Persian dominions in the eighth century. Here, if anywhere, its hold had a depressing effect on the people, for curt and stern and implicit are its demands. But the austerity and marked simplicity of Mohammedan- ism, which enabled it to make such rapid progress, also meant that where it did strike root it never penetrated very deeply into the ground. They who accepted the belief had but to conform to its tenets, make their confessions, say their prayers, keep the fasts and the feasts — beyond this it exacted nothing, because it had not much more to offer. Deeper understanding and fuller know- ledge the new converts had to find for themselves, and if they were experts in the art of dissembling, called Ketman — and what Asiatic Mussulman is not ? — they could adhere to and carry about with them, hidden under the new cloak, the whole of their former equipment of thoughts, beliefs, feelings, manners, and customs, and at home, within their own four walls, discard the new cloak altogether. Under the dominion of Islam, the individual life of the Persians developed into a strong 6o MYSTICISM network of roots which has become the basis upon which the culture of the Eastern Caliphate— although it goes by an Arabian name— has been built ; from its pohtics, customs, and dress, to its arts, science, and poetry, even to its rehgious innovations. Among these latter we must make special mention of that form of mysticism which expresses itself in verse-making and drinking, sometimes sublime, sometimes foolish, known as Sufism. Sufism, so called because the first adherents of this sect, dressed in white wool (suf), came originally from Arabia. The sober-minded Semites never had much inclination towards mysticism; on the contrary, they are only too conscious of the distance between God and man, and of what is expected of man in order that he may gain the approbation of the Most High. Yet there have been among them excitable and emotional natures, to whom the contem- plative has been congenial, and there have been people even in Arabia and Palestine to whom the Mohammedan admonition to meditate on the name of God has been a welcome excuse for a speculative absorption and losing of self in re- flecting upon the most Holy One. In Persia, the growth and development of this inner piety under the influence of Islam was very different. Here, a cultured, well-educated class PERSIAN MYSTICISM 6i of people reluctantly embraced Islam, and bowed to its precepts with undisguised irony. Here it came in contact with a cheerful, happy, pleasure- loving people whose most sacred duty had been from ancient times to get all the good they could out of life, and had learned very intelligently to enjoy life ; but it also struck upon a beaten nation, whose cheerfulness was mingled with sadness, nay, even with despair, and to whom the pessimism of India was a dangerous neighbour. Sufism is made up of three chief factors— the order of succession is immaterial — the monotheism of the Koran, suppressed Persian cheerfulness, and Indian asceticism and philosophy ; or rather, let us say, it is not made up at all, it is an inde- pendent whole, fed by these three factors, and brought to maturity by them. It is, in fact, that condition which underlies all mysticism and often completely masters it, and which is known as quietism. Quietism — a state of exquisite ex- haustion, in which every limb is in complete repose, in which thinking becomes brooding absorption, while the soul revels in melancholy sensuality — or senselessness — is the Oriental's most cherished experience, his paradise on earth. The more he is weakened by the oppressiveness of the climate, or languishes under arbitrary administration, poverty, national disorder, or 62 MYSTICISM individual disadvantages, the more comfort he finds in roaming those nameless distances which are untouched by earthly change, or in losing himself in ecstatic self-abandonment — a con- dition from which no external power can rouse him. And therefore he drinks; drinks, regardless of Koran and bastinado, drinks to-day like the Persian poets of the Middle Ages drank before him. " Drunkenness," says Gobineau, " is the hereditary sin of the central Asiatic." This vice, which Mohammed fought against so zealously, all the people succumb to. Priests as well as kings spend their nights in drinking. Ladies of the royal family as well as bazaar girls tumble on to their carpets at midnight, totally drunk ; and "cold tea," as arrak is delicately called, or even European brandy, flows freely in the so-called " tea house." " And yet they do not drink or go into these excesses for the sake of making merry with their friends, nor because of the exhilarating effects of intoxication, nor for the love of the liquor itself, for the Asiatic detests the taste of wine and brandy. While drinking, he holds his handkerchief to his nose, and makes faces as he swallows the drink like medicine. He drinks because it is the quickest way for getting into that condition when one no longer tastes or feels, a condition of complete / PERSIAN MYSTICISM 63 stupefaction. That is the inducement ; for the stupor of intoxication is the height of his desire." ^ On this soil of Oriental human nature, Sufism must be seen to be understood. What outwardly distinguishes this white community from the orthodox Mussulman is their disregard of the external forms and usages of Mohammedanism. For the untutored all these formalities may be quite fitting, but for those whose spirits have been illumined from above, they are unworthy, food for babes, and child's play. To the mind preparing to meet the Most High, dogmas and moral teachings are worthless. All respect to the prophet !— he was a highly gifted man, and possibly had interviews with the angel Gabriel, but whether he correctly understood him is another matter. His book — or part of it at any rate — needs to be revised before it can be used with perfect confidence. The antipathy with which they regard the official religion — necessarily only expressed in whispers and in secret— curiously enough fills these distant Asiatics with a great admiration for Voltaire, of whom the Russians have told them that he hated the Church and especially the priesthood. They have read none of his writings, * A. de Gobineau, Les religions et les philosophies dans I' Asie centrale, 2nd ed., p. 68 and foil. 64 MYSTICISM but it gives them immense satisfaction to know that they have a great European saige on their side.^ All mysticism is antagonistic to the Church, or, perhaps more correctly, despises all outward show and ceremony. We have heard how the Hindu Brahmans extolled the " road of meditation " at the cost of the " road of action," and the mystics of the Middle Ages and of modern Romanticism tell us the same thing. The more outward ceremonial there is in a rehgion, the more deter- minately the mystic turns away from it, hence it is that Roman Catholicism makes more mystics than Protestantism, and this is also the reason that Islam, the very essence of which is in outward appearance, has produced the most luxuriant mysticism. But mystics always act in semi- secrecy. They take care not to break openly with the State religion, for their soul desires peace, and this they gladly purchase at the price of seeming outward obedience. They are indifferent to all external things, therefore they neglect or observe them as occasion demands. " What need can there be for Gabriel's interference where direct divine light is the guide ? " This idea underlies all the scorn and ridicule lavished by mystic poets on praying and kneeling, fasts and * A. de Gobineau, Trois ans en Asie, p. 323 and foil. 1859. PERSIAN MYSTICISM 65 ablutions, Bible texts and rosaries; and yet some of those scoffers knew the Koran by heart, and one has hardly ever heard of a Sufi being turned out of a mosque. Not in the Church would they meet one another, but in their inner life. What they have in common, what binds them together, are the inner joys and sorrows between which the mystic soul is con- tinually swayed. How is it that voluptuous living always goes hand in hand with despair? Is it because sensual enjoyment is followed by remorse, or because grief wants to drown itself in pleasure ? The latter was certainly the original design in Sufism : it was the vanquished nation that took to drinking. As we listen more attentively to their songs of lamentation, we become aware how by degrees the theme changes, and it is the epicure who complains that his day of feast- ing is so short. And this among a people whose days were not by any means of short duration ! It is rather hard on the anti-alcohol statisticians that some of the celebrities of Sufism were over a hundred years old, that they even have on record a man who reached the age of a hundred and fifty. His complaint is surely of some weight, where he sings : '' For a few moments longer I still hoped to indulge my desires, but, alas! my breath stopped. Alas! at the table 5 66 MYSTICISM of life, laden with goodly dishes, I sat down and ate for a few short moments, and Fate spoke : it is enough." ** Kno west thou, thou cage of bones," it says in another passage, " that thy soul is a bird and thy name a breath ? When the bird escapes from the cage and shakes off its fetters, it will not a second time become thy prey. Make use of the hour, the world lasts but a moment." *' Many times after we are gone the roses will bring forth buds, and the young green unfold itself. Many a summer and winter and spring will be, when we are dust and ashes." The philosophical basis of this pessimism in the Persian poets is the same as that of the Hindu philosophers, and probably borrowed from these latter. What we call the world is not actually existing, not even true. It is imagination, a dream, a delusion. *' All the tangible things of this world are but the outcome of thine im- agination," it says. " They are as unreal as the circle which thou seemest to see when whirl- ing a stone round at the end of a string." Life is a sleep and a dream. *' Thou sleepest, and what thou seest are dream-pictures. All that thou seest proceeds from thine imagination. When thou awakest on the resurrection morning, then shalt thou