among the Chinese, for the reason we have before alleged: namely, that,
in the primitive ages, the Chinese observed a pure, simple, and
Patriarchal worship of the Deity; and it was only when under the first
general and powerful Emperor of China, the rationalism introduced by the
sect of Taosse had brought about a complete revolution in the whole
system of Chinese faith, manners, and customs, that a real form of
Paganism--the Indian superstition of Buddha--was subsequently introduced
into that country. This subversion of the whole system of ancient
government--of ancient doctrines--and of what among the Chinese was
inseparably allied with the latter, the early system of writing, was a
real revolution in the public mind. As the general burning of the sacred
books, and the persecution and execution of many of the learned were
measures directed solely against the school of Confucius, that adhered
to the old system of morals and government; it is by no means an
arbitrary and baseless hypothesis to ascribe to the antagonist party,
the rationalist sect of Taosse, a great share in this violent moral and
political revolution; inasmuch as the powerful Emperor Chi-ho-angti must
have been quite in the interest of this party. Although the erection of
the great wall of China, and the settlement of a Chinese colony in
Japan, gave external splendour to his reign; yet at home its despotic
violence rendered it thoroughly revolutionary. And so this mighty
catastrophe, which occurred two thousand years ago in the Chinese
empire, widely removed as it is from us by the distance of space and
time, and different as is the form under which it occurred, bears
nevertheless no slight resemblance or analogy to much we have seen and
experienced in our own times. To explain the contradiction which seems
involved in the fact, that on one hand we have commended that pure,
simple, and Patriarchal worship of the Deity by the Chinese in the
primitive period; and much that denoted the comparatively high state of
civilization among this people, together with a science perverted and
degenerate indeed, yet carried to a high degree of refinement; and that,
on the other hand, we have pointed out many things in their primitive
writing-system, which displayed a great rudeness and poverty of ideas,
and a very confined circle of symbols, we may observe that it is with
China, as with many other ancient civilized countries, where in the
back-ground of a ruling and highly polished people, a close
investigation will discover a race of primitive inhabitants more
barbarous, or at least less advanced in intellectual refinement. Such a
race is mentioned by historians as existing in different provinces of
China under the name of Miao--they are precisely characterized as an
earlier, less polished race of inhabitants, and they have indeed been
preserved down to later times. The historical enquirer meets almost
always in the first ages of the world with two strata of nations,
consisting of an elder and a younger race;--in the same way as the
geologist in his investigation of the earth's surface can clearly
distinguish a two-fold formation of mountains and separate periods in
the formation of that surface. Thus in China the more polished
new-comers and founders of the subsequent nation and state, accommodated
themselves in many respects to the manners and customs, the language and
even perhaps symbolical writing of these half savages, as the Europeans
have partly done, when they have wished to civilize and instruct the
Mexicans and other barbarous nations; and as men must always act in
similar cases, if they would wish success to crown their benevolent
endeavours. All researches into the origin of the Chinese nation and
Chinese civilization ever conduct the enquirer to the north-west, where
the province of Shensee is situated, and to the countries lying beyond.
Thus this only serves to confirm the opinion, highly probable in itself,
and supported by such manifold testimony, of the general derivation of
all Asiatic civilization from the great central region of Western Asia.
