other two kinds, and which proceeds not from Nature, but from the
principle of thought and from the thinking self, is comprised in the
Nyaya system, whose founder was Gautama--a personage whom several of the
earlier investigators of Indian literature, particularly Dr. Taylor, in
his Translation of the "Prabodha Chandrodaya,"--(page 116.) have
confounded with, the founder of the Buddhist sect, as both bear the same
name. But a closer enquiry has proved them to be distinct persons; and
Mr. Colebrooke himself finds greater points of coincidence or affinity
between the Sanchya philosophy and Buddhism, than between the latter and
the Nyaya system. This Nyaya philosophy, proceeding from the act of
thought, comprises in the doctrine of particulars, distinctions and
subdivisions, the application of the thinking principle; and this part
of the system embraces all which among the Greeks went under the name of
logic or dialectic; and, which with us is partly classed under the same
head. Very many writings and commentaries have been devoted to the
detailed treatment and exposition of these subjects, which the Indians,
seem to have discussed with almost the same diffuseness, or at least
copiousness, as the Greeks. Like the Indians, the learned Englishman,
who has first unlocked to our view this department of Indian literature,
has paid comparatively most attention to this second part of the Nyaya
philosophy. But all this logical philosophy, though it may furnish one
more proof (if such be necessary) of the extreme richness, variety and
refinement of the intellectual culture of the Hindoos, yet possesses no
immediate interest for the object we here propose to ourselves. Mr.
Colebrooke remarks, however, that the fundamental tenets of this
philosophy comprise, as indeed is evident, not merely a logic in the
ordinary acceptation of the word, but the metaphysics of all logical
science. On this part of the subject, I could have wished that in the
authentic extracts he has given us from the Sanscrit originals, he had
more distinctly educed the leading doctrines of the system, and thus
furnished us with the adequate data for forming a judgment on the
general character of this philosophy, as well as on its points of
coincidence with other systems, and with the philosophy of the
Buddhists. For although it appears to be well ascertained that the
religion of Buddha sprang out of some perverted system of Hindoo
philosophy; yet the points of transition to such a religious creed
existing in the Indian systems of philosophy, have not yet been clearly
pointed out. The Vedanta philosophy must here evidently be excepted; for
to this Buddhism is as much opposed as to the old Indian religion of the
Vedas. Moreover that endless confusion and unintelligibleness of the
Buddhist metaphysics, which we have before spoken of, may first be
traced to the source of Idealism; though in the progress of that
philosophy, many errors have been associated with it--errors even which,
in its origin, were most widely removed from it; for every system of
error asserts and even believes that it is perfectly consistent, though
in none is such consistency found.
The basis and prevailing tendency of the Nyaya system (to judge from the
extracts with which we have been furnished) is most decidedly ideal. On
the whole we can very well conceive that a system of philosophy
beginning with the highest act of thought, or proceeding from the
thinking self, should run into a course of the most decided and absolute
idealism, and that the general inclination of the Indian philosophers to
regard the whole external world of sense as vain illusion, and to
represent individual personality as absorbed in the God-head by the most
intimate union, should have given birth to a complete system of
self-delusion--a diabolic self-idolatry, very congenial with the
principles of that most ancient of all anti-christian sects--the
Buddhists.
The Indian authorities cited by Colebrooke, impute to the second part of
the Nyaya philosophy a strong leaning to the atomical system. We must
here recollect that, as the Indian mind pursued the most various and
opposite paths of enquiry even in philosophy, there were besides the six
most prevalent philosophic systems, recognized as generally conformable
to religion, several others in direct opposition to the established
doctrines on the Deity and on religion. Among these the Charvaca
philosophy, which, according to Mr. Colebrooke, comprises the
metaphysics of the sect of Jains, deserves a passing notice. It is a
system of complete materialism founded on the atomical doctrines, such
as Epicurus taught, and which met with so much favour and adhesion in
the declining ages of Greece and Rome;--doctrines which several moderns
have revived in latter times, but which the profound investigations of
natural philosophy, now so far advanced, will scarcely ever permit to
take root again.
