good system of agriculture, unrivalled manufacturing skill, a capacity
to produce whatever can contribute to either convenience or luxury,
schools established in every village for teaching reading, writing,
and arithmetic,[61] the general practice of hospitality and charity
among each other, and, above all, a treatment of the female sex full
of confidence, respect, and delicacy, are among the signs which
denote a civilized people--then the Hindus are not inferior to the
nations of Europe--and if civilization is to become an article of
trade between England and India, I am convinced that England will gain
by the import cargo."
My own experience with regard to the native character has been, of
course, very limited. Those Hindus whom I have had the pleasure to
know personally in Europe may be looked upon as exceptional, as the
best specimens, it may be, that India could produce. Also, my
intercourse with them has naturally been such that it could hardly
have brought out the darker sides of human nature. During the last
twenty years, however, I have had some excellent opportunities of
watching a number of native scholars under circumstances where it is
not difficult to detect a man's true character--I mean in literary
work and, more particularly, in literary controversy. I have watched
them carrying on such controversies both among themselves and with
certain European scholars, and I feel bound to say that, with hardly
one exception, they have displayed a far greater respect for truth and
a far more manly and generous spirit than we are accustomed to even in
Europe and America. They have shown strength, but no rudeness; nay, I
know that nothing has surprised them so much as the coarse invective
to which certain Sanskrit scholars have condescended, rudeness of
speech being, according to their view of human nature, a safe sign not
only of bad breeding, but of want of knowledge. When they were wrong,
they have readily admitted their mistakes; when they were right, they
have never sneered at their European adversaries. There has been,
with few exceptions, no quibbling, no special pleading, no
untruthfulness on their part, and certainly none of that low cunning
of the scholar who writes down and publishes what he knows perfectly
well to be false, and snaps his fingers at those who still value truth
and self-respect more highly than victory or applause at any price.
Here, too, we might possibly gain by the import cargo.
Let me add that I have been repeatedly told by English merchants that
commercial honor stands higher in India than in any other country, and
that a dishonored bill is hardly known there.
I have left to the last the witnesses who might otherwise have been
suspected--I mean the Hindus themselves. The whole of their literature
from one end to the other is pervaded by expressions of love and
reverence for truth. Their very word for truth is full of meaning. It
is s a t or s a t y a, s a t being the participle of the verb _as_, to be.
True, therefore, was with them simply _that which is_. The English
_sooth_ is connected with sat, also the Greek [Greek: on] for
[Greek: _eson_], and the Latin _sens_, in _praesens_.
We are all very apt to consider truth to be what is trowed by others,
or believed in by large majorities. That kind of truth is easy to
accept. But whoever has once stood alone, surrounded by noisy
assertions, and overwhelmed by the clamor of those who ought to know
better, or perhaps who did know better--call him Galileo or Darwin,
Colenso or Stanley, or any other name--he knows what a real delight it
is to feel in his heart of hearts, this is true--this is--this is
s a t--whatever daily, weekly, or quarterly papers, whatever bishops,
archbishops, or popes, may say to the contrary.
Another name for truth is the Sanskrit _r i_t a, which originally seems
to have meant _straight_, _direct_, while a n_r i_t a is untrue, false.
Now one of the highest praises bestowed upon the gods in the Veda is
that they are s a t y a, true, truthful, trustworthy;[62] and it is well
known that both in modern and ancient times, men always ascribe to God
or to their gods those qualities which they value most in themselves.
Other words applied to the gods as truthful beings are, a d r o g h a,
lit. not deceiving.[63] A d r o g h a-v a _k_ means, he whose word is
never broken. Thus Indra, the Vedic Jupiter, is said to have been
praised by the fathers[64] "as reaching the enemy, overcoming him,
standing on the summit, _true of speech_, most powerful in thought."
D r o g h a v a _k_,[65] on the contrary, is used for deceitful men. Thus
Vasish_th_a, one of the great Vedic poets, says: "If I had worshipped
false gods, or if I believed in the gods vainly--but why art thou
angry with us, O _G_atavedas? May liars go to destruction!"