Agreeably to this opinion, the Indian traditions, as we have already
mentioned, deduce the historical descent of Indian civilization from the
northern mountainous range of the Himalaya and the country northwards;
and in support of this tradition, we may cite the vast ruins, the
immense subterraneous temples hewn out of the rock, in the neighbourhood
of the old and celebrated city of _Bamyan_. Though the latter city be
not in the proper India, but more northward towards Cabul, in Hindu
Cutch, still its ruins present to the eye of the spectator the peculiar
forms and structure of the architecture and colossal images of India,
(whereof they contain a great abundance,) such as are observed in the
other great monumental edifices of the Indians at Ellore, in the centre
of the southern province of Deccan, in the Isles of Salsette and
Elephanta in the neighbourhood of Bombay, in the island of Ceylon, and
near Mavalipuram on the coast of Madras. All these immense temples,
which have been hewn in the cavities of rocks, or have been cut out of
the solid rock; and where often many temples are ranged above and beside
the other, together with the buildings for the use of the Brahmins and
the swarms of pilgrims, occupy in length and breadth the vast space of
half a German mile, and even more. These temples form the regular places
of Hindoo pilgrimage, whither immense multitudes of pilgrims flock from
all the countries of India; and an English writer who wrote as an eye
witness, estimated the multitude at the almost incredible number of two
millions and a half. Together with the colossal images of gods and of
sacred animals, such as the elephant and the nandi, or the bull sacred
to Siva, we find the rocky walls of these subterraneous temples adorned
with an almost incalculable number of carved figures, representing
various scenes from the Indian mythology. These figures jut so
prominently from the rock, that it would almost seem as if their backs
alone joined the wall. The multitude of figures is exceedingly great,
and in the ruins near Bamyan, the number is computed at twelve thousand;
though this calculation may not perhaps be very accurate, for the thick
forests which surround these now desolate ruins are often the repair of
tigers and serpents, and thus all approach to them is attended with
danger. Besides in the ruins of Bamyan many of the figures, and even
some of the colossal idols, have been destroyed by the Mahometans; for
whenever their armies chance to pass by these ruins, they never fail to
point their cannon against the images of those fabulous divinities,
which all Mahometans hold in so much abhorrence.
As to architecture, the perfection which this art attained among the
Indians is evident from the beautiful workmanship and varied decoration
of their columns, whole rows of which, like a forest of pillars support
the massy roof of upper rock. Notwithstanding the essential difference
which must exist in the architecture of temples hewn out of rocks, or
constructed in the cavities of rocks, we shall find that the prevailing
tendency in Indian architecture is towards the pyramidal form. On the
other hand, it is observed that the art of vaulting appears to have been
less known, or at least not to have attained great perfection, or been
in frequent use. We find, too, among these monuments, vast walls
constructed out of immense blocks of stone, and rudely cut fragments of
rock, not unlike the old Cyclopean structures. The amateurs of such
subjects have acquired a more accurate knowledge of them by the splendid
illustrations which the English have published; for a mere verbal
description can with difficulty convey a just notion of the nature and
peculiar character of this architecture. Of the political history of
India, little can be said, for the Indians scarcely possess any regular
history--any works to which we should give the denomination of
historical; for their history is interwoven and almost confounded with
mythology, and is to be found only in the old mythological works,
especially in their two great national and epic poems, the Ramayana and
the Mahabarata, and in the eighteen Puranas (the most select and
classical of the popular and mythological legends of India), and perhaps
in the traditionary history of particular dynasties and provinces; and
even the works we have mentioned are not merely of a mytho-historical,
but in a great measure of a theological and philosophical purport. The
more modern history of Hindostan, from the first Mahometan conquest at
the commencement of the eleventh century of our era, can indeed be
traced with pretty tolerable certainty; but as this portion of Indian
history is unconnected with, and incapable of illustrating the true
state and progress of the intellectual refinement of the Hindoos, it is
of no importance to our immediate object. The more ancient history of
that country, particularly in the earlier period, is mostly fabulous,
or, to characterize it by a softer, and at the same time, more correct
name, a history purely mythic and traditionary; and it would be no easy
task to divest the real and authentic history of ancient India of the
garb of mythology and poetical tradition; a task which at least has not
yet been executed with adequate critical acumen.
Chronology, too, shares the same fate with the sister science of
history, for in the early period it is fabulous, and in the more modern,
it is often not sufficiently precise and accurate. The number of years
assigned to the first three epochs of the world must be considered as
possessing an astronomical import, rather than as furnishing any
criterion for an historical use. It is only the fourth and last period
of the world--the age of progressive misery and all-prevailing woe,
which the Indians term Caliyug, that we can in any way consider an
historical epoch; and this, the duration of which is computed at four
thousand years, began about a thousand years before the Christian era.
