EARLY ASSUMPTIONS IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES’

Douglas Brear University of Leicester

I

In an address to an audience at the Midland Institute, Birmingham, in 1860, we find William Sargant admitting that, ‘until lately, if I had been called upon to make an enumeration of the various religious systems of the world, Buddhism would not have found an important place in my catalogue’,2 whilst Max Mtiller quotes a friend of his who remembered ‘the time when the name of Gautama, the Buddha, was scarcely known, except to a few scholars, and not always well spoken of by those who knew it; and now-he is second to one only’.3

The growth of interest in Buddhism from the second quarter of the nineteenth century is particularly fascinating, illuminating, as it does, two disciplines. As regards general intellectual history, it exemplifies a situation in which it is possible to trace the reaction of those within a cultural tradition, which was at a particularly confident and self- conscious period of its history, to the values and standards of a completely novel tradition-a tradition, moreover, based on very different pre- suppositions and having very different aims. Furthermore, since the tradition in question was a religious one, the more specific field of the study of religion is enriched by the opportunity afforded for the examina- tion of a particular case of the way in which a non-Semitic religious tradition was approached, and of the bases and methods of this approach.

It is a truism that the unwary student may find simply that for’ which he searches, and further examples of the vitiation of scholarship by predilection or prejudice would be superfluous; in any case, the assess- ments of Buddhism presented at the end of this article speak for themselves. To illustrate this point is a simple task-in order to throw significant light on the general and the particular disciplines named above, a degree of refinement beyond this is required. The approach must, naturally, begin with a description of the characteristic emphases, and of the modes and standards of judgment; however, these having been isolated, a further set of questions presents itself: whether any particular pattern may be traceable therein; whether there be any areas in which there is a greater degree of agreement than elsewhere-and if there be, the identification of these areas; and, finally, whether it may be possible to explain the underlying reasons behind what is discovered.

Three main areas will be discussed below-the figure of the Buddha,

136

‘37

Buddhist morality, and Buddhist metaphysics. Within this general frame- work, there are, naturally, points at which agreement or disagreement prevails, at which a general type of evaluation presents or does not present itself. Thus, for instance, regarding the latter, the status of the Buddha was a point which was variously interpreted, as was the nature of Buddhist morality: this, of course, is not at all surprising, for interpret- ation of such points depends on fairly easily-identifiable preconceptions and biases.

It is the former case-that in which broad unanimity of opinion, or correspondence of evaluation, obtains-which is of greater interest. Two examples of this may be found-in the first place, although there may be room for disagreement over the particular good or bad qualities of the Buddhist moral framework, there was never much doubt that this framework required more extended discussion than almost anything else. In the second place, there are specific points of doctrine on which general unanimity of opinion is clearly shown: the description of anatta, or the assessment of the pa{iccasamuppCda formula are cases in point.

What follows is a description, and an analysis which makes three suggestions. The justification for presenting the description is that it has, as far as the writer is aware, not yet been done in a thorough way, and a preliminary sketch such as this may not be out of place; on the basis of the works consulted, their treatments of the three above areas will be described, with particular indication of those features which proved to be of especial interest, or which, as it turned out, presented the greatest problems for sympathetic understanding.

The suggestions made are, first, that nineteenth century treatments of Buddhism not only, and obviously, manifest the individual presuppositions of the author, but that the way in which unanimity of approach and of evaluation appears in certain areas reveals their more general cultural presuppositions; second, that these areas are precisely those in which the authors either were in fact in possession of applicable categories of interpretation, or, more importantly, were under the impression that they were so, and that these latter were those in which commentators fell into error. In other words, the more certain commentators were that they understood the nature of their data, the less justice they in fact did to it. A key, therefore, to the identity of the particularly intransigent aspects of Buddhism is gained. Not only, however, can we see more clearly into the treatment of the material, but, and this is the third suggestion, these findings suggest that the process of selection itself may be governed by these factors. The three areas which will be discussed are precisely the areas on which most of the literature concentrates. The meditational dimension is infrequently described, rarely discussed, and hardly ever understood, and this is the sphere par excellence in relation to which there were no clear categories of interpretation available, no elements of experience in the light of which a consideration and an evaluation could be made.*

With reference to the disciplines mentioned at the beginning of the

D

EARLY ASSUMPTIONS

introduction, it is hoped that, from the point of view of general intellectual history, pursuit of this approach may identify the cultural presuppositions operating in a particular situation in which one tradition is seeking to understand another, and at a particularly significant point in history; and that it may reveal a little more clearly the way in which these pre- suppositions affected and conditioned this attempt at understanding.

From the point of view of the study of religion, there will be the more specific illustration of these general functions, which, it is hoped, may serve, first, to describe the impact of one novel religious tradition on the West, by means of a delineation of the salient features of contemporary studies; second, to focus on the particular religious and philosophical presuppositions operating in an attempt to come to terms with specifically religious phenomena; and third, to throw some light, through the medium of one historical situation, on the broader field of the method of the study of religions.

The points on which this article concentrates are not, of course, exhaustive, and a complete treatment would need to consider several other related points, with which there is no opportunity to deal here. The first of these is the matter of Esoteric Buddhism, which, though popular, was treated with scorn by most scholars, together with the whole field of the conversion of Westerners to Buddhism.5 There is also the involved discussion, carried on throughout the period, of the possible mutual influence of east and west, which included speculation on how the obvious similarities between Buddhism and Roman Catholicism may have come about.6

Throughout the whole period there were, within the Christian tradition, significant theological re-evaluations, which involved reassessments of Christology, and of the nature of revelation, and which, therefore, had repercussions on the way in which non-Christian religious traditions were approached, especially by missionary bodies. This is reflected in a whole spectrum of attitudes, from the condemnation of Buddhism as idolatry and superstition (frequently accompanied by description, more or less simplistic, of ‘idolatrous practices’), through to the open and sympathetic approaches of such as Beal and Richard, or the later important missionary experiments of Reichelt.’ This relates, of course, to the development of missionary theology as a whole, and to the question of the amount of ‘comparative religion’ which was available to mission- aries.* Finally, no attempt has been made to relate the history of the development of Buddhist studies, although the availability of literary evidence has been taken into account in any criticism of particular stances.

The question of the reasons behind the burgeoning study of Buddhism is, of course, a complicated one to answer, in as much as there were inevitably as many different reasons as there were individual students, intellectual fashions, and interested groups. Thus, for some, the sheer antiquity of the tradition and the vast numbers of its adherents loomed large as an inte@ectually compelling reason for undertaking the study,9

IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES =39

whilst there was the undercurrent of opinion which gave as its motive the removal of false religions from the earth, or the defence of Christi- anity.10 Again, there would be those who would welcome the intellectual freedom and the rationalism of Buddhism, and others whose interest was stimulated by the striking similarities between it and Christianity.11 There can be no doubt that the analogies between the general tone of Buddhist and of much contemporary nineteenth century thought, or between such specific features as evolutionary theory and Buddhist cosmology proved to be a strong attraction for many.r2

Once study had commenced, however, an apparent difficulty presented itself, arising from what seemed to be an incompatibility between the nature of Buddhism and the available categories of classification, crystal- lizing into the recurring question of whether or not the object of study were a religion or a philosophy. As the discussion of Buddhism’s ‘defects’, at the end of the article, will indicate, this problem arose, in the main, from the fact that elements which were expected, in accordance with the accepted idea of a religion, seemed to be missing. It was, to Caird, ‘a strange fact . . . that we have here what purports to be a system of religious doctrines in which the very idea of God is left out.‘13 One Anglican clergyman was perfectly sure that ‘it must be kept in mind that Buddhism is rather a system of philosophy than a creed,’ and Monier-Williams agrees: ‘Buddhism is no real religion. It has no God, no Supreme Being, no real prayer, no real clergy. It lays no claim to any supernatural revelation.‘14 On the other hand, there were those who claimed that Buddhism was more than a philosophy, for it was, in the words of a most sensitive and percipient critic, ‘a system founded on self-reliance, with a method of self-conquest and culture, and [with a] goal in self-deliverance, and a refuge in the higher nature.‘15 Whatever correlation may have existed between the stand taken on this question and the general position of the writer, it is clear that the matter of whether or not Buddhism should be considered a religion or a philosophy seemed, to most commentators, to be one worth dealing with, often at length. It was, however, evident to many, that, as Beal expressed it, although ‘so far as the abstract principles are concerned,’ Buddhism may well appear to be a philosophy, yet ‘practically, [it] is a religious system,’ or, in Grant’s phrase, ‘it is useless fighting for a word when the facts are on the other side.‘r6

II

The point at which agreement begins is that of the centrality of the character and personal qualities of the Buddha to an understanding of the nature of the tradition. ‘His system without himself would soon have been dead. It is almost impossible to over-estimate the power of his personality.‘r7 The story of his life, therefore, naturally plays a central part in all treatments of the subject, sometimes told naturalistically and simply, sometimes with the whole range of miraculous happenings

140 EARLT ASSUMPTIONS

included, sometimes with a careful distinction maintained between the two.18 In addition, there is frequent emphasis upon the romantic element in the story, the ‘grand picture of a royal youth, abandoning his home and honours to become the gentle, apt, and sympathetic teacher of the people,’ a youth ‘at once distinguished for the beauty of his person, and still more for the extraordinary ability he displayed.‘13