understand that all was but a delusion." PERSIAN MYSTICISM 67 What, then, is true? Where is reality? In God ; only in Him and in His paradise. " Material things are the shadows of that other world, and," says Hafiz, "perhaps thy face is a reflection of the divine light. Truly this is so; this is no delusion." But we who only see the reflected image and walk in shadows, can say no more about this remote and hidden reality than that it exists. "Science hangs its head and weeps. Never will it fathom the mystery of life. Brood on it no longer, science cannot think it out. It cannot get beyond vague words." . . . "Intellect," it says elsewhere, "is as an ass sticking in the mud." Is there no means of escape? Can God be nothing to us, because He is altogether incom- prehensible ? Are we fettered to our delusions to our impotent inteUect ? No, surely not! The reflected image and the shadows teach us that from God irradiates beauty and love All beauty must be a reflection of His being, all love must be a longing for Him. Wilt thou be like Him? Then consider the beauty of this world Wilt thou see Him ? Then enjoy the world so thoroughly that thou perceivest Him therein. Give thyself up to thine ardent, longing desire, and it will lead thee to Him. Love leads the thoughts up to God ; whether it be an earthly or a heavenly love, it makes the heart susceptible to receive 68 MYSTICISM God. And thus the devout Sufi finds the way, finds hfe. " He buries himself in contemplation, and dives down into the sea of revelation." Therefore Church and priest and scripture are superfluous to him. Safe on the Sultan's breast he needs neither messenger nor message. One specially favourite designation the Sufi has for his God. He caUs him "Friend," or " The Beloved." For his love is erotic and of great tenderness. He sighs for his God, and sings to Him, as the nightingale to the rose. Listening and longing he spends the silent watches of the night. Intoxicated by the perfume of the rose, and allured by the song of the nightingale, he receives in nature, among the beds and bushes of the garden, a foretaste of that heavenly meeting which will once take place. Nay, so fully can he enjoy it here in anticipation, when he gives himself up to his musings, so completely can the scent of the roses overpower him, that he becomes stupefied by it. " I intended, when I came to the rosebush to gather roses in the lappet of my cloak as a gift to my Friend, but the perfume of the roses intoxicated me, and the cloak slipped out of my hand." So fantastical is this amorousness— no wonder, then, that it led to verse-making. So poetical it is that it always craves for beauty, and withal so God-seeking that all beauty is only beautiful PERSIAN MYSTICISM 69 because it flows from God. In the object of his earthly affection he embraces his God, for the kiss of his beloved and the face of his beloved are to him but the reflection of the impending joy and beauty of that divinely blessed meeting. All he enjoys or suffers, he enjoys or suffers for the sake of his Love. " Whoso lives his life other than for the Beloved, he shall be rejected, be he Adam himself." Death alone can bring perfect union. Therefore to die is bliss. To him who loves truly, the cup of death from the hand of the Beloved is a cup of joy. The last word of the poet Jelaleddin Rumi was : " Death is the only vesture which separates me from the object of my affection. For must we not desire that light should be fused into light, and that our unclothing should lead to our union with the Beloved ? " Now, how is this blessed encounter effected ? Its chief peculiarity is not the passion of the devotion, but the complete self-surrender, the emptying of self, which also is its consummation. " Learn from the moth what love is ! It gives up its life, is consumed by the flame of its love, and yet no sound is heard." This characteristic illustration differs but little from that of the Hindu spark, which falls back into the flame. For the Persian idea, like that of the Hindu, is that man without the power of choice evolves from God, 70 MYSTICISM and also without power of choice returns to God. This is philosophical as well as fanciful. It teaches that the soul is a shadow which only acquires reality when it is stripped of all indi- viduality. Thus the human soul is everything and nothing. " The world is man, and man is the world " ; the godhead takes the soul into itself that it may lose itself in the godhead. All this proves that the ordinary senses do not suffice, and that intellect has to stand aside ashamed, if one is to live that soulish life which leads to God. Consciousness expands until it snaps; the light flames up so high that it goes out. This condition is brought about by intoxication. *' When the fire of the winehouse has consumed the house of intellect, then there is room in man for the godhead.'' " The world calls it foolishness, but he who is wise knows better. The drunkard, losing his way as he leaves the winehouse, be- comes the object of mockery and derision. With every step he falls in mud and dirt. The world of fools laughs at it. Every one who has not himself tasted the wine, laughs at it. The drunken man forgets all that belongs to the world of sense, poverty and misery, sorrow and remorse." Hear what Hafiz says : " The rose has unfolded its petals, and the nightingale is in a transport of delight. Now up and rejoice, ye Sufis, if ye love wine ! See how the crystal goblet PERSIAN MYSTICISM 71 breaks the stony wall of remorse ! Bring wine, for in the royal abode of contentment there is no difference between king and serf, between wise and foolish. Once we all have to leave the house which has two doors, what matter then whether the ceiling be high or low ? " Therefore the Sufi spends his days in the winehouse ; there he would wish to draw his last breath, there he would be buried, and blessed is he whose body helps to grow a vine, and out of whose dust a wine- jug is moulded. And is that the whole of their religion ? Oh no. Only the highest, the perfect ones attain to this. Straight and narrow is the path which leads thither. Many steps and stages and stations have to be gone through, and not all who start can keep up to the end. Once the birds desired to fly up to where their King Simurg was seated, high on the top of a mountain in the centre of the world. They all met together, and the hoopoe ^ was chosen to head the pro- cession. Away they flew over the hills of the earth, over dales and high mountain-ridges, but by and by their numbers began to decrease, and only thirty reached the highest summit. In reward for their perseverance these thirty were made one with Simurg, for si-murg means thirty birds. They were merged into the infinite 1 Bird with large crest. ^»K;.«»inl!K-u^'' -V 72 MYSTICISM compassion of the Most High, for Simurg signifies love. Not all can keep up in the race, which is toil- some and full of privations. It needs great moral courage to rise to be a Sufi ; yet the per- fected Sufi counts moral accomplishments of little value, they are as child's play to him. In its moral precepts Sufism has something in common with Christianity. Sufism recognises the necessity of the chastisements and morti- fications of the flesh which produce the ecstatic condition he desires to attain. In this respect he differs not from other fanatics, but to his honour be it said that he looks upon these extrava- gances as the lowest stage in his career. The finished Sufi is recognisable by his supreme morality, and this alone makes him fit for the highest place. This morality, like any other, has its precepts and its prohibitions, both, however, growing from one common root, namely, that state of passiveness which proceeds from self- effacement, or at any rate that keeping under of self which has to be cultivated if one would attain the final goal, the entire losing of self. Humility is a first necessity. There is a pretty piece of poetry of Persian origin, called " The Reward of Lowhness," which tells of a drop of water falling into the ocean and finally becoming a beautiful pearl, as reward for its humility. PERSIAN MYSTICISM 73 A drop in the ocean — a moth in the flame ; the recognition of one's own insignificance, coupled with the desire for self-extinction ; this pantheistic kind of humility can easily be distinguished from Christian humility with its sevenfold promise of reward. And yet how often, by a seemingly slight shifting of the premises, Christianity has mistaken the one for the other. We shall hear more of this presently. The practical virtues which emanate from humble-mindedness : patience, contentment, liber- ality ; and the self-evident vices : anger, envy, pride, and deceitfulness, distinguish the wise man from the fool, no matter whether he be Persian, Hindu, Chinese, Greek, or Christian. The cloak is always the same ; only when asking the wise man why he wears it, the answer differs according to the standpoint which he occupies. The wise Sufi wears it because it suits the rest of his equipment, but he wears it with a certain amount of indifference. It is not the cloak itself that matters to him. To him, as to the Hindu, all moral virtues are but the first principles. His ideal is to get beyond the touch of good and evil. Persuaded that the divine power works its will in him and guides his actions, who shall dare to condemn anything he does ? He is superhuman, and has to give account to no man. *' Let not the soul which burns with divine light »'*i ,t,''.!