S a t y a m, as a neuter, is often used as an abstract, and is then
rightly translated by truth. But it also means that which is, the true,
the real; and there are several passages in the Rig-Veda where, instead
of _truth_, I think we ought simply to translate s a t y a m by the
true, that is, the real, [Greek: to ontos on].[66] It sounds, no doubt,
very well to translate Satyena uttabhita bhumi_h_ by "the earth is
founded on truth;" and I believe every translator has taken s a t y a in
that sense here. Ludwig translates, "Von der Wahrheit ist die Erde
gestuetzt." But such an idea, if it conveys any tangible meaning at all,
is far too abstract for those early poets and philosophers. They meant
to say "the earth, such as we see it, is held up, that is, rests on
something real, though we may not see it, on something which they called
the Real,[67] and to which, in course of time, they gave many more
names, such as _R i_ t a, the right, B r a h m a n," etc.
Of course where there is that strong reverence for truth, there must
also be the sense of guilt arising from untruth. And thus we hear one
poet pray that the waters may wash him clean, and carry off all his
sins and all untruth:
"Carry away, ye waters,[68] whatever evil there is in me,
wherever I may have deceived, or may have cursed, and also
all untruth (an_ri_tam)."[69]
Or again, in the Atharva-Veda IV. 16:
"May all thy fatal snares, which stand spread out seven by
seven and threefold, catch the man who tells a lie, may they
pass by him who tells the truth!"
From the Brahma_n_as, or theological treatises of the Brahmans, I
shall quote a few passages only:
"Whosoever[70] speaks the truth, makes the fire on his own
altar blaze up, as if he poured butter into the lighted fire.
His own light grows larger, and from to-morrow to to-morrow
he becomes better. But whosoever speaks untruth, he quenches
the fire on his altar, as if he poured water into the lighted
fire; his own light grows smaller and smaller, and from
to-morrow to to-morrow he becomes more wicked. Let man
therefore speak truth only."[71]
And again:[72] "A man becomes impure by uttering falsehood."
And again:[73] "As a man who steps on the edge of a sword placed over
a pit cries out, I shall slip, I shall slip into the pit, so let a man
guard himself from falsehood (or sin)."
In later times we see the respect for truth carried to such an
extreme, that even a promise, unwittingly made, is considered to be
binding.
In the Ka_th_a-Upanishad, for instance, a father is introduced
offering what is called an _All_-sacrifice, where everything is
supposed to be given up. His son, who is standing by, taunts his
father with not having altogether fulfilled his vow, because he has
not sacrificed his son. Upon this, the father, though angry and
against his will, is obliged to sacrifice his son. Again, when the son
arrives in the lower world, he is allowed by the Judge of the Dead to
ask for three favors. He then asks to be restored to life, to be
taught some sacrificial mysteries, and, as the third boon, he asks to
know what becomes of man after he is dead. Yama, the lord of the
Departed, tries in vain to be let off from answering this last
question. But he, too, is bound by his promise, and then follows a
discourse on life after death, or immortal life, which forms one of
the most beautiful chapters in the ancient literature of India.
The whole plot of one of the great epic poems, the Ramaya_n_a, rests
on a rash promise given by Da_s_aratha, king of Ayodhya, to his second
wife, Kaikeyi, that he would grant her two boons. In order to secure
the succession to her own son, she asks that Rama, the eldest son by
the king's other wife, should be banished for fourteen years. Much as
the king repents his promise, Rama, his eldest son, would on no
account let his father break his word, and he leaves his kingdom to
wander in the forest with his wife Sita and his brother Lakshma_n_a.
