for it seems that this indifference is the result of the apathy and indolence of this race which dislikes the trouble of loving or hating. The difference is evident between this and Christian detachment. The story of Long-Sorrow and Long-Life gives us a sufficiently correct idea of the way in which Buddha recommended the pardon of wrongs.

King Long-Sorrow, driven from his kingdom by a powerful neighbor, Brahmadatta, took refuge with his wife secretly in the capital of his conqueror. There was born to him a son whom he called LongLife. Brahmadatta, however, learning of his presence, had him and his wife seized and put to death. While they were leading him to execution the father said to his son: "Look not too far nor too near; it is not by enmity that enmity is appeased, but rather by the absence of enmity." Brahmadatta made the young Long-Life his favorite. One day he fell asleep after the chase in a remote corner of the forest his head resting on the knees of his young page. They were alone. Long-Life was now master of the fate of Brahmadatta, the murderer of his father. Thrice he raised his sword to smite him, and thrice the recollection of the last advice of his father overcame him. Brahmadatta awakening perceived him with his sword in his hand. He begged his life. Long-Life asked of him the same mercy. The reconciliation was made and both swore eternal friendship. Brahmadatta gave back to Long-Life the kingdom and the treasures which he had taken from his father, and gave him his daughter in marriage.

This legend, which is attributed to Buddha, is related to show that the pardon of injuries is a method that pays well. Long-Life, recalling the words of his father explains them thus to Brahmadatta: "Thou hast, O king, put my father and my mother to death. If now, O king, I wished to take thy life then those who were attached to thee would take my life, and those who were attached to me would take their lives, and so our enmity would not be appeased by enmity. But now, O king, thou hast granted me the favor of life, thus by the absence of enmity our enmity is appeased. This is what my father meant to say."

The story of Kounala is more touching because, apparently at least, it is more disinterested. It is the story of a young and handsome prince with marvelously beautiful eyes. One of his step-mothers fell in love with him and made advances which he repulsed with horror. The furious woman stole the royal seal and counterfeited an order to pluck out the prince's eyes. When he received this command, sealed with the royal seal, he had his eyes plucked out. When the king knew

what had taken place he ordered in his wrath that the guilty woman be put to death. Kounala appeased his father's anger and protested that he forgave the queen with his whole heart. He added: "As sure as these words are the truth may my eyes return to me as they were." And his eyes, says the legend, returned as beautiful as before.

The Buddhists are recommended to take from time to time certain set postures which are supposed to help them to enter into communication with the universe. The Sublime One has indicated the way to do this: "After the meal, on returning from the quest I go to the forest. I heap up the leaves and herbs I find there and on the pile I seat myself, my legs crossed, my body upright, and my countenance veiled n wakeful thought. Thus I remain wh le I let the force of the benevolence of which my thought is full extend itself over one of the quarters of the world, and then over the second, the third, the fourth, above, below, and through; in every sense, in all fulness, over the whole universe I allow the force of the benevolence of which my thought is full to spread out from me, vast, grand, inexhaustible, knowing no hate, aiming at no hurt."

There is established between the person thus meditating and the object of this meditation an attraction which the latter cannot resist. Thus the elephant Nalagiri, set charging at Buddha by Devadatta, stops short before the force of the benevolence radiating from him. So too Roja, the Malla, who had before been hostile, went of his own accord to seek the Perfect One, through this same power of attraction.

The weak points in the Buddhistic scheme of benevolence are that in inculcating it too much stress is laid on the fact that it pays to be generous; and further, as Oldenberg says: "It is not the poor who are put forward as the objects of charity, but religious, monks, the sage."

DUTIES TOWARDS SELF.

For Buddhism, as for Christianity, self-perfection is the paramount duty. "Step by step, bit by bit, hour by hour, the wise man should purify his being of all alloy, as a goldsmith purifies his gold." The first duties of every man are control of the senses, watchfulness, and contentment.

Meditation often means merely an absolute blankness of mind, a sort of Nirvana of thought. Methods are given for reaching this condition by concentrating the attention on the mere fact of breathing, etc. On account of the stupefying efforts of such a system, it is vain

to expect of Buddhism truly philosophical thinking or elevated concepts. Its finest and noblest ideas and images it has borrowed from other systems.

The long hours which the Buddhist ascetic, monk, or nun, passed in absolute rigidity, thinking of nothing for fear of thinking of evil, developed pathological nerve conditions. These, especially among the women, produced strange hallucinations. And on this account the Buddhistic writings are full of stories of visions and apparitions somewhat like the legendaries of Christendom. The Buddhists also knew of the extatic state (Jhana) and in order to attain it, made use of set methods which Oldenberg calls auto-hypnotism, or, as the phrase is now, auto-suggestion.

One exercise consists in gradually freeing the mind from all that is not the self, and consequently from all that could be an obstacle to the deliverance. These meditations are not on the vanity of the things of this world, or the nothingness of all that is not God, as is frequent in Christian meditations. They are on nothingness itself, on the non-existences of all things.