*a^^»^l^K3W»-™a-«*6*iR^^*«fc^S??S>»3^'-J^^ i 74 MYSTICISM be judged by the standard of other men ! If his speech is foul, yet do not call him a sinner. If he commits murder, yet do not draw thy sword. For his sin is above all virtues." Such is their humility ! Out of this humble-mindedness grew what they termed " non-pride." Whoso overcomes himself has also overcome his duties — that is the moral of their mysticism. He who has tasted the sweetness of ecstasy, shall he trouble himself about dry virtues ? He who by inspiration has risen into oneness with the godhead, what has he to do with men ? And when the cup of joy has raised him above the world, what profit is the world to him ? Such are the conclusions which have made Sufism into one of the ineffaceable powers of the earth, but which at the same time have dragged it down to the most impotent folly. It has made poets and it has made drunkards. This, in short, is its career. Any one now visiting the East, will find only the drunkard. He thrives there, for eastern despots know well how to value the power which weakens the will. In his drunkenness the Persian still mumbles the imperishable songs, and as we listen to the muttered words we realise that even in his misery he still dreams of " the Friend " and the Rose. V. GREEK MYSTICISM Grecism, what was it? *' Verstand und Mass" (Reason and Moderation), said Schiller, and for a long time this was believed to be the case. Deep down into the Greek earth we had to dig, and many a learned prejudice had to be uprooted, before we began to realise that the old Greeks were made of flesh and blood, and not of marble and hexa- meters. Their being flesh and blood like we are has also taught us that the spiritual fermentation, which we read of as existing in ancient Greece, was not merely the discreet enthusiasm indulged in by the poets of the classical type, but that in after-Homeric times it pervaded the whole com- munity, and developed into the same kind of ecstatic frenzy as in Eastern lands. With quiet dignity — be it said to his eternal glory — the classical Greek kept his passions under control, gave them form and shape. Hence the " reason and moderation " theory. Yet so deeply had this fermentation entered into the Greek blood, that gradually, as ^ ' "-restraint was aban- doned and the classical forms fell into decay, the 7$ i^' ii ^.i^^immm^møm 76 MYSTICISM tendency towards mysticism increased, and has never again relinquished its hold. Every decline in the mental state of Greece marks a step deeper down into mysticism ; and from the time that Christianity became Grecianised, it sank so help- lessly into mysticism, that the life of the Greek Church and the theology of the Greek Church bears henceforth the unmistakable impress of it. And this is the more remarkable as the mystical element was not originally Greek. The Dionysian cult which introduced it cannot be explained on Greek hypotheses. Erwin Rohde, who in his Psyche reviews the whole process, shows how the Bacchanalian rites were introduced into Greece from the north, and started in Thrace, which is also the home of the Muses and the wild war-god Ares. Like a raging pestilence the boisterous, drunken procession swept over the land, with dancing and singing, carrying all before it, also that which resisted its progress. Foremost were the women, as is usual where anything eccentric takes place. With music of cymbals and flutes they stormed onw^ards. Behind the vine leaves of the Thyrsos-staff lurked the sharp-pointed lance, licking blood when their frenzy had reached its height. Ox or goat, whichever happened to be at hand, — or sometimes even a boy, — was offered as a sacrifice. In their wild fury they threw themselves at the feet of llieir victim, tore it to GREEK MYSTICISM 77 pieces, and greedily ate the warm flesh and drank the warm blood. If the victim were a little child, he fared no better. What mean these old rites? Were they merely the outcome of the wild dance cults, or the frenzy of drunkenness ? Or was there something deeper underneath it all ? There is a myth connected with the Dionysian rites which throws some light on this subject. It is the story of Zagreus, the " horned child," clearly a deity not of Greek origin, of whom it is told that he was the offspring of Zeus and his daughter Persephone, and that he was destined to inherit his father's throne and thunderbolt. Hera, however, who always kept a watchful eye on the natural children of her consort, caused an insurrection of the giants— Titans— against Zagreus. They stormed his throne, tore his body to pieces, and devoured it. Athene rescued his heart, and took it to Zeus. Zeus gave it to Semele, who now brought forth Zagreus anew, and this time he lived and came to honour under the name of Dionysius. In his anger, Zeus destroyed the Titans with his thunderbolt. Their ashes were scattered over the earth, and out of their dust men were made. And that is why we are what we are. The problem of the double nature in man already found expression in the Creation legend of the early Babylonian epos, in which we are told ~^-i>^Mmmmsm^^^mi'^^^mm-ifm'iø^^mm^m^ 78 MYSTICISM that Marduk killed Tiamat, and that divine and devil3* blood was mixed with the dust of which men are made. And so it is here. Out of the ashes of the Titans we have been formed, but the divine child which they had devoured was con- tained in their bodies, and became dust with them. Therefore, although we are made out of devils' dust, there is divine blood also running through our veins. This constitutes a Dionysian power of which we are conscious in our best moments, and which it is our duty to foster that it may gain the mastery in us. The wild Mænades fulfilled this duty in their crude fashion. They made either an ox or a goat into their god ; probably because the earliest representation of the deity was in the form of either of these two strong - breeding animals. Sometimes they took a child, — the Zagreus child, — and pricked it on their spears, afterwards eating its flesh with cannibal appetite. When they had thus eaten they were quite sure of having the Dionysian power in them, and the oftener they partook of this Bacchanalian food the surer they were that the deity by transubstantiation would conquer in them. This is mysticism, for it is " God in man," but it is a peculiar kind of mysticism, which brings the animal in man to the foreground. And Greece stood not alone in this respect. Often enough in primitive religions we meet GREEK MYSTICISM 79 with this '^ consuming of the deity." The camel sacrifices, as late as Mohammed's time, speak of it. Frantically they dance round and round the animal until they lose their senses and believe it to be their god ; then they devour the victim neck and crop. This is the recipe acted upon in a multitude of wild variations. Such customs die out in a nation when a higher moral life supplants primitive heathendom. To the elastic intellect of the Greeks, however, nothing seemed too absurd but what some ideal side might be found in it. If they were able to fashion a beautiful Aphrodite out of the loathsome, obscene goddesses dug up out of Greek soil, the Dionysian errors could surely be utilised to some good purpose. The underlying thought in the doctrine of the Titanic descent of man is pessimism. Now it is not at all in accordance with the primitive nature of the Greeks to take a gloomy view of things. The sad or tragic utterances we occasionally meet with in Homer's works are rather an expression of regret that the glorious life of man is so short, and Solon boldly prays the gods to grant him not sixty, but eighty years of life. But by degrees, as their spirits became depressed, even the Hellenes began to hang their heads. Of Pythagoras it was said among the Greeks- feeling there was something strange about his way of thinking-.that he had derived his wisdom from I t»''miimeum»i&iim**msim MMtaMiSå 80 MYSTICISM foreign lands. He preached as early as the middle of the sixth centurv a doctrine of life based on very gloomy considerations, and which in outward form at any rate was often not unlike the Dionysian or — as it is better known — the Orphean belief. Just as Zagreus was born again as Dionysius, so, according to Pythagoras, are we created in order to be born again, and the wheel of births for the transmigration of souls is thus kept in perpetual motion. Again, as in Orphism it says that we are composed of the conflicting Titanic and Dionysian elements which are always at war within us, so Pythagoras declares that the soul is united with and buried in the body as a punishment ; that the body is a prison-house into which the soul has been cast because of its sins, and not until the soul has freed itself from this outer covering can God lead it up into the spiritual life of a higher world. The same thing is taught a century later by Empedocles : the soul is joined to the body to expiate former shortcomings, and after death is either raised into a higher sphere, or is thrown into the hell of Tar- tarus, or, as a third alternative, is doomed to be reincarcerated and to wander through various animal and human forms. For the soul's original home is with God, where it existed in primitive bliss, from whence, through sin, it has fallen to earth, and to which height it must work itself up again. Two means are provided to assist the soul in this GREEK MYSTICISM 81 struggle. The one is sacramental consecration, which consists in being admitted into the circle of philosophy, or faith ; the other is purification (katharsis), to which the devout person must submit, and which even in the days of Pythagoras included asceticism. In all these matters the thoughts of the philo- sophers correspond with the vagrant teachings of Orphism. Only on one point the philosopher carefuUy guards himself. He refrains from saying that the human soul is divine, which the followers of Dionysius boldly declared to be the case. According to them, the souls were " entheoi " ; they contained the divine, had exchanged souls with the Godhead ; or further still : the human soul was originally a " daimon/' a being of divine nature. Not only in the invisible choir of spirits had it roamed, but the unborn souls wander visibly upon the earth— and the ultimate end is salvation, re- union with the Godhead. So far the philosophers do not stretch the point. Their " ultimate end," in olden times, was always restricted within certain limitations. One cannot become divine, they argued, but one can try to becoxne like the divinity. They hesitate to make the great leap which would land them into pure mysticism, but they would like to, if they dared ; therefore they push their superlative as near to the borderland as they can. 6 82 MYSTICISM GREEK MYSTICISM Even Plato could not entirely free himself from the deep-rooted influence of Dionysianism. His celestial idealism is, as a matter of