The evaluation of the miraculous elements was problematic from the start. For those who approached Buddhism without an adequate ground- ing, ‘What are the very first discoveries made? . . . why, grotesque fables, monstrous, and sometimes puerile, tales concerning all manner of mythological personages and fantastic legends, where the wild imagination of the East plays lawlessly amidst fine poetic dreams and mere barbarous absurdities! I do not at all wonder that such readers are tempted to decide off-hand that there must be either wilful disingenuousness or stupid obstinacy in critics who describe Buddhism as an intellectual system independent of supernaturalism. ‘20 In fact, the great majority of students refuse to take these elements seriously, for reasons, no doubt, rooted in assumptions regarding what was or was not ‘reasonable’, and regarding the inapplicability of merely poetic standards of interpretation to such serious matters as the lives of religious founders. Throughout the period, the same opinions are voiced. The same epithets recur: ‘absurd’ (an anonymous reviewer), ‘lying legends and fables’ (Sargant) , ‘a phantom formed from the brain of ascetics musing under the palm-tree of the Orient, who note down dreams and, attaching to them names, call their records history,’ (Hardy), ‘the incrustations of idle legend’ (Titcomb), ‘fantastic grotesqueness puerile to the Western mind’ (Soothill). The last three words here remind US of the argument which will recur several times in the course of what follows-what might be called the ‘oriental mind’ argument-that elements which, to the West, seem puerile, absurd, inconsistent, indefinite, and so on, must somehow be accepted as suited to ‘the Oriental fancy. ‘22 This was an argument, of course, which not only flattered the Western ‘mind’ and preserved its character- and its superiority therefore-intact, but which absolved it from any further attempt to penetrate below the surface.

It is tempting to search for some line of general development running through the treatments of the life of the Buddha, to assume that the fruits of historical scholarship were reflected in popular writings. This is not, unfortunately, the case. To take a simple example, it is not, perhaps, surprising to find that such a summary as the following could appear in print in I 857: the Buddha ‘reformed, and devoted himself to a life of abstraction from the world, and was therefore considered very holy . . . After his death he was worshipped as a god,’ or that a reviewer, in 1866, could translate ‘Sakyamuni’ as ‘hermit’. TO find an acknowledged scholar, however, describing, as late as 1907, the Buddha as ‘a member of the noblest caste, a Brahman of the Brahmins’ may give us pause.33 Again, the preconceptions or predispositions which may lie behind such evaluative descriptions of the Buddha as ‘this self-elevated hermit’, ‘the

IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES 14’

perfect sage, the model ascetic, . . . the wonder-working magician,’ or ‘a Moral Reformer and Philosopher’ cannot be plotted merely on a chronological basis. 24 Much depends on factors other than mere scholar- ship or mere situation in time, and DuBose and Beal, though contem- poraries, are worlds apart as far as sympathetic understanding of Buddhism is concerned.

Much depends on individuals, as Miss McDonough’s evidence suggests: the 1842 and 1854 editions of the Encyclopaedia Britannica contain articles on Islam which are markedly less scholarly and more partisan than that produced by Sale for the 1771 edition. With regard to Buddhism, she finds that the entry for the 1880 edition is by ‘T. W. R[hys]. D[avids]‘, and she comments: ‘By far the most striking instance of the changed attitude in this edition is the presentation of the life and teachings of Buddha. Knowledge of sources, and ability to imagine how the world would look to a believing Buddhist make this article stand out with startling freshness after so much of the mean-minded, and unimaginative grumbling against other cultures that we have encountered in the earlier editions.‘25

Yet it must be emphasised that one of the most highly-respected critics, E. J. Eitel, saw his ‘Buddhism: its Historical, Theoretical and Popular Aspects’ go into its third edition in 1884, after many of Rhys David’s findings and opinions had been published; in this, Eitel, albeit not in a ‘mean-minded and unimaginative’ manner, is bitterly critical of Buddhism, and he shows very little sympathy with ‘how the world would look to a believing Buddhist.’ So unequivocal is the tone of this popular work, that its learned reviewer could write, of its first edition, ‘it is quite evident that (Eitel) had considerable difficulty in maintaining his im- partiality. As popular Lectures . . . they appeal more to the feelings and prejudices of the people than would a treatise written for the study. Mr. Eitel extols Buddhism in a certain sense, but it is plain that he does not like it.‘26 Or, to take another example, the strictures on Buddhism delivered in the course of Edkins’ ‘The Religious Condition of the Chinese’ (1859) are retained in his reshaped version, published in its second edition thirty-five years later, ‘Religion in China’, whatever might have been happening within the scholarly world in general, or within the pages of the Encyclopaedia Britannica in particular. Moreover, Eitel and Edkins are among the authors most frequently referred to by commentators as having exerted influence upon them.

The question, then, of the status of the mythology in the story of the Buddha is one of those areas in which the available categories of inter- pretation (which may be inferred to be related to opinions regarding the nature of ‘facts’, assumptions concerning what may constitute an accept- able method for biography, or the taking of the life of Christ as a paradigm) were agreed, and in the light of which a fairly generally agreed judgment was made. Another example is the enlightenment- experience of the Buddha: the range of interpretations is limited, there being basically two, either to treat it as a natural experience pertaining

14” EARLY ASSUMPTIONS

to intellectual effort, or as a matter of Divine inspiration. Here again there is a situation in which there seemed to be certain given categories, of which commentators were sure, within which they worked, and whose nature governed the mode of interpretation. Sympathetic treatments of the enlightenment-experience were rare-Rhys David2 contribution to the Encyclopaedia Britannica of 1880 is instanced by Miss McDonough.27 Reflecting in extreme form the more common misunderstanding, we find that the Buddha ‘had solved an imaginary problem by a theory incapable of verification’;s8 again, although separated by forty years, both Prinsep and Grant speak in terms of the ‘inspiration of the Divine Spirit.‘29 The interesting points are that, first, in both these instances, there was a clear assumption, on the part of many commentators, that they held the keys to understanding, and that second, in fact, there was marked misunderstanding.

The universal approbation accorded to the life of the Buddha simply as a human life is easy to understand, that life affording points of contact with available thought-forms SO evident as to require no discussion. ‘There can be no doubt of Sakya’s sincerity’; ‘his zeal, his rigid self- renunciation, combined with serene gentleness and benignity, his wisdom and eloquence, and even, it is said, his personal dignity and beauty, gave strange force to the stern doctrines he taught, and won men’s hearts wherever he went.‘30 In relation to other religious founders, ‘with respect to personality, probably a higher claim has been made for Gautama than for either (Muhammad or Confucius).‘31 ‘Shall we err,’ asks Grant, ‘in giving the name of the Spirit of God to the power that enables one man so to transform others?‘32

Some were led to compare him with Jesus Christ, either from an estimation of his character and teaching, or because of those outward similarities between the lives of the two which were part of that wider parallel noted above. 83 Sometimes the comparison is simply implicit in the language used: ‘The “six teachers”, like the Scribes and Pharisees, tried on every public occasion “to entangle him in his talk” ‘, or ‘The priestly caste . . . despised him . . . and said sneeringly, “He and his disciples teach even mean and criminal men, and most wrongfully admit them to a state of grace.” ‘34

Criticism of this stance was made from both historical and theological points of view,36 and Mrs. Macdonald comments coolly on such com- parisons: ‘We are face to face with an amiable blunder that has done a great deal to produce misapprehensious and disappointment . . . , the suggestion that in Buddha we have an Indian Christ . . . Now, no more unsatisfactory and unsatisfying view can possibly be taken of the teaching of Buddha than the one derived by [sic] studying this religion from the above standpoint.’ ‘The Buddha,’ she says elsewhere, ‘is no Saviour able to take men’s sins upon his shoulders . . . he is merely a human teacher.‘s6

If there was recognition of the Buddha’s essentially human dimension and significance, there was widespread interpretation of this significance in terms of radically reforming activity, of conscious rebellion against

IN WESTER.N BUDDHIST STUDIES I43

entrenched sacerdotalism; it appeared to some that his determination to found a new religion arose from his horror at Brahmanical hypocrisy (Feudge), or their tyranny (B.O.R.), or from his disillusion at their failure to lead people to God,’ (the anonymous author of In@ence).s7 To Liddon, Buddhism was ‘a social and doctrinal rebellion . . . Socially, it rebelled against the system of caste; it protested in the name of Justice that all had a right to the knowledge and the privileges which were monopolized by the Brahmins. Doctrinally, it attempted to provide an escape for the human soul from the miseries of transmigration to another body after death’.3s

The obvious parallel was drawn: ‘He was not so much the founder of a new sect as the Martin Luther among the Brahmans . . . The Brahmans opposed him throughout his career, and several times he was summoned to discussions before an Oriental Diet of Worms.‘3g Such flights of historical fancy apart, the basic comparison is not unusual, occasionally associated with assertions that he abolished caste-distinctions.40 How- ever, no doubt, wishful-thinking had not a little to do with the wilder assertions concerning the Buddha’s ‘political and democratic protest’41 and there were many who were not so misled, and who agreed with Rhys Davids, that the Buddha was rather an earnest thinker than a social and religious reformer. 42

The impact made by the sincerity of the Buddha has been noted; what further impressed many was the integrity of his personal example- ‘irreproachable’ was St. Hilaire’s epithet 43-the manner in which he embodied those moral standards and principles which ‘constituted a great part, if not the main substance, of his teaching’.44 Here we reach another of those points which most commentators could understand and to which general approval could be given-‘the strength and glory of Buddhism’, its ‘singular merit’, the ‘one bright spot in the darkness’-its moral teaching.a5 Even critics who were scornful of its metaphysics or of its ‘idolatry’ admitted both the centrality and the general validity of its moral system. 46 Descriptions, more or less full, of the Four Noble Truths, the Precepts, the Pciramikis, and so on, are always prominent, and not surprisingly, there is little variation in character among them.47

The point of general agreement was that, in Caird’s words, Buddhism ‘taught a comparatively pure and elevated morality.‘48 After this, dis- agreement shows itself: some critics approve of the details, emphasizing its positive tone, others emphasize the negative elements, whilst others again, after showing themselves to be aware of the fine qualities, end by judging it harshly. From a brief consideration, it is possible to see those aspects which proved to be attractive, and those which presented intractable problems as regards sympathetic understanding.