The third species or branch of Indian philosophy, is that which is
attached to the Vedas, and to the sacred revelation and traditions they
contain. The first part of this philosophy,--the Mimansa, is, according
to Mr. Colebrooke, more immediately devoted to the interpretation of the
Vedas, and most probably contains the fundamental rules of
interpretation, or the leading principles, whereby independent reason is
made to harmonize with the word of revelation conveyed by sacred
tradition. The second or finished part of the system is called the
Vedanta philosophy. The last word in this term, "Vedanta," which is
compounded of two roots, is equivalent to the German word ende (end), or
still more to the Latin finis, and denotes the end or ultimate object of
any effort; and so the entire term Vedanta will signify a philosophy
which reveals the true sense, the internal spirit, and the proper object
of the Vedas, and of the primitive revelation of Brahma comprised
therein. This Vedanta philosophy is the one which now generally exerts
the greatest influence on Indian literature and Indian life; and it is
very possible that some of the six recognized, or at least tolerated,
systems of philosophy may have been purposely thrown into the
back-ground, or, when they clashed too rudely with the principles of the
prevailing system, have been softened down by their partisans, and have
thus come down to us in that state. A wide field is here opened to the
future research and critical enquiries of Indian scholars.
This Vedanta philosophy is in its general tendency, a complete system of
Pantheism; but not the rigid, mathematical, abstract, negative Pantheism
of some modern thinkers; for such a total denial of all Personality in
God, and of all freedom in man, is incompatible with the attachment
which the Vedanta philosophy professes for sacred tradition and ancient
mythology; and accordingly a modified, poetical, and half-mythological
system of Pantheism may here naturally be expected, and actually exists.
Even in the doctrine of the immortality of the soul and of the
Metempsychosis, the personal existence of the human soul, inculcated by
the ancient faith, is not wholly denied or rejected by this more modern
system of philosophy; though on the whole it certainly is not exempt
from the charge of Pantheism. But all the systems of Indian philosophy
tend more or less to one practical aim--namely the final deliverance and
eternal emancipation of the soul from the old calamity--the dreaded
fate--the frightful lot--of being compelled to wander through the dark
regions of Nature--through the various forms of the brute creation--and
to change ever anew its terrestrial shape. The second point in which the
different systems of Indian philosophy mostly agree is this, that the
various sacrifices prescribed for this end in the Vedas, are not free
from blame or vice, partly on account of the effusion of blood
necessarily connected with animal sacrifice--and partly on account of
the inadequacy of such sacrifices to the final deliverance of the soul;
useful and salutary though they be in other respects.
The general and fundamental doctrine of the Metempsychosis has rendered
the destruction of animals extremely repulsive to Indian feelings, from
the strong apprehension that a case may occur where, unconsciously and
innocently, one may violate or injure the soul of some former relative
in its present integument. But even the Vedas themselves inculcate the
necessity of that sublime science which rises above nature, for the
attainment of the full and final deliverance of the soul; as is
expressed in an old remarkable passage of the Vedas, thus literally
translated by Mr. Colebrooke.[54] "Man must recognise the soul--man must
separate it from nature--then it comes not again--then it comes not
again." These last words signify, then the soul is delivered from the
danger of a return to earth--from the misfortune of transmigration, and
it remains for ever united to God; an union which can be obtained only
by that pure separation from nature, which is that sublimest science,
invoked in the first words of this passage.
Animal sacrifices for the souls of the departed, particularly for those
of deceased parents, which were regarded as the most sacred duty of the
son and of the posterity, were among those religious usages which
occupied an important place in the Patriarchal ages, and were most
deeply interwoven with the whole arrangement of life in that primitive
period, as is evident from all those Indian rites, and the system of
doctrines akin to them. These sacrifices are certainly of very ancient
origin, and may well have been derived from the mourning Father of
mankind, and the first pair of hostile brothers. To these may afterwards
have been added all that multitude of religious rites, and doctrines, or
marvellous theories respecting the immortal soul and its ulterior
destinies. Hence the indispensable obligation of marriage for the
Brahmins, in order to insure the blessing of legitimate offspring,
regarded as one of the highest objects of existence in the Patriarchal
ages, for the prayers of the son only could obtain the deliverance, and
secure the repose, of a departed parent's soul; and this was one of his
most sacred duties. The high reverence for women, among the Indians,
rests on the same religious notion; as is expressed by the old poet in
these lines.