fact, Orphism, but in such high potency that it is difficult to reduce it again to its simple, original form. Whether we may call this high idealism of Plato mysticism, is open to doubt. Fortunately there are things in this world of such magnitude that they defy any made-up system. Yet, when Plato draws near to the fulfilment of his highest ideal, there certainly is a trait of mysticism in him, which comes strik- ingly near to the notions then prevailing in the East. Perhaps it is the Arian blood in them which causes all these great thinkers to think alike on these sublimest matters, or perhaps it is an inner logic leading all noble natures ultimately into the one path, which has its starting-point in mysticism. Plato, however, as a disciple of Socrates, should not have been the man to bring mysticism to honour in Greek philosophy. For if any man ever fully realised how limited a creature man is, and of how little avail it is to attempt to break through these limitations, that man surely was Socrates. Purely Greek is the thought which meets us over and over again in the myths of ancient Greece — that an insuperable gulf separates men from the gods, and that the destiny of mortals is quite distinct from the blissful existence of the gods. The old Greek moral was : Wilt thou be happy, 83 remember thy finiteness. If in thy pride^thou shouldst be tempted to aspire to more than be- longs to thy finite state, the '' envy of the gods " will soon teach thee what thy proper place is. Thus moderation became the Greek's chief virtue ; that wise self-control which ennobled their art and stamped their culture as classical, in con- tradistinction to what is known as primitive, and expresses itself in ungoverned lusts and appetites. Socrates brought this philosophical self-control to perfection by carrying it into the sphere of contemplation, and by teaching mankind to respect the boundary line of human knowledge. Humility of mind was introduced by Socrates, even as humility of heart was preached by Christ! But the Socratic " know thyself " contained more than a warning to respect the limitations set to human intellect. It contained a promise also, that he who kept within the bounds of true humanity would find in it a wealth of power and strength, amply compensating him for not sharing the blissful existence of the gods, namely, the light of conscience and the sacred calling to do right. Greek realism and Greek idealism thus clearly set forth the conception of man as an individual personality, both in regard to his insignificance and his dignity ; but Socrates never attempted to seek any glory for man beyond his individuality and his moral responsibility. H v^ ^W^rnuit^ttTtr''- 84 MYSTICISM GREEK MYSTICISM 85 As the disciple of Socrates, Plato should have kept a sober guard over this boundary line. It is, however, with a suspicion of irony that he carries the great virtue of moderation to the extreme, when in his dialogue Phcedrus (p. 244) he lets Socrates as an ironical representative of this view — point out to a young man, that also in love a certain degree of moderation should be observed, and that we should never be carried away by it. For then it would deteriorate into madness, into what the Greeks called mania, which is despicable. This principle is then worked out to an absurdity,by concluding that : if I have the choice of loving any one who loves me or another who does not love me, it is advisable to prefer the one who does not love me, because the im- passioned has lost control over himself. At this point, however, Plato suddenly swerves round, and— like the poet Stesichorus, who first composed an ode against Helena and then recalled it — he now declared that there was one kind of mania which is grand and praiseworthy, and emanated from the gods. He even adds that the best things come to us while we are in this trance, which comes over us as a divine gift. For the prophetess of Delphi and the priestess of Dodone — when in a trance — have done much both for the good of individuals and for the public welfare, but little or nothing when in possession of llieir five \ y senses. To speak of the Sibyls and others who through mantik or possession (entheoi) have done good service to many by predicting the future- were but waste of time and a useless enumeration of facts known to all. One thing, however, is well worth recalling, namely, that the ancients who in ages past formed the words of speech, did not look upon mania as a thing to despise or to be ashamed of, for in that case they would not have called the art of divination "mantik," which word, according to Plato, is derived from mania. It proves that the name-givers regarded mania as a good thing when it emanated from tlie gods. And Plato, while objecting to mantik as the human art of soothsaying, agrees with the ancients " that divinely inspired mania is vastly superior to human self-control." Plato could speak so because, besides what he had learned from Socrates, he had also studied Orphism ; he had to speak so because in him was an inner longing for the highest, a longing which could not be satisfied with the empiric limitations of humanity. Therefore, when he talks without restraint, without philosophically weighing every word, but out of the fulness of his heart, he says : '* the soul is immortal," and then he dilates upon the soul as being for the greater part heaven-born and divinely fed, and this accounts for what there is beautiful and good f tiSJEJ! ns- J'-SeWSBi***^ 1'^=' 86 MYSTICISM and true in human nature. But there is always the dual tendency, the striving upwards to the gods, and the pulUng downwards to the earth. " Nourish thy soul with the strength of wisdom, of beauty, and of goodness,'* says Plato, " that thou mayest find the way to the celestial heights, for there alone the soul shall find rest." If the soul is immortal, then it is divine. To the Greek mind these two words mean the same. Once it abode with the gods in perfect purity. Having tasted of purity it always longs for it. And if on earth our soul beholds beauty, or comes in contact with goodness or wisdom, we are seized with a longing after what once was ours, what we now only vaguely remember as a dream of long ago. This is Platonic love. The highest expression of love is love for the highest ; a longing for what is eternal and perfect. At Plato's Symposion all speak of love ; but love as conceived by Socrates is not satisfied with earthly love. That is only the first stage. We love an individual being, and good thoughts arise in us because of this love, until, taught by love, we discern beauty and goodness in all things and all beings. Then we go a step farther in the apprehension of the beautifiil, until we learn to esteem the beauty of the soul above that of the body. Again love leads us on to a higher stage, GREEK MYSTICISM 87 and we learn to appreciate the beauty of human intercourse, and the beauty of wisdom fills us with enthusiasm. Larger and wider becomes our horizon ; more and more we learn in the school of love. We understand what are the great connect- ing links of life, and unlearn slavishly to limit ourselves to the bidding of one human being. We set out on the vast ocean of love, and in the contemplation of its loveliness beautiful and precious thoughts are born in us, thoughts of wisdom and purity, and we become strong and mighty in realising that there is only one know- ledge worth knowing in this world, and that is the knowledge of the beautiful. When we have been led thus far into the realms of love and approach its consummation, we sud- denly become aware of a something which is inexpressibly beautiful, the contemplation of which compensates us for all the trouble we have taken. This vision of beauty is infinite and im- perishable ; it neither increases nor decreases ; its beauty is always the same ; it has neither countenance nor hands nor form ; neither thought nor speech ; it is not bound to any place ; it belongs not to any living being in heaven or earth ; it is self-existing, eternally the same. Hast thou once beheld that vision, then thou wilt no longer crave for gold and raiment, and the pleasures of youth which now enthral thee 88 MYSTICISM until thou forgettest to eat and to drink. He who has seen it, in its unalloyed purity and beauty, not in flesh and blood or other vain disguise, but in the excellence of the divine unity, thinkest thou that he can lead an evil life ? Thus the philosopher catches the bird which the mystic has allowed to escape. The love of youth is declared to be the mysterious yearning of the soul after its divine origin and its former blessed existence; and in that condition of enthusiastic ecstasy, it is possible for man to think himself into the transcendent realms of love, step by step encompassing higher and more superlative perfections : the state, know- ledge, God. In so far as this thinking of oneself into ever higher regions resembles the gradual stages of mysticism, in so far Plato was a mystic. But mysticism has for its object the attainment of the intensest form of unconsciousness, while Plato aspires at the highest form of consciousness. Both conditions imply the being carried away in mind beyond the reach of material surround- ings, but Plato nowhere claims the loss of self- control as a necessary element. Plato never denies that man stands before an inexpressible inconceivable problem, if he would behold the invisible. "It is hard," he says, in one of his later writings, " to apprehend the All- GREEK MYSTICISM 89 Father, and when apprehended, it is impossible to interpret Him." But this does not imply that logic is done away with. Plato is saved from sinking into mysticism not only by his philo- sophical power of consciousness, but also by his unwavering belief in the indissoluble personality of the human ego. This conviction he expounds in a variety of ways, and he holds to it so firmly that even where he admits of mania he never con- cedes to the doctrine of the dissolution of the soul, an error into which the true mystic inevitably falls. At the same time, in his belief that every soul is a separate " daimon," he betrays himself as an adept student of Orphism. And in conclusion, we must allude