The positive virtues which exerted an appeal were its love and benevolence. ‘It exhorted its devotees to extend love and charity to man and beast. It marked selfishness, lust and passion as the chief enemies of human happiness. It pointed out the superiority of the inward life over outward existence . . . . ‘4g Hardwick speaks approvingly of the mild

EARLT ASSUMPTIONS

character of Buddhist teachings, and Galton remarks on its emphasis on ‘gentleness and calm, the former [comprising] a certain measure of charity, the latter of resignation.‘50 To many, however, such virtues were not sound and healthy at all: ‘It is a morality of negation or renunciation. It lays almost exclusive emphasis on the passive virtues of submission, resignation, indifference to the allurements of sense and passions, deadness to the world and the things of the world; and if it seems to find any place for active benevolence and kindred virtues, it does so only in name, or by a kind of noble inconsistency.‘51 Here we may clearly detect implicit prejudice in favour of the Western values of aggressive activity, practicality and efficiency. 52 According to Neale, any positive virtues which appear in the system, in the form of maxims and precepts defining various interpersonal relations, are ‘rather the offspring of the natural emotions of goodness which spring up whenever the rank growth of selfish passion is destroyed, than the legitimate result of the principles on which it insists.‘5s

As will be shown, one of the most salient examples of coincidence of judgment is the treatment of the doctrines of anattri and karma. It is natural, therefore, that, where Buddhist moral teaching touches those two matters, a broad measure of agreement of evaluation should manifest itself. St. Hilaire’s final judgment of Buddhist morality depended precisely on his assessment and understanding of the basic doctrine of anatta, and he saw the latter as vitiating the former. ‘His ethics are incomplete and fruitless, inasmuch as they repose on a thoroughly false idea of the nature of man.‘54 Grant cites ‘a warm advocate of Buddhism’, to the effect that ‘probably there never has been a system of morality so purely unselfish offered to the world,’ and goes on to comment, ‘Yes, but note that its conception of self is inadequate . . . the great aim is . . . not really unselfish but the very opposite.‘55 Eitel concurs, claiming that, cthough professing to destroy self, its system of morality is pervaded by a spirit of calculating selfishness,’ whilst St. Hilaire points to its ‘egotistical preoccupation of [sic] reward, and the idea of Nirv%ra’ as its basic faults.56 Sometimes, moreover, the selfishness of Buddhist ethics is argued from observation of its internal grounds and motives: ‘As one reads the Buddhist books one is tempted to believe that unselfishness of a high order is the prevailing sentiment of this religion, but on searching a little deeper, one finds that this apparent unselfishness does not consist in yielding one’s own claims to the rights and claims of others, but rather in the effort to withdraw oneself, for what are ultimately selfish reasons, from all connection with the world of existence around us.‘57

III

The manner in which critics approached Buddhist doctrines, and the evaluations which they made, are striking and interesting. To a few, the sheer intellectual power of the system was patent. At the 1894 Anglican Conference, Rev. Dodson, speaking of the immensity of the

IN WESTERJV BUDDHIST STUDIES

task of Christian missions, said: ‘India is the stronghold of the most enlightened forms of Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam-no mere un- reasoning superstitions or barbarous systems of idolatry, but a con- federation of the profoundest philosophies such as nowhere else in the world can be said to face the army of Christ.‘S8 Eitel was particularly impressed by the way in which Buddhism ‘forestalled in several instances the most splendid discoveries of modern astronomy,’ including that of the multiplicity of galaxies, or the burning-out of stars, and of ‘some of the results of modern geology.‘5g

There are at least four main doctrinal complexes which figure most prominently, and in which general unanimity of judgement can be found. Without exception these are areas in which scholars confidently assumed that the available categories could be applied to the data, and in which, because they could not-because, in fact, there were no points of contact available-the whole point was missed. These four are cosmo- logical speculations, pa&asamuppnda, anatt8, and karma and trans- migration.60

Cosmological speculations, which loom so large in Buddhist writings, aroused predictably hostile reactions in many scholars, as did the miraculous elements in the Buddha-narrative: no doubt ‘scientific’ pre- suppositions had much to do with this, but there can be no discounting the complete novelty of finding such a profusion of cosmological detail in a body of religious literature. One way of treating the material was to treat them as factually-intended stories, as, in other words, interesting examples of early science, devoid of any serious significance for men of the day, ‘absurd’, to use the most popular adjective. That Buddhists should believe in such ideas was in itself a serious intellectual criticism of the system. 6r Another approach was to recognize that ‘nothing can be so palpably fictitious than [this] system of the world . . . The inventors of the cosmogony of the northern Buddhists were metaphysicians who denied the existence of matter, and when they spoke of immense assemblages of worlds in various parts of space, only intended them to be the imaginary abodes of imaginary Budclhas, partaking in no way of reality.‘62 The result was the same-there was no need to take Buddhist cosmology seriously. As for those parts of it which had no connection with similar childish ideas in the West, such as the previous lives of the Buddhas, there was misunderstanding or blank incomprehension. If Edkins saw the multiplicity of Buddhas as imaginary, for Hardy, the stories in the Pali Scriptures, of the previous existences of the Buddha could be read ‘as eastern stories, or as illustrating the manner and customs of former times in India . . . but in the greater portion we can discover neither aim nor instructiveness.‘63

The terms and the mode of argument used in the formula of pa&zsamupp~da appeared to be perfectly intelligible to most students, and, on this basis, most weighed it in their philosophical balance, and found it wanting. They found themselves faced with a long formula, purporting to explain the relation of cause and effect existing between

14-6 EARLY ASSUMPTIONS

the terms of a series of basic facts of life. It was recognized, as early as 1856, that this formula was of cardinal importance for the understanding of the Buddha’s philosophy and metaphysic.64 Since all commentators had a clear notion of what constituted a ‘cause’, it appeared a simple task to understand what the formula was purporting to express and its failure to express it. St. Hilaire puts the case in a nutshell: it may well be that life is the occasion of death (the frequent implication found is that ‘there needs no ghost . . . come from the grave to tell us this’!), but it is an elementary philosophical solecism to apply the term ‘cause’ to this relation. ‘Gause,’ he says, ‘becomes effect, and the effect becomes its own cause; in reality it is a contradiction.‘65 Almost every commentator finds the doctrine confused, incoherent, inconclusive, self-contradictory, and St. Hilaire’s sentence concludes with the unequivocal judgment that ‘the true notion of cause escapes Buddhism.’ The recurring tendency to compare Oriental philosophy with supposed Western parallels has been noted already; in this instance, Ellinwood compares the formula of pa&ccasamu@ida to the views of Democritus and Lucretius on atomics, and adds his own, typically nineteenth century, criticism: ‘I simply point out the fact that this is virtually an old hypothesis; and I leave each one to judge how great a degree of light it has shed upon the path of human life in the ages of the past, how far it availed to check the decline of Greece and Rome, and how much of real moral and intellectual force it has imparted to the Hindu race.‘66

Here we have, then, a particularly clear example of both lack of sympathy and erroneous interpretation, springing from a secure con- viction that the available categories of interpretation were the correct ones, that the data studied could safely be assumed to be cognate with them. It has been suggested above that the meditational dimension was one which eluded most nineteenth century commentators, and, of course, the pa/iccasamu.$ada formula must be seen within this dimension if it is to be understood-a point which relates also to the misunder- standings of the enlightenment-experience of the Buddha, noted above.67

The third of these points is the doctrine of anattc, on which opinion is so nearly unanimous that one particular contribution to an Anglican conference discussion gains a significance out of proportion to its brevity. Speaking at the 1894 Conference, Lord Stamnore comments: ‘All Western argument assumes personal individuality; but individuality in the sense in which we understand it, that of the indiscerptible [sic] and indestructible Ego, has no place in Buddhism . . . ; and he who takes this as his starting-point will find himself unintelligible to a Buddhist d.isputant.‘6s Such an informed understanding is almost unparalleled, and is all the more remarkable, in view of the fact that the speaker did not claim to be a professional Buddhist scholar.

