We possess and employ a vast number of words, and we apparently increase them by endowing the same word--from a want of clearness in our perceptions--with various meanings. The ancient Hindoos must have felt that an over-abundance of words is pernicious, and for this reason, no doubt, the Brahmans at a certain period of their literature, imposed on themselves the rule of expressing their thoughts in the fewest words possible. They succeeded in presenting each point of doctrine denuded of all but the barest outline of words; they are the authors of the aphorism, “A writer of the Sutras is happier in having economised a portion of a diphthong than from the birth of a son.” The full force of this sentence becomes apparent when it is remembered that the Brahman who has no son to perform his funeral rites cannot hope to enter heaven. It would be difficult to express more forcibly a respect for words, and the great necessity there is for cultivating clearness of thought. * * * * * What I am about to say concerns a word to which I owe the direction of my views of life, and my resolution to undertake the study of the subjects forming my present work; this word is the name of a man. When I was young I made the acquaintance of a very learned Jesuit Father who employed his time in researches on the ecclesiastical antiquities of the East. We once found ourselves in the company of certain persons who were surveying the most remarkable of all the scientific and philosophical works published in our day; Darwin, Pasteur, Helmholtz and Max Müller were named. When the reverend Father heard this last name, he exclaimed, with his accustomed impetuosity, “Oh! Max Müller, his works are absolutely magnificent.” Twenty years later the announcement of a new work of Max Müller reminded me of the Jesuit Father’s exclamation; hitherto I had read nothing of this author’s; I procured the book which had appeared recently; afterwards I read those that had preceded it. At the end of some years I wrote to the reverend Father; the state of his health had obliged him to settle in a town in the south, and I had not seen him for some time. I thanked him for having drawn my attention to Max Müller’s name. I received an immediate reply, the first lines of which I will quote. “Your thanks are unexpected. Max Müller seems to me an incomparable philosopher, but my admiration does not surpass his merit.” A few weeks later the worthy Father died of consumption. FOOTNOTES: [132] _Science of Thought_, p. 568. [133] _Ibid._, p. 569. [134] _Ibid._, p. 570. [135] Max Müller, _Anthropological Religion_, p. 171. CHAPTER XIII OBSERVATIONS AND REFLECTIONS