to Plato's idea of that form of self-effacement which is a part of all genuine mysticism, and is based on the passing away of consciousness. We refer to asceticism, Plato deals with this as he does with ecstasy. He makes use of its good properties, but the dross he throws away. He accepts the necessity of purification, katharsis, for the cultiva- tion of good thoughts ; and he acknowledges that the flesh must be overcome ; but he is a Greek, he loves beauty. The beauty of form and the beauty of life must not suffer through our longing for the delights of heaven. On the contrary, our zeal, instead of consuming us, should rather nourish us, make us strong, and in the same measure as it go MYSTICISM brings us nearer to human excellence it should bring us nearer to divine perfection. In Plato, mysticism has found its match, a thinker initiated in all the intricacies of mysticism, a man who appropriates its wealth, but not at the cost of his own individuality ; who rather uses its power for the good of the soul. Plato puts the mysticism of personality in the place of natural mysticism— therein lies the difference between West and East. He demands moral endeavour, where the other exacts self-effacement. Yet — we shall see how there is but one step between Platonism and the ecstatic intuition of mysticism ; a step which Plato knew how to avoid, but which his followers took unwittingly, and thus easily glided into mysticism. The confusion thereby caused in Platonic doctrines found expression in the philosophic sect of the Neo-Platonists. In considering the importance of Platonic philosophy, we must bear in mind what it brought forth, to what varying philosophical and religious transformations it gave rise, and what was their influence, not only on the philosophers of the time, but also on the thinking portion of the populace. And again, in trying to measure Plato's strength of mind, we have to consider to what a very small extent his many disciples were capable of following him in his exalted flights of thought. Strong in GREEK MYSTICISM 91 the power of his own personality and his firm belief in the rights of humanity, Plato was able to combine into one grand unity all the various elements of his philosophy, its logical, physical, and moral principles, and even the things which he derived from the popular religion and its myths. He managed to keep all these things well balanced, because he kept each one within its proper sphere, and gave it the room for action which it deserved. The Neo-Platonists, however, wanted to improve on his structure, extend the horizon still farther, introduce still more vagaries into his system of philosophy, be more logical and more popular than Plato was, ascend still higher and descend still lower than he. In this endeavour they not only broke through the boundaries of true Platonism, but they lost sight of its centre of activity. Personality lost its power the farther these adventurers advanced in their philosophical speculations. For personality could not breathe in the height to which they carried it, and it sank into the inertness of demon worship, to which at last they had to take refuge in order to extricate themselves from their difficulties. This is exemplified even in the noblest of them all, in Plotinus (d. 276 a.d.), the finest figure among the philosophers of the time of the Empire, and Plato's most conscientious follower. And because 92 MYSTICISM he was one of the few of the Neo-Platonic school who always aimed at the highest and despised all that was base, we see in him most clearly how the next step of Platonism had to lead into mysticism. The God of Plato was not good enough for Plotinus, not spiritual enough because not tran- scendental enough. This supreme Unity, which is above aU and in all, must be so highly exalted above all intelligence that it can think no thoughts. Plato said : " It is hard to apprehend the All- Father, and when apprehended it is impossible to interpret Him"; but Plotinus is not satisfied with this. He says it is impossible to apprehend the Deity ; He is beyond all understanding. One cannot say that He is a thinking being; He is thought itself. That which can be thought or that which can think is a composite being, it must have parts. But God has no parts, neither quantity nor quality, it is one indivisible Unity. Therefore away with Plato's definition of God as '* Highest Intelligence." Nor is He to be described as the " Supreme Goodness," for in goodness there is motion and want — therefore division. One cannot say of this absolute Unity that it has being or existence, for all that exists has numerical quantity. With such and similar mathematical and dialectical sophisms Plotinus places his God beyond the reach of con- GREEK MYSTICISM 93 ception, and this had a harmful effect on Christian theology. Platonism in this highest potency was attractive to the mind as something exquisitely sublime, and henceforth no theology was thought complete unless it had some of this delectable fare to offer. Plato's conception of the Deity, however, was not ignored, it merely had another place assigned to it. Plotinus called it nus, or "Pure Intelli- gence," and he attributed to this conception the quahties which he denied to the Highest, namely, being and action, thought and goodness. It became the actual and practical God of mankind, unless man had sunk so low that he had to be content with the worship of the demons of the popular belief, and get on as best he could with their assistance. For the world is a kind of pyramid. At the top is the inconceivable Unity, from which all exist- ence emanates in ever - increasing multiplicity, but in steadily decreasing value and reality. The fundamental idea in Platonism is that highest spirituality is truest reality. The lower we come down to what we are accustomed to call the realities of life, the less reality and the more delusion and vanity we find. If man would rise above the illusions of multiplicity, one way only is open to him. He must fix his thoughts on the supreme and only true reality, and in III 94 MYSTICISM purity of life and piety of soul, by constant medita- tion upon the origin of all purity and goodness, enter into the unity and peace of God. This is the path of philosophy, and it leads very near to the goal. For the goal of philosophy is to obtain salvation by contemplation. Plotinus explains in even clearer terms than Plato how and why man must work out his salvation by contemplation. The nus which we have to rise up to is intelli- gence itself, the highest intelligence, and our intellect, the human nus, must endeavour to comprehend and to share this. In what measure we comprehend the Divine Intelligence, in that measure we absorb it into our being and are made partakers of its supreme qualities. Our own intelligence becomes spiritualised, merged into pure thought and pure goodness. Yet this does not fully satisfy Plotinus. Witli the Highest, the supreme Source of all things, he desires fellowship. To the height of the supreme Unity he would rise and be completely freed from the confusion of multiplicity. Now, as this supreme Unity is exalted far above all thought, it is vain to attempt to reach up to it by our apprehension. Philosophy fails us at this point- er, more correctly, it can help us only to climb up to the highest rung of the ladder, where intelli- gence stops, and the sacred unconsciousness GREEK MYSTICISM 95 begins in which multiplicity and diversity of thought ends, and we become united with the Unity. In other words : we end in ecstasy, and this is \ what the entire system of Plotinus led up to. Plato's God did not suffice, because Plato kept his five senses together and endeavoured to teach the people to do the same. But there is a craving for mysticism in human nature, and a supreme, mystical Deity had to be conceived. Meta- physics and logic had to give way before the longing of the soul, and finely spun consequences were drawn out and built up to justify the claims of an inrooted passion. For there can be no doubt about it that the condition aimed at by Plotinus was mystical ecstasy. It possessed all the unmistakable signs of it. It was the direct, unmediated consciousness, as if by personal contact of the presence of the Highest. Suddenly the soul is suffused with light, which flows from God. It does not impart any knowledge about God ; one realises thai He is, but not what He is. It is a state of being outside of self, God-inspired, capable of apprehending the workings of the divine spirit in the soul, but it does not enable one to describe what He is. When God thus sud- denly reveals Himself to the soul, separateness exists no longer, there is no more duality, but only one, inseparable unity. The soul il 96 MYSTICISM becomes one with itself and one with God. One cannot now say that the soul apprehends God, but rather that it becomes God. The soul is now pure light, free from all earthly trammels, it apprehends itself as God.^ Plotinus teaches that the road which leads to this condition consists in purification, moral abstinence, utter indifference to earthly things, strict self-examination. One cannot pursue this ecstatic condition; it overtakes one suddenly, silently, in overpowering grace, as a reward for trustful waiting and watching. Amelios, one of the disciples of Plotinus, tells us in his diary what the soul experiences at such times. " Like a dream which trembles and dies away, at the approach of dawn, so all the past and the present vanish. Former consciousness passes away, and a new consciousness awakens. I feel weak and empty as one just recovering from an illness and finds his memory gone. My travels, my studies, my plans and ambitions, all are as nought. All strength has been taken from me like a garment, and I feel thrown back again to the first beginnings.'* In such open epilepsy Platonism results at last. Greek mysticism has run its course. It has ended as it began, in convulsions. In the course of its career, however, it has been systematised by men 1 Zeller, Die Philosophie der Griecheny 2nd ed. hi. 2. 