There are, of course, many descriptions of the doctrine, some of them sound-the work of Rhys Davids needs no recommendation, and Gibson too, a convinced Christian, is also reliable. Many of these descriptions are accompanied by criticisms, but, since the type of criticism found

IN WESTER.N BUDDHIST STUDIES 147

corresponds to those which will be presented under the treatment of the doctrine of transmigration, examples would be superfluous, beyond, perhaps, Ellinwood’s comment that ‘Buddhism is still more disheartening [than Hinduism] since it denies the separate conscious existence of the ego.‘6g

What, however, is of great interest is the extent to which the complete novelty and apparent oddness of the doctrine was simply too much for many to assimilate, the result being either an inability to understand at all, or even a deliberate and reasoned refusal to accept the doctrine at its face value. An example of the latter is the claim by one reviewer that ‘the whole ethics of the system would fall with its metaphysics, on [the theory that there is no soul]: for why urge men to right conduct, in order to attain happiness, or Nirvana, hereafter, if they are not to exist hereafter?’ The author, on the basis of this reasoning, concludes that the doctrine of anattci formed no part of Buddhism.7o As for the former approach, the terminology used speaks for itself: The Buddha ‘felt absolutely certain that . . . each act of the soul must work out its full effect to the bitter end.’ Again, ‘The soul has no outlook, but lives in and for itself.’ ‘The fables of metaphysicians, confounding men and animals as alike possessing immortal souls and a moral nature.‘71

The fourth and last of these doctrinal complexes is that of trans- migration and Karma. It was, of course, recognized, by those who had come closer to understanding the Buddhist anattd, that the term ‘trans- migration of souls’ was infelicitous, although there were always a few who adhered to the old phrase. ‘2 On this, opprobrium was heaped. For Hardy ‘among all the numerous efforts that have been made to explain the phenomena of existence, that of the Buddhist is the least logical or conclusive,’ whilst Scott considered that ‘it was evidently a theory of continuity as unscientific as it was unphilosophic’ and ‘a superstition and nightmare.‘73

Apart from that of its unscientific nature, two rather more specific judgments recur throughout the literature. First, the doctrine cannot regenerate man: ‘It is only a vague postponement of the moral issues of the soul. There is recognized no future intervention that can effect a change in the downward drift. ‘X Second, there is criticism of the implied rejection of man as uniquely superior in the world: transmigration ‘plunges (Buddhists) into a fantastic world which prevents their under- standing the real conditions of the one they live in’75-in other words, it is inconceivable to this author that the view of the world as held by him and his age could possibly be questioned. The point is put succintly by Sargant: ‘There is nothing in the heavens, in the waters, on the earth, or under the earth, which may not once have been human, and may not once more become human:-a creed scarcely credible to us, but if credible then disgusting and awful. ‘76 To those familiar with the conflict between science and belief in nineteenth-century England, there will be nothing strange in this opinion; it may be remembered that Bishop Samuel Wilberforce, in his altercation with T. H. Huxley at the meeting

EARLY ASSUMPTIONS

of the British Association in 1860, is reported to have asked: ‘If anyone were to be willing to trace his descent through an ape as his grandfather, would he be equally willing to trace his descent similarly on the side of his grandmother?’ -the close relation postulated between men and animals was seen, here too, as a gross suggestion, degrading in its implications.77 It should be noted, however, that this particular criticism was confined, as the references indicate, to a fairly limited period.

As far as the thorny problem of Nirvana is concerned, the full treat- ment which has been carried out elsewhere may be referred to, though any discussion of the reception of Buddhism in the West must involve this recurring point, and one which occasioned so much verbose argument. As Dennis expresses it, ‘What that state is which is popularly known as Nirvana is apparently beyond the power of most learned students of Buddhism clearly to determine.‘78 Whether the term signified annihila- tion, or some positive absorption, (and analysis of the main scholarly theses) may be studied at length in Welbon’s work.7s

As a conclusion to this brief consideration of the response to Buddhist doctrines, a few examples of estimates of the general character and validity of Buddhist metaphysics would seem fitting. Eitel, for instance, sees Buddhism as both morally and intellectually weak: ‘Whether we look upon Buddhism as a system of religion, morality, or philosophy,’ he says, ‘we cannot help observing everywhere fundamental errors directly antagonistic to a healthy development of either the intellectual or moral faculties of mankind,’ and he forbears to repeat ‘all the detailed fallacies with which the Buddhist dogma is saturated.‘*0 Such a view finds a supporter in Rev. Douglas, who, commenting on a paper by Edkins, presented at the Conference of Protestant Missionaries in China, in 1877, is reported as saying: ‘Only one or two other missionaries had dived into the depths of Buddhism and Tauism [sic] as Dr. Edkins had done: he was thankful that they had done so, and thought it was enough for two or three to dive for the rest, as very little of practical use was to be found there . . . as systems of thought they are dead.‘sl Edkins himself, elsewhere, saw Buddhism as a case of ‘philosophy gone mad; for it is philosophy assuming the prerogatives which can only belong to a heavenly religion’s2- it is a philosophy which, St. Hilaire felt, could be ‘summed up in a few simple but erroneous theories’, and which was expressed, as Hardy judged, in ‘an involved discourse, with propositions that have no interest in themselves, and that are puerile in the manner of their illustration, and without practical purpose in their conclusions.‘83

There is, finally, the ‘Oriental mind’ argument. Examples have been given already of the tendency to compare Buddhist with Western philosophy; and occasionally the comparison is made to the disadvantage of the former, with the suggestion, sometimes implicit, sometimes not, that the Oriental mind is inherently incapable of rising to the heights of breadth, clarity, incisiveness, of Western philosophy. ‘It seems impossible for the Eastern mind to hold at the same time the two conceptions of God and nature, the infinite and the finite, eternity and time. The

I.N WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES 149

Brahmans accept the reality of God, the infinite and the eternal, and deny the reality of the finite, of nature, history, time, and the world. The Buddhist accepts the last, and ignores the first. The peculiarity of Plato, according to Mr. Emerson and other Platonists, was that he was able to grasp and hold intellectually both conceptions,-of God and man, the infinite and the finite, the eternal and the temporal. The merit of Christianity was, in like manner, that it was able to take up and keep . . . both these antagonistic ideas.‘s4

There is one important point, the development of which is beyond the scope of the present article: it lies behind all the matters considered so far, and goes a long way towards explaining them. Most commentators assumed that Pali Buddhism was the original and pure species, which, for all its faults, had, at least, a set of high moral ideals and precepts, and a human figure at its centre of surpassing impressiveness. Mahayana Buddhism was seen as a definite declension from this pure original state, a degeneration into idolatry and superstition, with multitudes of heavenly Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and the like, and an extensive range of devotional activities. Samuel Beal and Timothy Richard are conspicuous exceptions to the general tendency to refuse to consider MahEyana Buddhism in any light other than this. In addition, however, this prevailing attitude was complicated by a further consideration: the recognition that, although Mahayana Buddhism represented a degeneration, yet it was an inevitable development, and, because inevitable, a species of blessing. Its heavens and heavenly beings, although involved with idolatrous practices, were nevertheless efflorations of those permanent and irrepressible religious needs and aspirations of men which had remained unfulfilled by early Buddhism; early Buddhism-‘original’, ‘primitive’, ‘genuine’ Buddhism- was cold and unnatural, and Mahsyana, degenerate though it might be, satisfied man’s inherent religious instincts, to a degree. Moreover, even this more subtle evaluation was further complicated by widespread assumptions concerning the evolution of religion, Mahgyana being, therefore, interpreted as a misdirected though undeniably progressive movement towards monotheism. This fact-that MahHyana was not only little understood, but also almost unanimously criticized-may well be explained by this tradition’s containing a greater degree of elements which had no parallels in Western religious or philosophical traditions, although account should be taken not only of the obvious parallels between Buddhist practices in Mahayana countries and ‘idolatrous’ practices met with elsewhere, but also of the comparatively rarer acquaintance with Mahayana literature, in any attempt to locate the underlying causes of this set of attitudes.85

IV

The final task which is required, to complete this picture of the Western response to Buddhism, is to indicate those qualities of Buddhism as a whole which were generally highly-esteemed, and those which

EARLY ASSUMPTIONS

elicited criticism. To a considerable extent, of course, critics discovered the kind of good quality which was consonant with their personal pre- dilections, and the following factors tell us much about the intellectual nature of the critics. Nevertheless, we learn, from what follows, the impression made by Buddhism; we discover those features which appeared salient and especially worthy of remark.