"Woman is man's better half,
Woman is man's bosom friend,
Woman is redemption's source,
From Woman springs the liberator."
This last line signifies, what we mentioned above, that the son is the
Liberator appointed by God, to deliver by prayer the soul of his
deceased father. The poet then continues;--"Women are the friends of the
solitary--they solace him with their sweet converse; like to a father,
in discharge of duty, consoling as a mother in misfortune."
We should scarcely conceive it possible (and it certainly tends to prove
the original power, copiousness and flexibility of the human mind,)
that, by the side of a false mysticism totally sunk and lost in the
abyss of the eternally incomprehensible and unfathomable, like the
Indian philosophy, a rich, various, beautiful and highly wrought poetry
should have existed. The Epic narrative of the old Indian poems bears a
great resemblance to the Homeric poetry, in its inexhaustible
copiousness, in the touching simplicity of its antique forms, in
justness of feeling, and accuracy of delineation. Yet in its subjects,
and in the prevailing tone of its Mythological fictions, this Indian
Epic poetry is characterized by a style of fancy incomparably more
gigantic, such as occasionally prevails in the mythology of Hesiod--in
the accounts of the old Titanic wars--or in the fabulous world of
AEschylus, and of the Doric Pindar. In the tenderness of amatory feeling,
in the description of female beauty, of the character and domestic
relations of woman, the Indian poetry may be compared to the purest and
noblest effusions of Christian poesy; though, on the whole, from the
thoroughly mythical nature of its subjects, and from the rhythmical
forms of its speech, it bears a greater resemblance to that of the
ancients. Among the later poets, Calidas, who is the most renowned and
esteemed in the dramatic poetry of the Indians, might be called by way
of comparison, an Idyllic and sentimental Sophocles. The poetry of the
Indians is not a little indebted to the genius of their beautiful
language, which bears indubitable traces of the same generous and lofty
poetical spirit; and it may be therefore necessary, in this general
sketch of the primitive state of the human mind, to make a few
observations on this very remarkable language.
In its grammatical structure the language of India is absolutely similar
to the Greek and Latin, even to the minutest particulars. But the
grammatical forms of the Sanscrit are far richer and more varied than
those of the Latin tongue, and more regular and systematic than those of
the Greek. In its roots and words the Sanscrit has a very strong and
remarkable affinity to the Persian and Germanic race of languages; an
affinity which furnishes interesting disclosures, or gives occasion at
least for instructive comparisons, on the progress of ideas among those
ancient nations, and, as one and the same word is sometimes extended,
sometimes contracted in its meaning or applied to kindred
objects--reveals the first natural impressions, or primary notions of
life in those early ages. To prove more clearly, by one or two examples,
this affinity between the languages of nations so widely removed from
one other, and almost separated by the distance of two quarters of the
globe, and to shew the important data which the discovery of such facts
furnishes to history, I will mention, as a striking instance, that the
German word _mensch_ (man) perfectly agrees in root and signification
with the Indian word, _manuschya_, with this only difference, that in
the Sanscrit the latter word has a regular root, and is derived from the
word _manu_, which means spirit. Thus the word mensch (man) in its
primitive root signifies a being endowed with spirit by way of
pre-eminence above all earthly creatures. It is evident, too, from this,
that the Latin word _mens_ (mind) is of a cognate kind, and belongs to
the same family of words; for, in these philological comparisons, the
members of one radical word, scattered through different languages,
serve when combined to illustrate each other. To cite an instance of a
remarkable extension and contraction of meaning in one and the same
word, we may remark that the same word which in the German _loch_,
signifies the space of a narrow aperture, and in the Latin locus,
comprehends the general notion of space, as well as of a particular
place, means the universe in the Sanscrit _lokas_. Thus the Sanscrit
word _trailokas_ or _trailokyan_, signifies the three worlds or the
triple world--the world of truth or eternal being, the world of illusion
or vain appearance, and the world of darkness;--a division which
constitutes one of the main points in the Indian philosophy, and is
expressed by the two Sanscrit words _trai_ and _lokas_, which are at the
same time also Latin and German. I will adduce but one more example. As
mostly the ancient nations of Asia, and likewise of Europe, were led by
a certain natural feeling and a not erroneous instinct, (totally
independent of the nomenclature and classifications of our natural
history,) to regard the bull the most useful and important of all the