551. GREEK MYSTICISM 97 of noble intellect. Like an overwhelming power forcing the human mind in one same direction, we notice with surprise that this Greek system of philosophy geometrically agrees with the thought- structure of Hindu mysticism. The same problems and the same results ; the same extravagant, specu- lative conceptions : apprehending the incompre- hensible; essential similarity between the divine and the human spirit ; and finally, the consumma- tion of bliss in the union of these two beyond the portals of consciousness. For a long time the Greek continued to show himself in his demeanour a son of Hellenic culture. Asceticism never had quite so strong a hold on him as on the Hindu. He took care of his body, and only prepared himself for his high aspirations by abstaining from vulgar lusts and sensualities. But this last link with ancient culture gradually loosened also. Porphyrius and lamhlicus, the former a disciple of Plotinus, the latter a forerunner of Syrian piety, declare war to the body and teach salvation through a system of self-renunciation and mantik in which the customs and usages of the East occupy so large a place, that in the teachings of these sectarian leaders one can hardly find any trace of the old Greek spirit. lifMiiiiniiir''''^'*^-^'''^ * VI. NEW TESTAMENT CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM While Greek mysticism was thus growing rank and wild, a refining factor was at work, fostering that inner Hfe which could scarcely breathe in the atmo- sphere of heathen mysticism. Christianity had undertaken this task, not only with fresh youthful vigour, but under quite new and intimate con- ditions, and instituted a new kind of piety and a new form of culture. When Christianity was sufficiently crystallised to be made into a doctrine, many were surprised to find how much in it resembled the noblest thoughts of heathenism. It was whispered among the crowds opposed to Christianity that it was merely an adaptation of Plato's views, and that even Christian teachers tried to give weight to their assertions by pointing out similarities between their teachings and the tenets of the great sage. In our days one is not so easily taken in by these apparent agreements; on the contrary, we are keenly ahve to the fact that the chief character- istics of Platonism and of Christianity are very CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 99 widely apart. Yet there is a region in which the two meet as on common ground. For, in the first place, among all who seek the highest, there exists of necessity a certain bond of fellowship ; and, in the second place, Christianity, by its conscious and deliberate breach with the narrow-mindedness of latter-day Judaism, and by boldly proclaiming the rights of mankind, appears in many points to agree with the doctrines of the "humanities," which were the expression of the noblest thoughts of decaying antiquity. Moreover, philosophy and Christianity were at one in their desire to elevate the people and their worship above the existing polytheism and all the evils incumbent upon it. But there was a marked difference between the two methods employed. What philosophical heathen- ism only whispered in the ears of the initiated, Christianity proclaimed from the housetops. The message which Christianity brought was not a Freemason secret, nor a philosophical mystery, it was a matter of vital moment for all, a matter of salvation which concerned all mankind. Underlying Platonic mysticism there existed something which flavoured of evangelical truth. With the Gospel this something came to light ; not as a reflected thought, but as a living reality. Plato had grasped something of the eternal re- sponsibility of the human soul and of eternal justice. These truths— gradually lost sight of 100 MYSTICISM among the followers of Plato— came to light again with Christianity, and this time they would not be forgotten. They became the dominating power of Christian life ; the individuality of man was a foregone conclusion, for had not this truth been melted and moulded in the forge of Judaism ? To the Jews, strong in the consciousness of their national exclusiveness, individuality, although recognised, was of secondary import- ance. They had to be schooled into the full realisation that every man is personally respons- ible before God. They could not fail to under- stand this sooner or later, because with unwaver- ing persistence they always thought of their God as a person. They never made a graven image of Him, but in thought they pictured Him in human form, with such intensity, that when the prophets had elevated their thoughts above this human conception of the Deity, His Personality remained irrevocably fixed in their minds. The Jews had no temptation to fall either into pan- theism or mysticism. The children of Israel have ever been practical, energetic, calculating ; sober-minded rather than fantastical. The Jew believes in realities, God's guidance of his fathers, God's guidance of himself. All the fundamental ideas of his religion are practical and real : authority, justice, retribution. How sober are the arguments of Job's friends, those spokesmen CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM loi of traditional Judaism. And Job himself, dis- puting with them from the experience of suffering, never for a moment loses his self-control. " God is in heaven and I am on the earth," marks the distance between God and man for the devout Jew. No one can see God and live, is the basis of genuine Judaism. The prophets may have their ecstasies, their trances, their high intuitions, but never do they merge into the Godhead nor the Godhead into them. Schools of prophets may go through the land dancing and singing, but it is never a Dionysian pro- cession. They neither eat their God nor become gods. The culminating point in the experience of the believing Jew is the passion of faith. The will becomes tenacious and strenuous, and this activity of the will enhances the feeling of personal responsi- bility, and gives to their faith and to the God in whom they believe that harshness and relentless- ness which characterises and disfigures later Judaism. Gradually, as the Jews became imbued with Greek culture, they also became tainted with mysticism, but this mysticism shows to a far greater extent the influence of the intellectual life of the Hellenes than of the religious life of the Jews. Jesus steps forth from a background not of mysticism, but of personal faith ; nay more— 102 MYSTICISM judging by the Pharisees of His day — from a background of clearly defined religious indivi- dualism. And what Jesus brings is not mysticism, but a personal faith, only it is of a higher nature than the faith thus far held, it is not bound by law or nationality ; it is freed from egotism, superficiality, and sterility ; it is spiritualised, intensified, humanised. There is nothing either in the mind of Jesus or in His zeal that can properly be called mysticism. Often enough mystics have desired to stamp Him as one of theirs. In His daily life they have tried to find the unmistakable signs of mysticism. Like the mystic He has His moments of spiritual contemplation, a craving for solitude. He flees from the multitude, goes into the wilderness to fast, into the mountains to pray. He knows no bodily wants when His mind is occupied ; He is '* troubled in spirit " when He speaks with force and decision. Was Jesus an ecstatic ? asks a modern German theologian,^ and with much trouble he collects evidence which will enable him to answer in the affirmative. Ina French criticism on this book of Holtzmann's the correctness of this view is queried. In the 1 0. Holtzmann, War Jesus Ekstatiker ? (Tubingen, Mohr, 1 903 .) Reviewed by A. Loisy in the Revue Critique, 1903, No. 23. CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 103 Jesus of the Bible, or at any rate of the first three Gospels, there is nothing which warrants It. We find therein nothing pathological, nothing ecstatic in the true sense of the word ; nothing of that clouding over or upsetting of the human wiU. But we do find that exquisitely exalted condition of soul with which all creative geniuses and more especially religious enthusiasts are acquainted. In the conduct and the teaching of Jesus traces of mysticism are also declared to exist. For Him blessedness is to be found in the inner life, and He has little to say of things outward ; He IS silent about culture; He wages war against outward ceremonies and external piety, against traditional obligations and authorities. In all this He is like the mystic. The lowly and the poor in spirit He calls blessed to the detriment of the rich. The things that are hidden from the wise are revealed unto babes. Quiet hearken- mg is nearer to heaven than much serving. Piety is to be measured by its intensity, not by its works. And then He utters those words which find an echo in the mystic's mind: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." . . . '^'The kingdom of God is within you." . . . " Whosoever seeks to save his life shall lose it." The whole Sermon on the Mount, in fact, is as a piece out of the programme of the mystic. 