It will suffice merely to list the points which were singled out for positive praise: they are those points which might be expected to evoke approbation, echoing as they do several of the most well-known pre- occupations of the age. First, then, the abundant charity of Buddhism was singled out for praise-to Copleston and St. Hilaire it was Buddhism’s true and chief glory; second, its several other laudable virtues-patience, resignation, humility, and so on, which seemed to many to be inferior only to those Christian virtues which they so closely resembled; third, its eminently practical aim of saving all mankind, enshrined in precepts of great moral strength and simplicity; fourth, the considerable practical benefits accruing from it; fifth, the notable fact of its peaceful missionary spread; and finally, its lack of obscenity and vice-in marked contrast to, for instance, the Hindu tradition, contemporaneously met and studied. The close correspondence between all these factors and elements in the intellectual life of the West will be obvious, and further comment is not needed on the rationale behind the concentration on these particular points.86

Bashford cites de Groot’s estimate, that ‘Buddhism represents the highest stage of devotion and piety to which . . . man in East Asia has been able to raise himself,’ and goes on to comment: ‘But the majority of students of Buddhism do not accept (this) high estimate placed upon its teachings and influence,‘87 and it is not uncommon to find suggestions -implicit or explicit- that its defects far outweigh its good qualities, its general inadequacy usually emphasized, on the part of Christian writers, by a step by step contrast between Buddhism and Christianity.s8 These extended comparisons naturally contain a long series of points- Titcomb lists thirty-five-but there were several features of Buddhism which attracted the attention of almost all critics. A brief consideration of these will indicate the manner in which Buddhism was understood, and will fill out the implications contained in the last paragraph con- cerning the way in which cultural assumptions guided interpretation. What will also become apparent are the expectations and preconceptions concerning ‘religion’ entertained in these writings, a factor which will throw light on the discussion, referred to at the beginning of the article, as to whether Buddhism should be considered a religion or a philosophy.

The first of these criticisms is that Buddhism is pessimistic, a charge repeated almost without exception by those referred to herein. Hardwick, whose treatment is detached and scholarly, gives it as his opinion that ‘the Buddhist sorrowed as the man who has no hope; and his philosophy is therefore the philosophy of despair’.8g Nothing constructive or prac- tical could be expected from such a basic attitude, an attitude judged

IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES

either to be ‘unhealthy’, ‘unnatural’, ‘fruitless’, ‘unfortunate,’ and so on, according to the predisposition of the critic, or to rest on simple error: the world, as any healthy Westener knew, simply was not like that. As J. B. Carpenter noted, ‘There are moments in which we are all Buddhists ; when life had disappointed us, when weariness is upon us . . . ’ ; here there is a degree of implication that it is unmanly and pusillanimous (in St. Hilaire’s phrase) to dwell on these moments, and basically wrong and unreasonable to forget that life does not consist merely of such times.s0 Eitel’s judgment of the intellectual defectiveness of Buddhism was based, partly, on precisely this point: ‘It is . . . essentially a religion of sullen despair, based on the total obliteration of a healthy faith in the actual constitution of things.‘g1

The other characteristic defects remarked by critics are those elements which appeared as missing, but which were obviously expected to be present in any sound religious system. Above all, the idea of God was absent; this was ‘the irreparable error of Buddhist faith,‘gs from which sprang all its manifold faults. Without God, it appeared, there could be no sense of moral obligation, no security for the rights of man.s3 The pessimism already remarked has its origin here, as does its selfishness, and as, indeed, does its central teaching on ana&? (itself, as we have been, a basic philosophical defect) ;g4 its decline in India, and its Mahayana transformation were alike traced by Bashford to, in part, its atheism and pessimism. gs

Associated with this is the lamentable lack of any sense of sin. Edkins considered that ‘the ideas of sin and misfortune are very much confused,’ and, in the opinion of Grant, ‘a religion that knows nothing of guilt has not probed the wound of humanity. It cannot, therefore, give the remedy which man needs, cannot elevate our nature, and cannot be the permanent religion of humanity.‘g6 Equally there can be neither gratitude nor love in Buddhism, for its central figure is neither a Creator, nor a Redeemer, nor a Sanctifier.g7

Its metaphysical framework of Karma, together with its doctrines of anattd and Nirvgna, result in a total absence of any adequate motive for action, or of any sense of duty. This point is admirably expressed in the following: ‘But the goal itself is not really a moral one, and the two allied doctrines of Karma and Nirvana, on which the system depends, are too ethereal for popular apprehension. Men can understand the elementary distinction between right and wrong, and can form some understanding of a balance between the good and evil actions of their own lives, but the abstract idea of a moral resultant which comes down from a vast series of previous existences, and which is to be carried forward to a series not less vast in the future, is too subtle and too far away from daily life to carry with it much moral weight. It does not constrain the conscience, and it almost eludes the grasp of the imagination.98

The final outcome of all this was that, in the words of one critic, ‘the practical result of Buddhism [was] not what might have been expected from its spirituality, its ethical code and the lofty character of its

EARLY ASSUMPlTO.hfS

founder.‘sg It was not a question of any universal denial of practical results-even so strong a critic as Monier-Williams could devote a paragraph to the enumeration of the practical achievements of Buddhismrs@--but, rather, a general judgment that, considering its potential, and the comparable results brought about by Christianity, Buddhism must be found wanting, and this conviction grew stronger as the social implications of Christianity were recognized.101 True to the spirit of the age, there was very little questioning of the assumption that practical results were laudable and necessary-the general opinion was that that which did not bring about empirical change and did not have practical effect was ultimately useless, and usefulness was widely con- sidered to be a sine qua non of the validity of a religious system, as of most other things. Mrs. MacDonald is a lone voice: ‘Why should a life of thought, of devotion to spiritual rather than material needs, be a more selfish or less humane life than one of action?’ and she goes on to point to the ubiquity of this assumption.lo2

The foregoing, it is hoped, will have given an insight into the way in which Buddhism was approached in the nineteenth century. The literature on the subject is conditioned in its selection and its treatment of material by presuppositions, both individual and cultural. Beyond this, however, and with wider interest for the study of religion, it is possible not only to identify the cultural presuppositions, but also to ascertain the degree to which they operated-to see the manner in which they both governed the way in which Buddhism was understood, and even exercised a limiting and controlling function, whereby only those elements of Buddhism which were, or which seemed to be, consonant with them, were brought forward for consideration.

NOTES

I. Although most of the work referred to is from the nineteenth century, occasional reference is made to material from the early twentieth century.

2. William Lucas Sargant, Buddha and His Religion, (Birmingham: William Hodgetts, 1864.L 5.

3. F. Max Miiller, ‘Buddhist Charity’, North American Review, Vol. 140, No. 340, March 18&, 221. cf. ‘A few years ago the magazines were full of it; and every young lady;.who made any pretensions to the-higher culture, was prepared to admire %rch a beautiful relidon and so like Christianity”.’ ‘Buddhism’. Ihe Qua&$ Review, Vol. 170, No. i40, April 1890, 318. (Hereafter, Bud&&n, 18&).

4. Writing as late as 1886, H. C. DuBose (The Dragon, Image and Demon, or the Three Religions of China (London: S. W. Partridge, 1886), 167) could deal in a matter of a couple of paragraphs with the JhLinas.

3. A. P. Sinnett, Esoteric Buddhism (London: Triibner, 1883) and his voluminous output in general. F. Max Miiller, ‘Esoteric Buddhism’, 7% .h%eteenth Century, Vol. 23, No. 193, May 1893, 767-788; Frederika Macdonald, ‘Buddhism and Mock Buddhism’, l% Fortnight& Review, N.S., Vol. 37, No. 221, 1884, 703-716 (hereafter BMB) .

6. This topic is surveyed, with full references and trenchant criticism, by J. Estlin Carpenter. ‘The Obligations of the New Testament to Buddhism’, 7% J\rin&&h ce&ry, Vol. 8, No. 46, December, 1880, 871-884; see also Charles Hardwick, Christ and Qther Maste7s (London: Macmillan, 1886), ~14-8, and Edward J. Thomas,

IN WESTERJV BUDDHIST STUDIES ‘53

The Life of the Buddha as Legend and History (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 3rd ed. ig4g), 237-248, cf. the article by Child, infra, note 34.

7. References to Buddhism as ‘idolatry’ or ‘superstition’ would fill a book, and, it should be noted, occur throughout the period. For a summary of relevant develop- ments in theology, see A. C. Bouquet, The Christian Faith and Avon-Christian Religions, (London: James Nisbet, rg58), 335-423. For ‘liberal’ views on the relation of Buddhism and Christianity, see e.g., Henry T. Prinsep, Tibet, Tartay, and Mongolia . . . and the Religion of Boodh as there existing, Second edition, (London: W. H. Allen, 1852), 176% Timothy Richard’s many writings, e.g. ‘Comparative Religion’ in Conversion by the Million in China (Shanghai: Christian Literature Society, igo7), 2 vols., Vol. II; Evan Morgan, ‘The Christian Elements in Buddhism’, Chinese Recorder, Vol. 42, No. I, Jan. rgi I, 19-28, and Vol. 42, No. 2, Feb. 1911, 98-105; W. A. P. Martin, The Lore of Cathay, (New York: Fleming H. Revell, n.d., [rgoz]). 249-263; Gilbert Reid, ‘A Christian’s Appreciation of Buddhism’, Biblical World, N.S., Vol. 47, No. I, Jan. 1916, I 5-24.

For further refs. regarding Richard, see the literature cited under note 85, as also for Beal.

For Reichett, see Sverre Holth, Karl Luduig Reichelt, (Egede Institute Occasional Papers, No. 2), (Oslo: Egede Instituttet, ig52), which includes a bibliography of R’s work; see also Paul D. Twinem, ‘A New Brotherhood’, Chinese Recorder, Vol. 55, No. I I, Nov., 1923, 639-648.

