VOLUME IV SLICE IV Bradford, William to Brequigny, Louis (continued 2)

(J. E.)

BRAHMANISM, a term commonly used to denote a system of religious institutions originated and elaborated by the Brāhmans, the sacerdotal and, from an early period, the dominant caste of the Hindu community (see Brahman). In like manner, as the language of the Āryan Hindūs has undergone continual processes of modification and dialectic division, so their religious belief has passed through various stages of development broadly distinguished from one another by certain prominent features. The earliest phases of religious thought in India of which a clear idea can now be formed are exhibited in a body of writings, looked upon by later generations in the light of sacred writ, under the collective name of Veda (“knowledge”) or Śruti (“revelation”). The Hindū scriptures consist of four separate collections, or Samhitās, of sacred texts, or mantras, including hymns, incantations and sacrificial forms of prayer, viz. the Ṛich (nom. sing. ṛik) or Ṛigveda, the Sāman or Sāmaveda, the Yajus or Yajurveda, and the Atharvan or Atharvaveda. Each of these four text-books has attached to it a body of prose writings, called Brāhmaṇas (see Brāhmaṇa), intended to explain the ceremonial application of the texts and the origin and import of the sacrificial rites for which these were supposed to have been composed. Usually attached to these works, and in some cases to the Saṃhitās, are two kinds of appendages, the Āraṇyakas and Upanishads, the former of which deal generally with the more recondite rites, while the latter are taken up chiefly with speculations on the problems of the universe and the religious aims of man—subjects often touched upon in the earlier writings, but here dealt with in a more mature and systematic way. Two of the Saṃhitās, the Sāman and the Yajus, owing their existence to purely ritual purposes, and being, besides, the one almost entirely, the other partly, composed of verses taken from the Ṛigveda, are only of secondary importance for our present inquiry. The hymns of the Ṛigveda constitute the earliest lyrical effusions of the Āryan settlers in India which have been handed down to posterity. They are certainly not all equally old; on the contrary they evidently represent the literary activity of many generations of bards, though their relative age cannot as yet be determined with anything like certainty. The tenth (and last) book of the collection, however, at any rate has all the characteristics of a later appendage, and in language and spirit many of its hymns approach very nearly to the level of the contents of the Atharvan. Of the latter collection about one-sixth is found also in the Ṛigveda, and especially in the tenth book; the larger portion peculiar to it, though including no doubt some older pieces, appears to owe its origin to an age not long anterior to the composition of the Brāhmaṇas.

The state of religious thought among the ancient bards, as reflected in the hymns of the Ṛigveda, is that of a worship of the grand and striking phenomena of nature regarded in the light of personal conscious beings, endowed with a power beyond the control of man, though not insensible to his praises and actions. It is a nature worship purer than that met with in any other polytheistic form of belief we are acquainted with—a mythology still comparatively little affected by those systematizing tendencies which, in a less simple and primitive state of thought, lead to the construction of a well-ordered pantheon and a regular organization of divine government. To the mind of the early Vedic worshipper the various departments of the surrounding nature are not as yet clearly defined, and the functions which he assigns to their divine representatives continually flow into one another. Nor has he yet learned to care to determine the relative worth and position of the objects of his adoration; but the temporary influence of the phenomenon to which he addresses his praises bears too strongly upon his mind to allow him for the time to consider the claims of rival powers to which at other times he is wont to look up with equal feelings of awe and reverence. It is this immediateness of impulse under which the human mind in its infancy strives to give utterance to its emotions that imparts to many of its outpourings the ring of monotheistic fervour.

The generic name given to these impersonations, viz. deva (“the shining ones”), points to the conclusion, sufficiently justified by the nature of the more prominent objects of Vedic adoration as well as by common natural occurrences, that it was the striking phenomena of light which first and most powerfully swayed the Āryan mind. In the primitive worship of the manifold phenomena of nature it is not, of course, so much their physical aspect that impresses the human heart as the moral and intellectual forces which are supposed to move and animate them. The attributes and relations of some of the Vedic deities, in accordance with the nature of the objects they represent, partake in a high degree of this spiritual element; but it is not improbable that in an earlier phase of Āryan worship the religious conceptions were pervaded by it to a still greater and more general extent, and that the Vedic belief, though retaining many of the primitive features, has on the whole assumed a more sensuous and anthropomorphic character. This latter element is especially predominant in the attributes and imagery applied by the Vedic poets to Indra, the god of the atmospheric region, the favourite figure in their pantheon.

While the representatives of the prominent departments of nature appear to the Vedic bard as co-existing in a state of independence of one another, their relation to the mortal worshipper being the chief subject of his anxiety, a simple method of classification was already resorted to at an early time, consisting in a triple division of the deities into gods residing in the sky, in the air, and on earth. It is not, however, until a later stage,—the first clear indication being conveyed in a passage of the tenth book of the Ṛigveda—that this attempt at a polytheistic system is followed up by the promotion of one particular god to the dignity of chief guardian for each of these three regions. On the other hand, a tendency is clearly traceable in some of the hymns towards identifying gods whose functions present a certain degree of similarity of nature; attempts which would seem to show a certain advance of religious reflection, the first steps from polytheism towards a comprehension of the unity of the divine essence. Another feature of the old Vedic worship tended to a similar result. The great problems of the origin and existence of man and the universe had early begun to engage the Hindū mind; and in celebrating the praises of the gods the poet was frequently led by his religious, and not wholly disinterested, zeal to attribute to them cosmical functions of the very highest order. At a later stage of thought, chiefly exhibited in the tenth book of the Ṛigveda and in the Atharvaveda, inquiring sages could not but perceive the inconsistency of such concessions of a supremacy among the divine rulers, and tried to solve the problem by conceptions of an independent power, endowed with all the attributes of a supreme deity, the creator of the universe, including the gods of the pantheon. The names under which this monotheistic idea is put forth are mostly of an attributive character, and indeed some of them, such as Prajāpati (“lord of creatures”), Viśvakarman (“all-worker”), occur in the earlier hymns as mere epithets of particular gods. But to other minds this theory of a personal creator left many difficulties unsolved. They saw, as the poets of old had seen, that everything around them, that man himself, was directed by some inward agent; and it needed but one step to perceive the essential sameness of these spiritual units, and to recognize their being but so many individual manifestations of one universal principle or spiritual essence. Thus a pantheistic conception was arrived at, put forth under various names, such as Purusha (“soul”), Kāma (“desire”), Brahman (neutr.; nom. sing. bráhma) (“devotion, prayer”). Metaphysical and theosophic speculations were thus fast undermining the simple belief in the old gods, until, at the time of the composition of the Brāhmanas and Upanishads, we find them in complete possession of the minds of the theologians. Whilst the theories crudely suggested in the later hymns are now further matured and elaborated, the tendency towards catholicity of formula favours the combination of the conflicting monotheistic and pantheistic conceptions; this compromise, which makes Prajāpati, the personal creator of the world, the manifestation of the impersonal Brahma, the universal self-existent soul, leads to the composite pantheistic system which forms the characteristic dogma of the Brāhmanical period (see Brahman).

In the Vedic hymns two classes of society, the royal (or military) and the priestly classes, were evidently recognized as being raised above the level of the Viś, or bulk of the Āryan community. These social grades seem to have been in existence even before the separation of the two Asiatic branches of the Indo-Germanic race, the Āryans of Iran and India. It is true that, although the Athrava, Rathaēstāo, and Vāśtrya of the Zend Avesta correspond in position and occupation to the Brāhman, Rājan and Viś of the Veda, there is no similarity of names between them; but this fact only shows that the common vocabulary had not yet definitely fixed on any specific names for these classes. Even in the Veda their nomenclature is by no means limited to a single designation for each of them. Moreover, Atharvan occurs not infrequently in the hymns as the personification of the priestly profession, as the proto-priest who is supposed to have obtained fire from heaven and to have instituted the rite of sacrifice; and although ratheshtha (“standing on a car”) is not actually found in connexion with the Rājan or Kshatriya, its synonym rathin is in later literature a not unusual epithet of men of the military caste. At the time of the hymns, and even during the common Indo-Persian period, the sacrificial ceremonial had already become sufficiently complicated to call for the creation of a certain number of distinct priestly offices with special duties attached to them. While this shows clearly that the position and occupation of the priest were those of a profession, the fact that the terms brāhmaṇa and brahmaputra, both denoting “the son of a brahman,” are used in certain hymns as synonyms of brahman, seems to justify the assumption that the profession had already, to a certain degree, become hereditary at the time when these hymns were composed. There is, however, with the exception of a solitary passage in a hymn of the last book, no trace to be found in the Ṛigveda of that rigid division into four castes separated from one another by insurmountable barriers, which in later times constitutes the distinctive feature of Hindū society. The idea of caste is expressed by the Sanskrit term varna, originally denoting “colour,” thereby implying differences of complexion between the several classes. The word occurs in the Veda in the latter sense, but it is used there to mark the distinction, not between the three classes of the Āryan community, but between them on the one hand and a dark-coloured hostile people on the other. The latter, called Dāsas or Dasyus, consisted, no doubt, of the indigenous tribes, with whom the Āryans had to carry on a continual struggle for the possession of the land. The partial subjection of these comparatively uncivilized tribes as the rule of the superior race was gradually spreading eastward, and their submission to a state of serfdom under the name of Śūdras, added to the Āryan community an element, totally separated from it by colour, by habits, by language, and by occupation. Moreover, the religious belief of these tribes being entirely different from that of the conquering people, the pious Āryas, and especially the class habitually engaged in acts of worship, could hardly fail to apprehend considerable danger to the purity of their own faith from too close and intimate a contact between the two races. What more natural, therefore, than that measures should have been early devised to limit the intercourse between them within as narrow bounds as possible? In course of time the difference of vocation, and the greater or less exposure to the scorching influence of the tropical sky, added, no doubt, to a certain admixture of Śūdra blood, especially in the case of the common people, seem to have produced also in the Āryan population different shades of complexion, which greatly favoured a tendency to rigid class-restrictions originally awakened and continually fed by the lot of the servile race. Meanwhile the power of the sacerdotal order having been gradually enlarged in proportion to the development of the minutiae of sacrificial ceremonial and the increase of sacred lore, they began to lay claim to supreme authority in regulating and controlling the religious and social life of the people. The author of the so-called Purusha-sūkta, or hymn of Purusha, above referred to, represents the four castes—the Brāhmaṇa, Kshatriya, Vaiśya and Śūdra—as having severally sprung respectively from the mouth, the arms, the thighs and the feet of Purusha, a primary being, here assumed to be the source of the universe. It is very doubtful, however, whether at the time when this hymn was composed the relative position of the two upper castes could already have been settled in so decided a way as this theory might lead one to suppose. There is, on the contrary, reason to believe that some time had yet to elapse, marked by fierce and bloody struggles for supremacy, of which only imperfect ideas can be formed from the legendary and frequently biased accounts of later generations, before the Kshatriyas finally submitted to the full measure of priestly authority.