Of the progress and term of this period of the world, considered in
reference to the history of mankind, the Indians entertain a very simple
notion. They believe that the condition of mankind will become at first
much worse, but will be afterwards ameliorated. The regular historical
epoch when the chronology of India begins to acquire greater certainty,
and from which indeed it is ordinarily computed, is the age of King
Vikramaditya, who reigned in the more civilized part of India, somewhat
earlier than the Emperor Augustus in the West, perhaps about sixty years
before our era. It was at the court of this monarch that flourished nine
of the most celebrated sages and poets of the second era of Indian
literature; and among these was Calidas, the author of the beautiful
dramatic poem of Sacontala, so generally known by the English and German
translations. It was in the age of Vikramaditya, that the later poetry
and literature of India, of which Calidas was so bright an ornament,
reached its full bloom. The elder Indian poetry, particularly the two
great epic poems above-mentioned, entirely belong to the early and more
fabulous ages of the world; so far at least as the poets themselves are
assigned to those ages, and figure in some degree, as fabulous
personages. We may, however, observe that in the style of poetry, in
art, and even in the language itself, there reigns a very great
difference between these primitive heroic poems, and the works of
Calidas and other contemporary poets--the difference is at least as
great as that which exists between Homer and Theocritus, or the other
Bucolick poets of Greece. The oldest of the two epic poems of the
Indians, the Ramayana by the poet Valmiki, celebrates Rama, his love for
a royal princess, the beautiful Sita, and his conquest of Lanka, or the
modern Isle of Ceylon. Although in the old historical Sagas of the
Indians, we find mention made of far-ruling monarchs and all-conquering
heroes; still these traditions seem to shew, as in the instance first
cited, that in the oldest, as in the latest, times prior to foreign
conquest, India was not united in one great monarchy, but was generally
parcelled out into a variety of states; and this fact serves to prove
that such has ever been in general the political condition of that
country. The whole body of ancient Indian traditions and mythological
history is to be found in the other great epic of the Indians, the
Maha-Barata, whose author, or at least compiler, was Vyasa, the founder
of the Vedanta philosophy, the most esteemed, and most prevalent of all
the philosophical systems of the Hindoos. This leads us to observe a
second remarkable, and singularly characteristic, feature in Indian
intellect and Indian literature, so widely remote from the relation
between poetry and philosophy among other nations, particularly the
Greeks. This is the close connection, and almost entire fusion of poetry
and philosophy among this people. Many of their more ancient
philosophical works were composed in metre, though they possess
productions of a later period, which display the highest logical
subtilty and analysis. Their great old poems, whatever may be the beauty
of the language, and the captivating interest of the narrative, are
generally imbued with, and pervaded by, the most profound philosophy;
and among this people, even the history of Metaphysics ascends as far
back as the mythic ages. This at least holds good of the authors, to
whom the invention of the leading philosophical systems has been
ascribed; although the subsequent commentaries belong to a much later
and more historical period. Thus the Mahabarata contains as an episode a
didactic poem, or philosophical dialogue between the fabulous personages
and heroes of the epic, known in Europe by the name of the Bhagavatgita,
and which has recently been ably edited and expounded in Germany, by
Augustus William Von Schlegel, and William Von Humboldt. The leading
principles of the Vedanta philosophy are copiously set forth in this
poem, which may be regarded as a manual of Indian mysticism; for such is
the ultimate object of all Indian philosophy; and of this peculiar
propensity of the Hindoo mind we have already cited some remarkable
traits. For the accomplishment of our more immediate object, and in
order rightly to understand the true place which the intellectual
culture of India occupies in primitive history, a general knowledge of
Indian philosophy is far more important and necessary, than any minute
analysis and criticism on the manifold beauties of the very rich poetry
of that country; and this philosophy we shall now endeavour to
characterize according to its various systems, and in its main and
essential features.
END OF LECTURE V.
LECTURE VI.
Of the Hindoo Philosophy.--Dissertation on Languages.--Of the
peculiar political Constitution and Theocratic Government of the
Hebrews.--Of the Mosaic Genealogy of Nations.