8. For examples of the theological debate, see the discussions between Ashmore and Genahr in The Chinese Recorder for 18923; D. Z. Sheffield, ‘Christianity and the Ethnic Religions’, ibid., Vol. 34, No.-3, March, 1903, 106-118; G. T.. Candlin, ‘What Should be Our Attitude toward the False Relieions?’ ibid.. Vol. 21. No. 2. March, 1892, 99-110. For an interesting aspect, see-David Everett SW%, ‘Coil servative versus Progressive Orthodoxy in Latter 19th Century Congregationalism’, Church History, March 1947, 2231.

For discussion and information on the place of ‘comparative religion’ in the training of Anglican ordinands and missionaries, see Secretaries to the Conference (edd.), Conference on Missions held in 1860 at Liverpool (London: James Nisbet, 1860), 17-24, 56, 68, 92-4, 153-164, 233-240, 254-5 and 264-5; and George A. Spottiswoode (ed.), The O&al Report of the Missionary Conference of the Anglican Communion (for) 1894, (London: The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, IW), 40,472 50% 592.

g. H. M. Johnson, ‘Buddhism’, Methodist Quart@ Review, Fourth Series, Vol. I I, No. 39, October 1859, 587; the anonymous ‘Buddhism and its Influence’, National Quarterly Review, Vol. 13, No. 25, June 1866, 92 (hereafter InJluence); J. Gmeiner, ‘The Light of Asia and the Light of the World’. The Catholic World. Vol. d2. No. 2~7. October 1885, 1-2; H. C. l&Bose, op. cit., ;Sg. The general point o? numerical superiority seemed to Timothy Richard to be one of marked significance in the consideration of religions-see his Conversion by the Million in China, Vol. I, 171-2; cf. the title of the article by Feudge, cited infra, note 37.

10. ‘Amicus’, ‘On Religious Opinions in China’, Indo-Chinese Gleaner, No. 18, October 182 I, 186; The anonymous ‘Buddhism’, flew Englander, Vol. 3, April 1845, 182 (hereafter Buddhism, 1845) ; E. Hungerford, ‘Buddhism and Christianity’, ibid., Vol. 33, April, 1874, 268; R. Spence Hardy, Christianity and Buddhism Compared (Colombo; Wesleyan Mission Press, 1874), Introduction.

I I. For the first point the anonymous ‘Buddhism: or, The Protestantism of the East’, The Atlantic Month&, Vol. 23, No. 140, June 1869, 722 (hereafter BPE); William Davies, ‘Buddhism’, ibid., Vol. 74, 1894, 335. Archibald Scott, Buddhism and Christianity A Parallel and a Contrast (Edinburgh; David Douglas, 18go), 15-16. For the second point, Buddhism 18+5, 182-3; Injumze, 92; Gmeiner, op. cit., r-z; cf. &@a, note 6.

I 2. Ernest J. Eitel, Buddhism: its Historical, Theoretical and Popular Aspects, Third edition (Shanghai: Kelly and Walsh, 1884), 66. (For a criticism of Eitel, see T. Watters, ‘Mr Eitel’s Three Lectures on Buddhism’, Chinese Recorder, Vol. 4, No. 3, August

EARLY- ASSUMPTIONS

I 87 I, 65-7). Scott, op. cit., I 3 ; Frank F. Ellinwood, Oriental Religions and Christianity (London: James N&bet, r8g2), 154f, 304, 322. For a brief treatment of a popular comparison, see E. J. Dillon, ‘Ecclesiastes and Buddhism’, Contemporary Review, Vol. 65, Feb. 1894, 153-176.

13. John Caird, Buddhism (Lecture II of the St. Giles’ Lectures-Second Series, The Faiths of the World (Edinburgh & London: William Blackwood, 1882), 57. In the words of one author, ‘the weakness of Buddhism consists in its fatal omissions rather than in the falseness of the positive elements of its teaching’. (C. Galton, ‘The Morality of Buddhism’, The Month, Vol. 78, No. 347, May 1893, 15).

15. 16.

17. 18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

Bishop Claughton, cited Samuel Beal, Buddhism in China (London, S.P.C.K., 18g4), 98; Sir M. Monier-Williams, The Ho& Bible and the Sacred Books of the East (London, S.P.C.K., rgoo), 31. (Hereafter SBE) Galton, op. cit., 5. Macdonald, BMB, 705. Beal, lot. cit.; G. M. Grant, The Religions of the World (London: A. C. Black, r8g5), 150. The matter, however, is not as simple as this might suggest. Those who recognized the presence of worship and other ‘religious’ elements did not necessarily consider Buddhism to be a religion, nor did those who did so consider it base their opinion on the mere presence of such elements. The question is related to that of the evaluation of this ‘religious’ element, and, again, to the still broader one of the evaluation of the different stages in the development of the Buddhist tradition. For scholars who located the original intention of the Buddha, and the true nature of Buddhism, in the Pali scriptures, worship, hope, and the like were later declensions from this ideal. In such a case, ‘true’ Buddhism would still be con- sidered as a philosophy, even when the presence of ‘religious’ elements in Buddhism was admitted. On this point, cf. note 85. Grant, op. cit., 138; cf. InJueme, 96; Hungerford, oj. cit., 268-g. For an example of each approach, see H. P. Liddon, Essays and Addresses (London: Longmans Green, x892), Sermon I, pa&m; DuBose, op. cit.; and J. Barthelemy St. Hilaire, The Buddha and his Religion, trans. Laura Ensor (London: George Routledge, n.d.). For a typical and reliable approach, see Eitel, op. cit., Carpenter, op. cit., 9728’ gives a concise summary of the way in which the life of the Buddha is treated in the main nineteenth century works. Hardwick, op. cit., 67 and Sargant, op. tit., 14. For a romantic treatment of the story, see E. Vansittart Neale, ‘Buddha and Buddhism’, Mannillan’s Magazine, Vol. I, April 1860, 439-448, and especially Edwin Arnold, The Light of Asia (London: Trtibner, r87g), ‘the gushing Edwin Arnold’, as DuBose (op. cit., 59) calls him. For a summary of the typical romantic fallacies regarding the Buddha, see Buddhism (ISgo), 318. Frederika Macdonald, Buddha and Buddhism, in Religious Systems of the World. . . . Addresses delivered at South Place Institute. (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 18go), 131. She continues: ‘For those who have made themselves familiar with these ideas and beliefs in the simpler stages of their growth, the difficulties and contradictions . . . will have no existence’, 112. (Hereafter Buddha and Buddhism). In order, the sources bf-these are ‘Buddhism: its Origin and Results’, Methodist Quarter& Iietieru, Vol. 21, April 1861, 221 (Hereafter BOR); Sargant, op. cit., 27; Hardy, op. cit., 35-6; J. H. Titcomb, Short Chapters on Buddhism Post and Present (London: The Religious Tract Society, n.d. (18g3?), 18; W. E. Soothill, A Mission in China (Edinburgh and London: Oliphant, Anderson, and Ferrier, 1go7), 271. Gmeiner, op. cit., 7. cf. notes 66 and 84. M. Simpson Culbertson, Darkness in the Flowery Land: or, Religious flotians and Po@lar Superstitions in North China (New York: Charles Scribner, 1857), 70; Ia@ence, 95; Soothill, op. cit., 271. A very charitable exoneration of Culbertson might be-based on the fact that-he was only intending to give a very brief intro- duction to Buddhism in China, or that he mieht have been reporting a Chinese - - version of the biography-the latter is not e&lent from the context, the former still leaves us with a degree of misrepresentation.

IN WESTERJV BUDDHIST STUDIES 155

24. Joseph Edkins, The Religious Condition of the Chinese (London: Routledge, Warnes, and Routledge, r85g), 129; an unacknowledged reference, cited with implicit approval, DuBose, op. cit., 156; Macdonald, Buddha and Buddhism, 141.

25. Sheila McDonough, ‘Sense and Sensibility: A Survey of Western Attitudes to Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam, as expressed in various editions of the En&o- paedia Britannica, Journal of World History, Vol. g, No. 3, 1966, 783.

26. T. Watters, op. cit., 64. 27. McDonough, op. cit., 784. 28. Anon., ‘Buddhism: Mythical and Historical’, Westminster Review, N.S. Vol. IO;

No. 2, October 1856, 328. (Hereafter BMH). 29.

30. 3’. 32.

33.

34.

35.

36. 37.

38. 39. 40.

4’. 42.