The definitive establishment of the Brāhmanical hierarchy marks the beginning of the Brāhmanical period properly so called. Though the origin and gradual rise of some of the leading institutions of this era can, as has been shown, be traced in the earlier writings, the chain of their development presents a break at this juncture which no satisfactory materials as yet enable us to fill up. A considerable portion of the literature of this time has apparently been lost; and several important works, the original composition of which has probably to be assigned to the early days of Brāhmanism, such as the institutes of Manu and the two great epics, the Mahābhārata and Rāmāyana, in the form in which they have been handed down to us, show manifest traces of a more modern redaction. Yet it is sufficiently clear from internal evidence that Manu’s Code of Laws, though merely a metrical recast of older materials, reproduces on the whole pretty faithfully the state of Hindū society depicted in the sources from which it was compiled. The final overthrow of the Kshatriya power was followed by a period of jealous legislation on the part of the Brāhmans. For a time their chief aim would doubtless be to improve their newly gained vantage-ground by surrounding everything relating to their order with a halo of sanctity calculated to impress the lay community with feelings of awe. In the Brāhmaṇas and even in the Purusha Hymn, and the Atharvan, divine origin had already been ascribed to the Vedic Saṃhitās, especially to the three older collections. The same privilege was now successfully claimed for the later Vedic literature, so imbued with Brāhmanic aspirations and pretensions; and the authority implied in the designation of Śruti or revelation removed henceforth the whole body of sacred writings from the sphere of doubt and criticism. This concession necessarily involved an acknowledgment of the new social order as a divine institution. Its stability was, however, rendered still more secure by the elaboration of a system of conventional precepts, partly forming the basis of Manu’s Code, which clearly defined the relative position and the duties of the several castes, and determined the penalties to be inflicted on any transgressions of the limits assigned to each of them. These laws are conceived with no sentimental scruples on the part of their authors. On the contrary, the offences committed by Brāhmans against other castes are treated with remarkable clemency, whilst the punishments inflicted for trespasses on the rights of higher classes are the more severe and inhuman the lower the offender stands in the social scale.

The three first castes, however unequal to each other in privilege and social standing, are yet united by a common bond of sacramental rites (saṃskāras), traditionally connected from ancient times with certain incidents and stages in the life of the Āryan Hindū, as conception, birth, name-giving, the first taking out of the child to see the sun, the first feeding with boiled rice, the rites of tonsure and hair-cutting, the youth’s investiture with the sacrificial thread, and his return home on completing his studies, marriage, funeral, &c. The modes of observing these family rites are laid down in a class of writings called Gṛihya-sūtras, or domestic rules. The most important of these observances is the upanayana, or rite of conducting the boy to a spiritual teacher. Connected with this act is the investiture with the sacred cord, ordinarily worn over the left shoulder and under the right arm, and varying in material according to the class of the wearer. This ceremony being the preliminary act to the youth’s initiation into the study of the Veda, the management of the consecrated fire and the knowledge of the rites of purification, including the sāvitrī, a solemn invocation to Savitṛi, the sun (probl. Saturnus),—as a rule the verse Ṛigv. iii. 62. 10, also called gāyatrī from the metre in which it is composed—which has to be repeated every morning and evening before the rise and after the setting of that luminary, is supposed to constitute the second or spiritual birth of the Ārya. It is from their participation in this rite that the three upper classes are called the twice-born. The ceremony is enjoined to take place some time between the eighth and sixteenth year of age in the case of a Brāhman, between the eleventh and twenty-second year of a Kshatriya, and between the twelfth and twenty-fourth year of a Vaiśya. He who has not been invested with the mark of his class within this time is for ever excluded from uttering the sacred sāvitrī and becomes an outcast, unless he is absolved from his sin by a council of Brāhmans, and after due performance of a purificatory rite resumes the badge of his caste. With one not duly initiated no righteous man is allowed to associate or to enter into connexions of affinity. The duty of the Śudra is to serve the twice-born classes, and above all the Brāhmans. He is excluded from all sacred knowledge, and if he performs sacrificial ceremonies he must do so without using holy mantras. No Brāhman must recite a Vedic text where a man of the servile caste might overhear him, nor must he even teach him the laws of expiating sin. The occupations of the Vaiśya are those connected with trade, the cultivation of the land and the breeding of cattle; while those of a Kshatriya consist in ruling and defending the people, administering justice, and the duties of the military profession generally. Both share with the Brāhman the privilege of reading the Veda, but only so far as it is taught and explained to them by their spiritual preceptor. To the Brāhman belongs the right of teaching and expounding the sacred texts, and also that of interpreting and determining the law and the rules of caste. Only in exceptional cases, when no teacher of the sacerdotal class is within reach, the twice-born youth, rather than forego spiritual instruction altogether, may reside in the house of a non-Brāhmanical preceptor; but it is specially enjoined that a pupil, who seeks the path to heaven, should not fail, as soon as circumstances permit, to resort to a Brāhman well versed in the Vedas and their appendages.

Notwithstanding the barriers placed between the four castes, the practice of intermarrying appears to have been too prevalent in early times to have admitted of measures of so stringent a nature as wholly to repress it. To marry a woman of a higher caste, and especially of a caste not immediately above one’s own, is, however, decidedly prohibited, the offspring resulting from such a union being excluded from the performance of the śrāddha or obsequies to the ancestors, and thereby rendered incapable of inheriting any portion of the parents’ property. On the other hand, a man is at liberty, according to the rules of Manu, to marry a girl of any or each of the castes below his own, provided he has besides a wife belonging to his own class, for only such a one should perform the duties of personal attendance and religious observance devolving upon a married woman. As regards the children born from unequal marriages of this description, they have the rights and duties of the twice-born, if their mother belong to a twice-born caste, otherwise they, like the offspring of the former class of intermarriages, share the lot of the Śūdra, and are excluded from the investiture and the sāvitrī. For this last reason the marriage of a twice-born man with a Śūdra woman is altogether discountenanced by some of the later law books. At the time of the code of Manu the intermixture of the classes had already produced a considerable number of intermediate or mixed castes, which were carefully defined, and each of which had a specific occupation assigned to it as its hereditary profession.

The self-exaltation of the first class was not, it would seem, altogether due to priestly arrogance and ambition; but, like a prominent feature of the post-Vedic belief, the transmigration of souls, it was, if not the necessary, yet at least a natural consequence of the pantheistic doctrine. To the Brāhmanical speculator who saw in the numberless individual existences of animate nature but so many manifestations of the one eternal spirit, to union with which they were all bound to tend as their final goal of supreme bliss, the greater or less imperfection of the material forms in which they were embodied naturally presented a continuous scale of spiritual units from the lowest degradation up to the absolute purity and perfection of the supreme spirit. To prevent one’s sinking yet lower, and by degrees to raise one’s self in this universal gradation, or, if possible, to attain the ultimate goal immediately from any state of corporeal existence, there was but one way—subjection of the senses, purity of life and knowledge of the deity. “He” (thus ends the code of Manu) “who in his own soul perceives the supreme soul in all beings and acquires equanimity toward them all, attains the highest state of bliss.” Was it not natural then that the men who, if true to their sacred duties, were habitually engaged in what was most conducive to these spiritual attainments, that the Brāhmanical class early learnt to look upon themselves, even as a matter of faith, as being foremost among the human species in this universal race for final beatitude? The life marked out for them by that stern theory of class duties which they themselves had worked out, and which, no doubt, must have been practised in early times at least in some degree, was by no means one of ease and amenity. It was, on the contrary, singularly calculated to promote that complete mortification of the instincts of animal nature which they considered as indispensable to the final deliverance from saṃsāra, the revolution of bodily and personal existence.