It will not be out of place to indicate here other differences between Buddhism and Christianity. The latter claims as its founder God Himself. Buddhism, on the contrary, makes no attempt to prove its origin from God, with whose existence or nature it does not concern itself. It does not need the word even of Buddha, or, to speak more exactly, of Siddhartha, i. e., of one man more than another. This indeed was Buddha's own opinion. He considered himself as a man greater than other men because he was better instructed and had taught them the way of Deliverance. He compared himself to a chicken that with beak and claws makes his way out of the shell before the rest of his mates. He is the firstborn of the brood-that is all. Every chicken that breaks from the shell is delivered in its turn, and, though later in time, by the same title as the first comer. We Christians are delivered by Christ, who is for us the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Budda saves no one; he shows the way, he teaches the truth, he indicates the life. But there his work stops; it is for each man by his own strength to reach the end thus manifested. The Christ appears once and for all times. The universal Buddhas appear from epoch to epoch. The work of each disappears entirely in the course of time, and then a new Buddha comes on earth to resume the task of his predecessor. There is just one Buddha more to come-Metteya (Maitreya). Oldenberg remarks that of all

the universal Buddhas of whose names we have the list, Siddhartha alone has a historical character; they are creations of the imagination like the Buddha that is to come.

MARA, THE EVIL ONE.

The origin of evil was not revealed by the master, and accordingly Buddhism forbids enquiry into it. It does not look upon Mara as the author of evil, any more than it considers the Buddha as the author of good, but it views them as being the one the highest expression of the evil, and the other the highest expression of the good, and therefore as being two irreconcilable adversaries.

For the common people Mara was a living being with a personal existence like Buddha; but the initiated are well aware that the term indicates the evil tendencies of nature, the travail of death (mara) which never ceases day or night and which produces everything defective or perishable in the world. All ills, all misfortunes are attributed to Mara. So too all thoughts of pride, sensuality, etc., are imputed to him. To escape his attacks one must watch without ceasing over the senses and take care to give no hold to the enemy. The favorite analogy is that of a tortoise which defeats the attack of its enemy by keeping close in its shell.

Mara is the personification of all the vices, of all imperfections and disturbances, physical or moral. The Buddhist must fight against it in its manifold forms. And in doing so he must rely on his own powers, since gods as well as men belong to a world of mixed good and evil, and have enough to do in looking after their own welfare without troubling themselves with the affairs of others. Or if by any chance there may exist somewhere a being over whom Mara has no hold, the Buddhist does not know of him and does not reckon on his assistance. Thus at bottom the religion of Buddha is not a religion, but a philosophy.

Fribourg, Switzerland.

A ROUSSEL.

TO WHOM WAS THE EPISTLE TO THE

EPHESIANS ADDRESSED?

F. Hugh Pope, O. P.

Many will regard this as one of the questions which ought to be relegated to the limbo of dead controversies, but sometimes controversies long buried assume a new importance as our knowledge grows. The Epistle to the Ephesians and that to the Colossians are sister epistles. Both were conveyed to their destination by Tychicus, both were written at the same time, and also from Rome. The doctrines handled are very much the same; the master words EKKλŋOLA, πληρωμα, σωμα, κεφαλη, μυστηριον, etc., are the same; the words, συνζωοποιέω, συνεγείρω, απαλλοτριοω, απο καταλασσω, αφη ανθρωπάρεσκος, etc., are only found in them, and the two epistles are rightly regarded as complementary one to the other; the one treats of the Church, the Body of Christ, the other of Christ, the Head of His Body, the Church. It used to be the fashion to regard one of these epistles-critics were never decided which one-as a servile imitation of the other, but those days are past. But the most striking feature about the epistle to the Ephesians is its impersonal character. Tychicus, the bearer, is mentioned (vi, 21, 22,) and in almost exactly the same terms as in Col. iv, 7, 8, but here the personal element ends. We find none of those affectionate salutations which occur in the sister-epistle to the Colossians, and which are so marked a feature of the epistle to the Romans. This fact so impressed Renan that he transferred to the Ephesian epistle all the salutations to disciples at Rome which occur in Romans xvi. This was a drastic procedure, and his view is generally rejected nowadays. We must bear in mind, however, that the Marcionite canon gave Romans without the last two chapters.

At the same time Renan's premise remains true, viz., that in our epistle we do not find those salutations which we should naturally expect. Nor is it St. Paul alone who fails to send salutations. When writing at the very same time to the Colossians, he says: "Aristarchus, my fellow-prisoner, saluteth you." Now this Aristarchus was with St. Paul during the riot (Acts xix, 29; cf. xx, 4; xxvii, 2). How is 'Cf. Lightfoot, "Philippians," p. 171; Sanday and Headlam, "Romans," p. xciii; Jacquier, "History of the Books N. T.," Engl. transl., vol. i. 197-199.