The Indian philosophy, from the place it holds in the primitive
intellectual history of Asia, and from the insight it gives us into the
character and peculiar tendency of the human mind in that early period,
possesses a high, almost higher, interest than that offered by the
beautiful and captivating poetry of this ancient people. However, even
the poetry of the Indians contains much that refers to, or bears the
stamp of, that peculiar mystical philosophy which we have more than once
spoken of. We shall give a more correct and comprehensive idea of the
Indian philosophy, if we observe, beforehand, that the six Indian
systems which are the most prevalent and the most celebrated, and which,
though in many points differing from the Vedas, are not to be regarded
as entirely reprehensible or heterodox, the six Indian systems, we say,
must be classed in couples, and that the first of each pair treats of
the beginning of the subject discussed in the second, and the second
contains the development and extension of the principles laid down in
the first, or applies those principles to another and higher object of
enquiry. In the whole Indian philosophy, there are in fact only three
different modes of thought, or three systems absolutely divergent, and
we shall give a sufficiently clear idea of these systems, if we say that
the first is founded on nature,--the second on thought, or on the
thinking self; and the third attaches itself exclusively to the
revelation comprised in the Vedas. The first system which seems to be
one of the most ancient, bears the name of the Sanchya philosophy--a
name which signifies "the philosophy of Numbers." This is not to be
understood in the Pythagorean sense, that numbers are the principle of
all things, or according to the very similar principle laid down in the
Chinese books of I--King, where we find the eight koua, or the symbolic
primary lines of all existence. But the Sanchya system bears this name
because it reckons successively the first principles of all things and
of all being to the number of four or five-and-twenty. Among these first
principles, it assigns the highest place to Nature--the second to
understanding, and by this is meant not merely human understanding, but
general and even Infinite Intelligence; so that we may consider this
system as a very partial philosophy of Nature; and indeed it has been
regarded by some Indian writers as atheistical--a censure in which the
learned Englishman, Mr. Colebrooke, (to whose extracts and notices we
are indebted for our most precise information on this whole branch of
Indian literature)[52] seems almost inclined to concur. This system was
however, by no means a coarse materialism, or a denial of the Divinity
and of every thing sacred. The doubts expressed in the passages cited by
Mr. Colebrooke, are directed far more against the Creation than against
God; they regard the motive which could have induced the Supreme Being,
the Spirit of Infinite perfection to create the external world, and the
possibility of such a creation.
The Sanchya Philosophy would be more properly designated in our modern
Philosophic phraseology as a system of complete Dualism, where two
substances are represented as co-existent--on one hand, a self-existent
energy of Nature, which emanated, or eternally emanates, from itself;
and on the other hand, eternal truth, or the Supreme and Infinite Mind.
The Indian Philosophers in general were so inclined to regard the whole
outward world of sense as the product of illusion, as a vain and idle
apparition, that we can well imagine they were unable to reconcile the
creation of such a world (which appeared to them a world of darkness, or
perhaps, on a somewhat higher scale, as an intermediate state of
illusion) with their mystical notion of the infinite perfection of the
Supreme Being and Eternal Spirit. For even in ethics, they were wont to
place the idea of Supreme Perfection in a state of absolute repose, but
not (at least to an equal degree) in the state of active energy or
exertion. Great as the error of such a system of dualism may be--there
is yet a mighty difference between a philosophy which denies, or at
least misconceives, the Creation, and one which denies the existence of
the Deity; for such atheism never occurred to the minds of those
philosophers. The doctrine of a primary self-existing energy in Nature,
or of the eternity of the Universe, may in a practical point of view,
appear as gross an error; but in philosophy we must make accurate
distinctions, and forbear to place this ancient dualism on the same
level with that coarse materialism--that destructive and atheistic
Atomical philosophy, or any other doctrines professed by the later sects
of a dialectic Rationalism.