104 MYSTICISM All this may sound like mysticism; and had Christ said nothing beyond this, we should have to assign Him a place among the mystics. But He has said a great deal more and done a great deal more, which is entirely outside the scope of mysticism. Because two circles cross each other, it does not necessarily follow that they merge into one another. Doubtless there is a region in which Gospel and mysticism meet. The strikingly evangelical note in the works of Laotze, of the Persian sages, of Plato, are sufficient proof of this. But the question is : What is peculiarly characteristic in each one of them, what are their distinctive properties, and wherein they fall short ? What, in fact, are their pretensions out- side the pale of this common ground ? Christianity has much to offer in this respect. Its Gospel is a life of love ; not a life of rapturous emotion, as in mystic circles ; still less does it speak of the characteristic mystical aversion to society. No, our life must be one of active, untiring charity, of brotherly love, and constant intercourse with our fellow-men, under all the usual conditions of everyday life. It speaks also of sin and of grace, of a warfare with the Evil One as with a personal enemy. Evil is a power outside of us, attacking us and compelling us to fight or to yield. It is not the lower nature in man which can be conquered by the subjugation CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 105 of one's human nature. Sin is not synonymous with " the flesh," is not the blind, natural tendency of sensual man ; it is a conscious violation of the explicit commandments of God, or a turning away from His redeeming grace. Redemption is not a raising of self on to a higher plane, or into a higher condition, but it is the forgiveness of sin, a free, personal act of grace of the Judge of all men. And then it speaks of faith, the divine will-power, with its boldness, its confidence, and its pride ; faith in the kingdom of God and in the wiU of God ; the faith of a little chHd in the Father's love. Children of God, that is the only relationship towards God which is recognised in the Gospel. " The same Spirit bears witness with our spirit "—not that we are God, but— " that we are the children of God." All this is personal, intimate ; it breathes free- dom ; it is conscious discrimination, and therefore not mysticism. The responsibilities and natural conditions of life are not lost in rapture or specu- lation. They remain in evidence. The difference between good and evil, between God and man, between spirit and nature, remains unalterably fixed. The Gospel does not seek to level these differences, but to annul their possible consequences, by establishing a relationship; that is, a fellowship of goodness, a fellowship with God ; fellowship, not union) therein lies the essential difference io6 MYSTICISM between Christianity and mysticism. Fellow- ship is not merely an internal act ; it also takes account of the outer world, with all our visible and tangible surroundings. Fellowship is a matter of will ; it cannot be built on a founda- tion of feeling alone, and still less on meditation. Fellowship demands faith : faith in men, faith in what is good, confidence in God. It lies in the nature of mysticism that there should not be room either for the outer world, or for the will, or for faith. And it lies in the nature of Christi- anity that there should be no room for the true characteristics of mysticism. The clover leaf, ecstacy, asceticism, intuition, cannot grow in Christian soil. For these three factors imply an ultimate union with God which can only be attained by abstract thought, and generally at the cost of one's human nature. Although a grand mysticism, such as that of Plato, falls short of committing this latter mistake, and advocates the ennobling of human nature instead of ignor- ing it, yet the fundamental difference between Platonism and Christianity remains the same, for the Platonist thinks out his salvation, but the Christian is saved by faith. And this is not only Platonic as opposed to Christian, it is Greek as opposed to Jewish, Arian as opposed to Semitic. Moments of racial and cultural conflict neces- sarily arose frequently after Christianity made CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 107 its entrance into Europe, but gradually the new religion gained the mastery over the in- rooted notions of heathendom. In these conflicts mysticism always played a part, and showed in a peculiar manner, either when Christianity was losing its hold, or when it had gained a firmer footing again. As long as the Christian Church abode in its apostolic strength, personal faith was the highest form of life, and the only expression of the re- lationship towards God. There was no room for real mysticism. Yet symptoms of its future power began to appear, and became especially perceptible when Christianity had taken root in Greek soil. Ecstasy was the first malady which attacked the Church, — as seen in the Church at Corinth. Speaking in tongues and prophesying were the sure symptoms of a darkening of the understanding, but they were religiously effective, and highly esteemed among the believers. Paul stands up manfully against this departure from their first love. He realises what he has to fight against. Paul, the man of faith, had been tried in the furnace of faith. He had tasted of rapture, he had felt the exalting influence of ecstatic delight, but he had risen above it. What happened to him on the way to Damascus is not without its counterpart in other ecstatic con- versions, which in point of time are nearer to us. io8 MYSTICISM The modern Jew, Ratisbonne, — if we may credit his words, — was, after long resistance, by special revelation, suddenly converted to Roman Catholi- cism ; and he describes exactly the same ex- periences as befel Paul, including the blindness. Yet — let us bear in mind that Saul did not become Paul because of the revelations he received, but because of what those revelations contained. One undoubtedly ecstatic experience Paul relates in 2 Cor. xii. It has all the symptoms of mystical rapture. He speaks of himself in the third person ; he cannot tell whether he is in the body or out of the body ; he feels himself caught up into a higher sphere ; he hears unspeakable words which no man can utter. But— what Christian strength he brings back from this experience ! In the same breath, as it were, come the words : *' My grace is sufficient for thee, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Incomprehensible as they may sound to those who have not themselves had Christian experiences, they put the seal to all his preaching about the unprofitableness of boast- ing, and explain why he made it his special mission to proclaim this truth. And now his advice to the Church at Corinth : Boast not of ecstasy ! I can speak both in pro- phecy and in tongues, but of what profit are these things compared with the power and the inexhaustible riches of a life of charity ? Therein CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 109 is truth, therein is health, therein is what is greater than both faith and hope, and whatever other virtue Christianity can bestow on us. And in the light of this assurance, the sayings and teachings of Paul, which often sound mystical, are not real mysticism. " The deep things of God " into which the Spirit searcheth ; " our life which is hid in God " ; " what no eye hath seen and no ear heard, neither hath entered into any man's mind " ; nature groaning for redemption, and the Spirit making intercession for us '' with groanings which cannot be uttered." These and many other of Paul's sayings reveal touches of mysticism, and show decided mystical fermentation. Christianity has succeeded in leading him thus far away from the dryness of Rabbinism, but he neyer lets go his common sense. He would rather speak than groan ; he wants to search out the hidden things ; he is not drowned in the deep things of God, nor does he mix up his own redemption with the redemption of nature. He never loses sight of the personal either in God or in himself. His is merely a richly gifted nature, capable of realising that there are depths which human understanding cannot fathom. There is one expression of Paul's, however, which seems to imply actual mysticism, at any rate it became the keynote of the mysticism no MYSTICISM I? If 4ii soon after springing up in the Greek Church. I refer to those enthusiastic words in the Epistle to the Galatians : '' Nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me " (Gal. ii. 20) ; and he declares in the same Epistle (i. 16) that it pleased God " to reveal His Son in me.*' In our day these words convey the idea of an ardent desire, an earnest resolve to make Christ the basis of our lives. But this is a modern interpretation ; Paul surely meant something much more realistic. In this Epistle he compares his own experiences of Christ with the companionship the other apostles had with the " Master," and he attributes the same reality, or at all events the same authority, to his personal revelations as to their historical intercourse with Christ. And when he tells the converts that Christ lives in him, this should also be taken as a real thing. Something in Paul's psychology betrays his conviction that what takes place in the heart of the believer is not merely a psychical emotion or experience, but that it is an actual spiritual growth ; he holds that man can receive a new soul, and on this ground he considers it no psychological impossibility that Christ should dwell in man. But another question is — and this we cannot answer — how far Paul thought this indwelling of Christ could extend. We are sure, however, that Paul, in the transport of his assurance of faith, came perilously near to CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM iii the borders of mysticism, and, as was the case with Plato, one step^ farther would have landed him into the forbidden region. The Greek Church took this fatal step, and drifted ever farther away on the dangerous path. In another direction also the way for mysticism was being prepared in the apostolic Church. In the Gospel of John we find no violent emotion, no psychological losing of self in ecstasy, but a sublime depth of meditation on the Person of the Godhead, and His revelations to men ; on the incarnate Son of God, and on the divine element in man. In all this the evangelist appears to have a leaning towards Hellenic mysticism. " To know God " is the first and chief stipulation. Practical " faith " is raised on to a higher platform as personal knowledge, or, at the least, an inner perception. God is defined as a Spirit who has to be worshipped " in spirit and in truth." And finally God-incarnate declares Himself in the words : " I and the Father are one." These words of John reverberate through all the phases of Christian mysticism, together with those of Paul, " Christ lives in me." The theoretical condition of existence is taken from John, the practical condition of life from Paul. The unity here expressed does not refer only to the oneness of the incarnate Word with the Father ; it also expresses the fellowship of the m hit Is 112 MYSTICISM faithful with the Son of God : " That they all may be one, as Thou, Father, art in Me