The pious Brāhman, longing to attain the summum bonum on the dissolution of his frail body, was enjoined to pass through a succession of four orders or stages of life, viz. those of brahmachārin, or religious student; gṛihastha (or gṛihamedhin), or householder; vanavāsin (or vānaprastha), or anchorite; and sannyāsin (or bhikshu), or religious mendicant. Theoretically this course of life was open and even recommended to every twice-born man, his distinctive class-occupations being in that case restricted to the second station, or that of married life. Practically, however, those belonging to the Kshatriya and Vaiśya castes were, no doubt, contented, with few exceptions, to go through a term of studentship in order to obtain a certain amount of religious instruction before entering into the married state, and plying their professional duties. In the case of the sacerdotal class, the practice probably was all but universal in early times; but gradually a more and more limited proportion even of this caste seem to have carried their religious zeal to the length of self-mortification involved in the two final stages. On the youth having been invested with the badge of his caste, he was to reside for some time in the house of some religious teacher, well read in the Veda, to be instructed in the knowledge of the scriptures and the scientific or theoretic treatises attached to them, in the social duties of his caste, and in the complicated system of purificatory and sacrificial rites. According to the number of Vedas he intended to study, the duration of this period of instruction was to be, probably in the case of Brāhmanical students chiefly, of from twelve to forty-eight years; during which time the virtues of modesty, duty, temperance and self-control were to be firmly implanted in the youth’s mind by his unremitting observance of the most minute rules of conduct. During all this time the student had to subsist entirely on food obtained by begging from house to house; and his behaviour towards the preceptor and his family was to be that prompted by respectful attachment and implicit obedience. In the case of girls no investiture takes place, but for them the nuptial ceremony is considered as an equivalent to that rite. On quitting the teacher’s abode, the young man returns to his family and takes a wife. To die without leaving legitimate offspring, and especially a son, capable of performing the periodical rite of obsequies (śrāddha), consisting of offerings of water and balls of rice, to himself and his two immediate ancestors, is considered a great misfortune by the orthodox Hindū. There are three sacred “debts” which a man has to discharge in life, viz. that which is due to the gods, and of which he acquits himself by daily worship and sacrificial rites; that due to the ṛishis, or ancient sages and inspired seers of the Vedic texts, discharged by the daily study of the scripture; and the “final debt” which he owes to his manes, and of which he relieves himself by leaving a son. To these three some authorities add a fourth, viz. the debt owing to humankind, which demands his continually practising kindness and hospitality. Hence the necessity of a man’s entering into the married state. When the bridegroom leads the bride from her father’s house to his own home, and becomes a gṛiha-paṭi, or householder, the fire which has been used for the marriage ceremony accompanies the couple to serve them as their gārhapatya, or domestic fire. It has to be kept up perpetually, day and night, either by themselves or their children, or, if the man be a teacher, by his pupils. If it should at any time become extinguished by neglect or otherwise, the guilt incurred thereby must be atoned for by an act of expiation. The domestic fire serves the family for preparing their food, for making the five necessary daily and other occasional offerings, and for performing the sacramental rites above alluded to. No food should ever be eaten that has not been duly consecrated by a portion of it being offered to the gods, the beings and the manes. These three daily offerings are also called by the collective name of vaiśvadeva, or sacrifice “to all the deities.” The remaining two are the offering to Brahmă, i.e. the daily lecture of the scriptures, accompanied by certain rites, and that to men, consisting in the entertainment of guests. The domestic observances—many of them probably ancient Āryan family customs, surrounded by the Hindūs with a certain amount of adventitious ceremonial—were generally performed by the householder himself, with the assistance of his wife. There is, however, another class of sacrificial ceremonies of a more pretentious and expensive kind, called śrauta rites, or rites based on śritu, or revelation, the performance of which, though not indispensable, were yet considered obligatory under certain circumstances (see Brāhmaṇa). They formed a very powerful weapon in the hands of the priesthood, and were one of the chief sources of their subsistence. However great the religious merit accruing from these sacrificial rites, they were obviously a kind of luxury which only rich people could afford to indulge in. They constituted, as it were, a tax, voluntary perhaps, yet none the less compulsory, levied by the priesthood on the wealthy laity.

When the householder is advanced in years, “when he perceives his skin become wrinkled and his hair grey, when he sees the son of his son,” the time is said to have come for him to enter the third stage of life. He should now disengage himself from all family ties—except that his wife may accompany him, if she chooses—and repair to a lonely wood, taking with him his sacred fires and the implements required for the daily and periodical offerings. Clad in a deer’s skin, in a single piece of cloth, or in a bark garment, with his hair and nails uncut, the hermit is to subsist exclusively on food growing wild in the forest, such as roots, green herbs, and wild rice and grain. He must not accept gifts from any one, except of what may be absolutely necessary to maintain him; but with his own little hoard he should, on the contrary, honour, to the best of his ability, those who visit his hermitage. His time must be spent in reading the metaphysical treatises of the Veda, in making oblations, and in undergoing various kinds of privation and austerities, with a view to mortifying his passions and producing in his mind an entire indifference to worldly objects. Having by these means succeeded in overcoming all sensual affections and desires, and in acquiring perfect equanimity towards everything around him, the hermit has fitted himself for the final and most exalted order, that of devotee or religious mendicant. As such he has no further need of either mortifications or religious observances; but “with the sacrificial fires reposited in his mind,” he may devote the remainder of his days to meditating on the divinity. Taking up his abode at the foot of a tree in total solitude, “with no companion but his own soul,” clad in a coarse garment, he should carefully avoid injuring any creature or giving offence to any human being that may happen to come near him. Once a day, in the evening, “when the charcoal fire is extinguished and the smoke no longer issues from the fire-places, when the pestle is at rest, when the people have taken their meals and the dishes are removed,” he should go near the habitations of men, in order to beg what little food may suffice to sustain his feeble frame. Ever pure of mind he should thus bide his time, “as a servant expects his wages,” wishing neither for death nor for life, until at last his soul is freed from its fetters and absorbed in the eternal spirit, the impersonal self-existent Brahmă.

The tendency towards a comprehension of the unity of the divine essence had resulted in some minds, as has been remarked before, in a kind of monotheistic notion of the origin of the universe. In the literature of the Brāhmaṇa period we meet with this conception as a common element of speculation; and so far from its being considered incompatible with the existence of a universal spirit, Prajāpati, the personal creator of the world, is generally allowed a prominent place in the pantheistic theories. Yet the state of theological speculation, reflected in these writings, is one of transition. The general drift of thought is essentially pantheistic, but it is far from being reduced to a regular system, and the ancient form of belief still enters largely into it. The attributes of Prajāpati, in the same way, have in them elements of a purely polytheistic nature, and some of the attempts at reconciling this new-fangled deity with the traditional belief are somewhat awkward. An ancient classification of the gods represented them as being thirty-three in number, eleven in each of the three worlds or regions of nature. These regions being associated each with the name of one principal deity, this division gave rise at a later time to the notion of a kind of triple divine government, consisting of Agni (fire), Indra sky) or Vāyu (wind), and Sūrya (sun), as presiding respectively over the gods on earth, in the atmosphere, and in the sky. Of this Vedic triad mention is frequently made in the Brāhmaṇa writings. On the other hand the term prajāpati (lord of creatures), which in the Ṛigveda occurs as an epithet of the sun, is also once in the Atharvaveda applied jointly to Indra and Agni. In the Brāhmaṇas Prajāpati is several times mentioned as the thirty-fourth god; whilst in one passage he is called the fourth god, and made to rule over the three worlds. More frequently, however, the writings of this period represent him as the maker of the world and the father or creator of the gods. It is clear from this discordance of opinion on so important a point of doctrine, that at this time no authoritative system of belief had been agreed upon by the theologians. Yet there are unmistakable signs of a strong tendency towards constructing one, and it is possible that in yielding to it the Brāhmans may have been partly prompted by political considerations. The definite settlement of the caste system and the Brāhmanical supremacy must probably be assigned to somewhere about the close of the Brāhmaṇa period. Division in their own ranks was hardly favourable to the aspirations of the priests at such a time; and the want of a distinct formula of belief adapted to the general drift of theological speculation, to which they could all rally, was probably felt the more acutely, the more determined a resistance the military class was likely to oppose to their claims. Side by side with the conception of the Brahmă, the universal spiritual principle, with which speculative thought had already become deeply imbued, the notion of a supreme personal being, the author of the material creation, had come to be considered by many as a necessary complement of the pantheistic doctrine. But, owing perhaps to his polytheistic associations and the attributive nature of his name, the person of Prajāpati seems to have been thought but insufficiently adapted to represent this abstract idea. The expedient resorted to for solving the difficulty was as ingenious as it was characteristic of the Brāhmanical aspirations. In the same way as the abstract denomination of sacerdotalism, the neuter brahmă, had come to express the divine essence, so the old designation of the individual priest, the masculine term brahmā, was raised to denote the supreme personal deity which was to take the place and attributes of the Prajāpati of the Brāhmaṇas and Upanishads (see Brahman).