Valuable, undoubtedly, as are such extracts and communications from the
originals in a branch of human science still so little known, yet they
will not alone suffice, and, without a certain philosophic flexibility
of talent in the enquirer, they will fail to afford him a proper insight
into the true nature, the real spirit and tendency of those ancient
systems of philosophy. That the Indian philosophy, even when it has
started from the most opposite principles, and when its circuitous or
devious course has branched more or less widely from the common path, is
sure to wind round, and fall into the one general track--the uniform
term of all Indian philosophy--is well exemplified by the second part of
the Sanchya system (called the Yoga philosophy), where we find a totally
different principle proclaimed; and while it utterly abandons the
primary doctrine of a self-existent principle in Nature laid down in the
first part of the philosophy, it unfolds those maxims of Indian
mysticism which recur in every department of Hindoo literature. That
total absorption in the one thought of the Deity, that entire
abstraction from all the impressions and notions of sense--that
suspension of all outward, and in part even of inward, life effected by
the energy of a will tenaciously fixed and entirely concentrated on a
single point; and by which, according to the belief of the Indians,
miraculous power and supernatural knowledge are attained,--are held up
in the second part of the Sanchya system as the highest term of all
mental exertion. The word Yoga signifies the complete union of all our
thoughts and faculties with God--by which alone the soul can be
freed--that is, delivered from the unhappy lot of transmigration; and
this, and this only, forms the object of all Indian philosophy.
The Indian name of Yogi is derived from the same word, which designates
this philosophy. The Indian Yogi is a hermit or penitent who, absorbed
in this mystic contemplation, remains often for years fixed immoveably
to a single spot. In order to give a lively representation of a
phenomenon so strange to us, which appears totally incredible and almost
impossible, although it has been repeatedly attested by eye-witnesses,
and is a well-ascertained historical fact; I will extract from the drama
of Sacontala by the poet Calidas, a description of a Yogi, remarkable
for its vivid accuracy, or, to use the expression of the German
commentator, its fearful beauty. King Dushmanta enquires of Indra's
charioteer the sacred abode of him whom he seeks; and to this the
charioteer replies:[53] "a little beyond the grove, where you see a
pious Yogi, motionless as a pollard, holding his thick bushy hair and
fixing his eyes on the solar orb. Mark:--his body is half covered with a
white ant's edifice made of raised clay; the skin of a snake supplies
the place of his sacerdotal thread, and part of it girds his loins; a
number of knotty plants encircle and wound his neck; and surrounding
birds' nests almost conceal his shoulders." We must not take this for
the invention of fancy, or the exaggeration of a poet; the accuracy of
this description is confirmed by the testimony of innumerable
eye-witnesses, who recount the same fact, and in precisely similar
colours. During that period of wonderful phenomena and supernatural
powers--the first three centuries of the Christian church--we meet with
only one Simon Stylites, or column-stander;--and his conduct is by no
means held up by Christian writers as a model of imitation, but is
regarded, at best, as an extraordinary exception permitted on certain
special grounds. In the Indian forests and deserts, and in the
neighbourhood of those holy places of pilgrimage mentioned above, there
are many hundreds of these hermits--these strange human phenomena of the
highest intellectual abstraction or delusion. Even the Greeks were
acquainted with them, and, among so many other wonders, make mention of
them in their description of India under the name of the Gymnosophists.
Formerly such accounts would have been regarded as incredible and as
exceeding the bounds of possibility; but such conjectures can be of no
avail against historical facts repeatedly attested and undeniably
proved. Now that men are better acquainted with the wonderful
flexibility of human organization, and with those marvellous powers
which slumber concealed within it, they are less disposed to form light
and hasty decisions on phenomena of this description. The whole is
indeed a magical intellectual self-exaltation, accomplished by the
energy of the will concentrated on a single point: and this
concentration of the mind, when carried to this excess, may lead not
merely to a figurative, but to a real intellectual self-annihilation,
and to the disorder of all thought, even of the brain. While on the one
hand we must remain amazed at the strength of a will so tenaciously and
perseveringly fixed on an object purely spiritual, we must, on the other
hand, be filled with profound regret at the sight of so much energy
wasted for a purpose so erroneous, and in a manner so appalling.