Prinsep, op. cit., - - 147; Grant, op. cit., 134. It should be noted, however, that a writer’s being Christian need not necessarily involve such misapprehension-Scott for instance (op. cit., 143) gives a sound treatment-and that the passage of time need not imply evolutionary progress of scholarship-in 1916, Bashford can still speak, midleadingly, of the central experience of the Buddha as ‘his hour of absolute surrender to his call’, as that ‘acceptance of one’s cross’ which is in all religious traditions. (James W. Bashford, China: An Interpretation (New York: The Abingdon Press, rgr6), 208). B.M.H., 327; Caird, op. cit., 49. Ellinwood, op. cit., 357; cf. St. Hilaire, ofi. cit., 14. Grant, op. cit., 139; cf. ibid., 130; St. Hilaire, op. cit., 177-8; Titcomb, op. cit., 14; Stanley Lane-Poole, ‘The Light of Asia’, Macmillan’s Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 246, 1879, 4.967; Liddon, op. cit., 2S-g. For a rare criticism, see Ellinwood, op. cit., 357-8. For the former, e.g., ‘He seems to come nearest to Him to whom the Father gave the Spirit without measure’. (Grant, op. cit., r3g), cf. Lane-Poole, op. cit., 496-7. For the latter, cf. note 6; see also George Shann, ‘St. Luke and Buddhism’, The Nineteenth century, Vol. 54, No. 317, July 1903, 120-125; A. Lilhe, Popular l;fe of Buddha . . . (London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., 1883); B.O.R., 220-225. The first sentence is from DuBose, op. cit., 163, the second from L. Maria Child, ‘Resemblances between the Buddhist and the Roman Catholic Religions’, The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 26, No. 158, December 1870, 661. See Carpenter, op. cit.; for theological criticism, see, for instance, Hardy, op. cit., (Book II); Scott, op. cit., (Chapter III). Sir M. Monier-Williams, Buddhism, in its Connexion with Brcihmantim and Hindkm (London: John Murray, r88g), 548ff. Macdonald, Buddha and Buddhism, 133-4, and BMB, 704. Fannie Roper Feudge, ‘The Mammoth Religion of the World’, Galaxy, Vol. 16, September 1873, 345; B.O.R., 219; Inzuence, 96. Liddon, op. cit., g. DuBose, op. cit., 163. For the general comparison of Luther and the Buddha, see Eitel, op. cit., 6-7; Grant, op. cit., 125; ‘in a word, Buddhism is the Lutheranism of the Hindoo Church’-Neumann, cited without reference in ‘Chinese Buddhism’, Asiatic 3ournal and MontUy Register, N.S., Vol. 6, No. 23, Sept.-Dec. 1831, 262. For the abrogation of caste, see ‘On the Era of the Buddhas’, ibid., Vol. 23, No. 138, June 1827, 783-4 B.O.R., 224; Child, op. cit., 661; Liddon, op. cit., g. The phrase is Grant’s, op. cit., 142. T. W. Rhys Davids, ‘The Ancient Buddhist Belief concerning God’, The Modern Review. Vol. I. 1880. 210. As earlv as 1856. the author of BMH had made this point (326-7),‘cf. also Hardwick, &. cit., ;I-2; ‘Chinese Buddhism’, op. cit., 262; Max Duncker, Ihe History of Antiquity, trans. Evelyn Abbot, 6 vols., Vol. IV (London; Richard Bentley, 1880), 36of; Titcomb, op. cit., 121-a; E. Washburn Hopkins, ‘The Message of Buddhism to Christianity’, The Biblical Wwld, N.S., Vol. 28, No. 2. Aug. 1906, 97.

43. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 14. 44. Caird, op. cit., 5 I. 45. The phrases cited are, respectively, from Scott, op. cit., 221, Caird, op. cit., 52 and

EARLY ASSUMPTIOJVS

BMH, 325. cf. Liddon, op. cit., 39. There were a few who argued that Buddhism esteemed the cultivation of intellectual gifts above the acquisition of moral virtues, but Mrs Macdonald urged that a careful reading of the Eightfold Path would ‘dismiss once and for all’ thii criticism. (Buddha and Buddhism, 141).

46. Injuence, log-IIO; Eitel, op. cit., 63fi DuBose, op. cit., 204.f; Scott, op. cit., 221, 224; Titcomb, op. cit., 8.

47. For a typical treatment, of great lucidity, see St. Hilaire, op. cit. It cannot be assumed that even the greatest commentators were completely reliable-for a criticism of Rhys David? analysis of the Eightfold Path, see Buddhism (r&“), 170.

48. Caird, op. cit., 56. Exactly how elevated was a matter of occasional dispute. Hardwick (op. cit., 67), Scott (op. cit., 221 & 224), Caird (op. tit., 52 and 55f), and Titcomb (op. cit., 122) place it second only to Christianity; Johnson (op. cit., 586) places it above all others. Monier-Williams (SBE. 25), Richard S. Copleston (Buddhism; Primitive and Present in Magadha and Ceylon (London: Longmans, 189s) 2 IS), and Ellinwood (op. cit., 26) disagree.

49. Eitel, op. cit., 95. cf. ‘Love for all beings is its nucleus, every animal being our possible relative. To love our enemies, to offer our lives for animals, to abstain from even defensive warfare, to govern ourselves, to avoid vices, to pay obedience to superiors, to reverence age, to provide food and shelter for men and animals. . . show no intolerance, not to persecute, are the virtues of (Buddhists)‘. BPE, 723 and cf. Sargant, op. cit., pp. 2off.

50. Hardwick, op. cit., 69; Galton, op. cit., 4-5. 51. Caird, op. cit., 56. 52. This prejudice is not only implicit. The first two lectures of Monier-Williams’s

SBE are full of references to strengths and virtues associated with the English public-school tradition. On this, cf. note go.

53. Neale, op. cit., 447. For a typical general criticism of Buddhist morality, see Copleston, op. cit., ch. XV.

54. St. Hilaire, op. tit., 175. 55. Grant, op. cit., 153-4. No reference is given for the quotation, beyond the naming

of a ‘Mr Mills’. 56. Eitel, op. cit., 96, and St. Hilaire, op. cit., 153. Scott (op. cit., 163, 2.&f.) and

Hopkins (op. cit., Ioof.) agree. Not all were of this opinion-see Watters’ very strong criticism of Eitel (op. cit., 68), and cf. ‘The secret of the power of the Buddhist doctrine lies in this, that it is an utterly unselfish one; it teaches us from Buddha’s example that the greatest good and happiness a man can enjoy is to do good to others. The thought of self is evil’. (Beal, op. cit., 82), and Macdonald, BMB, 715.

57. J. Campbell Gibson, Mission Problems and Mission Methods in South China (Edinburgh & London: Oliphant, Anderson, and Ferrier, ‘go’), 108. The phraseology used here suggests immediately the subject of monasticism. To deal with this requires separate treatment, so copious are the references to it.. Nevertheless, it is worth pointing out that the degree of unanimity of opinion is wellnigh universal, and the reader comes to expect the epithets, self-righteous, introverted, ignorant, aimless, apathetic, and the like. That the sharp criticism results sometimes from anti-monastic prejudice (e.g. Eitel, op. cit., 82) and sometimes from a lack of comprehension of the Buddhist goal (cf. Ellinwood, op. cit., 154) need hardly be said. The literature is full, too, of descriptions of monasteries and of monks and monastic life.

58. Records of the General Conference of the Protestant Missionaries of China . . . 1877 (Shanrrhai. Presbvterian Mission Press. 18781, qo2 (hereafter Records). Not many

. , _ - 1

&reed wi& this; ior the opposite view,.cf. notes &3. 59. Eitel, q?. c i t . , ggf. cf. note 12. 60. For typical treatments, with copious and illuminating criticisms, see DuBose and

Eitel.‘$or a very sound approa&, see Gibson (op. tit.): 61. See e.2. Eitel. 00. cit., 60-1. A twical blanket criticism is the following: ‘Most

I _ , _

of the writings contain nothing but absolute absurdities and rwerie?. (John Kesson, The Cr0s.s and the Dragon, (London: Smith Elder, 1854) 179: Kesson here

IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES

62. 63. 64.

65. 66.

67. 68. 69.

70.

7’.

72. 73.

uses as his sources, Gtitzlaff and ‘other writers’, cf. notes 20-22, and, important for the underlying assumptions, note 80. Edkins, op. cit., 93-4. Hardy, op. cit., 43. B.M.H.. 217. St. Hilaire fob. cit.. 166) calls it. ‘the Connective Chain of Converse Causes’,’ the’ reviewer referied to (Ioc: cit.) ‘The doctrine of the Concatenation of Causes’. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 166. Ellinwood, op. cit., 298-g. cf. Hardy’s comment, note 63. The confusion is accepted as a fact of life by one reviewer-‘we must not expect that precision or unity of application which we should demand in an European philosophical discussion’. (BMH, 317). Notes 28 and 29. Spottiswoode (ed.), op. cit. (details note 8), 331. Ellinwood, op. cit., 1oo.n. The same author makes the familiar comparison with modern ideas, with the final comment that the ‘gaps and inconsistencies [of the Buddhist theory of the skandhas] are fatal, as must be seen when it is thoroughly examined’. (ibid., 148). BPE., 725f. c.f. the views of Arthur Lillie, who held-in almost splendid isolation- that atheistic and soulless Buddhism was drawn from the Great Vehicle, a spurious system introduced into Ceylon about the time of the Christian era. See his Popular Life of Buddha. (Details under note 33), and his Buddha and Ear& Buddhism (London: Trtibner & Go., 1881). Scott, op. cit., 208; W. Davies, op. cit., 335. Edkins, op. cit., 167. cf. Liddon, supra, note 38, significant because, as a sermon, it was instrumental in popularizing the views expressed therein; cf. also Ellinwood, note 74. cf. BPE. ‘Without a soul to migrate, there can be no migration’, (725). Hardy, @. cit., 22, Scott, op. cit., 207 and 197. St. Hilaire saw it as ‘but an inde- fensible hypothesis’ (op. cit., ITS), Edkins as ‘mere fables’ (op. cit., 167): Rhys Davids spoke of the law of Karma as ‘this wonderful hypothesis, this airy nothing, this imaginary cause beyond the reach of reason . . . ‘, Buddhism (London: S.P.C.K., 18g4), 106.