and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us — I in them and Thou in Me, that they may be made perfect in one." Unto mystica was the name given by the early Church to this union of love as declared by John. And no purer symbol of this mystical union can be conceived than the Parable of the Vine. ** I am the vine, ye are the branches. Abide in Me, and I in you ; as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in Me." In this train of thought great weight is neces- sarily attached to the Incarnation, to the fact that the Divine Majesty assumed human form, that '* the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." While Paul pleads Christ's death as the one superlative event, John dwells on His birth, His leaving the everlasting glory which He had with the Father, to become man ; a sure guarantee for the purpose He came to accomplish and the truth of His teachings. John's picture of Christ sets forth the union of the divine and the human, it is the link which unites God and man : ** Thou in Me and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us." In order to give a Greek stamp to his medita- tions, he introduces the word *' logos " in the pro- logue to his Gospel, and there only, togos — in CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 113 our Bible translated by "Word " — was the expression used in the Jewish Greek Church to define the Godhead which has become flesh. And here we stand face to face with the semi- Platonic reflection that it is not God Himself who becomes man, but a consubstantial being, a Mediator through whom the desired union is accomplished. In saying this, however, we do not wish to imply that the prologue to the Gospel of John can be brought under the rubric of one or other of the Platonic schools. It would seem unavoidable to see in this Fourth Gospel a strong tendency towards Hellenic mysticism. " Knowledge," '' oneness," '' spirit," ''truth," the ever - recurring words in Greek devotion, have here been substituted for the sober Christian expressions: faith, fellowship, personality, conviction. Yes, this might be said, and many have said it, and for the sake of argument it has its worth, but in reality it is mis- taking the clothes for the man. With a little deeper insight into mysticism, we easily discover that the mysticism of this book lies in the expres- sion of it, but not in the sense. For instance, when, in chapter iv. 24, God is declared to be a Spirit, this is merely in elucidation of His person- ality, for in the immediately preceding verse He is called - Father," and by this name He is known throughout the Gospel, whHe the definition "Spirit " o 114 MYSTICISM occurs only seldom. Nor is there any reason why the '* oneness " spoken of should be taken in the literal, mystical sense of the word. John nowhere asserts in his Gospel that the believer must be swallowed up in God, or that God should be absorbed in him. The Parable of the Vine conveys the idea of intimacy, fellowship, not identity. This unto mystica does not destroy human nature, but elevates it ; it is nowhere written that it should be at the cost of conscious- ness or sound common sense. And the same with the *' to know '* of John's Gospel. Inge strikingly remarks that in this Gospel only the verb '* to know " is used, but not the noun gnosis, which latter at once leads us into a sphere of Grecism. This *' to know " of the Gospel is on a level with the word *' to believe " ; they are words of equal value in their adaptation to our intercourse with God. It would be mysti- cism if faith were regarded as a step towards knowledge, and knowledge a^ain leading a step nearer to God, but only coming into effect beyond the border-line of human consciousness. In conclusion, the incarnation would be mysti- cism if the Gospel did not persistently uphold its historical character. Yet we are not to suppose that it is merely symbolical or semi-real, as the disclaimers of John would have us to believe. No, '' we have seen, we have touched " ; real CHRISTIANITY AND MYSTICISM 115 blood and water flowed out of His side. Notwith- standmg the mystical glamour which prevaHs in this Fourth Gospel, there is a conscious and in- tentional bringing into prominence of the historical and real personality of Christ, which keeps it totally free from ordinary mysticism. On the other hand, we cannot ignore the fact that the mysticism which soon sprang up and flourished in the Eastern Church, was chiefly based~and with a certain amount of right^upon this Gospel. The speculative ring of the prologue and the wording of the Gospel itself sufficiently account for the wide use made of it in the fanciful theological mysti- cism of the day, when a far deeper meaning was put into the formula, "I and the Father," than John would ever have sanctioned. Through the abortive use of the Gospel words many heathen notions were rehabilitated with an assumption of Christianity ; but in spite of this misuse It was of incalculable importance for the growth of the early Christian Church, that by means of it a link was formed with the Greek world in which Christianity was slowly making Its way. The mystical language spoken in the Church was familiar to the learned scholars of the land, and thus the union between young Christi- anity and staid Greek culture could be accom- pushed. VII. THE MYSTICISM OF THE GREEK CHURCH The transition from apostolic piety to theolo- gical mysticism was foreshadowed even in Christ's lifetime by the teachings of some learned Jews in Alexandria, who endeavoured to reconcile Eastern notions and Western thought, probably primarily with the idea of establishing the right of existence of Judaism in the Capital of Hellenic culture. There, in modest retirement, lived the Jew Philo, a musing scribe, to whom occasional flashes of genius cannot be denied, but who possessed no real literary talent, was superstitious and dilet- tantish. Yet he was the man first to put into words what, for centuries to come, was to form the bulwark of the Neo-Platonic school. With Moses in the one hand and Plato in the other, he tried to make a bargain between the two by deducing Platonic teaching from the writings of Moses, and by converting law and revelation into philosophy and science. He did so by specula- tion, and his speculation was mysticism. Not that he betrayed the God of his fathers ; on the ii6 MYSTICISM OF THE GREEK CHURCH 117 contrary, God was very real to him, as the God revealed by Moses. Yet, to comprehend Him or explain Him, he resorted to Platonism. God IS that which abides for ever, the inexpressible the unapproachable : '' Thou shalt see My back parts, but My face shall not be seen." Only in sHent contemplation can God be apprehended for we know of nothing whereby to compare Him! If we are to know Him He must be within us. He breathed the breath of life into us, and with it something of His own nature, and He is the earnest of the highest in us. The inspired person, in whom God has verily breathed of His breath, can, with full confidence, say that he is God. This climax has to be prepared for by self-renunciation, and by studying the divine in nature. Only to the highest order of saints, to the '' souls born of God," it has been given to apprehend God without the aid of external things ; they are thus exalted above the help of symbols. But into this highest sphere only those can be admitted who, through purity of life, have been found worthy. And purity necessarily involves self-sacrifice. Purified and energised, the human soul can ascend the Mount of Contemplation ; there it loses con- sciousness of self, for there it sees God face to face. There He is apprehended, not by the powers of the intellect, but by direct intuition. This mystical apprehension of God is based on VII. THE MYSTICISM OF THE GREEK CHURCH The transition from apostolic piety to theolo- gical mysticism was foreshadowed even in Christ's lifetime by the teachings of some learned Jews in Alexandria, who endeavoured to reconcile Eastern notions and Western thought, probably primarily with the idea of establishing the right of existence of Judaism in the Capital of Hellenic culture. There, in modest retirement, lived the Jew Philo, a musing scribe, to whom occasional flashes of genius cannot be denied, but who possessed no real literary talent, was superstitious and dilet- tantish. Yet he was the man first to put into words what, for centuries to come, was to form the bulwark of the Neo-Platonic school. With Moses in the one hand and Plato in the other, he tried to make a bargain between the two by deducing Platonic teaching from the writings of Moses, and by converting law and revelation into philosophy and science. He did so by specula- tion, and his speculation was mysticism. Not that he betrayed the God of his fathers ; on the ii6 MYSTICISM OF THE GREEK CHURCH 117 contrary, God was very real to him, as the God revealed by Moses. Yet, to comprehend Him or explain Him, he resorted to Platonism. God is that which abides for ever, the inexpressible the unapproachable : '' Thou shalt see My back parts, but My face shaU not be seen." Only in sHent contemplation can God be apprehended for we know of nothing whereby to compare Him! If we are to know Him He must be within us. He breathed the breath of life into us, and with it something of His own nature, and He is the earnest of the highest in us. The inspired person, in whom God has verily breathed of His breath, can, with full confidence, say that he is God. This climax has to be prepared for by self-renunciation, and by studying the divine in nature. Only to the highest order of saints, to the " souls born of God," it has been given to apprehend God without the aid of external things ; they are thus exalted above the help of symbols. But into this highest sphere only those can be admitted who, through purity of life, have been found worthy. And purity necessarily involves self-sacrifice. Purified and energised, the human soul can ascend the Mount of Contemplation ; there it loses con- sciousness of self, for there it sees God face to face. There He is apprehended, not by the powers of the intellect, but by direct intuition. This mystical apprehension of God is based on igiiJiltorifift