animals which man has domesticated, as the representative of earthly
fertility, and (as it were) the primary animal of the earth, and
afterwards made that animal the emblem of all earthly existence and
earthly energy; so it is extraordinary to see, (as Augustus William
Schlegel has shewn by an interesting comparison of the words which
designate either of these objects in various languages of a kindred
stem,) it is extraordinary to see what mutual light and illustration
they reflect on each other. The Indian and Persian word, _gau_, with
which the German _kuh_, (cow) perfectly coincides, quite agrees with the
Greek word for earth, in the old Doric form of {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}: the Latin
_bos_, (ox) in its inflection _bovis_ or _bove_, belongs to a whole
family of Sanscrit words, such as _bhu_, _bhuva_, _bhumi_, which signify
the earth or earthly, or whatever is remotely connected therewith. So
originally in this language one and the same word served to denote the
earth and the bull. Comparisons of this sort, when not strained by
etymological subtilty, but founded on matter of fact and clear
self-evident deductions, may offer much curious illustration of the
state of opinion, and the nature and connexion of ideas in the primitive
and mythic ages, or may serve at least to give us a clearer and more
lively insight into the secret operations of the human mind, and into
the modes of thinking prevalent among ancient nations. And, besides the
few instances here cited, we might adduce many hundred examples of a
similar kind.
As language in itself forms one of the corner-stones of man's history
(and that not the least important), and as the different tongues spread
in such amazing variety over the inhabited globe, are essentially
connected with universal history, and the history of particular races;
it is necessary to say a few words on this subject, not that we would
plunge deeper, than is here expedient, into the vast and immense
labyrinth of languages; but in order to shew the point of view whence
the philosophic historian should take his survey, if he would gain a
clear and comprehensive notion of this otherwise immeasurable chaos.
Perhaps the shortest way for this would be to figure to oneself all the
different dialects and modes of speech diffused over the habitable
globe, under the general image of a pyramid of languages of three
degrees, separated one from the other by a very simple principle of
division. The broad basis of this pyramid would be formed by those
languages whose roots and primitive words are mostly monosyllabic, and
which either are entirely without a grammar like the Chinese language,
or at best display only the rude lineaments of a very simple and
imperfect grammatical structure. The languages belonging to this class
are by far the most considerable in number, and the most widely spread
over the four quarters of the globe; and if, in a general philological
investigation, we would wish to reduce these to any species of
classification, we must adopt a geographical mode of arrangement, and
designate them, for example, as the languages of Northern and Eastern
Asia, of America, and of Africa. The Chinese must be considered as the
most important and remarkable language of this class, precisely because
it best answers to the character of a monosyllabic speech totally
destitute of grammar, and has attained to as high a degree of refinement
and perfection as languages of this kind are susceptible of. This is the
stage of infancy in language, as children's first attempts at speech
almost always incline to monosyllables--it is the cry of nature which
breaks out in these simple sounds, or the infantine imitation of some
natural sound. This primitive character is still to be clearly traced in
the Chinese; although a very artificial mode of writing, and the high
degree of refinement to which science has been carried, have given a
mighty extension, and a quite conventional character, to this infant
language. For any parallels or analogies which may be drawn between the
periods of natural life and the epochs of intellectual culture must
never be understood in an exact and literal sense.
The next degree in this pyramid of speech is occupied by the noble
languages of the second class, and this race of languages, which are
connected with each other by strong and manifold ties of affinity, are
the Indo-Persic, the Graeco-Latin, and the Gothico--Teutonic[55]. Here
the roots are, for the most part at least, dyssyllabic; and these roots,
which are by this means internally flexible, and become as it were
living and productive, afford room and occasion for a more varied
grammatical structure. The distinguishing character of these languages
is a very artificial grammar, which enters so completely into the
primary formation of these languages, that the nearer we approach their
original the more regular and systematic do we find their structure. In
their progress these languages are characterized by a poetical fullness
and variety in the forms of narration, and even by a rigid precision in
scientific discussions.