74.

75. 76.

77.

For the type of philosophical criticism directed against it, see Hopkins, op. cit., 26-7. Ellinwood, op. cit., 347. St. Hilaire adds the point that man has no freedom to escape from the remorseless situation (op. cit., 166). This criticism should be seen in connection with the general one, passed on Buddhism as a whole, that it is pessimistic and fatalistic, and for this, see below. St. Hilaire (op. cit., I 75). Sargant, 4p. cit., I I. cf. ‘How degrading the dogma which reduces a man to a level with the beasts that perish! The poor Buddhist can certainly have no very high conception of the dignity of human nature. Today, indeed, he is a man; a thinking, intelligent being; but tomorrow he may be a poor whining dog, or mewing cat’. (Culbertson, op. cit., 86) cf. Edkins, note 71. This famous conversation is frequently referred to; e.g. Alec R. Vidler, 2% Church in M Age of Reuolution (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1g61), I 17; emphasis in original.

78. James S. Dennis, Christian Missions and Social Progress (Edinburgh and London: Oliphant Anderson and Ferrier, r8g7- ), 3 vols, Vol. I, 434.

79. G. R. Welbon, l& Buddhist .Nirv&a end its Western Interpreters (Chicago: University Press, 1968). For Rhys Davids’ opinion, complete with references, see his Buddhism, I IO-I rg and his article ‘On Nirvana . . . ‘, Contemporary Review, Vol. 29, Jan. 1877,

80. Eitel, op. cit., 95. He proceeds to instance, as a particular example of its intellectual weakness, its ‘prodigious fondness for the miraculous, because it comes into collision with the results of experimental investigation and especially also because it gives such undue preference to the transcendental and future’.

EARLY ASSUMPTIONS 158

81. 82. 83. 84.

8.5

Records, 73. Emphasis in original. Edkins, op. cit., rgo. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 145; Hardy, op. cit., gg. BPE, 726. For a similar view, in greater detail, see Galton, op. cit., 8. For the ‘Oriental Mind’ argument, cf. n. 66. References to substantiate all the points made in this paragraph are far too numerous to give: almost all the major commentators will furnish evidence, from the most ignorant or partisan, to the greatest scholars (e.g. for Rhys Davids’ scathing description of the bodhisattva doctrine as a ‘birana weed’ which spread so that it choked the healthy plant of original Buddhism, see his Dialog~s of the Buddha (London: Luzac & Co. for the Pali Text Society, r8gg- ), 3 vols., Vol. III, I). The general drift of the argument may be found in Eitel, op. cit., zg, 54-5, 97-8, 102-3, 138% cf. DuBose, op. cit., zoof and 300; Grant, o#. cit., 143-4, 150-1, 154-5; Galton, op. cit., 6 etc. Bcal’s work, already cited, shows his sympathy with Chinese Buddhism. Timothy Richard’s opinions on MahHyBna and its relation to Christi- anity, may be found in his i% New Testament if Higher Buddhism (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. 1010). in his ‘Christian Missions in Asia’. in Conversion bv the Million

I . , , * * in China (for details see note 7), Vol. I, 166-186, and scattered throughout his work. His autobiography, Forty-Five Years in China (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1916) should be consulted, as should his translation of The Awakening of Faith (new edition, London: Charles Skilton, 1961). On his principles of translation, see W. E. Soothill, Timothy Richard of China (London: Seeley Service, rgz4), 316ff, and G. E. Mottle, ‘The Awakening of Faith . . . ,’ Chinese Recorder, Vol. 42, No. 6, June ISI I, 347-52, together with TR’s reply following. The whole question of the historical validity of TR’s assumptions concerning Mahayana has been dealt with by R. F. Johnston, ‘Buddhist and Christian Origins: An Appreciation and a Protest’, ‘Th Quest, Vol. 4, No. I, October rgrz, 137-163.

86. Buddhism’s good points are summed up classically by St. Hilaire, 0.4. cit., 146ff, but may be found in all the major treatments of Buddhism. To a certain extent, these matters have been anticipated already, and, for the first two of these points, see notes 4g & 50. For (3), see Scott, op. cit., 12-13, and MacDonald, BMB, 707. For (4), see Hardwick, op. cit., 108-g; Eitel, op. cit., 81-2; Duncker, op. cit., 489-90; BPE, 723; In$%erue, 98. For (5), Scott, op. cit., 12-13; Grant, op. cit., 130-131; Injl~nce, 107; BMH, 308; Hardwick, op. cit., 70. For (6) E. Montgomery Martin, China; Political, Commercial and Social (London: James Madden, 1847), 2 vols., Vol. II, 441; Robert Philip, China: its Creeds and Customs (London & Edinburgh: T. Nelson, nd.), I I ; Culbertson, op. cit., 70; BOR, 225.

87. Bashford, op, cit., 248, citing J. J. M. de Groot. The Religion of’ the Chinese, 188. 88. ‘Buddhism is disfigured by some most important radical defects, which will in

the estimation of an impartial critic far outweigh all the . . . points of advantage, and which in fact neutralize most of its beneficial elements’. (Eitel, OP. cit., g5)- cf. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 146. For examples of the extended comparison, see Titcomb, op. cit., 192-200; Monier-Williams, Buddhism . . . , 537-563; and Hardy, op. cit., pasim.

89. Hardwick, op. cit., 67. For this, and all the following points, the comparisons referred to in the previous note may be consulted, as may all the major treatments of Buddhism.

90. Carpenter is cited by Ellinwood, ofi. cit., 323. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 160. 9’. Eitel, op. cit., g5-6. The reviewer in Buddhism (r8go), discussing the first noble

truth, comments, parenthetically, that the assumption behind it is ‘a false and base one’. (326).

92. St. Hilaire, op. cit., 153. 93. For the first point, see Edkins, op. cit., 168; for the second, see Scott, op. cif., 250;

cf. ‘Buddhism degrades man by denying that there is any being above him’. (Copleston, op. cit., 2 I 7).

94. ‘This fundamental defect of Buddhism, that its aim is really selfish, also springs from its atheism.’ (Grant, op. cit., 155). For selfishness, see notes 55, 56 & 57.

IN WESTERN BUDDHIST STUDIES ‘59

‘His view of the soul resulted from his atheistic position and his belief in the materialistic nature of all existence’ (ibid., 153). Scott (op. cit., 206) sees a lack of vitality springing from both its atheism and its lack of belief in an immortal soul.

85. Bashford, op. cit., 258. For the question of MahHyana, see note 85. 96. Edkins, op. cit., 181; Grant, op. cit., 153; cf. Hardwick, op. cit., 60. 97. Copleston, op. cit., 106. cf. MacDonald, note 36. 98. Gibson, op. cit., log-r IO. (Implied here is a point relevant to note 85, for Gibson

interprets the MahgyyPna development of heavens and heavenly rewards as a reaction against this vague inconceivability, as an element which moved in and satisfied hitherto frustrated religious needs). For Gibson’s general point, cf. Scott, op. cit., 245; St. Hilaire, op. cit., 156; Titcomb, op. cit., 171; Hardy, op. cit., rag, and Dennis, op. cit., 437.

For contrasting views, cf. ‘We are forming our character; it is in our hands; it is a noble work . . . Here I repeat is the secret of the power of Buddhist doctrine . . . The responsibility is great’. Beal, ‘The Origin of the Spiritual Activity developed in Buddhism as its exists in China’, in Religious Systems oj’fhe World (details, note 20), 83-4, and ‘We see throughout Buddhism an assertion of human responsibility which tends in the highest degree to morality.’ (G. T. Bettany, The World’s Religions (London: Ward Lock, r8go), 246).

gg. Grant, op. cit., 145; cf. ‘its social virtues are essentially negative and strikingly unfruitful in good works.’ (Eitel, op. cit., 96).

IOO. Monier-Williams, Buddhism, 55 I. IOI. The fullest treatment of this particular topic is Dennis, op. cit. 102. MacDonald, BMB, 715-6, cf. Ellinwood, note 66.

TOPICS IN THEOLOGY A Series of Translations

GOD by Heinrich Ott Theology is essentially ‘talk of God.’ In Heinrich Ott’s view, God must be understood as personal. He must be a God not only about whom, but to whom we can talk. With this basic thesis, the author adopts a special stance in the contemporary discussion about an adequate understanding of God. Heinrich Ott succeeded Karl Barth in the Chair of Systematic Theology in the University of Basle. Paperback El.20 net

DEATH by Eberbard Jiingd Subtitled ‘The Riddle and the Mystery’, this book poses the question ‘What is death?’ in such a way that an answer from faith is made possible. The author shows how theology must deal with the findings of medicine, sociology and philosophy when it considers the problem. Eberhard J&gel, formerly Professor of Systematic Theology in Ziirich, is now Professor in the University qf Tiibingen.

Paperback &2.00 net THE SAINT ANDREW PRESS

121 George Street, Edinburgh EH2 4YN