However the new dogma may have answered the purposes of speculative minds, it was not one in which the people generally were likely to have been much concerned; an abstract, colourless deity like Brahmā could awake no sympathies in the hearts of those accustomed to worship gods of flesh and blood. Indeed, ever since the primitive symbolical worship of nature had undergone a process of disintegration under the influence of metaphysical speculation, the real belief of the great body of the people had probably become more and more distinct from that of the priesthood. In different localities the principal share of their affection may have been bestowed on one or another of the old gods who was thereby raised to the dignity of chief deity; or new forms and objects of belief may have sprung up with the intellectual growth of the people. In some cases even the worship of the indigenous population could hardly have remained without exercising some influence in modifying the belief of the Āryan race. In this way a number of local deities would grow up, more or less distinct in name and characteristics from the gods of the Vedic pantheon. There is, indeed, sufficient evidence to show that, at a time when, after centuries of theological speculations, some little insight into the life and thought of the people is afforded by the literature handed down to us, such a diversity of worship did exist. Under these circumstances the policy which seems to have suggested itself to the priesthood, anxious to retain a firm hold on the minds of the people, was to recognize and incorporate into their system some of the most prominent objects of popular devotion, and thereby to establish a kind of catholic creed for the whole community subject to the Brāhmanical law. At the time of the original composition of the great epics two such deities, Śiva or Mahādeva (“the great god”) and Vishṇu, seem to have been already admitted into the Brāhmanical system, where they have ever since retained their place; and from the manner in which they are represented in those works, it would, indeed, appear that both, and especially the former, enjoyed an extensive worship. As several synonyms are attributed to each of them, it is not improbable that in some of these we have to recognize special names under which the people in different localities worshipped these gods, or deities of a similar nature which, by the agency of popular poetry, or in some other way, came to be combined with them. The places assigned to them in the pantheistic system were coordinate with that of Brahmā; the three deities, Brahmā, Vishnu and Śiva, were to represent a triple impersonation of the divinity, as manifesting itself respectively in the creation, preservation and destruction of the universe. Śiva does not occur in the Vedic hymns as the name of a god, but only as an adjective in the sense of “kind, auspicious.” One of his synonyms, however, is the name of a Vedic deity, the attributes and nature of which show a good deal of similarity to the post-Vedic god. This is Rudra, the god of the roaring storm, usually portrayed, in accordance with the element he represents, as a fierce, destructive deity, “terrible as a wild beast,” whose fearful arrows cause death and disease to men and cattle. He is also called kapardin (“wearing his hair spirally braided like a shell”), a word which in later times became one of the synonyms of Śiva. The Atharvaveda mentions several other names of the same god, some of which appear even placed together, as in one passage Bhava, Sarva, Rudra and Paśupati. Possibly some of them were the names under which one and the same deity was already worshipped in different parts of northern India. This was certainly the case in later times, since it is expressly stated in one of the later works of the Brahmaṇa period, that Sarva was used by the Eastern people and Bhava by a Western tribe. It is also worthy of note that in the same work (the Śatapatha-brāhmaṇa), composed at a time when the Vedic triad of Agni, Indra-Vāyu and Sūrya was still recognized, attempts are made to identify this god of many names with Agni; and that in one passage in the Mahābhārata it is stated that the Brāhmans said that Agni was Śiva. Although such attempts at an identification of the two gods remained isolated, they would at least seem to point to the fact that, in adapting their speculations to the actual state of popular worship, the Brāhmans kept the older triad distinctly in view, and by means of it endeavoured to bring their new structure into harmony with the ancient Vedic belief. It is in his character as destroyer that Śiva holds his place in the triad, and that he must, no doubt, be identified with the Vedic Rudra. Another very important function appears, however, to have been early assigned to him, on which much more stress is laid in his modern worship—that of destroyer being more especially exhibited in his consort—viz. the character of a generative power, symbolized in the phallic emblem (linga) and in the sacred bull (Nandi), the favourite attendant of the god. This feature being entirely alien from the nature of the Vedic god, it has been conjectured with some plausibility, that the linga-worship was originally prevalent among the non-Āryan population, and was thence introduced into the worship of Śiva. On the other hand, there can, we think, be little doubt that Śiva, in his generative faculty, is the representative of another Vedic god whose nature and attributes go far to account for this particular feature of the modern deity, viz. Pūshan. This god, originally, no doubt, a solar deity, is frequently invoked, as the lord of nourishment, to bestow food, wealth and other blessings. He is once, jointly with Soma, called the progenitor of heaven and earth, and is connected with the marriage ceremony, where he is asked to lead the bride to the bridegroom and make her prosperous (Śivatamā). Moreover, he has the epithet kapardin (spirally braided), as have Rudra and the later Śiva, and is called Paśupa, or guardian of cattle, whence the latter derives his name Paśupati. But he is also a strong, powerful, and even fierce and destructive god, who, with his goad or golden spear, smites the foes of his worshipper, and thus in this respect offers at least some points of similarity to Rudra, which may have favoured the fusion of the two gods. As regards Vishṇu, this god occupies already a place in the Vedic mythology, though by no means one of such prominence as would entitle him to that degree of exaltation implied in his character as one of the three hypostases of the divinity. Moreover, although in his general nature, as a benevolent, genial being, the Vedic god corresponds on the whole to the later Vishṇu, the preserver of the world, the latter exhibits many important features for which we look in vain in his prototype, and which most likely resulted from sectarian worship or from an amalgamation with local deities. In one or two of them, such as his names Vāsudeva and Vaikuntha, an attempt may again be traced to identify Vishṇu with Indra, who, as we have seen, was one of the Vedic triad of gods. The characteristic feature of the elder Vishṇu is his measuring the world with his three strides, which are explained as denoting either the three stations of the sun at the time of rising, culminating and setting, or the triple manifestation of the luminous element, as the fire on earth, the lightning in the atmosphere and the sun in the heavens.

The male nature of the triad was supposed to require to be supplemented by each of the three gods being associated with a female energy (Śakti). Thus Vāch or Sarasvatī, the goddess of speech and learning, came to be regarded as the śakti, or consort of Brahmā; Śrī or Lakshmī, “beauty, fortune,” as that of Vishṇu; and Umā or Pārvatī, the daughter of Himavat, the god of the Himālaya mountain, as that of Śiva. On the other hand, it is not improbable that Pārvatī—who has a variety of other names, such as Kālī (“the black one”), Durgā (“the inaccessible, terrible one”), Māha-devī (“the great goddess”)—enjoyed already a somewhat extensive worship of her own, and that there may thus have been good reason for assigning to her a prominent place in the Brāhmanical system.

A compromise was thus effected between the esoteric doctrine of the metaphysician and some of the most prevalent forms of popular worship, resulting in what was henceforth to constitute the orthodox system of belief of the Brāhmanical community. Yet the Vedic pantheon could not be altogether discarded, forming part and parcel, as it did, of that sacred revelation (śruti), which was looked upon as the divine source of all religious and social law (smṛiti, “tradition”), and being, moreover, the foundation of the sacrificial ceremonial on which the priestly authority so largely depended. The existence of the old gods is, therefore, likewise recognized, but recognized in a very different way from that of the triple divinity. For while the triad represents the immediate manifestation of the eternal, infinite soul—while it constitutes, in fact, the Brahmă itself in its active relation to mundane and seemingly material occurrences, the old traditional gods are of this world, are individual spirits or portions of the Brahma like men and other creatures, only higher in degree. To them an intermediate sphere, the heaven of Indra (the svarloka or svarga), is assigned to which man may raise himself by fulfilling the holy ordinances; but they are subject to the same laws of being; they, like men, are liable to be born again in some lower state, and, therefore, like them, yearn for emancipation from the necessity of future individual existence. It is a sacred duty of man to worship these superior beings by invocations and sacrificial observances, as it is to honour the pitṛis (“the fathers”), the spirits of the departed ancestors. The spirits of the dead, on being judged by Yama, the Pluto of Hindū mythology, are supposed to be either passing through a term of enjoyment in a region midway between the earth and the heaven of the gods, or undergoing their measure of punishment in the nether world, situated somewhere in the southern region, before they return to the earth to animate new bodies. In Vedic mythology Yama was considered to have been the first mortal who died, and “espied the way to” the celestial abodes, and in virtue of precedence to have become the ruler of the departed; in some passages, however, he is already regarded as the god of death. Although the pantheistic system allowed only a subordinate rank to the old gods, and the actual religious belief of the people was probably but little affected by their existence, they continued to occupy an important place in the affections of the poet, and were still represented as exercising considerable influence on the destinies of man. The most prominent of them were regarded as the appointed Lokapālas, or guardians of the world; and as such they were made to preside over the four cardinal and (according to some authorities) the intermediate points of the compass. Thus Indra, the chief of the gods, was regarded as the regent of the east; Agni, the fire (ignis), was in the same way associated with the south-east; Yama with the south; Śurya, the sun (Ἢλιος), with the south-west; Varūṇa, originally the representative of the all-embracing heaven (Οὐρανός) or atmosphere, now the god of the ocean, with the west; Vāyu (or Pavana), the wind, with the north-west; Kubera, the god of wealth, with the north; and Soma (or Chaṇdra) with the north-east. In the institutes of Manu the Lokapālas are represented as standing in close relation to the ruling king, who is said to be composed of particles of these his tutelary deities. The retinue of Indra consists chiefly of the Gandharvas (probably etym. connected with κένταυρος), a class of genii, considered in the epics as the celestial musicians; and their wives, the Apsaras, lovely nymphs, who are frequently employed by the gods to make the pious devotee desist from carrying his austere practices to an extent that might render him dangerous to their power. Nārada, an ancient sage (probably a personification of the cloud, the “water-giver”), is considered as the messenger between the gods and men, and as having sprung from the forehead of Brahmā. The interesting office of the god of love is held by Kāmadeva, also called Ananga, the bodyless, because, as the myth relates, having once tried by the power of his mischievous arrow to make Śiva fall in love with Pārvatī, whilst he was engaged in devotional practices, the urchin was reduced to ashes by a glance of the angry god. Two other mythological figures of some importance are considered as sons of Śiva and Pārvatī, viz. Kārttikeya or Skanda, the leader of the heavenly armies, who was supposed to have been fostered by the six Kṛittikās or Pleiades; and Gaṇeśa (“lord of troops”), the elephant-headed god of wisdom, and at the same time the leader of the dii minorum gentium.