The third and last class are the Semitic languages, as they are
styled--the Hebrew and the Arabic, which, together with their kindred
dialects, form the summit or apex of this pyramid. In these languages
the ruling principle is that all the roots must be tri-syllabic, for
each of the three letters, of which the root is regularly composed,
counts for a syllable, and is articulated as such. Whatever exceptions
from this rule exist, must be treated as exceptions only. It cannot well
be doubted that this principle of tri-syllabic roots is purposely
wrought into the whole internal structure of these languages, and
perhaps not without some deep significancy--some presentient feeling
implied by that triplicity of roots.[56] In these languages the verb is
the first principle of derivation--the root from which every thing is
deduced, and hence a certain rapidity, fire, and vivacity in the
expression. But with such formal regularity the rich, full, elaborate
grammatical forms and structure which distinguish the languages of the
Indo-Greek race, are not at all compatible;--these tri-syllabic tongues
have a certain tendency to monotony, and do not certainly possess that
poetical variety, and that flexible adaptation to scientific purposes,
which characterize the second class of languages. The general
characteristic of the Semitic tongues is their peculiar fitness for
prophetic inspiration and for profound symbolical import--this is their
special character. We speak here of the language itself, and of its
internal structure, and not of the spirit which may direct it; and I
shall only add that the character we have here assigned to the Semitic
languages is according to the declaration of many of the most competent
judges, more uniformly perceptible in the Arabic than in the Hebrew,
although the former has received a totally different application, and
has undergone a very diversified culture. Thus the Hebrew tongue was
eminently adapted to the high spiritual destination of the Hebrew
people, and was a fit organ of the prophetic revelation and promises
imparted to that nation; and, even in this respect, this Semitic
language is worthy of being considered the summit of the pyramid of
human speech. But it never can be regarded as the basis of that pyramid,
nor the root whence all other tongues have sprung, as many scholars in
former times conceived--an opinion which would seem tacitly to imply
that Adam could have spoken no other language in Paradise but the
Hebrew. But this language of the first man created by God--this language
which God himself had taught him--this word of Nature which the Deity
imparted to man together with the dominion over all other creatures, and
over the whole visible world, may have been neither the Hebrew nor the
Indian, nor any of the other known or existing languages of the earth.
Possibly it was not a speech which we could learn or understand, or
which, according to the present scheme of language, we can even conceive
or imagine. In the same way no one is capable of proving or discovering
the geographical site of the one lost source in Paradise, whence those
four rivers took their rise, which are in part to be still traced on the
earth. As to the Hebrew language, I think that a deeper inquiry would
shew that it is not so far removed from the Indo-Greek family; and that
it is even partially related to it, although this affinity may be at
first very much concealed by the great difference of structure, and by
the total diversity of grammatical forms. In general we must not
endeavour to enforce, with too rigid uniformity and too systematic
precision, the division of languages here marked out. It suffices to
adhere to one general point of survey; but in other respects so
luxuriant, so various, so irregular has been the growth of the human
mind in the region of languages, that it may be compared to the
expansive life of free, uncultivated nature, to the wild variety of the
thick-grown forest or of the flowery meadow.
To the second order of languages of the Indo-Greek race, _probably_
belongs the great Sclavonian family of languages, which, after the
others, would form the fourth member in this class; but a definite and
decisive judgment on this matter, I must leave to those philologists who
are perfectly conversant with this branch of human speech. Between the
second and third class of languages, there are a multitude of
intermediate tongues which have sprung up out of that intermixture of
races and nations, occurring at all periods of history, and necessarily
affecting more or less language itself. I allude particularly to such
languages as are not perfectly monosyllabic, and which have nevertheless
a very simple and imperfect, or even a very irregular, strange, and
awkward grammatical structure. Such for instance are some of the
American languages, which in this respect at least cannot be ranked in
the third class, while they do not bear a closer, or at all close,
affinity to those of the second. Most of the fragments of the earlier
languages of Europe which are still extant, belong to this intermediate
class of tongues partaking of both those species, or at least holding a
middle place between them. Such are the Celtic or Gaelic languages, the
Finnish and other ancient remnants of language, which must not escape
the study of the philologist, whose judgment is too frequently warped by
some patriotic partiality or some learned predilection.