After the father's death, the son of the second wife declines the
throne, and comes to Rama to persuade him to accept the kingdom of his
father. But all in vain. Rama will keep his exile for fourteen years,
and never disown his father's promise. Here follows a curious dialogue
between a Brahman _G_abali and Prince Rama, of which I shall give some
extracts:[74]
"The Brahman, who is a priest and courtier, says, 'Well,
descendant of Raghu, do not thou, so noble in sentiments, and
austere in character, entertain, like a common man, this
useless thought. What man is a kinsman of any other? What
relationship has any one with another? A man is born alone
and dies alone. Hence he who is attached to any one as his
father or his mother, is to be regarded as if he were insane,
for no one belongs to another. Thou oughtest not to abandon
thy father's kingdom and stay here in a sad and miserable
abode, attended with many trials. Let thyself be inaugurated
king in the wealthy Ayodhya. Da_s_aratha, thy father is
nothing to thee, or thou to him; the king is one, and thou
another, do therefore what is said.... Then offer oblations
to the departed spirits (of thy forefathers) on prescribed
days; but see what a waste of food! For what can a dead man
eat? If what is eaten by one here enters into the body of
another (viz., of the departed), let _S_raddhas be offered to
those who are travelling; they need not then get food to eat
on their journey. These books (the Vedas), (which enjoin men
to) sacrifice, give, consecrate themselves, practise
austerities, and forsake the world, are composed by clever
men to induce others to bestow gifts. Authoritative words do
not fall from heaven. Let me, and others like yourselves,
embrace whatever assertion is supported by reason. Adhere to
what is apparent to the senses, and reject what is
invisible.... _This world is the next world_; do thou
therefore enjoy pleasure, for every virtuous man does not
gain it. Virtuous men are greatly distressed, while the
unrighteous are seen to be happy.'"
These positivist sentiments sound strange, particularly from the mouth
of a Brahman. But the poet evidently wishes to represent a Brahman
living at court, who has an argument ready for anything and everything
that is likely to please his king.
But what does Rama answer? "The words," he says, "which you have
addressed to me, though they recommend what _seems_ to be right and
salutary, advise, in fact, the contrary. The sinful transgressor, who
lives according to the rules of heretical systems, obtains no esteem
from good men. It is good conduct that marks a man to be noble or
ignoble, heroic or a pretender to manliness, pure or impure. Truth and
mercy are immemorial characteristics of a king's conduct. Hence royal
rule is in its essence _truth_. On truth the word is based. Both sages
and gods have esteemed truth. The man who speaks truth in this world
attains the highest imperishable state. Men shrink with fear and
horror from a liar as from a serpent. In this world the chief element
in virtue is truth; it is called the basis of everything. Truth is
lord in the world; virtue always rests on truth. All things are
founded on truth; nothing is higher than it. Why, then, should I not
be true to my promise, and faithfully observe the truthful injunction
given by my father? Neither through covetousness, nor delusion, nor
ignorance, will I, overpowered by darkness, break through the barrier
of truth, but remain true to my promise to my father. How shall I,
having promised to him that I would thus reside in the forests,
transgress his injunction, and do what Bharata recommends?"
The other epic poem too, the Mahabharata, is full of episodes showing
a profound regard for truth and an almost slavish submission to a
pledge once given. The death of Bhishma, one of the most important
events in the story of the Mahabharata, is due to his vow never to
hurt a woman. He is thus killed by _S_ikhandin, whom he takes to be a
woman.[75]
Were I to quote from all the law-books, and from still later works,
everywhere you would hear the same key-note of truthfulness vibrating
through them all.
We must not, however, suppress the fact that, under certain
circumstances, a lie was allowed, or, at all events, excused by Indian
lawgivers. Thus Gautama says:[76] "An untruth spoken by people under
the influence of anger, excessive joy, fear, pain, or grief, by
infants, by very old men, by persons laboring under a delusion, being
under the influence of drink, or by madmen, does not cause the speaker
to fall, or, as we should say, is a venial, not a mortal sin."[77]
This is a large admission, yet even in that open admission there is a
certain amount of honesty. Again and again in the Mahabharata is this
excuse pleaded.[78] Nay, there is in the Mahabharata[79] the
well-known story of Kau_s_ika, called Satyavadin, the Truth-speaker,
who goes to hell for having spoken the truth. He once saw men flying
into the forest before robbers (dasyu). The robbers came up soon after
them, and asked Kau_s_ika, which way the fugitives had taken. He told
them the truth, and the men were caught by the robbers and killed.
But Kau_s_ika, we are told, went to hell for having spoken the truth.