Orthodox Brāhmanical scholasticism makes the attainment of final emancipation (mukti, moksha) dependent on perfect knowledge of the divine essence. This knowledge can only be obtained by complete abstraction of the mind from external objects and intense meditation on the divinity, which again presupposes the total extinction of all sensual instincts by means of austere practices (tapas). The chosen few who succeed in gaining complete mastery over their senses and a full knowledge of the divine nature become absorbed into the universal soul immediately on the dissolution of the body. Those devotees, on the other hand, who have still a residuum, however slight, of ignorance and worldliness left in them at the time of their death, pass to the world of Brahmā, where their souls, invested with subtile corporeal frames, await their reunion with the Eternal Being.

The pantheistic doctrine which thus forms the foundation of the Brahmanical system of belief found its most complete exposition in one of the six orthodox darśanas, or philosophical systems, the Vedānta philosophy. These systems are considered as orthodox inasmuch as they recognize the Veda as the revealed source of religious belief, and never fail to claim the authority of the ancient seers for their own teachings, even though—as in the case of Kapila, the founder of the materialistic Sānkhya system—they involve the denial of so essential a dogmatic point as the existence of a personal creator of the world. So much, indeed, had freedom of speculative thought become a matter of established habit and intellectual necessity, that no attempt seems ever to have been made by the leading theological party to put down such heretical doctrines, so long as the sacred character of the privileges of their caste was not openly called in question. Yet internal dissensions on such cardinal points of belief could not but weaken the authority of the hierarchical body; and as they spread beyond the narrow bounds of the Brāhmanical schools, it wanted but a man of moral and intellectual powers, and untrammelled by class prejudices, to render them fatal to priestly pretensions. Such a man arose in the person of a Śākya prince of Kapilavastu, Gotama, the founder of Buddhism (about the 6th century B.C.). Had it only been for the philosophical tenets of Buddha, they need scarcely have caused, and probably did not cause, any great uneasiness to the orthodox theologians. He did, indeed, go one step beyond Kapila, by altogether denying the existence of the soul as a substance, and admitting only certain intellectual faculties as attributes of the body, perishable with it. Yet the conception which Buddha substituted for the transmigratory soul, viz. that of karma (“work”), as the sum total of the individual’s good and bad actions, being the determinative element of the form of his future existence, might have been treated like any other speculative theory, but for the practical conclusions he drew from it. Buddha recognized the institution of caste, and accounted for the social inequalities attendant thereon as being the effects of karma in former existences. But, on the other hand, he altogether denied the revealed character of the Veda and the efficacy of the Brāhmanical ceremonies deduced from it, and rejected the claims of the sacerdotal class to be the repositaries and divinely appointed teachers of sacred knowledge. That Buddha never questioned the truth of the Brāhmanical theory of transmigration shows that this early product of speculative thought had become firmly rooted in the Hindū mind as a tenet of belief amounting to moral conviction. To the Hindū philosopher this doctrine seemed alone to account satisfactorily for the apparent essential similarity of the vital element in all animate beings, no less than for what elsewhere has led honest and logical thinkers to the stern dogma of predestination. The belief in eternal bliss or punishment, as the just recompense of man’s actions during this brief term of human life, which their less reflective forefathers had at one time held, appeared to them to involve a moral impossibility. The equality of all men, which Buddha preached with regard to the final goal, the nirvāna, or extinction of karma and thereby of all future existence and pain, and that goal to be reached, not by the performance of penance and sacrificial worship, but by practising virtue, could not fail to be acceptable to many people. It would be out of place here to dwell on the rapid progress and internal development of the new doctrine. Suffice it to say that, owing no doubt greatly to the sympathizing patronage of ruling princes, Buddhism appears to have been the state religion in most parts of India during the early centuries of our era. To what extent it became the actual creed of the body of the people it will probably be impossible ever to ascertain. One of the chief effects it produced on the worship of the old gods was the rapid decline of the authority of the orthodox Brāhmanical dogma, and a considerable development of sectarianism. (See Hinduism.)

See H.H. Wilson, Essays on the Religion of the Hindus; J. Muir, Original Sanskrit Texts; M. Müller, History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature; C. Lassen, Indische Alterthumskunde; Elphinstone, History of India, ed. by E.B. Cowell.

(J. E.)

BRAHMAPUTRA, a great river of India, with a total length of 1800 m. Its main source is in a great glacier-mass of the northernmost chain of the Himalayas, called Kubigangri, about 82° N., and receives various tributaries including one formerly regarded as the true source from the pass of Mariam La (15,500 ft.), which separates its basin from the eastern affluents of the Mansarowar lakes, at least 100 m. south-east of those of the Indus. It flows in a south-easterly direction for 170 m., and then adheres closely to a nearly easterly course for 500 m. more, being at the end of that distance in 29° 10′ N. lat. It then bends north-east for 150 m. before finally shaping itself southwards towards the plains of Assam. Roughly speaking, the river may be said so far to run parallel to the main chain of the Himalaya at a distance of 100 m. therefrom. Its early beginnings take their rise amidst a mighty mass of glaciers which cover the northern slopes of the watershed, separating them from the sources of the Gogra on the south; and there is evidence that two of its great southern tributaries, the Shorta Tsanpo (which joins about 150 m. from its source), and the Nyang Chu (the river of Shigatse and Gyantse), are both also of glacial origin. From the north it receives five great tributaries, namely, the Chu Nago, the Chachu Tsanpo and the Charta Tsanpo (all within the first 200 m. of its course), and the Raka Tsanpo and Kyi-chu (or river of Lhasa) below. The Chachu and the Charta are large clear streams, evidently draining from the great central lake district. Both of them measure more than 100 yds. in width at the point of junction, and they are clearly non-glacial. The Raka Tsanpo is a lateral affluent, flowing for 200 m. parallel to the main river course and some 20 to 30 m. north of it, draining the southern slopes of a high snowy range. It is an important feature as affording foothold for the Janglam (the great high road of southern Tibet connecting Ladakh with China), which is denied by the actual valley of the Brahmaputra. The great river itself is known in Tibet by many names, being generally called the Nari Chu, Maghang Tsanpo or Yaro Tsanpo, above Lhasa; the word “tsanpo” (tsang-po) meaning (according to Waddell) the “pure one,” and applying to all great rivers. Fifty miles from its source the river and the Janglam route touch each other, and from that point past Tadum (the first important place on its banks) for another 130 m., the road follows more or less closely the left bank of the river. Then it diverges northwards into the lateral valley of the Raka, until the Raka joins the Brahmaputra below Janglache. The upper reaches are nowhere fordable between Tadum and Lhasa, but there is a ferry at Likche (opposite Tadum on the southern bank), where wooden boats covered with hide effect the necessary connexion between the two banks and ensure the passage of the Nepal trade. From Janglache (13,800 ft.) to Shigatse the river is navigable, the channel being open and wide and the course straight. This is probably the most elevated system of navigation in the world. From Shigatse, which stands near the mouth of the Nyang Chu, to the Kyi-chu, or Lhasa river, there is no direct route, the river being unnavigable below Shigatse. The Janglam takes a circuitous course southwards to Gyantse and the Yamdok Cho before dropping again over the Khambala pass to the ferry at Khamba barje near Chushul. Thence the valley of the Kyi-chu (itself navigable for small boats for about 30 m.) leads to Lhasa northwards. At Chushul there is an iron chain-and-rope suspension bridge over the deepest part of the river, but it does not completely span the river, and it is too insecure for use. The remains of a similar bridge exist at Janglache; but there are no wooden or twig suspension bridges over the Tsanpo. At Tadum the river is about one half as wide again as the Ganges at Hardwar in December, i.e. about 250 to 300 yds. At Shigatse it flows in a wide extended bed with many channels, but contracts again at Chushul, where it is no wider than it is at Janglache, i.e. from 600 to 700 yds. At Chushul (below the Kyi-chu) the discharge of the river is computed to be about 35,000 cub. ft. per second, or seven times that of the Ganges at Hardwar.

For about 250 m. below Kyi-chu to a point about 20 m. below the great southerly bend (in 94° E. long.) the course of the Brahmaputra has been traced by native surveyors. Then it is lost amidst the jungle-covered hills of the wild Mishmi and Abor tribes to the east of Bhutan for another 100 m., until it is again found as the Dihong emerging into the plains of Assam. About the intervening reaches of the river very little is known except that it drops through 7000 ft. of altitude, and that in one place, at least, there exist some very remarkable falls. These are placed in 29° 40′ N. lat., between Kongbu and Pema-Koi. Here the river runs in a narrow precipitous defile along which no path is practicable. The falls can only be approached from below, where a monastery has been erected, the resort of countless pilgrims. Their height is estimated at 70 ft., and by Tibetan report the hills around are enveloped in perpetual mist, and the Sangdong (the “lion’s face”), over which the waters rush, is demon-haunted and full of mystic import. Up to comparatively recent years it was matter for controversy whether the Tsanpo formed the upper reaches of the Dihong or of the Irrawaddy. From the north-eastern extremity of Assam where, near Sadya, the Lohit, the Dibong and the Dihong unite to form the wide placid Brahmaputra of the plains—one of the grandest rivers of the world—its south-westerly course to the Bay of Bengal is sufficiently well known. It still retains the proud distinction of being unbridged, and still the River Flotilla Company appoints its steamers at regular intervals to visit all the chief ports on its banks as far as Dibrugarh. Here, however, a new feature has been introduced in the local railway, which extends for some 80 m. to Sadya, with a branch to the Buri Dihing river at the foot of the Patkoi range. The Patkoi border the plains of Upper Assam to the south-east, and across these hills lies the most reasonable probability of railway extension to Burma.

