religion is the strong and earnest direction of the emotions and desires towards an ideal object, recognised as of the highest excellence, and as rightfully paramount over all selfish objects of desire 1.'

After having examined these two classes of definitions, which look exclusively to either the practical or the theoretical side of religion, we have still to say a few words on the views taken of religion by one of the most theological of philosophers, Spinoza, and by one of the most philosophical of theologians, Schleiermacher.

Spinoza, 1632-77.

Though Spinoza defines true religion and piety as love of God, founded on a knowledge of his divine perfections-a definition with which Leibniz seems to agree-yet he considers that with us practical religion should come first, should in fact remain the only religion for the majority of mankind, while a higher and philosophical faith should be reserved for the few. What Spinoza means by practical religion, is simple obedience to divine commands, while the higher religion consists in the intellectual love of God, inseparable from a true philosophical knowledge of God and man, and leading to that true blessedness which arises. from the consciousness of our own God-given powers. The former he considers as based entirely on sacred books and historical revelation, the latter on the highest knowledge which can only be the work of our own mind. The former ought to be beneficial, the latter ought to be true; the former is to serve for the public good, the latter is to lead to that peace and 1 Three Essays, p. 104.

love of God, which passeth all understanding. Spinoza's view of religion does not in this respect differ much from that of the Brahmans. As they look upon the first and second period in a man's life as a discipline to subdue our human passions and weaknesses, Spinoza too expects practical religion to curb the passions and thus to prepare man for a higher life. Only after this has been achieved is the mind prepared for a purer light. In India this progress from a lower to a higher religion was supposed to take place in the same individual, when passing through the four stages of his life, the four âsramas. In Spinoza's time, and in the society by which he was surrounded, such a hope was impossible. Few only might find the way to the highest beatitude; but even for those who rested half-way, practical religion supplied, as Spinoza thought, all those comforts which human nature requires in every stage of its growth.

This was the man who not more than 200 years ago was considered the most dangerous heretic by his Jewish co-religionists.

Schleiermacher, 1768–1834.

Let us now hear what Schleiermacher has to say on religion, he who has likewise been spoken of as a most dangerous heretic by his Christian co-religionists. I mentioned already that he recognised true religion neither in thoughts nor in deeds, nor in both combined, but rather in a certain disposition or tone or character of the whole man, in what is called in German religiöse Stimmung. Religion was to him a kind of music pervading all our sentiments, our thoughts and our

acts. 'Religion,' he says1, 'is neither knowing nor doing, but an inclination and determination of our sentiments, which manifests itself in an absolute feeling of dependence on God.' Or again: 'Religion consists in our consciousness of absolute dependence on something which, though it determines us, we cannot determine in turn 2.'

He tries to describe this feeling or this disposition and inclination of the mind or the heart in ever varying expressions. He calls it 'a sentiment, sense, taste of the Infinite.' In his Second Discourse on Religion, he is anxious to show that religion is neither metaphysics nor ethics, nor a mixture of both, though something of each is mixed up with all positive religions. Religion is not knowledge, because the measure of knowledge is not the measure of piety. Observation may be said to belong to religion, but the observation of religion is different from that of science. It does not aim at knowing the finite in relation to the infinite, nor the nature of the highest cause by itself, or in relation to finite causes. It strives to view the universe, to watch it reverently in its own manifestations and acts, and to let itself be grasped and filled in childlike passivity by its immediate influences. Religion is the immediate consciousness of all that is finite within the infinite, of all that is temporal within the eternal.'

"This intuition, however,' he adds, 'without sentiment would be nothing, and cannot have either the right origin or the right force. Sentiment also without intuition would be nothing, and both together are

1 Christliche Glaubenslehre, § 3.

• Hibbert Lectures, p. 19.

something only when they are undivided, and because they are originally undivided.'

Hegel, 1770-1831.

In opposition to this sentiment of dependence and devotion which, according to Schleiermacher and his numerous disciples, constitutes the essential character of religion, Hegel defines religion as perfect freedom. If the sense of dependence constituted religion, he says, the dog might be called the most religious animal1. Religion, with Hegel, is perfect freedom; it is in fact the Divine Spirit as becoming conscious of Himself through the finite spirit. Or again, 'Religion is the knowledge acquired by the finite spirit of its essence as absolute spirit.'

Fichte, 1762-1814.

With equal boldness does another philosopher, Fichte, define religion, not as sentiment, but as knowledge. 'Religion is knowledge,' he says. 'It gives to man a clear insight into himself, answers the highest questions, and thus imparts to us a complete harmony with ourselves, and a thorough sanctification to our mind 2.'

What was considered a rather coarse joke of Hegel's has now become a serious doctrine. 'The feeling of religious devotion,' Darwin writes, is a highly complex one, consisting of love, complete submission to an exalted and mysterious superior, a strong sense of dependence, fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for the future, and perhaps other elements. No being could experienco so complex an emotion until advanced in his intellectual and moral faculties to at least a moderately high level. Nevertheless we see some dis. tant approach to this state of mind in the deep love of a dog for his master, associated with complete submission, some fear, and perhaps other feelings.' M. Houzian (Etudes sur les Facultés Mentales des Animaux, pp. 271-273) thinks that there are many persons and even peoples not so religious as dogs.' The monkeys of the Sunda Isles, we are told, gather shortly before sunrise in the highest treetops, and salute the rising sun with clamorous shouts. Open Court, 1889, p. 1458.

1 Hibbert Lectures, p. 15. We must here remember that knowledge

How to account for these different definitions.

It may seem difficult to understand how it is possible that men whose knowledge and whose honesty of purpose admit of no doubt should have arrived at such different, nay contradictory, definitions of religion. How could Schleiermacher see in religion absolute dependence, when Hegel perceives in it the most absolute freedom? How could Fichte define religion as the highest knowledge, while Agnostics in ancient as well as in modern times have represented the object of religion as beyond the sphere of human knowledge? Such contradictions have often been pointed out and made use of in order to prove the vanity of all human knowledge, or, at all events, the futility of philosophy, when applied to religious problems. But there is no reason to despair. I believe that the Science of Thought, as based on the Science of Language, supplies a solution to this as to many other riddles of philosophy. There is but one solution for them all, and this consists in our defining the words which we use in philosophical discussions.

At first sight dependence seems indeed the very opposite of freedom; but we have only to define dependence as trust, and then dependence or trust in God as the wisest, the most perfect and most powerhas been used in very different senses, varying from mere acquaintance with a subject to a perfect understanding of it. Thus while most theologians use belief as different from or even as opposed to knowledge, Dr. Flint, in his Lectures on Theism (p. 86, Appendix X, On Intuition, Feeling, Belief, and Knowledge in Religion), declares that 'belief is inseparable from knowledge, and ought to be precisely co-extensive with knowledge.' This may throw light on the real intention of his definition of religion. 'Perhaps,' he says, 'if we say that religion is man's belief in a being or beings, mightier than himself and inaccessible to his senses, but not indifferent to his sentiments and actions, we have a definition of the kind required.' (Theism, p. 32.) But can belief in what is inaccessible to our senses be rightly called knowledge?