The Hindus may seem to have been a priest-ridden race, and their
devotion to sacrifice and ceremonial is well known. Yet this is what
the poet of the Mahabharata dares to say:
"Let a thousand sacrifices (of a horse) and truth be weighed
in the balance--truth will exceed the thousand
sacrifices."[80]
These are words addressed by _S_akuntala, the deserted wife, to King
Dushyanta, when he declined to recognize her and his son. And when he
refuses to listen to her appeal, what does she appeal to as the
highest authority?--_The voice of conscience._
"If you think I am alone," she says to the king, "you do not know that
wise man within your heart. He knows of your evil deed--in _his_ sight
you commit sin. A man who has committed sin may think that no one
knows it. The gods know it and the old man within."[81]
This must suffice. I say once more that I do not wish to represent the
people of India as two hundred and fifty-three millions of angels, but
I do wish it to be understood and to be accepted as a fact, that the
damaging charge of untruthfulness brought against that people is
utterly unfounded with regard to ancient times. It is not only not
true, but the very opposite of the truth. As to modern times, and I
date them from about 1000 after Christ, I can only say that, after
reading the accounts of the terrors and horrors of Mohammedan rule, my
wonder is that so much of native virtue and truthfulness should have
survived. You might as well expect a mouse to speak the truth before a
cat, as a Hindu before a Mohammedan judge.[82] If you frighten a
child, that child will tell a lie; if you terrorize millions, you must
not be surprised if they try to escape from your fangs. Truthfulness
is a luxury, perhaps the greatest, and let me assure you, the most
expensive luxury in our life--and happy the man who has been able to
enjoy it from his very childhood. It may be easy enough in our days
and in a free country, like England, never to tell a lie--but the
older we grow, the harder we find it to be always true, to speak the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The Hindus too had
made that discovery. They too knew how hard, nay how impossible it is,
always to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
There is a short story in the _S_atapatha Brahma_n_a, to my mind full
of deep meaning, and pervaded by the real sense of truth, the real
sense of the difficulty of truth. His kinsman said to Aru_n_a
Aupave_s_i, "Thou art advanced in years, establish thou the
sacrificial fires." He replied: "Thereby you tell me henceforth to
keep silence. For he who has established the fires must not speak an
untruth, and only by not speaking at all, one speaks no untruth. To
that extent the service of the sacrificial fires consists in
truth."[83]
I doubt whether in any other of the ancient literatures of the world
you will find traces of that extreme sensitiveness of conscience which
despairs of our ever speaking the truth, and which declares silence
gold, and speech silver, though, in a much higher sense than our
proverb.
What I should wish to impress on those who will soon find themselves
the rulers of millions of human beings in India, is the duty to shake
off national prejudices, which are apt to degenerate into a kind of
madness. I have known people with a brown skin whom I could look up to
as my betters. Look for them in India, and you will find them, and if
you meet with disappointments, as no doubt you will, think of the
people with white skins whom you have trusted, and whom you can trust
no more. We are all apt to be Pharisees in international judgments. I
read only a few days ago in a pamphlet written by an enlightened
politician, the following words:
"Experience only can teach that nothing is so truly
astonishing to a morally depraved people as the phenomenon of
a race of men in whose word perfect confidence may be
placed[84].... The natives are conscious of their inferiority
in nothing so much as in this. They require to be taught
rectitude of conduct much more than literature and science."
If you approach the Hindus with such feelings, you will teach them
neither rectitude, nor science, nor literature. Nay, they might appeal
to their own literature, even to their law-books, to teach us at least
one lesson of truthfulness, truthfulness to ourselves, or, in other
words, humility.
What does Ya_gn_avalkya say?[85]
"It is not our hermitage," he says--our religion we might
say--"still less the color of our skin, that produces virtue;
virtue must be practiced. Therefore let no one do to others
what he would not have done to himself."
And the laws of the Manavas, which were so much abused by Mill, what
do they teach?[86]
"Evil-doers think indeed that no one sees them; but the gods
see them, and the old man within."