The following are the “lowest level” discharges of the principal affluents of the Brahmaputra in Upper Assam, estimated in cubic feet per second:—

Lohit river, 9 m. above Sadya 38,800

Dibong, 1 m. above junction with Dihong 27,200

Dihong ” ” Dibong 55,400

Subansiri 16,900

The basins of the Dibong and Subansiri are as yet very imperfectly known. That of the Lohit has been fairly well explored. Near Goalpara the discharge of the river in January 1828 was computed to be 140,000 cub. ft., or nearly double that of the Ganges. The length of the river is 700 m. to the Dihong junction, and about 1000 in Tibet and eastern Bhutan, above the Dihong. The Brahmaputra, therefore, exceeds the Ganges in length by about 400 m. The bed of the great river maintains a fairly constant position between its extreme banks, but the channels within that bed are so constantly shifting as to require close supervision on the part of the navigation authorities; so much detritus is carried down as to form a perpetually changing series of obstructions to steamer traffic.

An enormous development of agricultural resources has taken place within the Brahmaputra basin of late years, chiefly in the direction of tea cultivation, as well as in the production of jute and silk. Gold is found in the sands of all its upper tributaries, and coal and petroleum are amongst the chief mineral products which have been brought into economic prominence. During the rains the Brahmaputra floods hundreds of square miles of country, reaching a height of 30 to 40 ft. above its usual level. This supersedes artificial irrigation, and the plains so watered yield abundantly in rice, jute and mustard.

See Reports of the native explorers of the Indian Survey, edited by Montgomery and Harman; Imperial Gazetteer of India (1908); Sir T.H. Holdich, India (“Regions of the World” series, 1903); Ryder, Geographical Journal, 1905; Rawlings, The Great Plateau (1906).

(T. H. H.*)

BRAHMA SAMAJ, a religious association in India which owes its origin to (Raja) Ram Mohan Roy, who began teaching and writing in Calcutta soon after 1800. The name means literally the “Church of the One God,” and the word Samaj, like the word Church, bears both a local and a universal, or an individual and a collective meaning. Impressed with the perversions and corruptions of popular Hinduism, Ram Mohan Roy investigated the Hindu Shastras, the Koran and the Bible, repudiated the polytheistic worship of the Shastras as false, and inculcated the reformed principles of monotheism as found in the ancient Upanishads of the Vedas. In 1816 he established a society, consisting only of Hindus, in which texts from the Vedas were recited and theistic hymns chanted. This, however, soon died out through the opposition it received from the Hindu community. In 1830 he organized the society known as the Brahma Samaj.

The following extract from the trust-deed of the building dedicated to it will show the religious belief and the purposes of its founder. The building was intended to be “a place of public meeting for all sorts and descriptions of people, without distinction, who shall behave and conduct themselves in an orderly, sober, religious and devout manner, for the worship and adoration of the eternal, unsearchable and immutable Being, who is the author and preserver of the universe, but not under and by any other name, designation or title, peculiarly used for and applied to any particular being or beings by any man or set of men whatsoever; and that no graven image, statue or sculpture, carving, painting, picture, portrait or the likeness of anything shall be admitted within the said messuage, building, land, tenements, hereditament and premises; and that no sacrifice, offering or oblation of any kind or thing shall ever be permitted therein; and that no animal or living creature shall within or on the said messuage, &c., be deprived of life either for religious purposes or food, and that no eating or drinking (except such as shall be necessary by any accident for the preservation of life), feasting or rioting be permitted therein or thereon; and that in conducting the said worship or adoration, no object, animate or inanimate, that has been or is or shall hereafter become or be recognized as an object of worship by any man or set of men, shall be reviled or slightingly or contemptuously spoken of or alluded to, either in preaching or in the hymns or other mode of worship that may be delivered or used in the said messuage or building; and that no sermon, preaching, discourse, prayer or hymns be delivered, made or used in such worship, but such as have a tendency to the contemplation of the Author and Preserver of the universe or to the promotion of charity, morality, piety, benevolence, virtue and the strengthening of the bonds of union between men of all religious persuasions and creeds.”

The new faith at this period held to the Vedas as its basis. Ram Mohan Roy soon after left India for England, and took up his residence in Bristol, where he died in 1835. The Brahma Samaj maintained a bare existence till 1841, when Babu Debendra Nath Tagore, a member of a famous and wealthy Calcutta family, devoted himself to it. He gave a printing-press to the Samaj, and established a monthly journal called the Tattwabodhinī Patrikā, to which the Bengali language now owes much for its strength and elegance. About 1850 some of the followers of the new religion discovered that the greater part of the Vedas is polytheistic, and a schism took place,—the advanced party holding that nature and intuition form the basis of faith. Between 1847 and 1858 branch societies were formed in different parts of India, especially in Bengal, and the new society made rapid progress, for which it was largely indebted to the spread of English education and the work of Christian missionaries. In fact the whole Samaj movement is as distinct a product of the contest of Hinduism with Christianity in the 19th century, as the Panth movement was of its contest with Islam 300 years earlier.

The Brahma creed was definitively formulated as follows:—(1) The book of nature and intuition supplies the basis of religious faith. (2) Although the Brahmas do not consider any book written by man the basis of their religion, yet they do accept with respect and pleasure any religious truth contained in any book. (3) The Brahmas believe that the religious condition of man is progressive, like the other departments of his condition in this world. (4) They believe that the fundamental doctrines of their religion are also the basis of every true religion. (5) They believe in the existence of one Supreme God—a God endowed with a distinct personality, moral attributes worthy of His nature and an intelligence befitting the Governor of the universe, and they worship Him alone. They do not believe in any of His incarnations. (6) They believe in the immortality and progressive state of the soul, and declare that there is a state of conscious existence succeeding life in this world and supplementary to it as respects the action of the universal moral government. (7) They believe that repentance is the only way to salvation. They do not recognize any other mode of reconcilement to the offended but loving Father. (8) They pray for spiritual welfare and believe in the efficacy of such prayers. (9) They believe in the providential care of the divine Father. (10) They avow that love towards Him and the performances of the works which He loves, constitute His worship. (11) They recognize the necessity of public worship, but do not believe that communion with the Father depends upon meeting in any fixed place at any fixed time. They maintain that they can adore Him at any time and at any place, provided that the time and the place are calculated to compose and direct the mind towards Him. (12) They do not believe in pilgrimages and declare that holiness can only be attained by elevating and purifying the mind. (13) They put no faith in rites or ceremonies, nor do they believe in penances as instrumental in obtaining the grace of God. They declare that moral righteousness, the gaining of wisdom, divine contemplation, charity and the cultivation of devotional feelings are their rites and ceremonies. They further say, govern and regulate your feelings, discharge your duties to God and to man, and you will gain everlasting blessedness; purify your heart, cultivate devotional feelings and you will see Him who is unseen. (14) Theoretically there is no distinction of caste among the Brahmas. They declare that we are all the children of God, and therefore must consider ourselves as brothers and sisters.

For long the Brahmas did not attempt any social reforms. But about 1865 the younger section, headed by Babu Keshub Chunder Sen, who joined the Samaj in 1857, tried to carry their religious theories into practice by demanding the abandonment of the external signs of caste distinction. This, however, the older members opposed, declaring such innovations to be premature. A schism resulted, Keshub Chunder Sen and his followers founding the Progressive Samaj, while the conservative stock remained as the Adi (i.e. original) Samaj, their aim being to “fulfil” rather than to abrogate the old religion. The vitality of the movement, however, had left it, and its inconsistencies, combined with the lack of strong leadership, landed it in a position scarcely distinguishable from orthodox Hinduism. Debendra Nath Tagore sought refuge from the difficulty by becoming an ascetic. The “Brahma Samaj of India,” as Chunder Sen’s party styled itself, made considerable progress extensively and intensively until 1878, when a number of the most prominent adherents, led by Anand Mohan Bose, took umbrage at Chunder Sen’s despotic rule and at his disregard of the society’s regulations concerning child marriage. This led to the formation of the Sadharana (Universal) Brahma Samaj, now the most popular and progressive of the three sections of the movement and conspicuous for its work in the cause of literary culture, social reform and female education in India. But even when we add all sections of the Brahma Samaj together, the total number of adherents is only about 4000, mostly found in Calcutta and its neighbourhood. A small community (about 130) in Bombay, known as the Prarthna (Prayer) Samaj, was founded in 1867 through Keshub Chunder’s influence; they have a similar creed to that of the Brahma Samaj, but have broken less decisively with orthodox and ceremonial Hinduism.

See the articles on Arya, Samaj, Keshub Chunder Sen, Ram Mohan Roy. Also John Robson, Hinduism and Christianity; and the Theistic Quarterly Review (the organ of the Society since 1880).

