It is quite possible that to some of the readers of these pages the very name of Shintoism was unknown; whereas all will have heard and read at least something of Buddhism, one of the four most prevalent religions of the world, and claiming at the present day considerably more than four hundred millions of adherents.(6) At the same time, our inquiry into Buddhism cannot be comprised within such narrow limits as sufficed for our examination of the indigenous religion of Japan; the subject being one of the vastest dimensions. Perhaps, then, it may be better if, at the outset, I allude to some of the literature, published within the last few years, which has been most instrumental in attracting attention, both in England and America, to the subject. Nor, in this connexion, can all reference be omitted to the writings of the late Madame Blavatsky, Mr. Sinnett, and their school; though I refer to them only in order to caution my readers against forming from them any estimate of Buddhism. The only literature, as far as I know, that has appeared in England from what claims to be an enthusiastic Buddhist stand-point, these writings are, I believe, calculated to convey a curiously erroneous idea of the great system with which we are now concerned, to any who would turn for information to them exclusively. This, indeed, becomes obvious when it is understood that the Buddhism, of which these books profess to treat, is not the Buddhism of history and the sacred books, not the Buddhism which forms the popular religion of hundreds of millions of Asiatics at the present day, but an “esoteric” Buddhism, a knowledge of which, it is admitted, is confined to a comparative few, even in the country where it is said to be most prevalent.(7) In short, the “esoteric Buddhism” of Mr. Sinnett and his friends would seem to be scarcely, if at all, distinguishable from the movement which has recently acquired a brief notoriety in England under the name of Theosophy; and with this, Buddhism proper—i.e. the historical, popular Buddhism with which we have to do—can hardly be said to have anything in common. With the book, however, which probably more than any other work of the day has been the means of drawing the attention of English-speaking people to Buddhism, we cannot deal in so summary a fashion. For in Sir Edwin Arnold’s poem, _The Light of Asia_, we have a work which is simply a rendering of the life of Buddha, in general accordance with the received traditions, and one, moreover, which has met with a cordial welcome at the hands of Buddhists. Nor can it be questioned that the book is a production of great power, or that it appeals altogether to a very different class of readers from that likely to be influenced by the _Occult World_, or _Isis Unveiled_.