"Self is the witness of Self, Self is the refuge of Self. Do
not despise thy own Self, the highest witness of men."[87]
"If, friend, thou thinkest thou art self-alone, remember
there is the silent thinker (the Highest Self) always within
thy heart, and _he_ sees what is good and what is evil."[88]
"O friend, whatever good thou mayest have done from thy very
birth, all will go to the dogs, if thou speak an untruth."
Or in Vasish_th_a, XXX. 1:
"Practice righteousness, not unrighteousness; speak truth,
not untruth; look far, not near; look up toward the highest,
not toward anything low."
No doubt there is moral depravity in India, and where is there no
moral depravity in this world? But to appeal to international
statistics would be, I believe, a dangerous game. Nor must we forget
that our standards of morality differ, and, on some points, differ
considerably from those recognized in India; and we must not wonder if
sons do not at once condemn as criminal what their fathers and
grandfathers considered right. Let us hold by all means to _our_ sense
of what is right and what is wrong; but in judging others, whether in
public or in private life, whether as historians or politicians, let
us not forget that a kindly spirit will never do any harm. Certainly
I can imagine nothing more mischievous, more dangerous, more fatal to
the permanence of English rule in India, than for the young civil
servants to go to that country with the idea that it is a sink of
moral depravity, an ants' nest of lies; for no one is so sure to go
wrong, whether in public or in private life, as he who says in his
haste: "All men are liars."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 17: Mill's "History of British India," ed. Wilson, vol. i.,
p. 375.]
[Footnote 18: Keshub Chunder Sen is the present spiritual director of
the Brahmo Sama_g_, the theistic organization founded by the late
Rammohun Roy.--A. W.]
[Footnote 19: Mill's "History," ed. Wilson, vol. i., p. 368.]
[Footnote 20: L. c. p. 325.]
[Footnote 21: L. c. p. 329.]
[Footnote 22: P. 217.]
[Footnote 23: Mill's "History," vol. i., p. 329.]
[Footnote 24: Manu, VIII. 43, says: "Neither a King himself nor his
officers must ever promote litigation; nor ever neglect a lawsuit
instituted by others."]
[Footnote 25: Mill's "History," vol. i., p. 327.]
[Footnote 26: L. c. p. 368.]
[Footnote 27: See Elphinstone, "History of India," ed. Cowell, p. 219,
note. "Of the 232 sentences of death 64 only were carried out in
England, while the 59 sentences of death in Bengal were all carried
out."]
[Footnote 28: Sir Ch. Trevelyan, Christianity and Hinduism, 1882, p.
42.
This will be news to many. It has been quite common to include the
Thugs with the worshippers of Bhavani, the consort of Siva. The word
signifies a deceiver, which eliminates it from every religious
association.--A. W.]
[Footnote 29: Manu VII. 115.]
[Footnote 30: H. M. Elliot, "Supplement to the Glossary of Indian
Terms," p. 151.]
[Footnote 31: I see from Dr. Hunter's latest statistical tables that
the whole number of towns and villages in British India amounts to
493,429. Out of this number 448,320 have less than 1000 inhabitants,
and may be called villages. In Bengal, where the growth of towns has
been most encouraged through Government establishments, the total
number of homesteads is 117,042, and more than half of these contain
less than 200 inhabitants. Only 10,077 towns in Bengal have more than
1000 inhabitants, that is, no more than about a seventeenth part of
all the settlements are anything but what we should call substantial
villages. In the North-Western Provinces the last census gives us
105,124 villages, against 297 towns. See London _Times_, 14th Aug.
1882.]
[Footnote 32: "Ancient India as described by Megasthenes and Arrian,"
by McCrindle, p. 42.]
[Footnote 33: "Perjury seems to be committed by the meanest and
encouraged by some of the better sort among the Hindus and Mussulmans,
with as little remorse as if it were a proof of ingenuity, or even a
merit."--Sir W. Jones, Address to Grand Jury at Calcutta, in Mill's
"History of India," vol. i., p. 324. "The longer we possess a
province, the more common and grave does perjury become."--Sir G.
Campbell, quoted by Rev. Samuel Johnson, "Oriental Religions, India,"
p. 288.]
[Footnote 34: Vasish_th_a, translated by Buehler, VIII. 8.]