BRAHMS, JOHANNES (1833-1897), German composer, was born in Hamburg on the 7th of May 1833. He was the son of a double-bass player in the Hamburg city theatre and received his first musical instruction from his father. After some lessons from O. Cossel, he went to Cossel’s master, Eduard Marxsen of Altona, whose experience and artistic taste directed the young man’s genius into the highest paths. A couple of public appearances as a pianist were hardly an interruption to the course of his musical studies, and these were continued nearly up to the time when Brahms accepted an engagement as accompanist to the Hungarian violinist, Remenyi, for a concert tour in 1853. At Göttingen there occurred a famous contretemps which had a most important though indirect influence on the whole after-life of the young player. A piano on which he was to play the “Kreutzer” sonata of Beethoven with Remenyi turned out to be a semitone below the required pitch; and Brahms played the part by heart, transposing it from A to B flat, in such a way that the great violinist, Joachim, who was present and discerned what the feat implied, introduced himself to Brahms, and laid the foundation of a life-long friendship. Joachim gave him introductions to Liszt at Weimar and to Schumann at Düsseldorf; the former hailed him for a time as a member of the advanced party in music, on the strength of his E flat minor scherzo, but the misapprehension was not of long continuance. The introduction to Schumann impelled that master, now drawing near the tragic close of his career, to write the famous article “Neue Bahnen,” in which the young Brahms was proclaimed to be the great composer of the future, “he who was to come.” The critical insight in Schumann’s article is all the more surprising when it is remembered how small was the list of Brahms’s works at the time. A string quartet, the first pianoforte sonata, the scherzo already mentioned, and the earliest group of songs, containing the dramatic “Liebestreu,” are the works which drew forth the warm commendations of Schumann. In December 1853 Brahms gave a concert at Leipzig, as a result of which the firms of Breitkopf & Haertel and of Senff undertook to publish his compositions. In 1854 he was given the post of choir-director and music-master to the prince of Lippe-Detmold, but he resigned it after a few years, going first to Hamburg, and then to Zürich, where he enjoyed the friendship and artistic counsel of Theodor Kirchner. The unfavourable verdict of the Leipzig Gewandhaus audience upon his pianoforte concerto in D minor op. 15, and several remarkably successful appearances in Vienna, where he was appointed director of Ihe Singakademie in 1863, were the most important external events of Brahms’s life, but again he gave up the conductorship after a few months of valuable work, and for about three years had no fixed place of abode. Concert tours with Joachim or Stockhausen were undertaken, and it was not until 1867 that he returned to Vienna, or till 1872 that he chose it definitely as his home, his longest absence from the Austrian capital being between 1874 and 1878, when he lived near Heidelberg. From 1871 to 1874 he conducted the concerts of the “Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde,” but after the later date he occupied no official position of any kind. With the exception of journeys to Italy in the spring, or to Switzerland in the summer, he rarely left Vienna. He refused to come to England to take the honorary degree of Mus.D. offered by the university of Cambridge; the university of Breslau made him Ph.D. in 1881; in 1886 he was created a knight of the Prussian order Pour le mérite, and in 1889 was presented with the freedom of his native city. He died in Vienna on the 3rd of April 1897.

The works of Brahms may be summarized as follows:—Various sacred compositions for chorus, op. 12, 13, 22, 27, 29, 30, 37, leading up to op. 45, the “German Requiem” first performed at Bremen in 1868, and subsequently completed by a soprano solo with chorus; the “Triumphlied” in commemoration of the German victories of 1870-71; and some choral songs and motets, op. 74, 109 and 110. Secular choral works, op. 17, 41, 42, 44, 50 (“Rinaldo” for tenor solo and male choir), 53 (“Rhapsodie,” alto solo and male choir), 54 (“Schicksalslied”), 62, 82 (Schiller’s Nänie), 89 (“Gesang der Parzen”), 93, 104, 113. Concerted vocal-works, op. 20, 28, 31, 52 (“Liebeslieder-Walzer”), 61, 64, 65 (“Neue Liebeslieder”), 75, 92, 103, 112. Solo songs, nearly 300. Orchestral works: four symphonies, op. 68, 73, 90 and 98; two serenades, op. 11 and 16; two pianoforte concertos, op. 15 and 83, one violin concerto, op. 77; concerto for violin and violoncello, op. 102; variations on a theme by Haydn, op. 56; two overtures, “Academische Festouvertüre,” op. 80, and “Tragic Overture,” op. 81. Chamber music: two sextets, op. 18 and 36; quintet, piano and strings, op. 34, strings, op. 88 and 111, clarinet and strings, op. 115; three string quartets, op. 51 and 67, three quartets for piano and strings, op. 25, 26 and 60. Three trios for piano and strings, op. 8, 87 and 101; trio for piano, violin and horn, op. 40; piano, clarinet and violoncello, op. 114. Duet sonatas, three for piano and violin, op. 78, 100 and 108; two for piano and violoncello, op. 38 and 99; two for piano and clarinet, op. 120. Pianoforte solos: three sonatas, op. 1, 2 and 5; scherzo, op. 4; variations, op. 9, 21, 23, 24, 35; 4 ballads, op. 10; waltzes, op. 39; two rhapsodies, op. 79; caprices and intermezzi, op. 76, 116, 117, 118 and 119. 5 studies and 51 Uebungen without opus-number, and a chorale-prelude and fugue for organ, besides four books of Hungarian Dances arranged for pianoforte duet.

Brahms has often been called the last of the great classical masters, in a sense wider than that of his place in the long line of the great composers of Germany. Though only the most superficial observers could deny him the possession of qualities which distinguish the masters of the romantic school, it is as a classicist that he must be ranked among modern musicians. From the beginning of his career until its close, his ideas were clothed by preference in the forms which had sufficed for Beethoven, and the instances in which he departed from structural precedent are so rare that they might be disregarded, were they not of such high value that they must be considered as the signs of a logical development of musical form, and not as indicating a spirit of rebellion against existing modes of structure. His practice, more frequent in later than in earlier life, of welding together the “working-out” and the “recapitulation” sections of his movements in a closer union than any of his predecessors had attempted, is an innovation which cannot fail to have important results in the future; and if the skill of younger writers is not adequate to such a display of ingenuity as occurs in the finale of the fourth symphony, where the “passacaglia” form has been used with an effect that is almost bewildering to the ordinary listener, that at least stands as a monument of inventiveness finely subordinated to the emotional and intellectual purport of the thoughts expressed. His themes are always noble, and even from the point of view of emotional appeal their deep intensity of expression is of a kind which grows upon all who have once been awakened to their beauty, or have been at the pains to grasp the composer’s characteristics of utterance. His vocal music, whether for one voice or many, is remarkable for its fidelity to natural inflection and accentuation of the words, and for its perfect reflection of the poet’s mood. His songs, vocal quartets and choral works abound in passages that prove him a master of effects of sound; and throughout his chamber music, in his treatment of the piano, of the strings, or of the solo wind instruments he employs, there are numberless examples which sufficiently show the irrelevance of a charge sometimes brought against his music, that it is deficient in a sense of what is called “tone-colour.” It is perfectly true that the mere acoustic effect of a passage was of far less importance to him than its inherent beauty, poetic import, or logical fitness in a definite scheme of development; and that often in his orchestral music the casual hearer receives an impression of complexity rather than of clearness, and is apt to imagine that the “thickness” of instrumentation is the result of clumsiness or carelessness. Such instances as the introduction to the finale of the first symphony, the close of the first movement of the second, what may be called the epilogue of the third, or the whole of the variations on a theme of Haydn, are not only marvels of delicate workmanship in regard to structure, but are instinct with the sense of the peculiar beauty and characteristics of each instrument. The “Academic Festival” overture proves Brahms a master of musical humour, in his treatment of the student songs which serve as its themes; and the companion piece, the “Tragic” overture, reaches a height of sublimity which is in no way lessened because no particular tragedy has ever been named in conjunction with the work.

As with all creative artists of supreme rank, the work of Brahms took a considerable time before it was very generally appreciated. The change in public opinion is strikingly illustrated in regard to the songs, which, once voted ineffective and unvocal, have now taken a place in every eminent singer’s repertory. The outline in his greater works must be grasped with some definiteness before the separate ideas can be properly understood in their true relation to each other; and while it is his wonderful power of handling the recognized classical forms, so as to make them seem absolutely new, which stamps him as the greatest musical architect since Beethoven, the necessity for realizing in some degree what musical form signifies has undoubtedly been a bar to the rapid acceptance of his greater works by the uneducated lovers of music. These are of course far more easily moved by effects of colour than by the subtler beauties of organic structure, and Brahms’s attitude towards tone-colour was scarcely such as would endear him to the large number of musicians in whose view tone-colour is pre-eminent. His mastery of form, again, has been attacked as formalism by superficial critics, blind to the real inspiration and distinction of his ideas, and to their perfection in regard to style and the appropriateness of every theme to the exact emotional state to be expressed. In his larger vocal works there are some which treat of emotional conditions far removed from the usual stock of subjects taken by the average composer; to compare the ideas in the “German Requiem” with those of the “Schicksalslied” or “Nänie” is to learn a lesson in artistic style which can never be forgotten. In the songs, too, it is scarcely too much to say that the whole range of human emotion finds expression in noble lyrics that yield to none in actual musical beauty. The four “Ernste Gesänge,” Brahms’s last composition, must be considered as his supreme achievement in dignified utterance of noble thoughts in a style that perfectly fits them. The choice of words for these as well as for the “Requiem” and others of his serious works reveals a strong sense of the vanity and emptiness of human life, but at least as strong a confidence in the divine consolations.

It has been the misfortune of the musical world in Germany that every prominent musician is ranged by critics and amateurs in one of two hostile camps, and it was probably due in the main to the misrepresentations of the followers of Wagner that the idea was so generally held that Brahms was a man of narrow sympathies and hard, not to say brutal manners. The latter impression was fostered, no doubt, by the master’s natural detestation of the methods by which the average lionizer seeks to gain his object, and both alike are disproved in the Recollections of J.V. Widmann, an intimate friend for many years, which throw a new light on the master, revealing him as a man of the widest artistic sympathies, neither intolerant of excellence in a line opposed to his own, nor weakly enthusiastic over mediocre productions by composers whose views were in complete sympathy with him. His admiration for Verdi and Wagner is enough to show that the absence of any operatic work from his list of compositions was simply due to the difficulty of finding a libretto which appealed to him, not to any antagonism to the lyric stage in its modern developments. How far he stood from the prejudices of the typical pedant may be seen in the passionate love he showed throughout his life for national music, especially that of Hungary. Not only were his arrangements of Hungarian dances the first work by which his name was known outside his native land, but his first pianoforte quartet, op. 25 in G minor, incurred the wrath of the critics of the time by its introduction of some characteristics of Hungarian music into the finale. His arrangement of a number of children’s traditional songs was published without his name, and dedicated to the children of Robert and Clara Schumann in the earliest years of his creative life; and among the last of his publications was a collection of forty-nine German Volkslieder, arranged with the utmost skill, taste and simplicity. He had a great admiration for the waltzes of Strauss, and in many passages of his own works the entrain that is characteristic of the Viennese dance-writers is present in a striking degree.

See also W.H. Hadow, Studies in Modern Music (2nd series, 1908); and the articles Music, Song.

(J. A. F. M.)

BRAHUI, a people of Baluchistan, inhabiting the Brahui mountains, which extend continuously from near the Bolan Pass to Cape Monze on the Arabian Sea. The khan of Kalat, the native ruler of Baluchistan, is himself a Brahui, and a lineal descendant of Kumbar, former chief of the Kumbarini, a Brahui tribe. The origin of the Brahuis is an ethnological mystery. Bishop Robert Caldwell and other authorities declare them Dravidians, and regard them as the western borderers of Dravidian India. Others believe them to be Scythians,1 and others again connect them with Tatar mountaineers who early settled in southern parts of Asia. The origin of the word itself is in doubt. It is variously derived as a corruption of the Persian Ba Rohi (literally “of the hills”); as an eponym from Braho, otherwise Brahin or Ibrahim, a legendary hero of alleged Arab descent who led his people “out of the west,” while Dr Gustav Oppert believes that the name is in some way related to, if not identical with, that of the Baluchis. He recognizes in the name of the Paratas and Paradas, who dwelt in north-eastern Baluchistan, the origin of the modern Brahui. He gives reasons for regarding the Bra as a contraction of Bara and obtains “thus in Barahui a name whose resemblance to that of the ancient Barrhai (the modern Bhars), as well as to that of the Paratas and Paravar and their kindred the Maratha Paravari and Dravidian Parheyas of Palaman, is striking.” The Brahuis declare themselves to be the aborigines of the country they now occupy, their ancestors coming from Aleppo. For this there seems little foundation, and their language, which has no affinities with Persian, Pushtu or Baluchi, must be, according to the most eminent scholars, classed among the Dravidian tongues of southern India. Probably the Brahuis are of Dravidian stock, a branch long isolated from their kindred and much Arabized, and thus exhibiting a marked hybridism.

Whatever their origin, the Brahuis are found in a position of considerable power in Baluchistan from earliest times. Their authentic history begins with Mir Ahmad, who was their chief in the 17th century. The title of “khan” was assumed by Nasir the Great in the middle of the 18th century. The Brahuis are a confederacy of tribes possessing common lands and uniting from time to time for purposes of offence or defence. At their head is the khan, who formerly seems to have been regarded as semi-divine, it being customary for the tribesmen on visiting Kalat to make offerings at the Ahmadzai gate before entering. The Brahuis are a nomadic race, who dwell in tents made of goats’ hair, black or striped, and live chiefly on the products of their herds. They are Sunnite Mahommedans, but are not fanatical. In physique they are very easily distinguished from their neighbours, the Baluchis and Pathans, being a smaller, sturdier people with rounder faces characterized by the flat, blunt and coarse features of the Dravidian races. They are of a dark brown colour, their hair and beards being often brown not black. They are an active, hardy race, and though as avaricious as the Pathans, are more trustworthy and less turbulent. Their ordinary dress is a tunic or shirt, trousers gathered in at the ankles and a cloak usually of brown felt. A few wear turbans, but generally their headgear is a round skullcap with tassel or button. Their women are not strictly veiled. Sandals of deer or goat skin are worn by all classes. Their weapons are rifles, swords and shields. They do not use the Afghan knife or any spears. Some few Brahuis are enlisted in the Bombay Native Infantry.

See Dr Bellew, Indus to Euphrates (London, 1874); Gustav Oppert, The Original Inhabitants of India (1893); Dr Theodore Duka, Essay on the Brahui Grammar (after the German of Dr Trumpp of Munich University).

1 Compare Mountstuart Elphinstone’s (History of India, 9th ed., 1905, p. 249) description of Scythians with physique of Brahuis. A relationship between the Jats (q.v.) and the Brahuis has been suggested, and it is generally held that the former were of Scythic stock. The Mengals, Bizanjos and Zehris, the three largest Brahui tribes, are called Jadgal or Jagdal, i.e. Jats, by some of their neighbours. The Zaghar Mengal, a superior division of the Mengal tribe, believe they themselves came from a district called Zughd, somewhere near Samarkand in central Asia. Gal appears to be a collective suffix in Baluchi, and Men or Min occurs on the lists of the Behistun inscriptions as the name of one of the Scythian tribes deported by Darius, the Achaemenian, for their turbulence (see Kalat, A Memoir on the County and Family of the Ahmadzai Khans of Kalat, by G.P. Tate). Sajdi, another Brahui tribal name, is Scythian, the principal clan of which tribe is the Saga, both names being identifiable with the Sagetae and Saki of ancient writers. Thus there seems some reason for believing that the former occupants of at least some portions of the Brahui domain were of Scythian blood.

BRAID (from the O. Eng. bregdan, to move quickly to and fro, hence to weave), a plait, especially a plait of hair, also a plaited tape woven of wool, silk, gold thread, &c., used for trimming or binding. A particular use is for the narrow bands, bordered with open work, used in making point lace.

BRAIDWOOD, THOMAS (1715-1806), British teacher of the deaf and dumb, was born in Scotland in 1715, and educated at Edinburgh University. He became a school teacher, and in 1760 opened in Edinburgh, with one pupil, the first school in Great Britain for the deaf and dumb, following the system of Dr John Wallis, described in Philosophical Transactions nearly a hundred years before. This school was the model for all of the early English institutions of the kind. Dr Johnson visited it in 1773, and describes it as “a subject of philosophical curiosity ... which no other city has to show,” and Braidwood’s dozen pupils as able “to hear with the eye.” In 1783 Braidwood moved to Hackney, where he died on the 24th of October 1806.

BRAILA (in Rumanian Braĭla, formerly Ibraila), the capital of the department of Braila, Rumania; situated amid flat and dreary country on the left bank of the river Danube, about 100 m. from its mouth at Sulina. Pop. (1900) 58,392, including 10,811 Jews. Southward, the Danube encircles a vast fen, tenanted only by waterfowl and herds of half-wild swine, while the plain which extends to the north-east and east only grows fertile at some distance inland. Braila itself is plainly built on a bank rising about 50 ft. above sea-level; but partly on a narrow strip of ground which separates this bank from the water’s edge. Along the crest of the bank a public park is laid out, commanding a view of the desolate Dobrudja hills, across the river.

On the landward side, Braila has the shape of a crescent, the curve of its outer streets following the line of the old fortifications, dismantled in 1829. Few houses, among the older quarters, exceed two storeys in height, but the main streets are paved, and there is a regular supply of filtered water. A wide avenue, the Strada Bulivardului, divides the town proper from the suburbs. The principal church, among many, is the cathedral of St Michael, a large, ungainly building of grey sandstone. Electric tramways intersect the town, and are continued for 3 m. to Lacul Sărat (Salt Lake), where there are mineral springs and mud-baths, owned by the state. The waters, which contain over 45% of salt, iodine and sulphur, are among the strongest of their kind in Europe; and are of high repute, being annually visited by more than a thousand patients. Braila is the seat of a chamber of commerce. It is the chief port of entry for Walachia, and the headquarters of the grain trade; for, besides its advantageous position on the river, it is connected with the central Walachian railways by a line to Buzeu, and with the Russian and Moldavian systems by a line to Galatz. Quays, where ships drawing 15 ft. of water can discharge, line the river front; and there are large docks, grain elevators and warehouses, besides paper mills, roperies, and soap and candle works. Over 20 steamers, maintained by the state, ply between Braila and Rotterdam. Among the vessels of all nations, the British are first in numbers and tonnage, the Greek second. Grain and timber form the chief articles of export; textiles, machinery, iron goods and coal being most largely imported.

Many events connected with the history of Walachia took place in the neighbourhood of Braila. In 1475 Stephen the Great, having dethroned the voivode Radu, burned the town. In 1573 another Moldavian prince took the city by storm, and massacred the Turkish garrison. In 1659 it was again burned by the Walachian prince Mircea, and for the time the Turks were expelled, but afterwards returned. In the latter part of the 18th century Braila was several times captured by the Russians, and in 1770 it was burned. By the peace of Bucharest (1812) the Turks retained the right of garrisoning Braila. In 1828 it was gallantly defended by Soliman Pasha, who, after holding out from the middle of May until the end of June, was allowed to march out with the honours of war. At the peace of Adrianople (1829) the place was definitely assigned to Walachia; but before giving it up, the grand-duke Michael of Russia razed the citadel, and in this ruinous condition it was handed over to the Walachians. Braila was the spot chosen by the Russian general Gorchakov for crossing the Danube with his division in 1854. On the banks of the Danube, a little above the city, are some remains of the piles of a bridge said by a very doubtful tradition to have been built by Darius (c. 500 B.C.).

BRAIN (A.S. braegen), that part of the central nervous system which in vertebrate animals is contained within the cranium or skull; it is divided into the great brain or cerebrum, the hind brain or cerebellum, and the medulla oblongata, which is the transitional part between the spinal cord and the other two parts already named. Except where stated, we deal here primarily with the brain in man.

1. Anatomy

Membranes of the Human Brain.